#dont fucking bother me just because i happen to be standing there

[grey-tones]

Really wish people could mind their own fucking business and leave strangers alone

[lateseptemberdawn]

Ngl bad parents give me such an ick like stay tf away from me ew

[satoruhour]

LESSON NO. 1

a/n: bassist!geto teaching you how to play the guitar. loosely based off this but not really connected. as requested by @alcospray 💟 i dont play bass so i just watched a whole bunch of videos for just one song - any bass players wanna correct me feel free to do so ;"). only if u look like geto tho /j. they havent say the three words to each other yet, read it with that in mind :3

wc: 2.1k

“any update from your fan?” gojo nudges him playfully as they wait for the principle of the university to introduce their band for the freshmen orientation, which, weirdly, something that the four of them never thought would happen. they sang about topics that wouldn’t normally get talked about or were shunned — politics, capitalism, authoritarianism — and yet being introduced by the principle of their place of education was quite ironic.

the bassist doesn’t hear gojo at all, not even when his best friend tries to tease him by calling you his fan. there were too many things in geto’s mind way even before this whole performance: his finals, a rival band that sought out to create false rumours about them, you.

always, you, the unexpected distracting thing that infiltrates his mind without fail. from the first night you trodded over to his dorms, opening up to him and letting him take care of you, to the many dates after. he’s taken you to cafés, watched you study way too many times, or simply let you sit through one of his song formation days.

a conscious effort to keep his distance and everything is just you, you, you, and geto is terrified. he’s never liked the kind of love with strings attached, with those mushy, complicated feelings, but no one-night stand, no quick fuck has ever made him feel the way you do.

but lately, he’s seen less of you, unwillingly accepting the principle’s offer to perform for the freshmen because he knew you were one of the group leaders ushering in the new students. at least he could try to search for you in the crowds, even getting a cheeky little text about where your group was meant to sit a week ago. he could be granted at least that when you both have been working so hard for final exams that you two could hardly see each other.

although, throughout their whole set, he sees everyone but you. he loses the bass line often, looks lost on the stage, needs to be cued in, something that never happens to the geto suguru. he’s always been a natural, and yet when it comes to you, you ruin him in the best way possible.

“hey— hey! man, what was that?” gojo slaps him on the back but it doesn’t even register in geto’s head, not really bothered by how he messed up the performance if it wasn’t for gojo’s vocals and shoko adding in her own improvisations for her parts. nanami can only shrug as he comes around to geto’s front.

“she wasn’t there, i looked, too,” nanami mumbled, tapping his drumsticks on his shoulder, “but you’re the most passionate guy i know who loves his guitars and bass lines.”

gojo has to chime in, “he’s the only bass guitarist you know, nanamiii!” and shoko pulls him back with a smack to the back of his head.

the dark-haired guy only clicks his tongue, “sorry ’bout him.”

nanami waves his drumsticks before pointing them at his face, “i know you’re obsessed with her, but i don’t wanna be a drummer if i can’t work with my bassist. sort this out before our next gig. she’s a sweet girl . . just, not when it’s at the expense of the band.”

geto only sighs in relief, landing a hand on his drummer’s shoulder.

“thank you, nanami.” the two exchange smiles before he gives a salute to his other two friends (“do you think he finally loves someone enough for him to be distracted on stage?” shoko says, and gojo gasps dramatically), heading out from the wings and down the stairs at the front of the stage where people look confused at the recent performer looking high and low for where your group was meant to be seated.

he sees not you, but rather your group leader mates who he’s at least seen pictures of, so he has no qualms about heading over to ask about your whereabouts — “the last thing she told our head group leader was that she was down with a nasty flu . . terrible fever and all. our main group leader went to her dorms to check on her and she’s unfit for doing orientations activities. we just sent her loads of soup packets and pei pa koa’s.”

geto laughs at the last part, knowing your need for sweet things. when it’s combined with a soothing coating for your throat, it’s pretty much the only thing you take when you’re sick. with a quick thanks, geto races for the campus bus straight to your dorm, the bass carried on his back rattling with his capo, chord sheets and mute nosily.

at least your annoying roommate’s gone home before school starts so it’s only you when geto knocks on the door. his knuckles rap against the wood, heart breaking when he hears your hoarse voice answer from the other side. soon, he can hear your feet moving towards the door, but it takes a while from how your body is, knocking over some things in the process.

“c-coming!” you groan out, wrapped in layers of clothing and feeling so hot you feel like you were in hell. but you aren’t expecting the sight when you open the door: your boyfriend panting, the guitar case behind him only telling you he’s come straight from the freshmen gig, the expression on his face.

“s-su!” you exclaim, both excitedly and a little worried because you didn’t want to get him sick, something you regret immediately when you go to clutch your throat.

“oh, baby,” geto brushes the hoodie off your head and brushes away the mess of your hair, “you look so pale, i— i would’ve come sooner if i knew—!”

“that’s why i didn’t tell you,” you pout, pushing away his hand gently and stepping back. it hurts to speak, but you feel like you at least need to explain your absence to him, “i was afraid you’d ditch the performance. also— don’t want you to get sick.”

suguru’s expression softens, “don’t worry about me, doll. come,” he takes one more step towards you and you feel so safe with him you don’t take a step away, “let me take care of you.”

the next hours are full of geto, a revered bassist in an upcoming band who dons long hair, piercings and has a menacing dragon down his arm alongside some boots, taking care of you. he runs back and forth between the pantry to make sure you have enough hot water, boiling hot soup to drink, enough layers to keep you warm and even calling gojo to get some tylenol from the supermarket.

“take a breather, sugu, i’m not gonna die,” you laugh slightly with a rasp to your voice, squeezing his hand as you rest against his shoulder. he’s made sure you at least have something in your stomach and enough hot water to power a hot spring, worry showing through his heartbeat when the hand he holds is still so warm.

“you’re heating up loads, baby,” geto frowns, turning his head to plant a kiss on the top of your head. he rolls his eyes when he hears it’s because you’re here. “do you want me to put cool towels on your head?”

you giggle again and cough, sniffling the mucus back up your nose, “no, it’s okay — you’d have to go to the pantry again to get water and i just want . . you here.”

suguru only hums, something akin to a melody that you don’t quite know but you’re happy to listen to his gruff voice anyway. the way he vibrates as he hums sends a calming feeling right to your body, and how he looks and feels so different from the very first time you were alone together.

he seemed so cool, passing the blunt to you and blowing his smoke into your mouth, kissing you like you’re just another girl in his roster; but right now, you were far from it.

now, not only is he still cool, but he’s also the most caring person you know and is something so far from his appearance and band: this is just one in many instances of how much he takes care of you. from the same fingers that strum upon the stainless steel, they travel miles over your body, your face like the first songs he learned on the guitar, weaving a melody and language so intricate only the two of you speak it.

silently, you feel him push you forward while he slots his legs on the other side of your body, letting you naturally rest with your back to his chest. “wanna learn?”

“i am in the most terrible state, suguru,” you whisper, reaching over to take a tissue. there, you blow your nose and clear out your nostrils until the next round, groaning softly at the grossness of the tissue.

“ohh . . but wasn’t someone saying that she isn’t dying?”

your jaw drops, “i can’t believe you would use that against me.”

the corners of your boyfriend’s lips turn up in a sly smile, “just quoting my girl. but—”

this time, he’s the one reaching over much further than you, hand clutching the neck of the guitar through the bag. gently, he settles it on both your laps, laughing when a small oof leaves your lips at just how heavy his bass was.

“i’ll do all the playing, you just mirror my movements.” with one more kiss to your temple, geto reaches around easily to play the starting notes of psycho killer. while there’s a clear layering of the lead, vocals and drums in his head, you’re just left confused by the repetitive bass.

but soon, you’re able to catch the notes that repeat over eight counts, hypnotised by the other’s longer fingers as they transition into the chorus line. it’s a little more complicated, now, descending into chords that you frankly don’t have any grasp on. one look at your face is enough to send him into soft laughter.

“okay, okay, let’s just focus on the verse.” if you weren’t feeling lightheaded from the fever before, you are now when geto curls his hands around yours, placing your finger easily on the fifth fret of the first string.

“so here . . we have the first bar of A notes, easy? then . .” he demonstrates the first four notes, plucking the strings for you before moving it down to the third fret to play the G note. a small smile spreads across his face when you slowly get the hang of it: six notes of A, two eighth notes, and then a G on the same string. geto slowly releases his left, letting you play on the melody while he helps you to pluck.

“that’s it,” still natural, it doesn’t faze geto at all to nuzzle his head into your neck from behind and to start kissing up your shoulder to your jaw, fingers still expertly plucking the string. the both of you repeat the bass line until he’s grabbing your awkward right hand and quietly, he angles your fingers so you’re following him, “you’re a fast learner.”

“i have a great teacher,” you mumble, and suguru doesn’t tell you that you just willingly kissed his jaw out of habit — because he knows you’d freak out at the possibility of getting him sick. it’s sweet, that in your delirious state you’re still acting out of admiration at the back of your mind. like the bass, loving geto feels as natural as the repetitiveness of psycho killer.

the bass notes reverberates through your bodies, just almost acting like a trance that makes your fingers falter upon the steel strings. he goes on to slowly play the chorus, stretching his fingers into weird shapes. he plays various chords, voice cracking just a bit when he tries to sing the vocals and you laugh softly.

“i just don’t have satoru’s higher register.” geto jokes, knowing you’re close to falling asleep from the way you hum and give one worded answers, so he easily takes over from you, changing it to an easy song. you let the low notes of the bass serenade you to sleep as you curl more into your boyfriend, but not before you hear a glimpse of geto’s harmonised singing to yellow.

it’s not often you hear him sing, being a bassist and all, but there is a nice edge to his voice — not quite made for vocals but you know he can do it if he tries. and even if you don’t voice it out, geto thinks the same thing. it’s similar to this stupid love thing that’s got him all tangled up and distracted, too, and he realises so many new things about himself through you.

you give love a fresh breath of life, nothing like the things suguru sings about in his unfinished demos and notebooks — multitude of things that involved you and his fucked-up perceptions and the foolishness of his parents telling him he’d find the same. you are all he thinks about when he sees the black cough syrup and he can’t stop craving the feel of your body against his.

the moment your breathing turns even and you sag against his embrace is when the strings stops and his breathing escalates. in geto suguru’s arms is the personification of something he never thought he would let into his life, yet you carry the choirs of love and acceptance so effortlessly like heath’s bass guitar solos and atsushi sakurai’s spotless vocals.

suguru’s head simply falls onto your unknowing shoulder, a small fuck that leaves his lips and a smile that he can’t contain is all he needs to know.

@mysugu @suget @slttygeto @na-t0 💟

[bandgie]

Beast of a Man

Smut!Tarzan

Synopsis: You were on an expedition with a team to investigate ape behavior. After setting off a booby-trap accidentally, it's not your team that finds you, but an ape-like man. Is he the missing link anthropologists have been looking for? You need to take him back to camp, and you're thinking of luring him in by more than one way.

A/N: I dont give a fuck if this movie is older than me this man is HOT no one talks about him and im SICK of it.

3.9k words

You take a deep breath through your nose and exhale through your mouth. You were growing irritated. You were somewhere in West Africa sweating your balls off (if you had any) trying to follow where the shrewdness of apes went. They had a tendency to relocate to avoid predators, and they happened to the night you slept in.

You didn't bother asking your team to help you look. You all have been up doing your notes for your dissertation and you decided that they deserved some shut eye. You were tempted to ask the person who was guiding you through the jungles, but the language barrier made you decide not to. Too much work, but the apes couldn't have gone far right?

Since it was blazing, you decided to wear some white shorts and a tan button up shirt completed with a safari hat on top. You made sure your bag was packed with snacks and water before leaving. Of course, you also brought your hunting knife. You prayed it wouldn't be necessary to use, but being out in the open made you a prey to all sorts of things.

You started your journey, keeping close to the trail you were familiar with. You started East since that's where the sun rises, praying that they would be there. You weren't sure how long you walking for until you finally found a piece of ape hair. You gasp excitedly and bent down to grab it, you were getting close.

You wiped the sweat from your forearms and continued forward with new resolution. You were going to find the nest and since it's still early afternoon, you might even be able to see-

"Ahh!" you screamed. Something tightened around your foot and you went up in the air upside, hitting your head on the ground in the process. A pained groan left your lips as you opened your eyes. You were hanging upside down by one of your ankles.

"Aw shit..." you cursed, looking up to see your foot tangled in...vine? Your eyebrows furrowed, wouldn't it have been better to use rope? Maybe your team put this here as a trap, or maybe it was the locals to catch some animals. You felt stupid as you reached upwards to grab your foot and get yourself loose.

Which was much harder than you initially thought. It was too far for you too reach and when you did manage to grasp your ankle, pain would surge from your lower back to your neck as you continued to awkwardly bend your body. Your head was pounding, blood drumming your ears before you finally gave up. They'll find you, you just have to be patient.

"HELP!" You yelled, voice echoing in the trees. You started calling your team by names, then last names. You felt your eyes water in frustration, thinking about how stupid you were to travel alone.

Granted you couldn't be that far from the trail, maybe 6 miles. But you don't know how much longer you could stand being upside down. Then it hit you, your knife! A sound of relief escaped you as your reached behind your back to grab your knife. Only your bag wasn't there. It must've flown off when you were thrusted into the air because it was 20 feet away from you on the ground.

Now you were going to really cry. No, that won't help, you think, I just need to keep yelling, but should you? Here you are alone in the jungle, making all these noises. What if you attract a predator. The thought makes you stop.

You take deep breaths as a way to keep your cool. You'll be fine, they'll find you, you just need to wa- a crunch distracts your thoughts. Your eyes try to find from where the sound came from, turning your head frantically around.

"Hello?" You call, gentle. You're not sure if it's your people, but from the lack of response you doubt it is. The crunching gets faster and louder, you hold your breath in and prepare for an animals to jump our and devour you.

Instead, a man emerges from bushes, a naked man. Almost naked, save for the piece of cloth that wraps around his waist. You narrow your eyes, unable to comprehend what you're seeing. He doesn't look like he natives that live here. The main thing to give it away is the way he walks, or more like knuckle-walking. He scoots closer to your, eyes intensely staring at you. He quadrupedaly walks to you, and you scream.

He wildly moves back, hooting as a response. You thrash around, fear bubbling in your stomach. "No! Fuck off! Go away!"

He knuckle-walks around you, inspecting to see if you're an actual threat. You're not of course, you're tied and on the verge of fainting from being upside for so long. It doesn't take long for the ape-man to realize it and come within 3 inches of your face. You stop moving and stare into his eyes. He's actually... beautiful. Looking past the dirt on his body and his tangled hair, he had a strong jaw and a large nose with a bump at the bridge. He had high cheekbones, thick eyebrows, and deep eyes. Not to mention he was staring at you in the same way, only 100x more intense. He was looking at you like you're the only woman he's ever seen, maybe the only person he's ever seen period.

His hand reaches to touch your face, his fingers gently play with your features. Starting with the nose, eyes, eyelashes, ears, then your lips. He touches his own afterwards as if comparing them. He grunts to himself as if he's talking outloud.

His hands get more explosive, moving to your neck. His hands keep traveling until they feel your breasts, he stops. He feels his own chest and a look of confusion crosses his face. When he goes back to feel your body, you thrash.

"No!"

Your stern voice makes him take a step back, but he knows you're not a real threat. He moves back to his original place and touches your top, playing with the buttons. Sweat starts to drips off your neck to the ground, you don't know how much longer you can stand this position.

His hands discover that you can unbutton these little circles, and that's exactly was he does. He doesn't even notice the bra that holds your tits, his focus completely on the shirt. When he does, his hands take no shame in touching some more.

His touch is so gentle that you instinctively puff your chest closer to him. His fingertips travel from one breast to the other, not knowing your bra can also come off.

Wait, why are you thinking about him taking off your bra? You don't know this man, if he even is a man. But the way he touches you is addicting. You love the softness of it, how he touches you as if you're the most fragile thing on this Earth.

You gently use your hands to grasp his, he jumps at the contact and look back at your eyes. You guide him to the inside of your bra, having your tits spill out. His eyes widen is surprise, as if he's never seen such a complicated contraption. He looks at his chest quickly and back at yours. He starts grabbing them and kneading them, enjoying the softness you have.

He grunts in what seems like approval. He sees you nipples harden from his touches and he pinches them. You moan in response, though you think you're just groaning from pain. You're going to blame your behavior on the lack of blood supply in your brain, but right now the dampness in your underwear is more important.

You use your hands to take off the rest of your shirt and bra, completely topless to him. This man was so entranced by your body that you have to use your hands to make him look at your face. You point to the vine that has you hostage.

"Help me down, and I'll help you," you don't even know if he can understand you, but he must because he climbs a nearby tree and loosens the knot. You fall with a thud and groan, finally feeling the extra blood leave your head.

The man climbs on top of you and looks into your eyes as if he's asking something. You nod, already knowing what he wants. You guide the back of his head back to your tits and he gratefully pops a nipple in his mouth. His hands are on either side of you, possessively keeping you under him. Your hands tangle in his hair and he continues to suck.

You hum and squeeze your legs together, wetness gathering between your legs. He releases your boob with the small pop! and goes to the other side, letting his tongue roll over your nipple. You use your hand to grab his, placing it on your other boob. He gets the message and starts massaging your boob while keeping the other in his mouth.

You moan and grind your body against his, trying to get some friction. The need in your pussy is almost unbearable, you want it to to touched, paid attention to, but you hold back. You don't want to make a decision you would regret, but you're not sure if anything you're doing is helping with that.

He suddenly stops, a whine leaving your lips when he does. He closes his eyes and inhales, looking all over your body. His smells different parts of your body, shoving his nose between your breasts.

"What?" You ask, suddenly self-conscious. The beast of a man travels down you stomach, down your navel, occasionally sticking his tongue out to taste you. Then he stops at your shorts, eyes looking into yours.

He puts his attention back onto your clothes, attempting to take them off himself. He sees the familiar button on the top of your shorts and decides he should start there. You're amazed at his intelligence. He may not be verbal, but he has amazing innovative and cognitive ability.

Your thoughts are pulled away as he manages to do the same to your shorts. He tugs them all the way down to you ankles and stares at the spot he's been aching to devour. You know you must not have the best taste considering how much you were sweating but 30 minutes prior, but this man couldn't care less. He leaned down to your core and took a deep breath, groaning as he did. His hands gripped your thighs and he squeezed them. You whimpered at his touch, opening your legs to give him better access to your pussy.

You were soaking, you could feel you essence dripping down to your body and the way you're underwear felt cold against the wind. The ape-man went it, licking your wetness and widening your legs even more. He bent your legs forwards, folding your back so you knees were almost touching your face.

You squealed at the movement never being in this position. It was pretty uncomfortable, but the way his hands held your legs by your under thighs made your stomach coil in anticipation. He used his tongue more than anything, not knowing that he could so much more.

He used his muscle to collect the remaining drool your pussy produced, trying to find the source. He was beginning to get irritated, but little did he know that your underwear was covering his desire. A part of you loved watching him struggle, but the need for him directly on you was stronger. You reached your arms around your hips and moved your underwear to the side, using your thumb to rub yourself in circles.

You tapped your pussy, making sure it made wet noises to get his attention. "Here, do it here."

The man stopped for a second, bewitched by the sight of your dripping folds and pulsing pussy. He had never seen anything like it, like a rare cuisine he was lucky enough to stumble upon. He experimentally stuck his tongue out to taste you. You hummed in satisfaction and used your fingers to spread yourself. He let your taste settle on his tastebuds, licking his lips hungrily as he decided that this was the best meal he was ever going to have.

He pushed your legs further back and buried his face into you. You moaned as his tongue shot out all over your pussy, smearing both of you juices all around. The ape man moved his face up and down against you, his large nose occasionally touching the bud of your clit.

You squirmed when he did and he noticed your behavior. He moved his tongue up to flick your bundle of nerves and you jolted. An intrigued smile found his lips as he continued his movements. It was too much, you were too sensitive and you instinctively yanked on his hair to pull him away.

You moaned in relief, but the man above you was anything but. He grabbed your hands held them down to your sides, using his chest and face to keep you in your bent position. As if to show you that he wasn't happy with your action, he ate you out brutally. He used his teeth to gently scape against your clitoris, a move he shortly found out gave him the best response.

"No no it's too much! Stop im sorry im sorry!" You cry. You pleas fell on deaf ears. He sucked hard on your bud, stretching it as he pulled away. A loud cry left out lips and he finally stopped to look at you. Your legs were shaking, sweat all over your body, back aching, and tears falling.

He gently let your legs fall so you were flat on the ground. A small sob and thank you left you as your legs closed together. The man closely looked at your face and licked your tears away, an apology. His hands soothingly went through your hair with a look of slight worry on his face.

He had such an intense gaze, you thought he would kiss you if he knew how. You sat up and put your hands on his chest, having him lay on the ground this time. Your eyes found the tent that formed in his patch of cloth. You smiled and had your hands explore his chest. He eyes you warily, not used to being under anyone or anything.

A devious smile played on your lips as you leaned down and kissed his ear, "My turn."

You sat back up and scooted down so you could place yourself between his legs, eagerly lifting off his little wrap so you could see his glory. Your eyes widened at his cock. He was so thick, veins wrapping around his length. The tip was a pretty pink, a sharp contrast to his tanned dick. You felt you mouth salivate at him and you leaned down to place a kiss on his tip.

He groaned, thrusting his hips up to feel you more. You playfully tsked and shook your head, "So impatient."

You got on all fours to be face-to-face with him, hands playing his thighs. You kissed over his pelvis, his bush, his inner thighs, anywhere besides the one place where he wanted you most. His hands went outwards besides him to grasp onto the ground beneath him. You could tell from the way he was straining and groaning, he was holding back from grasping your head. You blushed at his consideration, he's kind of a gentleman.

You decide to thank him by finally taking him into your mouth, making sure your tongue covers his slit and slowly bobbing your head up and down. He thanks you by whining, a sound that's going to forever imprint in your brain. You use one hand to keep on his stomach and the other to wrap around his shaft. You worked in one fluid motion, tasting his salty pre-cum and feeling you spit dribble out of your mouth onto your hand.

You really wanted to test your limits to see how far you could take him, but know with his girth that would be difficult. You still decided to try anyway, moving your hand to play with his balls and pulling your mouth out. He huffed in protest and looked up at you, eyes hazy.

You made sure to gather enough spit and drool over his cock. You relaxed your jaw and went back in. You took a deep breath through your nose and keep sliding down. You gagged when his tip hit you throat, but he still more than halfway to go. You closed your eyes and willed your head forward, mouth opening almost painfully.

Your pussy throbbed in excitement, imagining that it was getting stretched out instead of your mouth. The man beneath you broke, hands grasping the sides of your head and shoving you down. You violently gagged around him, eyes pooling with tears. Your nose tickled his bushy pelvis. You looked up at him to plead to let you go, but seeing your begging eyes and cock covered mouth did the opposite to him. He used your mouth as a cock sleeve, harshly dragging your lips up and down his length.

Your hands gripped his thighs, he was going so hard and fast you started thinking you were going to throw up. You eyes rolled to the back of your head you felt your pussy drip down your thighs. You've never been used by this, and you never wanted it to stop. You could probably just cum from giving him head, but your need for air was starting to get the better of you.

It took both of your hands to rip away one of his before you finally popped your mouth off his dick, gasping and coughing for air. The ape-man sat up, finally recognizing that you were on the verge of passing out. He brushed the air out your face and cradled your face into his hands. He watched as you steadied your breath, holding you close to him.

Never had a man treated you with such care and such disregard at the same time, it went straight to your aching core. You adjusted so you were straddling his lap, hands gripping his shoulders. He wasn't sure what you were doing, but when he felt your folds grind against his cock he knew what you wanted.

You grabbed the base of cock, moved your underwear to the side, and smeared hit tip over your clit. Both of you hummed in unison, his grip tightening on your hips. You moved your legs so you were in a squatting position, preparing yourself to take him in.

He patiently waited as you dipped the tip of dick cock into your pussy, shivers enveloping your body. His face twisted in unfamiliar pleasure, teeth gritting. You put more of your weight on him, sinking more and more onto his cock before you finally felt him fully in your gut. Your eyes rolled back placed your head in the crook of his neck breathless. Once you adjusted, you softly bounced on him, feeling his teeth and tongue get a feel of you exposed neck and ear. He growled approvingly once you started moving more aggressively.

One of his large hands went into your scalp, yanking your hair back to bare your throat at him. A part of you grew scared, but the way he was drooling out of the corner of his lip made you bounce with more determination. He bit the base of your throat making you cry out, then licked it apologetically. He didn't know that his nips at your neck distracted you, so when you slowed your movements down he grew upset. Taking matter into his own hands, he grabbed your ass and slammed you down hard.

You yelped, picking your head up as you looked into his eyes. He has a certain glaze over his eyes, as if he wasn't really looking at you. You leaned back to show a better view of where your bodies connected, his eyes immediately went there.

This must've been some encouragement for him because he started thrusting upwards too. The pleasure was too much, twisting your gut and providing a fiery sensation in your stomach. You whimpered and wrapped your arms around his neck for better support. You let him abuse your pussy, not caring about how he ripped your underwear off to properly see himself pound into you.

"Fuuuuuck," you moaned, "you feel so good." He had no reaction to your words, but you didn't care. He was going to bruise your hips form how hard he was holding you, but you were so close to finishing that none of that mattered.

You used one of your hands to rub your clit, attempting to finish faster. Your whines got louder and more frequent, he did the same. You tried not being loud, but you almost screamed when you came. He felt the way your walls squeezed around him and how your juices flowed out. He watched as your body nearly went limp, putting all your weight against him.

He took his opportunity to slam his cock all the way down into you until you could feel him kiss your cervix. You don't know if the noises you were making could count as moaning, but he frankly couldn't give less of a shit.

Finally, you felt the sweet warmth of his orgasm filling you up. You squeezed around him again and he moaned, wrapping his arms around your torso to make sure you didn't move from him. He couldn't stop leaking inside you as you felt some of it dribble out and possible drip down his balls.

You could tell he didn't want to pull out, satisfied with letting his cock soften between your legs. The thought to let it happen was tempting, but you already let a strange man fuck and cum inside you. There had to be some morals left.

You lifted your head up from his neck and pushed away from him. He huffed in defiance, content with his current position. You untangled yourself form him and wobbled upwards, standing. He slowly got up and looked around as if he was looking for something. Then he crawled over to your torn underwear, grabbing and putting it up to his face. You laughed as he took a deep breath, inhaling your scent like he couldn't get enough.

Once you had your top on, you walked over to him and stuck your hand out for him to give it back. Rather than obeying he growled, not threateningly, but rather in resistance. You sighed and decided going comando would be your only option.

Then an idea popped into you mind. It would be such a waste to leave a man here who seemed to listen to almost your every word. Who you could mold into the perfect fuck. Plus, you needed to study apes anyway and he seemed like the perfect willing participant.

You squatted down to his level and gently ran your fingers through his long, tangled hair. He closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. Oh yeah, you think, a perfect candidate.

You gently tapped the underwear in his hands and his eyes shot back open into yours. "Ya know," you started, "I have more of those back at camp. Wanna see?"

a/n: part 2 here

[slttygeto]

first time meeting them! (part 2)

synopsis: what type of person were you?

featuring: arisu ryohei, chishiya shuntaro.

warning: none.

note: leave some ideas in the ask box for me to read:)

—you can find part one here.

—arisu ryohei

arisu abruptly sat up when he realized that his shirt was gone. what happened when he was passed out? he only remembers a girl around his age approach him before everything was blurry again.

“dont panic, i’m only washing your shirt because it looks like it needs it.” his eyes went from the food next to him to your sitting figure on the little bed across from him.

it looked like you were in an abandoned studio apartment, something about your choice in where to hide made him think that you weren’t the type to settle for the bare minimum just because you were in a life or death situation.

“you saved me,”

“you were still breathing,” good point, yet not good enough to convince him that his life was worth being saved, especially not after the last game.

“i could be a horrible person for all you know.”

“then I guess i’ll have to find out the hard way, hm?” the little smile on your face made him nervous and he had to swallow hard before looking away from your lips.

“but something about you tells me you’re not exactly a bad person.” standing up from the bed, you slowly made your way towards him.

“you could be wrong,” arisu retorted weakly, eyes looking anywhere but at your incredibly close body.

“what if i’m not?” he honestly thought you were going to kiss him when you leaned down, yet next thing he knew you were sniffing him. he immediately felt his face heat up and tried to pull away from you.

“what the fuck-“

“you smell like blood and plants, were you in a botanic garden during your last game?”

how did you even-

“why do you ask.” he didn’t want to remember the details of what happened, especially not since the image of karube’s head exploding in front of him were still engraved in the back of his head.

“alright, my bad.” arisu was silently scolding himself for wishing you had stayed longer being that close to his body, but who could blame him? all the stress from the games and having to survive made him a little bit horny.

“my name is (name) by the way,”

“arisu, arisu ryohei.”

—chishiya shuntaro

right after hatter’s announcement, everyone around you seemed to be giving you more importance and it pissed off niragi to no end. there was nothing special about you, not to his knowledge at least.

chishiya on the other hand knew that despite hatter’s recklessness, he wouldn’t choose a random person to be an executive member.

so he kept an eye on you, silently observing the way you always kept to yourself, only spoke when spoken to and didn’t flinch when aguni and his minions walked past you. he wondered if you knew how to defend yourself or if it was just an act.

“what was the last game you participated in before coming here?” chishiya let kuina do the job of talking to you. he wasn’t really the best at introductions and never bothered with people so having an extroverted friend like kuina made the process of getting to know you much easier.

“a heart game.” chishiya’s ears perked up at your response and he was immediately leaning away from the wall to stare directly at you.

“you don’t look like you’d survive a heart game”

“chishiya!” kuina scolded the male for being so straightforward but he could only stare at her with boredom painting his features.

“I get that a lot, but it gives me some sort of advantage, don’t you think?” your reply accompanied with a tilt of your lips made chishiya mirror your actions, his hands going into his pockets before he slowly walked towards you.

“lots of advantage. no one would suspect that such an innocent face wouldn’t hesitate to shed some blood for their own victory.”

kuina’s lips parted and closed several times at the scene unfolding before her. you two were obviously flirting with each other, no?

“am I interrupting-“

“i’ll head back to my room. see you guys later.” the pair watched your retreating form with opposing expressions ; kuina pouting at the fact that you were leaving so soon while chishiya could only smirk while eyeing you like a cat watching a mouse.

this was getting interesting.

2023 © all works belong to slttygeto. do not repost my work anywhere else.

[normansnt]

As you've likely seen by now, I've been reblogging nearly every Hazbin fic you have, which I apologize if that bothers you at all. I simply see a lack of the x male reader department for this show, which is ironic considering mostly all the characters are queer and so are the creators. So thank you for what you write and how well you write it! I was hoping I could make a request for a part two of a fic I rather liked "(Vox x bar tander!Male reader)" this one specifically. The reader left off having their soul contract bought and offered to be a bartender at the Vee's private bar, and I was wondering what would happen from there?

HIIIIII

THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST

Im really sorry it took so long😭

Also THANK YOU SO MUCH for the reblogs is doesn't bother me at all IM SO HAPPY YOU LIKE MY WRITING💗💗

I HOPE YOU LIKE IT, I THINK IT TURNED OUT PRETTY GOOD😌

ENJOY READING LOVELY PEOPLE

Warnings: Attempted Rape, violance V@lentino

Habit of saving

as a thank you pt.2

Vox x bartender!male reader

"I just dont fucking understand why the fuck you prefer the company of a lowly bartender over mine"

You hear Valentino's yelling from the other room, again.

This was not uncommon. Since you became the bartender in the Vees manor Vox visited the bar more often than before.

You guys spent hours talking and just because of the drinks either, he barely drunk anything cuz he was busy talking to you.

However, this of course annoyed Valentino. He wanted Vox's attention purely on himself.

"I don't." Said Vox, you know, like a lier.

"Work has just been really stressful lately and I need more drinks than before."

This was all lies. But Vox was not in the mood to be taking Valentino's shit, he would much rather go get a drink with you.

"Bullshit, I know how your work is and you blame everything on it, you dont even want to fuck me anymore are you a fucking moron do you know how many people want to get with ME."

And here he goes again. Vox was a little embarrassed though. It was true that since you arrived he was never in the mood to do it with Val, but he found himself having much more sex dreams with you.

He got red at the thought of that.

"You know what, I don't fucking care, go be happy with your boy toy; but don't you dare forget that you are where you are because of me." Ended the Argument Valentino as he grabbed a bottle from above your head, and walked out of the room.

You were silent during the whole argument. You knew it was not smart to start defending Vox you tried that once and, well, Vox had to stich you up afterwards.

"Care for a drink, sir?" You asked Vox. He was still, just standing in the middle of the room looking at the door.

He felt weird. Well, not weird, happy. But that was strange. Usually he felt guilty or annoyed when Valentino stormed off after a fight, usually he wanted to go after him. But not now. Now he felt...calm. Relieved even. He really wanted to sit down and have that drink with you.

"Yes, I would love a drink, and I've told you multiple times to call me Vox."

"Yeah I know but I didn't want to risk Val still hearing it." You chuckled.

"So, the usual, Vox?"

"Obviously." He answered back.

"Are you ok?" You asked as you poured his drink. You two were close enough for this not to be an awkward question. You were the bartender, you have comforted him after a night of drunken crying and put him to bed multiple times. He always asked you to stay. You never did. You just didn't feel ready yet.

"Getting better by the day, his antics don't affect me as strongly anymore." He commented calmly.

"I'm glad." You gave him his drink and you two continued talking.

And you talked, long into the night. Vox got a bit drunk again.

"All right mister I think it's time to get you to bed." You said smiling softly as you were about to jump from behind the bar and help him to his room.

"I can take care of him." Came a creepy calm voice from the door way. You saw Valentino.

He had a fake smile on his face. You knew this was trouble but he was kind of your boss.

"All right, sir." You just answered quietly, as Val took Vox and started to take him to his room.

"What-no, you-- (Y/N)--I, don't"

Vox mumbled drunken.

When they left the room you had a silent debate with yourself.

Yes Val was your boss. But you knew that taking advantage of someone while they're drunk was not below him.

"Fuck it" you mumbled to yourself as you jumped from behind the bar and tried to quietly run after them.

Thankfully you found them when they were about to enter the room.

When they got in you made sure to put your foot between the door and the frame so it doesn't close.

You peered into the room and you saw Val throw Vox onto the bed.

"You fucking whore, you couldn't keep your hands of the cute bartender boy could you."

He started angrily as he stepped onto Vox's screen, breaking it. You already wanted to barge in there when you saw this but when he started unbuckling his belt, thats when you snapped.

You jumped on Val, literally. And while the man might be powerful he had close to no muscles so he crumbled under you.

You knew you had close to no chance of winning. But you didn't care. You had to save Vox.

You tried to cut off Val's breathing by holding onto his neck for dear life. You might have been physically stronger he was still an overlord. A very powerful one.

You expected to be thrown down onto the floor any minute when the struggling finally stopped.

Your eyes opened widely as you hurriedly got off of Valentino.

You started panicking. What the fuck did you just kill an overlord? No, no there is no way he is so powerful why didn't he stop you.

You kneeled down and checked for a heart beat.

When you felt faint beating a boulder fell off your shoulder.

"Thank fuck" you commented to yourself. He probably just passed out.

But still why didn't he stop you.

You thought about it a but when it hit you. He was probably batshit drunk himself. You saw that when he walked away from the bar he barely managed to walk straight.

You were still panting.

You looked over at Vox and a strong feeling of sadness filled you.

You stepped over Vals passed out form and lifted up Vox.

He was lighter than you thought. You carried him all the way to your room where you knew you had a first aid kit.

Sure you could have just bring the first aid kit to him but you were not going to leave him alone with Valentino jot even for a second. Not even when they're both passed out.

After you put Vox's screen back together and batched him up you laid him down onto your bed.

This gave you time to think things through.

Even you couldn't explain to yourself why you cared about Vox this much.

Its true you have become very close during your time working here.

But there are people who you have known longer yet do not love as much as him.

...love?

You love him?

"(Y/N)"

While you were occupied with your thought you didn't notice the time. It was morning already.

"Yeah, Vox?"

"What the fuck happened?" He asked as he started touching his patched up screen.

You told him everything. You also told him that you will very likely have to leave because once Val wakes up...you don't want to know what he'll do to you.

"He can't do anything your soul is mine you are under my protection." He said firmly. He sat silently after that. Like someone who is contemplating something.

"Can I ask you something?"

He asked after a long silence.

"Of course"

"Why did you save me?"

This surprised you.

"Well, I mean I know what Val is like and...I just did what any normal person would do really-"

"No. You know no one in hell would to that for the demon that owns their soul. Not to mention this was the second time you saved me."

"...I honestly don't know why I did it the first time; I guess I just felt like...I dont know"

"And the second time."

You couldn't answer this. You knew the answer but you didn't want to say it.

"Well, you are a nice boss you treat me with kindness and-"

"No one would attack a powerful overlord just to safe their boss who is just 'nice'; try answering truthfully this time."

Well fuck. You knew Vox was a smart man but that didn't help you in this situation.

"I..." you didn't know what to do. You could come up with another lie but he would detect it no problem.

"I love you" you blurted out before you could stop yourself. The moment the words left your lips you smacked your hands onto your lips.

"I'm sorry sir I will leave-"

Vox took your hand in his when you wanted to stand up and pulled you towards him.

With one swift movement he placed his lips on your in a tender kiss.

You have never kissed a screen before but you were pretty sure it wasn't supposed to be like this.

His lips were soft but cold. It was an amazing kiss.

"Oh, you're not going anywhere." Said Vox while he let out a little chuckle.

"Because I love you too."

[hazelvrr]

Chapter 1: The fair

S/n: As promised here's chapter 1, let me know if I should continue with this fic as I've never written a full fic before so I might be rubbish, also it's not proofread but any mistakes should only be minor. No use of y/n. I tried to capture their personalities to the best of my ability but they are so funny that they're also extremely difficult to write. I tried to not repeat any scenes from the movie, they still happen unless I mention them differently but I didn't want to sound like a broken record.

Summary: you get ready with pj and josie for the fair and they question your friendship with hazel and then you see her at the fair.

Warnings: none

Word count: 2.1k

-------------------------------------------------------

The fair was the one thing you looked forward to at the end of summer. Pretty much everything else about summer ending absolutely sucked but at least there was the fair.

Every year as soon as August rolled around, you were counting down the days until you could ride the ferris wheel, get cotton candy and most importantly, see hazel for the first time in 3 months.

Your 'best friend' hazel, if you could even call her that, volunteered at some charity or association of some sort all summer every single year without fail, so you couldn't see her for 3 months straight, which always drove you crazy.

You weren't quite sure why, after all, it was the same with pj and josie because they were away at some abstinence camp for the youth or as pj called it 'an anti sex cult run by a bunch of jealous old nuns who dont get any and are trying to ruin her life because shes hot as fuck' (her words, not yours) so you didn't see them either but you couldn't care less, so why were you so bothered about not seeing hazel?

Either way, you were super exited about this year's fair and had decided to get a ride from josie (only because you were embarrassed to tell anyone cool that you had failed your drivers test 5 times over the summer and had acctually managed to get yourself banned from the local dmv from 'assaulting your driving instructor' which you only did because he totally had it in for you) so naturally you thought it was a good idea to get ready at her house with her and pj.

BIG MISTAKE.

You should have known that pj and Josie, being the horny pervs that they are, spent the whole evening scheming about getting the cheerleaders attention, and how they were planning on getting possibly the straightest teenage girls you had ever seen in your whole life to fall head over heels for them.

Absolute losers.

You were so used to their antics that your brain had completely tuned them out as you applied your eyeliner, sitting beside pj, faces pushing eachother out of the way to fight to look in the tiniest mirror on josies desk.

You had stopped listening after josie had started ranting about the size of Jeff's penis, you were planning on stuffing your face with corndogs in less than an hour, and that was really putting you off the idea, that was until you heard josie say your name.

"Soo, have you spoken to hazel since school ended?"

Pj looks over at you with a shit eating grin on her face, "what she means to say is, have the two of you fucked yet?"

You roll your eyes at pj, not even dignifying her with an answer and turn your head to face josie, who was now stacking snapbacks on her head whilst looking in the mirror.

"To answer your question, yeah we've facetimed a few times and texted a lot."

"Oooo phone sex," pj giggles, "kinky."

You just flick pj in the head and begin applying your lipgloss.

Josie picks up one of the snapbacks from the floor and launches it at pjs head and instead misses and knocks over the mirror.

"Dude what the fuck." Pj hisses, standing up to go over to josies closet door to look at her outfit in the full length mirror, posing and checking herself out.

"Seriously though, when are you going to make a move?" Josie asks, backing away from pj and going to sit on the bed.

You look at her with a confused expression, "what do you mean, we're just friends."

Josie cocks her eyebrow and smirks, "please, you've been in love with her since 5th grade, you know it, I know it, pj knows it, pretty much everyone in a 10 mile radius can see it, except for hazel herself since she's an oblivious dork, but that's besides the point."

You go to answer but pj comes back over and sits back down next to you and you take the opportunity to escape and use the bathroom.

You take your time in there staring into the glass, turning your body around, checking that your hair is straight, your makeup looks good in natural lighting, oh and that your cleavage is poking through your tank top just enough, for no particular reason other than looking hot for yourself (well, that's what you told yourself anyways).

As you open the bathroom door to return to josies bedroom you hear pj and josie whispering, and being as nosy as you are, you press your ear up against the door to listen to what they're saying.

"Shhh she's gonna hear you" josie hushes.

"Shut up no she's not, that bitch couldn't hear a rocket land if it landed on the roof."

"How much did you say you wanna bet again?"

"50 bucks. If by the end of the school year they haven't fucked, I owe you 50 bucks, but if they have, you owe me 100."

"How the fuck does that work, why do I owe you double?"

"Because I'm fucking awesome... okay because I'm broke as hell and am gonna need the contribution for my homecoming dress so I can look sexy for brittany, duh."

"Yeah yeah whatever, its a deal, I think she's coming."

You once again roll your eyes at how pathetic they are. You swear to god that if you spent any more time with them than you already do, your eyes would permanently be fixed in the back of your head.

"Hey guys, you ready to go it's almost 8," you suggest as you open the door, "josie, what the hell do you think you're wearing?!"

"What do you mean?" She looks down confused at her spiritual playboy shirt, 5 carabiners hooked onto her pants' belt loops and her arm sling on her right arm.

"You look like dyke throw-up," pj cackles, standing up from the desk and following you both out of the bedroom door.

Josie looks back at pj as you're all walking down the stairs, "pj you can't say anything, look at you, you've got suspenders over your nipples like a goddamn freak."

Pj flips her off from behind her head and you can't help but giggle as you follow them out to the car and hop in the backseat.

"How'd you break your arm again josie?" You lean forward and ask as josie turns the keys and reverses out of her driveway.

"She flunked out of anti horny camp and fell out of her bunk rubbing one out," pj replies casually, looking down at her phone that displays brittanys Instagram posts from the summer, "fuck, she got even hotter over summer, how's that even possible?"

"Is isabel in any of the photos?" Josie questioned desperately, sneaking a peak down at pjs phone as she pulls up to a red light.

"God you're both pathetic."

You finally arrive to the fair, granted you're 20 minutes late because josie circled the parking lot at least 10 times as pj yelled at her to just fucking park, but josie wanted to make sure she could find a big enough spot.

You hand over your tickets and walk in, they're both muttering about something or other but you're not really listening, you're just scanning for hazel until you feel a tap on your shoulder and nearly jump out of your skin.

"Hey guys," hazel smiles, bringing you in for a hug, "long time no see, wait.. pj, josie, you never come to the fair?"

You point over at isabel and brittany standing a few feet away, where they had been gawking at them for the past 5 minutes.

"Ah, I see," She nods, I haven't seen you In ages I've missed you."

"Yeah.. me too," you blush, looking down at your shoes.

"Oh shit what happened to josies arm?"

"Masterbating."

"What, is her vagina made out of concrete or something?"

"No what? Hazel, she fell out of her bunk," pj scoffs.

"Can everyone please stop talking about my vagina?" Josie interjects.

"Soo hazel, what's this I hear about you volunteering at a slop farm?" Pj questions.

"The national meat association? Yeah it was good," hazel replies, "so did you guys get up to anything crazy over summer?"

"Yeah we killed this girl at camp for snitching on josie, got arrested, taken to Juvie and spent the rest of summer there, nearly died but they let us go when we told them that we're dykes and called them homophobic," pj explains sarcastically.

"What?! Are you guys okay?"

Josie facepalms.

You were about to explain that pj was being sarcastic when you hear cheering and you all look over to see Jeff appearing with the rest of the football team.

You all exchange disgusted looks and then pj notices that isabel and brittany are walking in your direction.

She snatches your corndog out of your hand and hands it to josie and then takes hazels cotton candy and hands her a wad full of tickets. Her and josie anxiously keep swapping the corndog and cotton candy mumbling to eachother until isabel and brittany are standing right infront of you all.

Josie drops her corndog, well actually YOUR corndog and kicks it away in hopes of isabel not noticing but both isabel and brittany look down and watch her do it, then look back up at her and raise their eyebrows.

"Hey can I uh, get my cotton candy back?" Hazel asks as she reaches forwards towards pj to grab it, but instead is hit in the head with it by pj who just ignores her and takes a bite out of it.

You look at hazel and shrug your shoulders, jerking your head to turn her attention back to the disaster of a conversation going on between the four of them.

"Oh hey, didn't see you there," brittany says to you poking her head round to look at you, "how's your summer been?"

"Yeah it's been good," you reply, "looking forward to cheering again though I've really missed it, what about you guys?"

"Yeah, I've been practicing all summer I'm really looking forward to getting back into it!" Isabel smiles, stepping forward.

The conversation goes on for a painful amount of time, every second making you want to gouge your eyeball out with a fork as you just make ridiculous faces at hazel, who just looks back at you the same way before giggling.

You went to follow pj and josie out to josies car when hazel quickly follows, "I can drive you home if you want, your on the way and I doubt you want to listen to another second of them babbling on about isabel and brittany."

"Yeah that would actually be great, thank you."

"No trouble at all," She says, "plus, it's an excuse to speak to you, we haven't had much of a chance to talk tonight."

She pulls out her car keys and unlocks her car, of course its a range rover. Her mom gave it to her as a pity gift when her dad left which obviously didn't fix the issue but hazel didn't complain and just accepted the car, even though she wasn't old enough to drive at the time, which her mom forgot because she barely pays any attention to her own daughter.

The drive is only 5 minutes long, since you live so close, so you don't get long to chat, but she tells you all about the meat association and the cool tshirt she got to wear, even showing you a photo when she pulls up on your driveway.

You lean over and give her a hug, "see you at school tomorrow?"

"Wouldn't miss it," She grins, "meet me outside to walk in together?"

"Wouldn't miss it."

Once you had kicked off your shoes and lazily removed your makeup, you got changed and plopped onto your bed.

Tonight was so chaotic yet for some reason you weren't thinking about pj and josies funny attempt at flirting or how they had made complete asses out of themselves, only about the drive home with hazel, how her hair blew in the wind, framing her face perfectly, how her hand gripped the steering wheel as she reversed out of the parking lot and how her eyes practically lit up when she was talking to you about her voluntary work over the summer.

You try to sleep but instead you lay awake for hours staring at your ceiling thinking about it. You simply cannot get her out of your head.

Huh. Maybe, just maybe, you did like hazel callahan? No. Surely not. Unless...

[skullvgirl]

GENDER : girlboss | barou

incl. the bad boy, barou

warnings. fem reader, fluff, crack, school!au, established relationship

an's. this one is for @chxxrybxxmb ≽ܫ≼, this was fun to write, tysm for the idea.

it was hard to talk to barou, he knew it was—he said it himself.

he wasn't friendly or cheerful like the rest if the team, he didnt have the social energy or demeanor they possessed.

people were scared of him to say the least ( not that he minded so much ) so scared in fact the only ones who would ever even talk to him besides the team was his teachers.

and you of course.

it was late afternoon and barou was just finishing up practice. you were here today ( on rare occasion ) to pick him up for dinner.

it didn't take you long to find the massive soccer field along with the massive team your boyfriend was on, he was loud as ever as he made the last goal, sealing the victory for the varsity team that seemed to playing the JV team.

"poor them, didn't even stand a chance" you shook your head. the score board read 5-0

you felt more comfortable making your way over to barou now as everybody was picking up equipment and packing up. it was a good time to snag his attention and let him know you'd be waiting in the car when he was ready.

"hey watch where you're fucking going dipshit"

it came from a JV player, whos name you didn't know, he purposely had bumped into your boyfriend as he was carrying equipment back, making sure it was hard enough to leave a bruise.

oh no

"excuse me?"

oh no this isnt good

barou didn't waste another second, immediately strutting towards the younger boy and yanking his shoulder back so now they were face to face.

"do we have a fucking problem?" barou stated agrily, cracking his knuckles together in preparation for what he was about to do.

the boy was shaking but didn't seem to want to back down, the whole fields eyes were on him now.

" i-I don't know, do we?" his voice came out cracked and shaky but he pressed on further, pumping his chest out in hopes of seeming intimidating.

it wasn't working.

no, no, no! shouei you stupid stupid man ! you could get kicked off the team for this !

you didn't waste any time, sprinting over and making your presence known to both your boyfriend and the bitter teamate.

"hit him and i will rip your balls off", barou acted shocked to see you here. he knew you were coming he just didn't think so soon.

barou's shoulders immediately untensed and he glanced over at the other players who watched in awe at how easily you were able to calm him down.

"thats what i thought, now get your stuff and get im the car, before someone really gets hurt" you said, not bothering to pay attention to the shocked faces of the team.

barou didn't say another word, but took one last glance at the other player at another last glance at you.

to the player he mouthed 'you are so lucky she's the boss of me, or you would be dead !'

and to you he said quitely "sorry love, won't happen again"

you only rolled your eyes and tracked his moving figure as he went back to the building, the other players however didn't move a muscle.

what the fuck just happened? they all thought.

you made your way to leave.

" wait a minute..."

you turned back, tilting your head to signal you were listening.

" you two are dating ??!"

from then on out it was public news that the two id you were together , although you'd been in a relationship for months now it seems more people were aware now that the egoistic and selfish soccer player had a super cool sweet girl girlfriend who he treated like everyday was her last.

like in the cafeteria

he sits alone with you and eventually people realized he makes your lunch—everyday, because you're always asking what he is making for you tomorrow.

can you believe that? barou, king barou making breakfast everyday without fail.

unimaginable

or the library

people dont spy nessacarliy but this one time, you got caught brushing his very long and lushess hair while he practicallypurred like a kitten on your lap. he regrets it with his whole heart. he ended up on the BLLK HIGH Almost Friday Page.

and on the soccer field of course

the score it 1-1, no overtime and sudden death. barou has the ball, and although he practically 10 feet out of his shooting range, he decides to take a chance.

he shoots

he scores

the crowd goes wild.

it's not long after he's crowded by the many other players that he makes his way to you, picking you up and twirling you around in his arms, kissing your face softly while everyone was there.

pda wasn't really his thing, but he didn't really care. your support was more than deserving of his affection and he wasn't shy if the whole world could see.

[vyzz-undercover]

im insane have a few kilos of:

[cato/f!ambassador] (1) (2)

(6,600ish words) (please fucking sedate me)

{i dont usually write in whatever perspective having a 'you' in this sort of context is, so forgive any oopsies besties!!!}

CONTENT WARNINGS:

•slight dubcon

•hints of size kink

•intercourse [M/F]

•degrading language

•mild possessive behaviour

•pisspoor cliche of 'oh no you're freezing haha body warmth eh?' trope

•mr. sicarius' insufferable ego

•tumblr's dogshit formatting from phone notes to the app

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super special thanks to all the writers im too much of a spineless coward to actually @ because i only ever lurked on anon asks on old main for, like: moodymisty, mothiir, lemon-russ, the-raven-lady, scriberye and many others. you're all the unknowing reasons why i made an alt to post this, cheers for your amazing works and ideas!!! :3

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It was doomed from the start, honestly.

Not to say he had any hope that an assignment would ever actually go easily for once.

It's supposed to be an apparently simple diplomatic procedure. Namely, you get to stand around, run your ambassadorial trap and bat your lashes and trollop about in front of pompous baseline fools. While he, Cato Sicarius, stands at attention in pissy formal wear; pretending like he's not a hair-breadth from an aneurysm watching it all take place.

Oh, and not to forget the brother who's a head taller than him, in full plate, and isn't being held to a standard of mock-humility.

He realises belatedly he's forgotten the Primaris' name. That shouldn't happen. He never used to forget things. Edict memory shouldn't let him. He shouldn't be able to—or, well—maybe his subconscious deigned it unimportant and emptied it out the proverbial airlock of his mind. It was admittedly largely inconsequential. He'd been told, surely. He remembers he was a Sergeant of some sort from his markings. He also remembers being gawked at by the Primaris, borderline felated by eyes alone. He's Cato Sicarius, afterall. Grand Duke of Talassar and High Suzerain of Ultramar—of course he'd been inspiring awe. But for some warp-damned reason, alongside all those great titles, his Father'd decided to add Master Babysitter of His Ambassador to the list. But Cato does doesn't let it bother him. He's always got better things to occupy his time. Like furiously glaring at you across the thunder-hawk, even if you'd been dead-set on counting the rivets in the floor plating.

You'd looked absolutely idiotic in an Astartes troop seat. Like a toddler in an adult-sized wheelchair, draped in furs that seemed a size too big; hiding a dress that looked a size too small.

Simply put, the entire assignment was to be an event in circle-jerking—until shit hit the fan with all the painful similarity of a Nurgling thrown headlong into a thruster engine.

To begin with, it was a trap—a trap where he's separated from brother-Sergeant 'whatever-the-fuck-riel' in the commotion and responding bolter fire. That'd left Cato pointedly responsible for evacuating you, the useless little chatterbox, by the scruff of your fuzzy coat through side halls.

On another note, of all the accursed biomes, he hates tundras the most.

Pointedly, it's exactly what seventy percent of this backwater, shit-hole planet is this time of year; whereas the other thirty percent is glacial mush.

He discovers firsthand just how much sloshy ice-water there is to be found as he kicks in a shutter door and gets doused for the first time of many to follow; only to vault from the eastern rampart. Sliding down a long, raised and sleet covered run-off canal that passed over the keep's lesser residential rooftops with you in his grasp.

Melt water soaks you both as he scrambles fights to a halt on the steep decline before the drop off. Wobbling balancing on the edge for a second before he manages to scud back up and down a side chute, worming through the raucous hellscape of filthy baselines and too-tight alleys into the scrappy frozen wilds.

There was little time to hesitate when he decides breaking into a dead-sprint with a soggy ambassador thrown over his shoulder's the modus operandi of the situation.

He didn't stop until he was at least fifteen clicks away, or rather—he only stops when he's able to recognise a spot to hide and await for emergency evacuation.

A half-standing shack. Probably some peasant's hunting hovel. Clearly in poor condition, and honestly, a cave would've been preferable—but he isn't about to pass up the opportunity.

The door doesn't even swing open when he nudges it with his elbow. No, it falls inward, because of course it does, and he grumbles belatedly when it thuds.

The inside of the structure is a damnable mess, but, at the very least, it's dry.

He moves to tug you off his shoulder and toss you onto a pile of rags in the far corner, but he hesitates periodically. Even through his own wet outer attire, he can tell very little body heat is coming off you. His hearing catches on the way your breathing labours below the incessant chatter of your teeth.

Some wretched part of him implores he let you down carefully next to the nested mess of dirty cloth; and for once, he acquiesces to granting mercy.

You curl up into a ball on the floorboards almost immediately.

In his eyes, you're the pict of some drowned rat. The fur coat you'd been wearing over your dress is just as soaked through as everything else. Your hair is full of small, frozen rivulets at the ends, mixed in with powder snow and ice; and all the while, you're whining softly and trying to coil tighter into a fetal position.

He's trying very hard not to just stand there and dumbly listen to your little noises of weakness like a salivating dog.

Instead, Cato turns and lifts the door back into place against the frame; then he activates the honing beacon on his belt.

No latency pings, no close contact.

He grumbles again, eyeing your shivering form over his shoulder begrudgingly.

He hates you.

He hates that he's the one who's responsible for you.

The fact he is also currently out of his power-armour because of this charade only makes him even more irate, impossibly.

Sure, he has his combat bodyglove on under the tacky regalia, but it's no real consolation. He'd feel a lot better if there was a couple extra hundred kilos of plasteel and ceramite on him.

He could've had his armour on, had someone else been the one to babysit you.

He would have preferred anything but sole custody of your wretched, annoying existence falling on him. But because he's the only competent Astartes around ninety percent of the time, and you're the root of all problems—it means he's the only one who's capable of handling your stupidity. He can't even imagine letting anyone else do it. You'd probably deafen Trajan with your yapping if he was in his stead. Or Prabian. And if Titus had watch of you, you two'd probably be—ugh, he won't even dignify the thought. He can't believe the man'd been Captain of Second Company before him, or how or why Agemman gave the captaincy to him. He understands why Titus'd been struck from most records aside from high clearance. To say nothing of the fact that one would think being a Blackshield for a century humble someone. But no, it seems crossing the Rubicon Primaris gave him his balls back.

Cato had almost flown into a blind rage when he'd heard him jokingly warning about rough weather to you on the embarkation deck the last time you'd been in each others general vicinity—because oh, of course Lieutenant Titus is suddenly a subsector-renowned fucking comedian as soon as you're there. Cato ought to subpoena the dribbling Inquisition like that little snake Leandros did. See how Titus'd like a real stage to perform on again. Maybe they'll have a new rendition of the cunted Rubicon Primaris to piece his sorry fat-arse back together once more by then. But he won't. He won't because Marneus would sulk, and Cato would feel bad. Plus, Cato's infinitely more likely to kill an Inquisitor than help one. But you—you little skank—you find Titus so funny. Hiding a giggle behind your hand, pretending to look demure and professional despite your wretched nature.

Why don't you smile at him like that?

You would be the death of him.

It was always all because of you. Every single time. Because you're so useless in any situation that can't be rambled out of. Which is all of them when you're involved, in Cato's opinion. His Father should leave the talking to professionals who wouldn't break a hip from a smack on the rear.

But now you are going to die of hypothermia, like a typical, pathetic little baseline—well, unless you start following his orders.

Cato tries not to think of how you were acting when rounds started going off earlier. Of course, like a spooked animal, you'd been all ears to his commands then. Hiding against him with your hands pawing at the side of his dress uniform as bullets careened across the dining hall, looking up at him with those big, terrified, caught-in-the-crosshair eyes—and, Throne, it had been so easy to pick you up. You were so soft flimsy, he could fling you around like a rag-doll if he really wanted. Manhandling you would be a singlehanded venture. He's liable to just hoist you up whenever you think yourself bold enough to bother him next. Grab you by your uniform's scruff and just pin you against a bulkhead, you'd be bent at the perfect height to—no—no, no.

Abruptly trying to distract himself, Cato draws his blade from it's ceremonial sheath and activates the disruption core, trying to stoke some sort of heated spark as he drove it into the fireplace.

He brutishly nudges it amidst the old wood and long dim coals. It isn't his finest moment of critical thinking, but it seems to be working; seeing as a few weak embers sputter to life.

Gratingly, he's aware that even a servitor would've known starting a fire in hostile territory was a fool's surest way at getting caught—but he has no other choice. Either he acts the moron and plays his poor hand, or you die from the shock of your chill; and if that happens, he'll have to face his Father's wrath.

And Guilliman would have his left testicle as a paperweight if you died under his watch.

In conclusion, if Cato is to choose between stupidity and complete failure, he's opting for stupidity. Which aggravatingly felt like an ongoing occurrence, ever since you started existing anywhere near him.

He reaches for your soggy swaddled form, and tugs.

Even practically hypothermic, you've still got enough of a two-faced-bitch's spirit hidden away in you to hiss and swat at him blindly. So much for his Father's claims you were of 'sweet, kind temperament.'

For a moment, he genuinely wants to throttle you for the outburst; but he swallows down the urge.

"You need to get out of those," he snaps, glowering down at you. "Or you are going to die."

Your response is a poignant little groan as you glance dizzily around the room.

Cato huffs, "There are blankets beside you, fool."

He holds up a dingy plaid throw, half fraying and stinking of stale mould. It was an assault on his vomeronasal organ, but he wasn't about to let you act the typical spoiled cunt routine of an Imperial ambassador. He would have you wrapped in it sooner rather than later, wether you liked it or not. You dying reflects poorly on him, afterall.

"T-T-Turn, p-p-please—" you say, but your stammering mangles the words into a juddering mess.

He growls, almost tempted to snarl something about 'the fucking audacity in thinking you can tell him what to do—' but acquiesces out of sheer force of will and pivots on his heel, settling into a martial line stance.

Cato can hear you struggling to wriggle free of your clothes. The whines of effort and heavy breathing, to say nothing of the almost comedic slop sound one miscellaneous article makes as it hits the rotted wooden floorboards.

Even if he's taking it to his grave, he's admittedly itching to look over his shoulder.

It's a completely degenerate urge.

But he's—he's wanted this. He's wanted this exact opportunity.

He's got it, now.

You're alone with him.

Nothing and nobody to distract or detract from your attention finally being all on him.

You make a fey little groan, and he takes that as a signal you're finished.

He rounds about-face, and, for lack of a better word, ogles the shape of your covered form.

You've dragged that pile of rags closer to the meagre fireplace, lying on it with the plaid blanket strewn over the top of you.

Even completely hidden beneath, he can see you are still shaking under the ratty thing. Even moreso than before, in all actuality. He supposes that's a good sign. It proves your feeble body is still well and keen on living.

But the suffocating concept you're bare weak, soft useless and needing pathetic underneath that scrap of fabric worms its way into his brain like a cancer.

He grits his teeth so hard his jaw aches.

Tearing his gaze away, he finds the embers his blade coaxed are a small flame eating away at the old timber now.

Looking back, your shivering's subsiding, but your rapid breathing is increasing; which is surely not good.

He has an idea, which definitely isn't influenced by depravity at all—shut up.

Cato tries for a moment to actually unbutton his attire. His fingers are too large, unsurprisingly. And with the body-suit, he's got no leverage of a nail or two to do away with the dainty fasteners. So, ultimately, he tears the regalia down the front, sending buttons flying—and continues to pry and rend the sopping garments off his arms and legs until they're a pile at his feet.

Then he sets about a more strenuous matter. He releases the locking mechanism at his clavicle, and promptly undoes the thick claps over his pectorals so he can pop free the catches beneath, peeling the layered material back and shucking his arms and hands loose of their constraints.

The top of his bodyglove hangs around his hips now, and he sighs. The chill is of no real annoyance to him. He's built to endure most conditions. Sure, it's cold—but Astartes run hot. And right now, he's boiling for so very many accursed reasons.

He settles on his side next to you and scuds himself to bracket the pile of fabric.

"Move closer," he bites out.

He tries not to groan when you actually do, and surprises himself when he manages to stifle the sound. Even through the blanket, he imagines his warmth is a welcome change to freezing.

"T-Thank you," you say softly, soaking in his body heat like a banal reptile under a sun's rays.

He likes hearing timidity on your lips.

He supposes it stems from his habit of humbling you. The opportunities are unsurprisingly plentiful. He often finds enjoyment hearing you back-pedal when he would cut you down for so much as genially inquiring on Astartesian discussions. Putting himself in the middle and shutting you out, even if you were welcomed in them prior to his arrival.

If you want to ask something of his Brothers, it'll be his answers.

All it ever took was a growl and a curt reminder to know your place. Then you'd fumble and take two steps back. Snipped down to size as you ought to be. Forced to suffer an ounce of the shame he feels. Oh, and then your big doe-eyes'd cast down at Cato's ceramite boots, fussing; trying to apologise to him.

In truth, it's adorable pathetic to watch.

You look so hurt.

It's an act, he's sure of it.

You play at being difficult to anger, and that makes you just that bit more grating. You've unknowingly caught him with an unfair advantage. One that his prowess as a statesman and a warrior cannot seem to scratch. He's always left feeling robbed in your presence. In a way that furiously giving in to the alien urge of palming himself afterwards doesn't ever fix. He's toey and irked to be excluded when you talk to other Astartes, but simultaneously darkly glad that you shy from such antics with him.

It's paradoxical, yes. But no, he's not a hypocrite. Though some part of him is scolding him for being one. No, he's aching to sink his proverbial claws into you—though he won't ever say it to a soul. He won't because he knows he's not supposed to have tastes such as this. A pit in his gut taunts that the stint he'd suffered in the Warp is to blame. But he's the commander of Roboute Guilliman's Victrix Guard. He is not aberrant. The sidelong, fraction-of-a-second glances Cato receives from his Primarch when you enter his office to give briefings surely mean nothing.

It's clear why you have his Father's favour, but he'll never admit that either. Aside from Guilliman's desperation to find baseline company for some strange reason. You're surely just a pet to him. Like a small rodent he pries off a little wheel and sets out in a clear sphere to roll about on the bridge, or something.

To say nothing of his brothers' behaviours.

They won't show it in a group, but he knows the Astartes beneath him preen at your every query.

It's complete lunacy.

It's heresy.

You must have somehow beguiled them all, just like you've done him.

But you're still right there—right where he wants you.

And damn it all, does he want you.

He wants—he wants you on your front, squirming underneath him. No, wait, he wants to see you—but then you'd need to be on top. He can watch, like that. Then afterwards he'll have you on your back, perhaps. Why not sideways? You're already like that, now. Or—or... who's he kidding, he'd take anything, and everything.

Throne, he's so hard he swears he is going to have a brain haemorrhage. He feels like he's already had one, honestly, for all his thoughts are hazing. It's a million leagues worse than the time you'd accidentally called him 'Lord Sicarius' by accident instead of your usual choice of 'Commander' and Throne, he'd rubbed himself raw after that.

Maybe if you weren't such a whorish little wretch, his fantasies wouldn't be running so rabid right now.

You wriggle and your half-covered back slides up against his front.

Cato's never held himself stiller in his life.

Your skin feels like fine silk to his spiralling mind; and even worse, your damnable wriggling doesn't stop. You start making little movements with your feet to try to get circulation back in them—and again, there's a fey similarity to your behaviours and some soaked rodent he recognises.

Decidedly, you've realised it's not enough and promptly jut your feet backwards between his quads. Still continuing the motions, but more furiously.

The touch is dangerously close to the cradle of his inner thighs.

He swears he actually feels the blood drain from his face in mortification. The touch is meagre, but it's real. It's more warming than any he's ever known. And of course, to add insult to injury, that blood drains straight to were he's already painfully hard—which is currently pushed against his navel, halfway jutting out of his bodyglove's zipper.

Thankfully, you withdraw yourself from between his legs and sigh again, snug.

Then, you shuffle closer.

Your rear scuds right up to the swell of his confined cock.

Cato's immediately beside himself in an instant, flying into a rainbow of emotion. First, he's disgusted. Then he's seething at the audacity—which makes him furious—and finally, he's... he's ecstatic.

He groans, raring like some rutting animal; but the sound ultimately leaves him as an angry, subvocal snarl of transhuman harmonics.

You flinch, and wriggle away sharply, and he repeats the sound again at the loss of contact. You're only a hair away from being there still, he can feel how close you are—but you remain just beyond him again.

"My—my apologies, Commander... I-I—" you blurt out, voice still a little chill stuttered, "I didn't... I didn't mean to overstep."

He inhales steadily. He notes you're doused in human stress hormones; but he's acutely aware of a honeyed smell just below the surface. It's so suffocatingly sugary it's actually hurting his nose to scent the air. It's addling his thoughts, turning his focus to mist.

He can smell you failing to juggle all the reactions and thankfully rottenly settling for the one that makes you reek of mollasses.

"Come back, shut up," he hisses. "And stay still."

Sweet-stink radiates again before you swallow sharply.

There's an eternal breath of time in which he's about to go mad with anticipation, and the instant you're slotted against him again.

Some base urgency sends him frotting forward, and the thick, leaking head of him that peaks out the top of his zip brushes against a warm cunt; all thanks to that blanket of yours having slipped loose slightly, and lo, the blessed horrid consequence.

He'd live off the way your surprised gasp makes his nerves thrill.

"Is—" you wheeze, "Is that...?"

He grimaces, unsurprised you're ever stupider than you look. Recklessly, instead of lying—instead of saying 'no, it's a combat knife,' his mouth decides he's to act the most pathologically honest town crier alive.

"It," he intones sharply, before the words "...is your fault," leave him as a rushed hiss.

A belated pause wins out for a moment, and he's mortified as he realises what he's just confessed. There's a leaden feeling at the back of his throat. One option to recover the situation is that he could just hit you on the head. What'd be a shiner of a punch to a brother would be a terminal concussion to a baseline. Then, he'd tell the Primarch, oh yes, you died. Very sad. How? To shreds. To shreds you say? Truthfully, he can't really bring any actual conviction to the plan. He wouldn't. The notion is merely a hypothetical, in a perfect world where violence solved everything. Because if you die, Guilliman will send him to an Agri-world to be some peasant's plough-puller or someshit for a few centuries—and Cato's going to kill himself before he has to suffer that indignity. Uriel would never let him live it down. He's bound to suffer the same consequences, ultimately. Even if he's got no idea what an Astartes with a sex drive would be liable to be punished for. Oh, right. Corruption. So now, there's a credible witness to his flaw and one that his Father'll believe, worst of all, and... abruptly, you reply instead of scream in revulsion, your voice a mumbled little squeak as you say, "I didn't know—I mean, I didn't think—"

"Believe me, I am well aware you lack the capacity to think," Cato cuts in, and swallows down a snort at his own mean spirited joke. He's fucked, and for some reason he's suddenly further struck by the hilarity of the bastard, warp-spawn wiles of fate and chance. May as well be hung for the sheep as for a lamb, he decides.

Your breathing gains a shallow edge, and he feels you make as if to inch away again.

"I said not to move," He growls, and keeps you flush against him—holding you there by way of folding an arm across you.

"I just... uh," you reply, "I'm just..."

Your ass grinds back against him.

There's contact, your skin against the flushed, drooling head of him that feels painfully tender—and then you ruin it by speaking again.

"Curious, I suppose...? I was of the belief the Adeptus Astartes didn't..." your voice is soft, at least; slow and distracted, "Have an appetite for... this sort of thing?"

Cato momentarily stays fixated on the breathiness of your tone, and has to remind himself he's supposed to be angry at being robbed of silence—so he grumbles, "I told you to shut your trap," and promptly smothers a palm over your mouth.

You make a noise that sounds vaguely like a mumbled curse and settle, breathing hard through your nose to compensate.

Still, your rear presses back against him.

Cato takes the gesture at face value and fusses, roughly wrenching his bodyglove down to his thighs with his free hand.

Unconfined, his cock slaps the small of your back, and he manhandles you to readjust so it glides between your thighs instead.

Everything in place, he skews his hips forward, and his eyes roll back at the smooth, sublime drag of skin against skin. It's genuine perfection, wet and soft and molten.

The little hitched breaths you steal through your nose with each roll of his hips make him grind faster. Pressing closer with each, until the abhorrent, sticky sound of him steadily fucking against you is nigh deafening.

"I go in or I stay out," he says, and he can feel his molars grate against each other as he adds, "...or I can stop."

You shake your head furiously, or at least as much as the huge mitt on your chin, maw and jaw allows.

"Then decide," he snaps. "In?"

Cato hears the cartilage in your gullet move as you swallow dryly and nod.

Chuffed with your allowance compliance, he hums—and then it's his turn to hesitate.

When he draws his hand from your mouth, he curtly says, "Stay silent," and starts as if to tell you to arrange one way, then decides against it; dithering uncharacteristically. Then, rarer yet, Cato stumbles his words as he adds, "Move on to y-your front, then."

He doesn't know why he asked for the least preferred option when he'd been deliberating over the hypothetical for so long previously but nonetheless you, miraculously, comply without complaint. And despite himself he frustrates as you roll, his cock slipping away from between your thighs.

Draped in covers, he can't see much of you aside from the shape of you slowly arranging onto your hands and knees; before your chest sinks, and your ass stays up.

Like a rabid dog, he scrambles onto his haunches and scuds over behind you.

He's not entirely sure what to do first, and harrumphs.

In answer, your back arches even further in a dangerously luring bow, a display of willingness whorishness that turns Cato's thoughts to mush. Ass up and still in the pile, covered in blankets and rags, it's painfully easy to tug you from them just enough so that a decent portion of your raised lower half is exposed to him.

All he's able to comprehend the very next instant in some hind-brain, primitive way is a shapely ass, and a pretty pink cunt.

He grabs your hip, and the size comparison is so stark his head swims. With the span of one hand, he could palm a whole globe of your rear.

He does just that, and spreads you to take a nice long look.

You've a glossy sheen of clear slick that's starting to string down where it's collecting between your labia, and Throne—it's that. That's the sweet smell. And it's all for him—you're everything he's wanted.

Inspecting, he finds the hole leaking lubricant and a much, much smaller one below it—the vagina and then the urethra, he reasons by way of thinking back on a baseline biologis graphics; and, eyeing lower to a hooded fold, he finds a swollen little nub.

Pointedly, he's got a suspicion of what it is and turns his curiosity to it.

It's an easy target for his large thumb, even as slippery as your lust has made you, and—

A shaky little keen, then your knees pull together; body curling.

"Keep your damn legs apart," he grunts, wrenching them wide, and splaying a big palm on your ass to lift you into an arch again.

He's tempted to just bask in the glory of it all, grope, smack, lick—make you beg for it until he's sure you know he's in charge. Until you're as high strung for him as he's ever been for you. But he's frenzied, and well beyond being able to linger on those broader wants; not when he's got an Ambassador to fill.

He's aware of what your clit's really for now, and keeps rolling the pad of his thumb over it until you're squirming. It doesn't take long until your hole is visibly twitching. Nothing but a sloppy, wet mess of your own whorish excitement for him, as you ought to be. Cato bites back a longing sigh as he gets the delight of watching a fresh rivulet of slick string down your thigh.

And when he works up the gall, he jams that same thumb to the hilt in your cunt.

Your insides squeeze around it, and you start shaking, then. But it's not from the cold. No, anything but that. You're warm now, and he's deliriously happy to find you're as soft inside as the rest of you looks and feels. Warp damn him, he's no better than some slavering genestealer wretch fiending for its pound of flesh.

Your smaller baseline frame makes every part of him look huge in comparison. Even his thumb is big. And you're so much less—and the fact the disparity is so glaringly obvious plays havoc with his brain; but he's got an idea. An idea that he refuses to acknowledge sounding painfully like a boarding action to him.

With little tact, he sidles up and positions himself so his tip slots right against you, while stretching your opening with his thumb.

Lining himself up with his other hand, he nudges your entrance, smearing precum in with your wetness while inching forward; sliding his thumb out in tandem with pushing his cock in—and his efforts succeed.

Cato's transfixed watching the head of himself fill the gap, sliding in—and you let out a muffled yelp, still half-buried in the blankets like some stuck animal; your thighs juddering as you suck in air.

Honestly, he's glad you've smothered yourself like that, because he can't imagine keeping it together if you were actively watching him. He thinks the stark reality of it would have him run right out of the shack. Even the idea of having your pretty damning eyes on him makes him swoon sick.

With an over-eager roll of his hips, a shiver races up his spine. But he earns a cry from you.

He takes a deep breath.

There's a twinge of pain-smell and the vaguest hint of blood in the air, but it's impermanent compared to the amount of lust.

He pushes a little more, and you ripple internally around him; making a racketing, breathless noise—twitching before slacking, and then twitching again. A few perfect little moans escaping you at last.

Abruptly, all he's able to give a fuck about is the sensation of wet and hot, and how you're finally all his—it's a strangling fit, but it's satisfying a craving bone-deep. Infinitely better than his war calloused hands.

He's so dazed by the new sensation he's massaging small circles with his fingers on your flank, humming lowly.

But the involuntary mercy didn't stop you from jackknifing when he bucks in more—each little motion seating him deeper and deeper.

He yanks you backward and you stop squirming for a moment.

When your wriggling starts up again, he holds you still with the sheer willpower only a neurotic control-freak could muster. He stops your motion, yes—but your insides also stop shivering around his cock and he's resentful of that.

Nonetheless, you make to move again then, keening and bothering him; but you're seemingly struck daft when he bottoms out at last, hitting your cervix. Your internal muscles tense on the intrusion, practically cramping on him, blinding him with ecstasy for a heartbeat as you clench down hard; and a squeak of surprise escapes you. Your legs lock stiff for a moment, air venting out your lungs in shock.

You garble out a sweet, hoarse curse that sounds more like a sob than anything.

Cato supposes the theatrics are what an orgasm on something his size does to a woman. And he finds he's appallingly keen to see and hear you do it again. Keen to feel it, too. He adjusts himself and grinds, making sure you're getting every bit he's got to give. It's no small feat of restraint from Cato to not simply drive into you with all his might like a hydraulic press.

Maybe that'll make your tight little hole cinch up again? He thinks you'd like that. No—no, you should be begging for him to keep fucking you. You should be thanking him while you're at it too, really. Thanking him for deigning to take you to begin with.

Your arch falls away to a prone slump with a muffled whine, thighs trembling, leaving him straining forward to stay in you.

He is irate at your antics, now; and his retaliation betrays it.

Cato seizes your hips and yanks you back up his cock, shimmying you a little so he's nice and sheathed and stuffing you full, nigh folded under him. Warm cunt stretched taut around the base of his thick cock, like a perfect scabbard.

He's suddenly absorbed in watching your covered form consciously trying to counter the overwhelming forward mass of him starting to drive into you like he was part battering-ram.

"Better than all those limp-dicked, bastard lordlings you've let empty in you to even chance a cushion near my Primarch's table, hm?" His tone is little more than a scathing drawl, pulling almost entirely out of you just to dip the head of himself in.

You moan into the fabric smothering you, and he holds you with a controlled desperation.

"Answer me, you little shit."

He watches you nodding desperately beneath the cover a second later, failing to get an actual reply out around your huffing and puffing.

Cato groans, "Far keener for Astartes cock, aren't you?"

You nod again, needy.

"Throne, you're pathetic," he chides harshly, delighting in the soft whine of protest you make when pulls out to the tip one last time. "All that haughty bullshit, just to turn out to be so—so easy," then he's sliding back to the hilt and starting his rutting anew, grinding into that perfect spot that has your insides shiver around him again and again. "Isn't that right? This is all you're really good for?"

Beneath him, you're too much of an insensible mess to even think about answering; and somewhere in that depraved miasma of sound, he swears you're trying to say his name.

So, understandably, he inches forward on his knees and boxes you under him. Pinning you under the span of his bulk, two big hands firmly planted either side of your blanketed head.

He can see a few strands of your hair sticking out from beneath it and he can see the fog of your breath and the tip of your nose through a tented section, and only one of your hands—clawing out at the scraps of fabric.

"Prick-dumb animal," he sneers, flagrantly showboating; trying to sound as if he's not feigning lucidity and completely at the mercy of his lust.

He drops from his hands to rest on his elbows, manoeuvring a forearm under your head to prop your chin up. He's so bent over you that your ass is practically glued to his massive pelvis.

You can't stifle yourself now.

The sounds you make when he starts ploughing into you again are unrestrained and absolutely debauched. Practically music to his ears. He can feel your saliva smearing across his arm, and he's absolutely stupefied at the mantra of 'Sicarius, S-Sicarius, Sica-ah—rius—' you start panting. To say nothing of the keening whimpers that escape when you're not crying out for him. Louder with each thrust, and warp damn it all—his edict memory is never going to let those gorgeous sounds go. He's going to fiend off you mewling his surname like a full dose of battle-chems until he fucking dies.

Cato groans and delights in the involuntary squeeze you make around his cock again; your hips skewing up into his own, meeting him.

He just wants one more thing—he wants—no, needs—he needs to hear you scream his name in that reedy voice. Telling him that you like him playing guard for you, and you're all his and you love hi—

Rather abruptly however, you're cinching down on his cock as you come again. Throne, your cunt may as well be Marneus' clenched powerfist the way you're wringing him for everything he's got. Crying out like you're inconsolable, and so painfully eager and—oh, fuck. He tries to hold off, but it's of little use. The dam cracks, and it's all too much for him far too quickly.

"You rotten w-whore—" the words leave him in between ragged, staggered pants, gritting his teeth even though it's achieving absolutely nothing. "Stop s-squeezing, I-I—"

He's finishing in you the next second and letting out a rough, unbecoming moan instead of the rest of his sentence; despite trying to muffle himself against your shoulder and save face. Emptying all his pent up spend as deep as he can inside you and rutting himself deliriously into oversensitivity. The simple feeling of it is a more profound experience than he can even begin to explain—and he's rendered daft. Fighting just to stay awake against the warm, coddling bliss running rife in his nerves as his muscles twitch.

Still trying to recuperate, he's drunk with afterglow for a few seconds. Head beside yours, sharing the same air and hurried breaths.

In his stupor, he notes that your hair smells nice even after everything. And he tuts softly, resting his eyes. Lulled by the soft sound of your hyperventilating evening out and the continuous, weak fluttering of your cunt around him, hot and tight, and still a perfect fit.

He almost understands why mortal men so frequently fought over baseline women, now.

Almost.

Because then you start squirming again.

Pointedly, he opens his eyes and begrudgingly lifts himself away, slipping free and leaving a big sloppy smear of combined fluids across your ass and thighs as he settles into a kneel.

You're still presenting yourself as Cato scrubs a palm across his face, and blinks slowly.

He glances down for a moment and swallows.

He's hard—still.

Just as ready to rut as he was to start with, despite the fact he's only just finished.

And, much like a beast in season, he genuinely contemplates another round—what would be the harm, anyways? He could be sliding himself back into you, right then, and he doubted you'd do anything but buck up to meet him. So much for some diplomatic prodigy. You're little more than a mewling wreck. And what better way to prove it than another wet layer of your mixed fluids on his cock?

A soft sound escapes you abruptly and he looks back to the place he's itching to slam back inside of.

A few fat rivulets of his cum drip out your abused entrance, but you're too well-screwed to even care, it seems.

He thumbs one of your folds aside and smiles smugly at the mess.

He's tempted to stuff his spend back into you and give you another load. Let it leak down your thighs as you pad past his men on the flagship, that'd make them well aware of who you really admire—

At that brilliant jarring thought, blazing post-clarity arrived; an abrupt and unsettling feeling. The fact he'd even—even dignified your almost Slaneeshi-tier temptation—the fact he's raring to go again—he must already reek of your lust, and you of his—and Emperor have mercy, one quick scenting betrays everything, his men would tell their Father, and—you—you groan and worm yourself back under the blanket, likely truly feeling the chill now without his body to warm you.

The urge to say something becomes almost suffocating all at once, and Cato opens his mouth—just to be interrupted by a beep.

Hesitation seizes him, and he eyes his pile of half-frozen attire in the far corner.

Eighteen and a half seconds pass and it beeps again, indicating a second for every minute of arrival estimation.

The tracker beacon has finally done it's job.

But the matter of hastily cleaning up what insanity just happened becomes the real concern now.

Suddenly stuffed to the brim with adrenaline, Cato gets to his feet with Astartesian speed. He tries to take a step but sways, almost toppling. Looking down, he realises himself; and gingerly stoically waddles marches away from you, his bodysuit stuck around his knees. There's a cupboard in the other corner, covered in a frosted cobweb that looks a little like gossamer. Rifling through it provides him little. Most of it's contents are iced through, but a bottle of what stinks like absinthe is good enough, and he doesn't think it matters what he cleans up with. He definitely does doesn't look like a servitor on broken wheels as he scuds on his heels back beside your pile. And if he suffers any more injuries to his ego, they definitely don't include him bungling a kneel and being forced to wobble down on to his haunches. It's not his fault he's mentally accommodating for power armour that, currently, isn't there.

Pausing, he pokes the mound of scraps you're under, trying to rouse you.

When your answer to his 'kinder' effort results in you whining and curling up tighter, he settles for tossing any mercy out the window with a petulant grunt; and identifies the shape of one of your legs and tugs you half-free by your ankle like a speared fish, earning a yelp as the cold assaults you.

Grabbing one of the loose rags in your pile, he saturates it with spirit and scoops you up under the hips, before starting to wipe away the evidence.

You begin thrashing almost immediately when the rag makes contact. Then you're practically yowling, "It hurts, it h-hurts—wait, wait—" and okay—yes, maybe using high proof alcohol to clean the smell and slime of his cum off your freshly fucked hole wasn't his best idea. In his defence, you're one of the most stubborn baselines he's ever met, and you should learn to handle a little pain. Secondly, booze is the only thing that stays liquid at freezing.

"Enough with the bloody caterwauling, woman," he barks, effortlessly holding you steady despite your struggling. "It's not that bad, toughen the fuck up."

When he's done with you, he's actually remorseful of the situation. Certainly not his finest choice. Because now you're sniffling weakly, fussing about the residual stinging; and then you promptly scramble back under the blanket.

"There was nothing else I could use, okay?" He says sourly, scowling at the bundle of fabric you disappear into; before tossing the soiled rag he'd used to clean you into the fireplace to ignite.

He grabs another from the pile and douses it, wiping himself off—and at last, he's finally able to start to pull his bodyglove up over his hips. Wiggling and straining to fit the thick, skin-tight material over his still very much erect cock.

From the edge of his vision he can see you've peaked your head out to watch as he fixes the sternum latch in place.

He gives you a cursory glance, but nothing more.

He ultimately expects you to look away like the mouse you are—but no, what actually happens is worse. You just keep silently raking him with an expression that makes him feel like he's made of glass and every secret he's ever had or ever known is laid bare.

He can't stand it.

It makes Cato want to sneer at you fiercely in the hopes it would scare you off, remind you he's an exemplar of the Adeptus Astartes and shouldn't be stared at—something, anything except that look.

"Get up," he turns sharply and snorts.

The beeping is once every two and a half seconds, now.

Two and a half minutes, then.

"You let me fuck you," he bites out.

You're sitting now. Covered in one of the larger articles of rags. A tartan, fraying thing crumpled atop you, frowning and looking dejected. Then you open your mouth to speak but promptly stop. He can tell you're trying to form a diplomatic reply, and he grumbles, fuming.

"Tell anyone of this—" Cato's well aware he's being cruel as he adds, "—and I'll wring your little neck, Father's favourite pet or not."

You finally look away.

And he finds he can't stand that either.

So, to souse his bruised ego, Cato decides he's going to burn the shack down as soon as the transport lands and you're onboard.

He also decides he's going to burn that tacky formal tunic of his too, simply because he can.

[rrxnjun]

dancing in my backseat ✲ l. donghyuck

pairing. film student! donghyuck x film student! fem! reader starring. uchinaga aeri genre. college au, acquaintances to lovers. fluff, comedy, suggestive warnings. mentions of alcohol and weed, swearing, sexual innuendos word count. 24k (24.047) a/n. please dont hate me for the fact that this does not have any expected smut in it i tried and it felt too awkward i just COULDN'T. also this fic doesn't fit the image of it i had in my head at all but i actually kind of prefer this version over the prev idea i had anyway <;3

playlist. marvelous - wallows / crash my car - coin / test drive - ariana grande / streets - doja cat / no manners - superm / feather - sabrina carpenter / AEAO - dynamicduo / wet tongue - thomas headon / car crash - eaj / delicious - the boyz / but i like you - boynextdoor

there are only a few things in which men value their social status; one of them being the number of girls in their bed, the next one their rank in league of legends, and lastly, their cars— or— where you would never fuck a guy without a driver's licence.

✲ PART 3 OF THE SIMPLIFY ROMANCE SERIES ✲

If anyone asked you about your relationship with Lee Donghyuck, you’d scoff at them and simply state that the resident gemini was your moral enemy. Was that true? No. No, of course it wasn’t– there was nothing this man has done in his life to get on your bad side, and you truly don’t feel any hatred towards him, but at the end of the day, it’s always easier to say this than to explain the exact feelings you have towards the male without sounding at least a bit overly-dramatic.

See, you don’t hate Lee Donghyuck; you don’t think he’s your enemy either– you just find him absolutely, excruciatingly annoying.

And it’s not his personality, no– although you do admit that the way he carries himself and has such high mind about himself is quite alarming– the way your toes curl and the hair on your body stands up, all alert in sheer ick and disgust, has nothing to do with his ego and everything to do with your experience with the man. 

The first time you find Lee Donghyuck intensely annoying is when you get a text one day (having acquired his phone number from one of the class group chats, since the two of you major in the same program), at 9 in the morning, approximately 15 minutes before you have to leave your apartment to get to your fist class of the day. The man picked the wrong time to bother you, since it was Monday, of all days– the beginning of the week always manages to rile you up just because it exists in the first place– and you could give him the benefit of the doubt and say that it wasn’t his fault at all and you woke up grumpy already, but the events that happened after made you so deeply disturbed and annoyed to your core that there truly wasn’t any other word left in your vocabulary to describe Lee Donghyuck than the adjective already mentioned – annoying.

lee donghyuck (film theory class) – hi im in a crisis lee donghyuck (film theory class) – can u pls throw some toilet paper lee donghyuck (film theory class) – we ran out and my roommate already left for class lee donghyuck (film theory class) – pleaaaaase

Staring at the texts appearing on your phone screen in a hurry, you stop in your tracks and furrow your brows at the contact name in confusion. The truth is, you haven’t spoken to Lee Donghyuck that many times– you just know that he’s friends with your friend Lee Yangyang from high school and you two meet occasionally at the said friend’s gatherings. Plus, you had a discussion or two about the beauty of Quentin Tarantino movies when you met at orientation in freshman year, and that's also when you learned that he’s your neighbor; in fact, the window to his flat's bathroom and his very own bedroom face yours. But that’s about as far as it goes when it comes to your closeness. You’re not familiar enough with him to text each other or to think of each other in a time of need, so to have his first texts to you be about him being out of toilet paper is a thing to really dwell on to fully understand the extent of the bad impression this man had on you.

you – what the fuck

lee donghyuck (film theory class) – just open the window and throw me some lee donghyuck (film theory class) – i am good at catching

you – im in a hurry rn. gotta get to class

lee donghyuck (film theory class) – SO DO I why else do u think id be up this early lee donghyuck (film theory class) – so PLEASE throw me the damn toilet paper so im not late today

Shaking your head in disbelief at the conversation you’re currently having, too confused and tired to deal with it so early in the morning, you walk up to your room and look out of the window. Right opposite of you, not being further than 10 meters, if you’re being absolutely exact, is Lee Donghyuck’s head popping out from the bottom rim of his bathroom window, seemingly still sitting on the toilet. The look in his eyes is desperate as he clasps his hands together and mouths “Please!” at you, his face forming into a truly humiliating scowl that makes you wonder if he's truly done with what he'd been doing on the toilet only a few minutes prior. 

Sighing, you turn on your feet and escape your room– not noticing the absolutely disturbed and mortified face Donghyuck’s pulling behind your back, thinking you abandoned him and took off for class– and you truly can’t believe yourself when you walk into your own bathroom and take the half-used roll of toilet paper off the stand, murmuring a silent “Fucking hell” under your nose as you walk back to your bedroom and open up your window wide. Donghyuck’s eyes light up now, as if he was a kid under a Christmas tree about to receive a gift from Santa.

“If it falls to the street, I’m not getting it!” you yell after the boy, seeing as he eagerly nods and ushers you with a wave of his hands.

“Just throw it and I’ll be sure to catch it!” he nods, waiting for you to start your career in the new twist on baseball– a sport you’d call a toilet roll throw against the street. His eyes seem focused, knowing this is his only opportunity at wiping his ass this morning (why neither of you thought of suggesting to use the shower instead, you don't know to this day– perhaps it was too early in the morning for such complex strategies), when you surprisingly do your best at aiming for his window– thank god you both live on the same floor– and throw the roll across the alleyway, the paper unwinding only slightly before it lands on the floor of Lee Donghyuck’s pearl white bathroom.

“Thank you so much, you are my savior!” he yells, his head disappearing from the window, leaving you alone in your room to watch the commotion. When nothing happens for a while, you only shake your head in disbelief once again, deciding your job here is over and you can finally take off for your dreaded lecture.

“I’ll get going!” you scream into the void, scratching the back of your neck, aimlessly. 

“Mhm! See you later!” 

Nodding to yourself, you sigh, closing the window and doing a double take as you’re about to leave your flat for class, hopefully still on time. In disbelief, feeling the second-hand embarrassment seeping to your bones, you put on your shoes at the entrance and swear to yourself that you’re never gonna answer any of Lee Donghyuck’s texts ever again.

The previous scene already established that you’re no stranger to second hand embarrassment. I’m sure all of you have experienced it before– seeing someone desperately flirt with your friend, knowing that they’re not interested… Watching a drama and being absolutely grossed out with the script, wondering how the actors got convinced to take on the role… Hearing someone say an absurd answer in class… There are many, for sure, and the list could just keep going. You saw it with your own eyes as well, when your friend Choi Beomgyu tried hard to impress a girl at the skate park and managed to fall off his skateboard mid-trick, tearing his jeans in the crotch area in the process. Or when your roommate Aeri got tipsy at the club and who she thought was a very fine gentleman to flirt with was actually her ex boyfriend. The list goes on and on.

What about first hand embarrassment, though? You’re sure you experienced it before as well, but if anyone asked you, you’d tell them you don’t remember any embarrassing stories. If it’s because you just don’t want anyone knowing about the shame in your bones or if you really hated those experiences so much you chose to bury them and extract them out of your memory, you won’t tell. You just won’t let the shame haunt you for any longer than it has to, that’s for sure. 

So when you walk home from the hairdresser one afternoon and you’re met with your roommate Aeri looking at you with lips pressed together, yet the corners tugging upwards in what you assume (and fully know) is her trying to hold back an amused laugh, you admit that your suspicions were indeed correct when you saw yourself in the mirror at the salon and you’re going to have to live through another embarrassing moment. One that will take days and weeks to outlive as well, since your hair doesn’t grow back overnight– and when you look into the mirror again, you’re terrified.

“Don’t laugh.”

“I’m not laughing, it’s just… you look… well, you know, it’s just…” she mumbles, before she finally breaks into a loud laugh, standing behind you and examining the state of your hair in the mirror of your entrance hall with you, hands coming up to play with your strands and hold them up and down, brushing your bangs out of your face and ruffling the top– trying everything possible to find a single good hairdo with the haircut you have going on right now. “Oh babygirl… what did the do to your beautiful hair…” she mourns, the tone of her voice still amused, but now also kind of considerate.

“I told her I only wanted a trim,” you say, voice weak in what you realize is you holding back your tears and suppressing a mental breakdown, “how the fuck am I supposed to show my face to the world tomorrow?” 

Your roommate sighs at you, spinning you around so you no longer can see the disaster on your head, a pout forming on her face as she lightly shoves you deeper into the apartment. “At a second glance, it’s really not that bad, you know–”

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better,” you cut her off, annoyed at her soft eyes.

“I don’t?” she looks at you, shocked irises hardening when she realizes you no longer need her sympathetic words. “Okay, thank god. Man, she fucked you uuup, leave a bad review like, right now. I’d cry myself to sleep if I got a haircut like that–”

“I take it back, I liked your lies better,” you roll your eyes at her, walking over to the kitchen to fix yourself a glass of water to calm down your racing heart. The mental breakdown is still right around the corner and you realize you have to do everything in your power to stop it, because you already have a fucked up haircut– you can’t afford to show up to class tomorrow with puffy eyes and stress-induced pimples as well. Gulping down the cold liquid, you decide to hop into the shower (and avoid looking in the mirror at all costs, which is kind of difficult, since there's three of them just on your way to the bathroom). 

Meeting the encouraging eyes of your roommate once you come out of the shower, hair tied up in a towel so you don't have to think about it any longer, Aeri's words reach your ears in the living room. “Come on, I’m sure we can manage to do something with this tomorrow morning,” she smiles, “at least you have a pretty face. You can pull off everything!”

And the truth is, even though Aeri is nice, she’s not always right. You’re met with the fact the next morning as you watch your reflection in the mirror before you both leave for your shared Film theory class, standing next to each other defeated; one breathtakingly beautiful and one looking like the main character from Chicken little. You'd be fine with it if it was only you who was aware of your disastrous image, you would be able to deal with the shame and insecurity silently– but that's not what happens as you’re only reminded by the fact that other people, sadly, do perceive you, against your biggest wishes, throughout the whole day.

You’re reminded by the fact that your haircut is fucked up when Ji Changmin, the guy you share an Animation class with, sees you in the corridor and does the yikes face at you and his friend Sunwoo hides his face from you as they turn the corner. You’re reminded by the fact again when you see Jisu, the ever-so-sweet girl that majors in Finance, the girl that’s friends with everyone in this school, look at you with a considerate look, patting your shoulder when she passes you by before you enter your Film theory classroom. 

And most importantly, you’re reminded by the fact when you finally sit down– at the very back of the classroom, which is both valid and understandable, considering your current state– and you’re met with a thud of a backpack to your left, a figure sitting down on the usually vacant spot. Clenching your jaw and looking up to see its owner, mentally preparing yourself for the teasing that’s about to come, you meet eyes with a tall, sleek man, shirt tucked into his black jeans and a sigh of relief escaping his throat as he sits down on the uncomfortable chair. Lee Donghyuck waves at you in greeting when he notices you there, running his hand through his neatly styled hair.

“Hi there,” he breathes out, “can’t believe I made it on time. My alarm didn’t go off and my roommate couldn’t be arsed to wake me, even though our morning lectures start at the same time, so I had to run and my usual seat is taken already… hope you don’t mind me sitting here– woah.”

And here it is again– the feeling of absolute humiliation as the man scans you up and down, eyes bearing into yours with an unreadable look on his face. Is this how he felt when he texted you to throw toilet paper through his bathroom window? Or was he immune to the shame? 

“Did you get a new haircut?” he asks, squinting his eyes at you in question.

“Shut the fuck up,” you sigh, already annoyed with his antics– because frankly, you know what will come next. 

“That’s an interesting answer to a yes or no question,” he muses, chuckling to himself, “I’ll take it as a yes, though, but it seems like you’re not satisfied with the new look…”

“Woah. You should work with the FBI or something,” you mumble, averting your gaze from him and looking straight in front of you, praying for the class to start fast so you don’t have to interact with your neighbor any longer and listen to him make fun of you for your new look.

“Why? It doesn’t look bad at all,” he says, the tone of his voice fakely considerate, making you want to punch him in the gut, “It’s interesting. I like it. It shows off your eyes and your forehead more, since your bangs are way shorter now,” he says, putting emphasis on the fact that your bangs truly are half their original length– which wasn't your original plan at all– only riling you up more.

“Only thing left to add is that I have a massive forehead, isn’t it?” you ironically smile at him, and the male takes your word for it as his eyes focus on the exposed part of your skin, furrowed eyebrows and all, as he examines your features.

“Not massive, but it’s a little… like, I wouldn’t say–”

“Just don’t say anything, okay?” you sigh, cutting him off and folding your arms at your chest in a poor attempt at defending yourself.

“Geez, why are you so snappy? I was complimenting you, y'know,” he says, and if you were more stupid, you’d even believe him– the tone of his voice still sounds genuine, but that’s just the way your neighbor likes to deceive people, and you know that; you’ve seen it happen multiple times before. “It adds character.”

The comment makes you roll your eyes, all words taken off your tongue– you simply think there’s no use defending your atrocious haircut now (not that you tried defending it before, even you aren't that oblivious). Your gaze is focused anywhere but at your seatmate, counting down the minutes until the class starts and you're taken out of your misery for at least an hour and a half. Your Film theory professor is almost never late and now is the only day you’re content and happy about the fact, because it means you won’t have to listen to Lee Donghyuck for more than approximately 2 more minutes until the small, hunched over frame of your professor strides through the door. 

Still, you feel his burning gaze to the side of your face, and despite your best intentions, you snap your head towards him and bite at the annoying gemini.

“Take a picture, it will last longer,” you spit, scoffing at the male.

“Can I really?” he asks, and before you have a chance to disagree, his phone is shoved into your point of view and the shutter comes off, making you lounge after the man in a poor attempt at taking his phone away and deleting the first picture of your new hair ever taken. (Well, except for the one you took crying last night, with a peace sign and your tongue darted to the side against your mirror. You don’t need any more traces of your current haircut than that one.)

lee donghyuck (film theory class) – hi neigbor whatchu doin lee donghyuck (film theory class) – u have a car right

Squinting at the next text conversation with Lee Donghyuck, the first one since he asked you for toilet paper 3 weeks ago, you feel nothing more than pure confusion at the strange questions the man asks you in the middle of the night. It’s Friday evening and your roommate went out with a guy named Eric she met four weeks ago in the gym, and even though you were slightly concerned when she texted you to say she was staying over at his house for the first time, you only showed her support as you went to lay down with no other plans for your evening. Falling asleep to your midnight playlist playing in the background (thanking God for the smart feature that makes the music shut off after 30 minutes), it's completely understandable and predictable that the noise of an incoming text annoys you when you hear it only a few minutes after 2 in the morning. The fact that it’s your neighbor texting you, out of all people, only makes the fury in you bigger as you click your tongue and shoot him a quick text back.

you – what do u want

lee donghyuck (film theory class) – neighbor!!!!! lee donghyuck (film theory class) – you do have a car 

Staring at the text that just appeared on your screen, you sigh and decide to spill the truth, preparing for whatever request that’s about to come after you admit to the fact that you do, indeed, have a perfectly functioning vehicle parked behind the building.

you – yes 

lee donghyuck (film theory class) – perfect lee donghyuck (film theory class) – do u hav sm time on ur hands

you – im sleeping

lee donghyuck (film theory class) – veryfunny youre replying rn tho lee donghyuck (film theory class) – come on itsa simple request

Breaking your back just to decipher the words through the amount of typos Lee Donghyuck’s making, your annoyance only grows bigger. Has he always been a bad texter? You don’t remember him struggling as much when he was sitting on the toilet three weeks ago– his texts were absolutely clear and with 0 mistakes back then. Maybe he was in a more desperate situation back then, after all…

you – what do u want hyuck its late

lee donghyuck (film theory class) – can u drive me home

And here it goes– in the back of your mind, you somehow knew it was coming. There were only a few reasons why someone would ask if you owned a car, and judging by the fact that it was now 2 in the morning on a Friday night, your neighbor wasn’t trying to sell you a new vehicle just in case you didn't have one yourself. Getting a drive home would be the only logical request from someone asking if you owned a car– it would only be more logical if the person asking you was your friend, and not an acquaintance at best.

Staring at the screen of your phone, counting down from 10 to not snap at the ridiculous request, you watch as the device lights up with an incoming call. You don’t even have to look at the caller ID to know who’s calling, and despite your best assumptions, you pick up with no more thought given, waiting for the person on the other side of the line to speak first.

“Y/N,” he says, voice breathless. 

“Lee Donghyuck.”

“Can you please drive me home?” he asks, tone of voice lazy and tired, something about the dragging of his words hinting you that there’s more to the request than you’re grasping right now.

“Are you drunk?” you ask, right off the bat, to clear out any confusion. 

There’s a short silence on the other side of the line, one that hints that you’re completely right in your assumptions, but you still want to hear it from the guilty man himself. “Maybe a little,” he admits, snickering, “I was over at Yangyang’s and then he kicked me out and I… my legs hurt too much to walk home.”

Sighing loudly at the man’s antics, you shake your head in disbelief and clear your throat. “I don’t see how that’s my problem?”

“Oh, come oonnn,” he drags out, “it’s not that far.”

“Yeah, so I don’t see how you can’t walk back, then?” you mutter, rolling your eyes at the demanding tone in your neighbor’s voice. If it was anyone else, maybe, just maybe, you’d be on your way already. You never decline your friend’s requests for favors, since you know they’d do the same if you asked, but you don’t really see how Lee Donghyuck, a man you’re not even close to in the first place, could repay the favor. What on Earth was he thinking in the first place when he called you? Were you his last option? Is he out of his mind?

“Because my legs hurt, if you were paying attention, you’d know that I told you before–”

“I don’t really care,” you mutter, “this is not my problem, I’m ending the call now, goodbye!”

“Y/N!”

The tone of his voice is desperate. Laced in agony, even. Still, you don’t care as you cut off the line and close your laptop that's been your source of music during the late night, settling deeper into your sheets. This is not your circus, not your monkeys, and frankly, you don’t really care what happens to Lee Donghyuck on his way home from Yangyang’s house, no matter how drunk or high he is right now. The man has done nothing but annoy you in your short, 23 year old life, and you’re not going to change out of your pajamas just to drive a few miles to get your dumb neighbor back home.

You’re not going to lose your beauty sleep for this. No, not at all.

Still, your eyes only close when you see the light in Lee Donghyuck’s room go on and the shadow of his slouched figure safely hits his bedsheets, another smaller frame coming to close his door and shut the blinds off, turning the light back off. 

The next Monday, you find yourself sitting in your Film theory class alongside your roommate Aeri that’s currently snoozing in the middle of the lecture. You can’t really blame her, since she only got home from her romantic retreat (read as: hanging out at Eric Sohn’s house the whole weekend and having sex possibly on every surface of his little flat downtown) on Sunday evening, and you can only imagine that she didn’t have much sleep during her stay there. 

And the class was boring, to add another reason for your roommate's nap. It’s not like you weren’t interested in the theory behind every movie, like the topic itself wasn’t interesting– you quite enjoyed wondering about all the special details in each movie that complete the story and make the atmosphere pop just in the right way– but the professor currently standing at the very bottom of the auditorium is old enough to be there when the Lumiére brothers showed the first ever movie to the public back in the 19th century, and his age only matches with the monotonous style of his teaching. Which means that his voice is mellow, but close enough to a lullaby, and with the amount of issues you have when paying attention in general, the lack of focus caused by this only feeds your distraction during the lectures, resulting in you not really being the top of the class in this specific subject.

So when you hear the professor mutter something under his nose about a project in pairs you’ll have to submit until the end of the semester, you feel your heart drop down to your stomach, all alert. Suddenly, you’re 100% present, brain racking about all the possible solutions and ways you could go around this just so you could pass the subject this year. 

Because frankly speaking, at the moment, you’re failing the class. And if you don’t manage to get a good grade on this final project, you’re going to have to retake the class next year– and trust me, another year listening to the monotonous lectures won’t make you pass easier, since you can only imagine the boredom will only grow once you’re in this class the second year in a row and you'd already heard all of the lectures once before.

“What was that?” Aeri mumbles under her nose when she notices you staring at the front of the classroom with wide eyes, an expression close to one you'd wear after seeing a ghost (with the age of your professor, you might as well have). She often tells you you look like a deer in the headlights when you get shocked or stressed-out, and you can’t say that comment doesn’t make you insecure. Still, you can’t quite control it when you sigh and turn to your roommate with a distressed look on your face.

“We have a final assignment to do,” you mumble, “in pairs.”

“Amazing, we’re doing it together, then,” she yawns, stretching a little before slumping over the desk again, ready for round two of her nap. 

“Fuck no,” you quickly dart, looking at her with furrowed brows.

“What do you mean, no?” 

Sighing, watching as she opens her eyes and looks at you with an offended expression on her face, you shake your head in disapproval and lower your voice, careful to explain yourself. “Look, girl, I love you, you know that,” you assure, “but we are both failing this fucking class. And I can’t afford to do badly just because the both of us suck, because I am not retaking this atrocious class ever again, so I suggest that the both of us find someone with good grades to leech from and get this over with.”

Aeri squints at you, seemingly lost in thought– more so contemplating your master plan– before she leans back in her chair and cautiously looks around the room. “You have a point there.”

“See? It’s nothing personal,” you chuckle, seeing as your roommate nods to herself.

“Okay, I’ll flutter my eyelashes at Shotaro,” she turns to you, eyes bright with the newly made plan, “we’re both Japanese, so he’s not legally allowed to turn me down.”

Rolling your eyes at her comment, you only nod in approval to her idea. Shotaro was one of the best in this class, so you can imagine that working with him would satisfy your professor enough to let Aeri pass the class this year. The only thing left to do was find the culprit to your own plan– you needed to team up with someone good enough to at least make you get a D on your final. And since half of the class was just as good as you in this particular subject, there weren’t many candidates left.

Eyes scanning the crowd (thank god you chose to sit in the back again), your gaze lands on a particular man sitting a few rows under you, a little bit to your right. Helplessly searching through the flood of your classmates currently occupying the auditorium, you sigh to yourself in realization, already dreading what’s about to come when the class is dismissed and you hurriedly walk over to the only person that can help you now, before he escapes the university grounds and you’re going to have to shamefully text him or ring his doorbell this afternoon.

“Donghyuck! Wait!” you yell after him, legs taking you closer to the man in question, now standing still in the middle of the moving crowd, watching you in curiosity.

“What’s up, neighbor?” he asks with a lazy smile, the tug at his lips only making your blood boil and your insides tighten into a bundle of nerves. Everything about him was ticking you off, the slouch in his shoulders making you want to stand behind him and fix his bad posture and slap the back of his head so you no longer have to look at him standing like a hermit crab, the glint in his eyes making you want to curl your fingers into a fist and slam your hand against a wall. The seemingly strong emotions of annoyance run through your veins whenever you interact with Lee Donghyuck, it seems, but the senile voice of your professor keeps repeating itself somewhere in the back of your head throughout the whole interaction, and so you choose to take a deep breath in and out before you smile at the man and prepare your best speech– you can't afford to be picky with this any longer.

“Who are you doing the project with?” you ask innocently at first, trying to get some info out of him.

He offers you a suspicious look, but replies nonetheless. “I’m not sure yet,” he sighs, “I was thinking of chasing down Haknyeon, but you stopped me in my tracks…” he shakes his head at you, teasing. 

“Hmm, I see,” you mumble, more for the effect than for anything else, “well, what if we do it together?”

There aren’t many instances in which you could catch Lee Donghyuck completely silent. Now is one of them, though, as he watches you with wide, surprised eyes, furrowed brows and his plump lips slightly agape, breathing in a few times before he shakes his head as if to reset the system, snickering to himself. “Us two?”

“Yeah, why not?” you peep, shrugging.

“Look, respectfully,” Donghyuck starts, and you brace yourself for the impact, “your grades in this class aren’t as good as mine, and even though I’d love to do it with you, I don’t wanna be the one doing all the work and–”

“I’ll help!” you snap, maybe too urgently for your own liking. “I promise. I’ll do everything in my power, I just really need your help with this,” you plea, looking at him with what you pray are your best puppy eyes, seeing as the man in front of you chuckles at the expression and averts his gaze from you for a heartbeat, signaling that you were most likely unsuccessful at the attempt.

“Sorry, Y/N,” he shrugs, shaking his head at you, even going as far as taking one step away from you, “see, if you hadn't declined my call on Friday, maybe I’d take this offer as a way to repay the favor, but you know…”

“I threw you toilet paper before, Donghyuck, you can’t be shitting me right now–” you feel your blood boil at the note, the ever so familiar annoyance seeping back into your bones.

“That was nothing–”

“You seemed pretty desperate back then.”

“That was the past, sweetheart,” he chuckles, taking another step away from you, somehow overthrowing your annoyance with pure, embarrassing desperation as you chase after him and stop him with a swift motion of your hand, catching him by his wrist. He stares at you with a shiteating grin on his face, one he always uses to get a reaction from you, and somehow, you know this is all a game for him, a stupid tug of war, but you can’t help it– you are in a desperate situation. So if you need to say please to the man and humiliate yourself in front of him just to pass this class, then so be it.

“Please, Hyuck? Just this once, I swear I’ll make it up to you. Literally, say anything, I’m gonna do it, I just really need to pass this class,” you mumble, a pout forming at your lips as you clasp your hands together– much like he did back when you two communicated through the window of his bathroom– and you swear you can see the gears in his brain turning when he calculates his next move and tells you his answer.

“Anything?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” you nod, hoping that Lee Donghyuck still has some dignity in him and wouldn’t ask for anything that would make you uncomfortable. He’s annoying, sure, but he’s not a dick, after all.

“Okay, then,” he nods, tone of voice airy, underlined with laughter, “be my personal driver for the entirety of the project, then. I’ll do it if you drive me places,” he grins, and that’s when your composure falls.

“Absolutely not.”

“Well then, say goodbye to the grade!”

Putting your arm around the passenger’s seat headrest, twisting your whole body as you look back and reverse the car into the parking spot in front of the mall, you see the figure next to you still in its place, eyes alert and staring at you. “If you’re so terrified of me driving, why did you want me to do this in the first place?” you sigh, finally turning back to the front and turning the engine off once you're standing straight between the lines, satisfied with your job.

“That’s- that’s not it,” he clears his throat and gulps nervously, shaking his head. “Anyways, let’s go,” Donghyuck says, slapping his thighs like parents do when it’s time to leave a family gathering, grinning at you widely as he waits for you to get out of the vehicle.

“What do you mean, let’s go? I drove you here, I can go now,” you glare, not satisfied with the way your Wednesday afternoon was going. You only agreed to the deal on Monday, and Donghyuck already made you drive him home after class twice and also asked you to drive him to the school this morning. Having him constantly leeching around you and making you drive him places wasn’t exactly fun, since he always asked weird questions and made fun of your bored face at every red light, so you really, desperately, needed him to be gone already so you could head home and scream into your pillow to unwind the nerves. 

“Well, how am I supposed to get back when I’m done shopping?” he innocently asks, pouting at you. “My hands are gonna be full with bags and you’re gonna have to come pick me up, because that’s the deal, and I can’t afford to wait with my hands full until you get back here, so you might as well stay and come with me, so it’s convenient.”

“Nothing about this is convenient for me,” you mumble, but comply with his orders nonetheless. “Why don’t you get a car? Or take a bus back?”

“Buses smell and I don’t have a license,” he mutters, “besides, I have you now to be my personal taxi driver, so I don't need a car,” he shrugs, walking alongside you to the mall. 

His confession startles you, makes you halt in your step as the boy looks at you with defeated eyes, already knowing what’s next. This scenario has happened to him multiple times before– he’s best friends with Huang Renjun and Liu Yangyang, he’s in for a teasing at every single action of his that goes just slightly wrong– but to hear it from you will surely feel more humbling to the man. Closing his eyes as if to not see the grin overtaking your features, he sighs. “What?”

“You don’t have a license?” you tease, snickering. “For real?”

“No.”

“Why? You failed the test?” you ask again, catching up to the male and falling in with his quick pace, enjoying the fact that you now have the upper hand on him for once.

“Never really tried getting it in the first place,” he mumbles, shrugging. 

“Why?”

“I dunno,” he shamefully ducks his head, “it seems scary,” he adds, making you snort out at his confession.

“Fucking hell dude,” you laugh out now, swatting his shoulder in a teasing manner, “that’s so embarrassing, it’s not even really that difficult in the first place–”

“I don’t know what’s more embarrassing,” he cuts you off, tone of voice laced with frustration as he realizes you are a bit too amused at him admitting to one of his fears, “is it me not having a license or you driving me around because you're failing a class… Hm?” he asks, locking eyes with you, lips pressed shut into a straight line, and suddenly, your composures exchange. He won. Again.

“Anyways, let’s get going!” he smiles, dismissing the previous discussion as he tugs you by your hand into one of the stores right in the middle of the mall.

You should’ve already predicted that shopping with Lee Donghyuck would be exhausting. Not only did he demand to know your opinion on every single thing he tried on, he also wanted you to pick up something for him to try– as if driving him here wasn’t too much work for you as it was. All you wanted to do was walk back to your car and get away from him as soon as possible, but with the way he teasingly poked your sides every time you weren’t paying attention and turned to your phone to entertain yourself with some mindless scrolling on social media, you weren’t able to escape even mentally, no matter how hard you tried. 

“Why don’t you try something on?” 

“I’m not in the mood,” you glare, walking out of the last store in the whole entire mall, the sky behind the glass doors already dark from how late it’s gotten. You’re pretty sure it’s gonna close soon, but checking the time on your phone, you’re relieved to learn that you still have enough time to get boba from the stand at the entrance of the mall. You deserve a little treat after involuntarily hanging out with Lee Donghyuck the whole day, after all. Call it your girl dinner, or something.

“Taro milk tea with coconut jelly, please,” you smile at the tired barista behind the counter, noticing the way Donghyuck stands next to you and looks at the menu. You expect him to order a drink for himself as well, and surely, he doesn’t disappoint as he smiles at the girl, the tone of his voice sweet and considerate– so far away from the way he speaks to you on a daily basis– as he asks for his own drink.

“Will you pay together or separately?” she asks.

“Separate–”

“Together,” your companion cuts you off, grinning at you when you glare at the man, sighing at his antics.

“Come on, I already drive you everywhere, do you think gas is cheap? Now you want me to pay for your boba as well?” you whine, reaching for your wallet as you frown at the male, his confused eyes bearing into yours when he slightly nudges you from his way, offering the girl behind the counter his card instead. The action shuts you up, making the gears in your brain turn faster as you watch him in the action, and it doesn't fully register yet, but you're left feeling a bit taken aback and sheepish when the cashier hands him the receipt.

“I was gonna buy it for you as a thank you for the nice day, but now you’re making me look like I felt pressured to,” he sighs, shaking his head at your little tantrum. His actions still don’t register in your brain, though, his words resonating all the way through your ears to your Wernicke’s area and right back, hanging everywhere in the air of the mall, shock making your body still. Then, it hits you.

“Ah,” you gasp, feeling the tips of your ears burning with shame at the fact that you managed to ruin his nice gesture, your eyes scanning the space in a poor attempt to not look at him or the cashier still watching your exchange.

“Get your drink and let’s go,” he nudges you instead, rolling his eyes for good measure as he walks out of the mall, nearing your car in the parking lot.

“Look at this, look! Isn’t it funny?” Donghyuck hovers over you with his phone in his hand, giggling to himself as he tries to make you look at the screen. You don’t really know why he’s trying to get a laugh out of you, honestly, but he’s currently doing everything but that as you’re sat in his living room, legs plopped up onto the sofa and crossed in front of you, waiting patiently– but also kind of boiling on the inside out of frustration– for him to pay attention to you.

“Hyuck, I didn’t come here to watch Tiktoks with you,” you say, eyes sharp, tone of your voice cutting like razors– efficiently making him look up from his screen and meet your gaze with an amused grin, “I’m not really sure if you forgot, but I came to discuss the project,” you mutter, sighing.

“Jeez,” you see him roll his eyes, the energy around him still not shifting as he maintains his casual and unfocused composure, but you know that on the inside, he's enjoying the view– your angry face seems to be his most favorite thing to stare at recently, “didn’t know you lack a sense of humor.”

“What?” you look at him, confused, quite frankly, before you shake your head in disbelief at the comment. “You know what, just put the phone away for 5 seconds and finally talk to me about the project, smart boy, or else I’m not wasting my time here any longer and I’m leaving.”

“You’re acting as if you’re the one putting in work,” he mumbles, snickering.

“I will be putting in work when you tell me what to do!”

At your sentence, Donghyuck finally puts his phone back at the coffee table and shifts a little in his seat, facing you and scratching the back of his head, seemingly lost in thought. You let him, convinced that if you speak up and cut off his train of thought, the poor boy wouldn’t be able to get back to it again, waiting for him to be done with his brain weaving so you can pick up on them and ride them out, seeming at least decently smart (or not completely stupid). When he finally speaks up, he licks his lips and shrugs.

“We just gotta pick a theme and do our best portraying it with no words in a 3 minute clip, right?” he asks you in reassurance, as if you were the most reliable source of information when it comes to this class and its assignments.

“Yeah,” still, you agree.

“Well, then we just gotta pick a theme and the rest will be easy,” he nods to himself, reaching back for his phone, which you swiftly take from his hold and hide behind your body. 

“Hey–”

“We’re not done talking about this! I’m not letting you use your phone, because you’re just gonna scroll on Tiktok instead of thinking about this,” you squint at him, twisting and turning in your seat as his hands try to sneak around your sitting figure and take the device out of your grasp. 

He seems determined as his arm lands on your elbow, a victorious grin smoothly swiped off his face when you sit on his phone and flash him a wide grin. “I’ll give it back when we have the theme down!”

“That’s an invasion of my privacy,” Donghyuck mumbles, and you roll your eyes at him, pointing a finger to his shoulder.

“That’s not what an invasion of privacy means, but whatever floats your boat…” you mumble, watching him sit back in his seat, defeated as his shoulders slouch and his gaze is glued to the wall in front of him. You’re not sure what’s so interesting about the white paint, but at least there’s not the noise of his phone filling your ears right now– you’re more than okay with silence, since you don't get to hear it often when Donghyuck is present. You would like it better if he spoke up and talked to you about the assignment, but if you had to choose between him being annoying and him being quiet, you think everyone knows which one of the two you’d prefer.

“So?” you test the waters after a while, seeing if your project partner decides to finally comply with your request and discuss the important matters.

“So? Do you got any ideas?” he teases, watching you with challenging eyes.

Clearing your throat, caught off guard at the request– you assumed he’d tell you exactly what to do and you just have to do it and follow his lead, essentially not putting in much effort and still being sure of passing the class– but it seems like Lee Donghyuck won’t let you off that easily. You should've expected it. Being difficult is his favorite hobby, after all.

“Well, you’re the smart one here, so…” you shrug, trying the method that always works on men– and that is praising them.

“So you’re saying you’re stupid?”

“If it works in my favor during this conversation, then sure,” you nod, smiling at him in irony. Hyuck gives you a defeated sigh, shaking his head at you before he clicks his tongue at you and finally gives in.

“Okay, so, I was thinking we should pick a theme that fits the current social struggles, but after hearing this, I don't think feminism is our best choice,” he mutters.

“Like you’d know anything about feminism–”

“What do you have me for?” Donghyuck sharply glares at you, clicking his tongue at you in pure offense. “I am a fan of Little women, I'll have you know, of course I’m a feminist.”

“Well, you must be a fake fan, since everything about this deal is just me majorly girlbossing,” you point out, trying really hard to prove your point.

“Are you even being serious right now–”

“Anyways,” you cut him off, “what were you thinking?”

The man sighs and shakes his head at you in disbelief, but still speaks up again nonetheless. “I was thinking, well, maybe we could pick something that would really play into the old man’s feelings, you know, so we get him all sentimental and moved to tears…” he starts off, tone of voice now completely serious, making him sound kind of smart– startling you in the process, “that leaves us with a few possible options. We could do something with the 18 hundreds, or… fishing? I heard he’s into fishing. Or we could do something more abstract and shoot something about youth, since he’s very old and this could get him nostalgic. Or!” he suddenly perks up in his seat, eyes wide and a disturbing grin sitting at his lips, “we could include nudity! He’s a man, after all… wanna shoot porn? We don’t need words for porn.”

In absolute disbelief, you stare at the man with eyes wide open, blinking a few times and taking a few seconds to yourself to process the monologue you just listened to. You knew he was absolutely insufferable, but you didn’t know he was this much of a dumb freak. 

Taking your silence for disgust, Donghyuck just nods to himself and purses his lips.

“Youth it is, then… I mean, nudity would be difficult to present in front of the class for sure–” he admits, pouting.

“Yeah, like that’s the only problem with that idea…”

Afternoon classes aren’t your favorite ones of the week and although you absolutely despise waking up early and having to commute to university while you’re still half-asleep and absolutely irritated, there’s nothing that infuriates you more than knowing you could be done with the day already, sitting at home and watching your favorite TV show, only if it wasn’t for the responsibility of having to stay at campus and sit through another hour and a half lecture on a Thursday afternoon, way too late for your brain to be working in those hours.

This is one of the only classes you don’t share with your roommate Aeri– which makes the lecture that more excruciating, since you don’t have anyone with you that you could gossip with about your classmates or friends from back home when it gets too boring and you can't bear sitting in silence and forcing yourself to focus anymore– but there is one person from your circle that you do share this class with, and yes, you already guessed it; it’s Lee Donghyuck.

You don’t know when you’ve gotten so close to the point where he sits in the vacant seat right next to you almost immediately, followed by his friend Ju Haknyeon who you’ve never even spoken to before, but he still does so nonetheless, every Thursday, just so he could annoy you with his only half-funny remarks to every other sentence that comes out of your Animation class professor’s mouth. 

“What are you doing this weekend?” you hear Haknyeon ask the devil sitting on your left, and trust me, you don’t really like listening to other people’s conversations (that’s a lie, you live for gossip. You just wish you knew the least amount of information about Lee Donghyuck as possible, because sometimes you learn fun facts you wish never joined your brain), but you can’t really help it this time, can you? Haknyeon doesn’t know what whispering is, and you’re convinced Donghyuck would love everyone to hear him talk and give him attention anyway. 

“Not really sure,” Donghyuck replies, “Renjun bailed on me, said he’s going to the shelter with his girlfriend again, so I was thinking, right? You know, I’d looove to go on a road trip, and it’s crazy, you know, because–”

The words coming out of his mouth instantly make you alert, snapping your head around to make eye contact with the man that’s already staring at you with a shit-eating grin on his face, knowing you’re listening to them talk. “Lee Donghyuck, I am not going on a road trip with you–”

“See, Y/N here is my personal driver for the semester, so she can’t really say no–” Donghyuck continues, enjoying the way your face distorts into a pained scowl, your hand coming up into your hair to tug at the roots in frustration.

“If you make me do this, I’m going to open your door while we’re going 120km/h on a crowded highway and throw you out so you die under the wheels of someone else and I don't face the consequences,” you propose, shaking your head in disbelief, your voice shushed due to you still not wanting to be heard by the whole classroom, but still loud enough for both of the boys to chuckle.

“Come on, I bet you’d have fun. I have the best playlists for road trips, you know,” Hyuck teases, poking you with the tip of his pen, to which you click your tongue and move a bit further away from the male. 

“The last time I drove you somewhere that was more than a 10 minute drive, you had Céline Dion on loop, so I don’t know just how believable this claim is.”

“That’s disrespectful to the legend Céline Dion is, dear Y/N, and I’d take it back before her ghost comes to haunt you at night.”

“Is she even dead in the first place?” you squint at him, at disbelief of his words.

“She’s not,” Haknyeon chimes in from the side, shaking his head at the both of you before he chuckles, “you two argue like a married couple.”

“I would rather die than to marry him–”

“See, Hak, Y/N just hasn’t realized she’s in love with me yet,” Hyuck adds, clicking his tongue at his seatmate, “but she’s gonna realize it somewhere during our 5 hour long road trip, I’m sure. Just wait, it’s gonna happen soon.”

The class gets dismissed somewhere in the middle of the argument, and as you’re gathering your things to go, you hear the two of them talk among themselves, not really including you in their conversation anymore (which you’re glad for, frankly). 

“Are you going home after class?” Haknyeon asks.

“No,” Donghyuck shakes his head in disapproval, and there it is– the shit-eating grin appears on his face when he initiates eye contact with you and snickers, “Y/N and I are actually getting fried chicken at this place downtown, since I got coupons– well, Renjun got coupons for free chicken from his uncle last week, but he doesn’t like chicken that much, so I stole them from him–”

“Huh?” you scowl at him, wondering if you heard right. “I’m not getting chicken with you.”

“Of course you are,” Hyuck announces, “the coupons expire tomorrow, so we gotta do it today. I know you’re not busy, come on.”

“I’d rather choke than to spend any more time with you than I already have today, Donghyuck. Go with Haknyeon,” you say, pointing to the clueless senior staring at the both of you in wonder.

“Yeah, go with me, man,” he shakes his head, “I like chicken.”

“Unfortunately, this offer only applies to people that have a working car that could drive me there, so in case you wanna get your shiny BMW fixed in the next 24 hours, I can save the coupons for you,” Hyuck chimes, smiling innocently at his friend.

“What are you even talking about?” you mutter, tone of voice pained.

“Look, do you wanna get out of the road trip on Saturday, or not?” he stares at you, his gaze flaming as you sigh more for him to hear than to get out your frustration– you learned long ago that it does nothing to calm you down, worse, it makes you even more infuriated.

“Woah, Donghyuck!” you exclaim, fake excitement written all over your features. “Chicken actually sounds so good right now!”

That’s how you appear in one of the fried chicken places downtown, your car parked in their tiny parking lot, with Donghyuck excitedly skipping towards the restaurant with the bunch of coupons in his hands. You don’t really know why he insists on spending time with you– he could get a bus here or drive with one of his other friends that own a car, and you’re certain you are not the only one on his list– so the whole interaction makes you slightly confused. Still, you enjoy the free meal– like any other broke college student would– and when Donghyuck eats, his mouth is usually shut, so you don’t find that many negatives in this whole thing, after all.

“What are you thinking of doing for the project, by the way?” you ask, wiping your greasy fingers on one of the napkins Hyuck had offered to you just a few seconds prior after noticing your dismay at the state of your hands. You don’t like it when you get dirty with food, but you’d rather not eat at all than to eat fried chicken with a fork, so you guess this is the price you have to pay.

“You keep talking about the project,” he shakes his head, chuckling, “don’t worry about it. I have it covered.”

“What do you mean, you have it covered? This is supposed to be teamwork. Just because I drive you around, it doesn’t mean I won’t put my hand in– you’ll complain too much if I don’t,” you mutter after you swallow, rolling your eyes at him. He keeps saying the same thing each time you ask him– you’re suspecting that he has zero idea at all, and he’s just bluffing to make you feel more comfortable. Hell, you might even fail while working with Donghyuck and your whole plan is going to be ruined, for all you know.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, grinning, “we got the theme, so half the work is already done. We’ll just have to take one day to shoot some scenes on a field or something, and then I can edit it and put some sad music over it, and we’re sold. Trust me, I am a straight A student, I know what I'm doing.”

“You are not a straight A student, Lee Donghyuck,” you glare at him, not believing a single word that's just came out of his mouth.

“Okay well,” he shrugs, taking a sip of his coca-cola that he got for free with the order, “maybe I’m not. But you can count on me with this, hon.”

Sighing to yourself, you shake your head at him. “Don’t ever call me that ever again.”

“Hyuck,” you call for the male, nestling a little in your seat and scratching the back of your neck in frustration.

“Hm?”

“You said we were going to work on the project today, am I correct?” you ask, watching as the male walks up to you from the kitchen area of the room, a bowl full of popcorn in his hand as he plops on the sofa next to you (on the only area that allows you to lay down comfortably and still face the TV, also known as the spot you’ve already laid on, making the two of you almost uncomfortably close in the small space), a bottle of coke situated under his right shoulder.

“Correct,” he nods, reaching for the TV remote he spent approximately 15 minutes searching for in between the cushions of the sofa when you arrived, screaming at his poor roommate for losing it again as the shorter boy just grimaced at you and escaped the flat to hang out with someone you heard him call RJ! y/n.

Humming to yourself, you nod. “Okay, then… why the living fuck are we watching Hunger games right now?” you ask, tone of voice laced in frustration.

Donghyuck doesn’t reply to you for a while as he fumbles with the TV remote (and frankly, you don’t really know why he’s so focused, it doesn’t take much to just press play), but when he looks back at you and sees your gaze impatiently glued to his forehead, he shrugs. “We gotta find some inspiration first, you know,” he innocently states, “Hunger games is a movie about youth if I’ve ever seen one.”

“We’ve both already seen Hunger games, Hyuck,” you whine, but take a hand-full of popcorn out of the bowl that’s currently sitting in his lap. 

“How do you know that I have seen it already?”

“You just said so, you dumb fuck,” you mutter as you roll your eyes, watching the opening credits start. You can do nothing else than settle deeper into the sofa and watch the painfully long movie with your annoying neighbor now, and you despise the fact.

Well, you could do something else. There are many things, to be exact– you could either protest so much that Donghyuck finally gives in and turns the movie off, focusing his efforts into actually working on your project. If that doesn’t work, you can fight him for the remote, but you can’t really know if that wouldn’t make him pettily give you the silent treatment, which is exactly the opposite of what you’d like to be doing right now. Or you could just give up– seeing that you’re not gonna get much work done today– and stand up and go home. It’s not like you live that far away anyways… 

But still, you stay and watch the movie with him. You’ve seen it at least three times already, having watched it recently with Aeri when the movie had its second wave of fame on Tiktok, so you’re pretty sure that if you tried hard enough, you’d be able to recite the script alongside the actors, word-for-word, 100% correct and exact, right on time. You stay and watch Hunger games with Lee Donghyuck– why exactly, you still don’t know– and you find yourself enjoying the experience. It’s not as boring when you hear your neighbor annoyingly comment on each and every little thing that happens in the movie, his nasal voice cracking jokes and jumping into the conversations as if he was a part of the cinematic universe. Somewhere along the way, you join in with him, laughing and giggling when your roleplay gets too silly, and before you know it, the movie is about to end and you’re finally going to be free to work on the project with him.

Donghyuck gets unusually quiet towards the last part of the movie. You turn your head to him, ready to crack jokes at the tears you’re expecting to see in his eyes because of the emotional outro– Katnis and Peeta’s berry scene got you the first and the second time you watched the movie, the third time not so much, since Aeri kept pausing the movie for pee breaks, ruining the full effect– only to witness the man’s head falling to your shoulder the exact second you try to lock your gaze with him; your neighbor having passed out somewhere in the middle of the movie. You foolishly jump just the slightest bit at the contact, opening your mouth to say something to him that could wake him up, your instincts telling you to move away from the already uncomfortable closeness of your bodies and give yourself more space.

But as your lips part and you’re about to protest, you notice his own lips apart in a small pout, his cheeks appearing softer now that one of them is smashed against your shoulder, his long eyelashes fanning over the bones of his cheeks. The blue hue of the TV paints his cheeks rosier in the dim light, making you notice the moles on his face for the first time– leading you to count them and mentally create constellations between them as your gaze focuses from all the different places of his face to another. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you shut your mouth and awkwardly make yourself look away from your annoying neighbor, cracking the knuckles of your hands that have been resting in your lap; but when the credits of the movie roll and you have nowhere else to focus your gaze on, you find yourself scanning the man up and down again, orbs catching every detail of his suddenly so pure being.

He is wearing gray sweatpants, the fabric hanging low on his waist, a plain black tee adorning his upper figure. He doesn’t often look this casual when he comes to class, opting to wear jeans or pants more formal, so you foolishly admire the cozy fit he has going on, not quite used to seeing Donghyuck looking this homey. His clasped hands resting in his lap catch your attention next, the soft skin adorning his slender fingers looking way too inviting right now as you subconsciously want to glaze your fingertips against the surface of his palm, just to see if your suspicions are right and his skin is just as gentle as it seems to be to the eye, and you almost do it– for scientific reasons, of course– before you catch yourself and almost mentally slap yourself for being so foolish.

What the hell is going on with you right now? You should wake him up now– the movie is already over, there’s no use in you staying over any longer if he’s asleep and won’t work on the project with you anymore– but you find yourself freezing each time your eyes focus on the creature sleeping against your shoulder, so soft and comfortable it makes your insides squeeze in warmth. It’s a strange sensation, and even a stranger one to feel for a person that annoys you the most in this world, and you can't bring yourself to do anything else than to overthink the simple fact. 

He can sleep for a few more minutes. You don’t mind. He must be tired, you think– he deserves 10 more minutes, maybe even 15– you won’t disturb him. The silence is strangely comforting, after all.

He can sleep for a few more minutes, you think– but the exact moment those thoughts roam around your head again, the front door to Donghyuck’s apartment opens and his roommate stands still in the doorframe of his living room, gazing at you with suspicion in his gaze. You quickly jump away from your project partner when eye contact with Huang Renjun is made, feeling the tips of your ears heating up in shame as you scatter to your feet and scramble for your things. You feel like you were just caught red-handed, doing something you shouldn’t have been doing, and you can’t bear the thought any longer. You need to get out.

A dissatisfied noise leaves Hyuck’s mouth as he wakes up to the impact of your movement, squinted eyes watching you as Renjun just laughs at your antics, shaking his head as if to tell you that he knows something you don’t. You don’t wanna hear it.

“Where are you going?” Donghyuck asks, voice laced with sleep. 

“Home,” you snap, running your hand through your hair as you move through the door frame that separates the living room from their entrance hall. “We can’t work on the project if you’re asleep, so I might as well just go and not waste my time here any longer!” you offer him, making sure to save your face by putting just enough pretended frustration into the comment as you put on your shoes and don't look back at him– however inviting the mental image of him seems in your brain– before you shut the door after yourself and leave.

dongfuck – drive me to mcdonalds

you – well hello to you too you – no.

dongfuck – >:( dongfuck – please

you – its 2am dude

dongfuck – your point..?

Sighing, scrambling for your things as quietly as possible to not wake up your sleep deprived flatmate, you get dressed in comfortable sweatpants, throwing a hoodie on to shield yourself from the chilly air. The walk down the stairs doesn’t take you more than a few minutes before you’re standing in the parking lot of your apartment complex, already seeing Donghyuck’s figure leaning on the side of your car, almost looking like he owns it– he does act like it lately, to be fair. 

“I knew you’d come,” he snickers as you roll your eyes at him, pressing the button on your car key to unlock the doors, watching as the man swiftly opens the driver’s side for you and then jogs towards the passenger’s side to get in, an excited stride in his step.

“I’m only here because I haven’t eaten dinner and chicken nuggets sound absolutely amazing right now,” you mutter, “don’t get too ahead of yourself. None of this is for you,” you grin, fastening your seatbelt and adjusting the rearview mirror just the slightest before turning on the engine and driving off the parking lot.

Donghyuck only shakes his head at you, a bright grin playing with his features. “Of course,” he hums, “wouldn’t want me to think that you actually want to hang out for once.”

“Of course,” you nod, “because that would be a lie. My goal is chicken nuggets, nothing else. And if I manage to get them out of you for free, that’s even better.”

“Who said I’m paying?”

“The gas station clerk did when I last went to get gas, actually! He told me I’m using twice as much gas lately because I’m driving a certain dumbass around, and I’m paying for all of the gas myself, can you believe it?” you shake your head, teasing him as you turn right on the main road, already seeing the McDonald’s in the distance. 

“That’s a strange way to talk to a customer,” Donghyuck squints his eyes at you, watching as you slow down when getting into the food chain’s parking lot, ready to drive up to the drive-through window and order your late night snacks.

“At least he’s looking out for me,” you shrug, teasing the male. “I better order a hefty meal, since you’re paying and all…” you mumble, looking over the poster to your left, tapping your chin, trying to look lost in thought. 

Hearing the man next to you scoff– already satisfied with how frustrated you’ve managed to make him– you pretend to look over the most expensive parts of the menu. “I’m starting to regret my decision,” Donghyuck adds, but the tone in his voice is light.

After a few more minutes of picking out your menu, you both order your meals and wait for them at the window. It doesn’t take long, since you’re the only ones in the whole place, and before you know it, Donghyuck is pressing his card into your palm, nudging you to pay for both of your meals. The gesture should be expected– you pretty much plastered him into doing this with how much you teased and complained– but it still shocks you when he does it with no other annoyed comments, watching as you offer it to the cashier and smile at him in thanks, taking the bags of food and driving off into the very back of the whole parking lot, turning the engine off and settling into the dark.

You tug your feet up to your seat, sitting crossed-legged in the small space as you face your companion, watching as he offers you the bag of food and digs into his own fries as well, scanning you from the corner of his eye. Now is the time you finally get to admire his attire for the first time the whole night– you never knew you had a thing for guys in sweatpants and oversized jackets, but the way your breathing almost catches in your throat at the sight of Donghyuck dressed so cozily again should be enough of a warning for you to the future. Forcefully taking your eyes off the male next to you, because you’d rather not think about the way you find yourself eyeing him lately, you eat your chicken nuggets– the ones you’ve dreamed of the whole night– and listen to the sound of your neighbor chewing on his burger. 

Feeling his eyes on you, you glare at him. “What are you staring at?”

“No take a picture, it will last longer this time?” 

“I learned my lesson from the last time,” you laugh, reminded of one of the first interactions you had with the male. “I hope you deleted the pictures, by the way.”

“No, I stare at them every night before I go to sleep,” he says, “so I’ll dream of you,” he sing-songs, laughing at the way your face distorts in discomfort at his words.

“Ah, so annoying,” you roll your eyes at him, but can’t battle the way your heart jumps a little at the sound of a laugh escaping his throat. Your eyes automatically trace his movements, noticing the way the far standing lamp post illuminates his face in just the right way, casting orange shadows over his features, making his eyes glimmer when they catch yours. Clearing your throat after being caught staring at him, you avert your gaze and finish the last of your fries, noticing the male done with his meal as well. 

“Now what?” he asks.

“We go home, what else?” you laugh, shaking your head at his question.

“But I don’t wanna go home yet,” he whines, and you already know what’s coming– pursuing, weird ideas, absurd arguments just to make you stay longer. And you’re immune to them on most days, but it’s too late in the night, so you have to cut yourself some slack. So what if you don’t want to come back yet either? It’s not a crime to want to spend some time with Lee Donghyuck.

“What a shame,” still, you tease, waiting for him to come up with a bright idea that you could use as an excuse to stay out longer.

“Oh come on,” Donghyuck mutters, “you always ruin the fun. Teach me how to drive, what do you say?”

Shocked at his preposition, you turn to him again, wide eyes and mouth agape. “What? Absolutely not.”

“Why? The parking lot’s empty. I can’t possibly be that bad that I crash your car into nothing. Come on!” he pleads, going even as far as pouting at you– not really knowing that the expression has you shamefully stare at his lips for a split second, insides heating up– and realistically, you should have warning signs blinking at you from everywhere in your brain, an alarm going off to tell you that this is not a good idea at all, but you’re too stunned to come up with another plan for the rest of your evening, and, well, you may be getting a little weak for the annoying gemini. He's right, though– what could possibly go wrong? 

So you only sigh in response, opening the door and getting out of your seat, watching as Donghyuck excitedly mirrors your motions and jogs to the driver’s seat, ready to possibly ruin your evening and your car at the same time. When you’re back safe inside of the car, you quickly fasten your seatbelt, a sign of your sense of self preservation still working well, watching Donghyuck move your seat further back so he can comfortably reach the pedals. His focused face is in your full view as he adjusts all the mirrors possible, and only then is when you notice him chewing on the inside of his cheek– in either nerves or concentration, you can’t really tell right now– and the sight makes you halt him in his motions before he manages to start the engine.

“Have you ever done this before?” you ask, watching as he turns to you with wide eyes, shaking his head in disagreement.

“No,” he peeps, laughing to himself, “Yangyang declined me the last time I asked.”

“Yeah, because he has a working brain,” you whisper under your breath, still in disbelief of what you allowed to happen, “so… can you reach the pedals?”

“I can.”

“And you see the whole back window in this mirror, right?” you ask, pointing to the rearview mirror, watching as Donghyuck nods.

“Positive.”

“Great. So… start the engine now, I guess?” you say, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you see him nod and reach for the keys, turning them. The car instantly comes alive right in front of him all while Hyuck seems  absolutely clueless, looking at you with big, adorable eyes, and you take it as your cue to instruct him on his next moves.

“Now press the clutch– the far left pedal– and move the gear stick into the first gear,” you say, watching as the boy slowly does as you say, reaching for the device and moving it to the desired place. “Good. Now, keep pressing the clutch and slowly start pressing the accelerator– the far right pedal– while also slowly letting go of the clutch until you get to the point where the car starts moving on itself. That’s when you don’t let go of the clutch, but keep it at that same exact spot, and put a bit more acceleration until the wheels spin like, once or twice. Only then can you keep your leg off the clutch.” 

“You’re kinda hot when you tell me what to do,” Hyuck mumbles, but the flirting doesn’t quite come through when his face is focused at the road and his composure seems shaken, too stressed out to actually mean the words coming out of his mouth.

“Shut up and do what I said,” you snarl, seeing as the man nods and tries moving with the car. It takes him some time, but it seems that he is a natural– the car moves without the engine dying, and suddenly, you find yourself cheering him on. “Good! Good! You’re moving!”

“Oh. My. God.” 

“Don’t panic!”

“I’m not panicking!” Hyuck hums, nodding to himself as he turns the wheel and makes a circle around the parking lot, grinning to himself with confidence. The car moves painfully slowly, and you, despite your best interest, find yourself enjoying the view– although you should probably be more worried about your own safety than you currently are. That's when you decide to challenge the male further.

“Okay, then we can shift into the second gear, it’s gonna go a little smoother,” you muse, seeing as the male nods.

His eyes stay focused on the road, though, so you take it as your cue to instruct him again. “Press on the clutch then, and move the gear stick straight down.”

“Mhm,” he hums, and presses on the clutch, but the struggle comes next as his hand flies all over the car, not quite used to the placement of the gear stick yet. Stressed, eyes glued to the road in front of him to not run into any possible obstacles in your way, he refuses to look away for even a second, and the whole sight makes your heart race in anxious agony as you reach for his hand and grip it, guiding him towards the stick and placing his palm on top of the device.

Your hold on his hand doesn’t loosen up as you guide his movements further and do it for him, just to make sure the stick really gets to its designated place and doesn't get stuck in neutral, which would make the engine die with the next press of the accelerator. His skin is soft under your touch, just like you imagined it to be, and you find yourself growing hotter the more your skin is in contact with his, the touch so innocent yet still sending you to overdrive.

“Now let go of the clutch,” you order, eyes glued to the side of Donghyuck’s head as he nods, listening to everything you say. The car now goes more smoothly and you watch him take another lap around the parking lot before you realize your hand is still gripping his on the gear stick, the information making you jump slightly in your place, clearing your throat in the awkward, tense atmosphere you managed to create for yourself.

“Okay,” you announce, “the trial is over, it’s time to press the brake– the middle pedal, if you haven't figured that out so far– and get out of my place,” you say, hoping the tone of your voice sounds as light as usual. 

The car comes to a strong halt, since Hyuck doesn’t really know how fast the brakes react yet, and if you weren’t buckled in, it’s certain that you’d go flying in your seat and smash your head against the dashboard. Breathing out when the car stills, you finally feel yourself relax, having been alert this whole time, as you squeeze Donghyuck’s hand for the last time, amidst selfishly, before you let go of it and turn towards the door, opening it and thanking the chilly air of the night for slapping you to your face. You really needed that wake up call.

Do you really need to drive a fucking manual? 

hyuck – can you drive me to yangyangs at 8

Staring at the text message on your phone, sighing to yourself at the weird discomfort in your stomach when it appears and registers in your brain, the sound catches attention of your roommate Aeri currently getting ready on the floor of your room, pressed almost uncomfortably close to the mirror. She should really wear the glasses she was prescribed.

“Donghyuck again?” she asks, staring at you through the mirror, a mischievous grin sitting on her face as she asks the crucial question.

“How’d you know?” you roll your eyes in irony, walking over to your closet and picking out your tonight’s outfit.

“Well,” she shrugs, “one, he’s like, the only person that ever texts you except for me, and two, you had that disgustingly doe eyed look on your face.”

“I so did not–”

“You so did,” she notes, putting another coat of mascara onto her long eyelashes.

“You know what? I regret telling you about this,” you mourn, scrambling for your things around your room and putting them into your bag, practically already ready to leave the apartment alongside your roommate slash best friend. When you came home last week after the McDonald’s run at 4 in the morning, you decided that sleep really wasn’t worth it anymore– as if you could fall asleep after the hotness in your whole body despite your window being wide open– and so you took a cold shower and decided to stay up in the living room, watching Netflix (more like having the show in the background as you tried hard to not have a mental breakdown at the newly found information about yourself). Aeri found you like that at 6 in the morning when she woke up to get a glass of water, and even though she was sleepy and groggy– which was probably why you decided to spill the beans so quickly– she interrogated you about the weird look on your face and it’s been a running joke between her and herself for the whole week.

“It’s really not my fault that you find our neighbor hot,” she notes, shrugging to herself.

“When did I say that? When did I say that!” 

“Well, you said you came home all flushed and that you imagined making out with him when you dropped him off back home, so that’s basically the same thing.” 

“I did not say I wanted to make out with him!” you defend yourself. You didn’t say it. You thought about it, that’s for sure, but your roommate really doesn’t have to know that. Unless she can read your thoughts, of course.

“Yeah, whatever. You and I both know it’s true.” 

Sighing, deciding that you’re ending the conversation with your roommate as long as the topic is your annoying neighbor, you turn to your phone and finally reply to his text message.

you – can’t

He replies almost instantly, as if he was waiting at his phone for the last 15 minutes, and the predictableness of his message almost makes you chuckle.

hyuck – why

you – cuz im going you – and i wanna drink you – so i cant drive

hyuck – ok that changes things then hyuck – my original mission was to get you to go there with me but this has to do i suppose hyuck – see you there ;)

Yes, you admit that you reread the messages a little too many times for your own liking. Trying to decipher the hidden meaning behind his words, you swear your brain is running a thousand miles an hour, and realistically, this is the part where you reach for your girl best friend and ask her what exactly is happening in the chat with you and the guy you’re talking to, but after the endless teasing you’ve already heard from her side, you decide against it and just turn off your screen and put the phone into your bag with the rest of your necessities.

“If you mention something about this tonight in front of Donghyuck, I’m locking you out of the apartment.”

“Ay ay, captain!”

The journey to Liu Yangyang’s house isn’t long. He’s the only one that still lives with his parents, but you can’t really blame him– the house is huge, and they are hardly ever home, because they are always on business trips in Taiwan. Half the time, it’s like the guy owns the place, and he also acts like it too, since half of the parties you’re invited to in a year are taking place at his house. 

When you get there, it seems that everyone was already there– at least the usual group, you suppose. You don’t know who else is invited, but when you arrive to Yangyang’s basement– the part of the house where he usually hosts the more chill, laid-back parties, with low music in the background, laughter resonating through the place and alcohol being passed around between people drinking straight out of the bottles– your eyes instantly zero on Donghyuck, dressed in a light bomber jacket and skin tight jeans, you decide that burning your throat with alcohol is the best thing you can do instead of audibly moaning at the sight.

Taking one of the opened bottles of Bacardi off the little camping table situated near the corner of the big room, you take a swig, not really caring about the people who have drank out of it before you– because the pandemic has taught you nothing, it seems– when you finally walk over to the group and say your greetings. Deciding that avoiding the object of your desire for the whole evening is the best plan how to survive without doing something you’re going to regret, you engage in conversation with pretty much everyone else, completely unaware of the way your neighbors eyes are burning a hole through the side of your skull, kind of offended that you haven’t come up to him first, since as far as he’s concerned, out of all the people present in the room, you spend the most time with him in the first place (with the exception of Aeri, of course, but you two live together, so it doesn't really count). In his opinion, you didn’t need to be talking to Na Jaemin right now– you’re not even friends with the man.

But still– drinking beer out of a bottle Lee Jeno passes you somewhere in the middle of the night before he disappears with his best friend to dance with them under the cigarette haze (pretty embarrassingly, you may add) – the only thing resonating through your brain is that you got this, you’re not gonna give him a single glance, you’re not gonna think about how attractive he looks in all black.

You guess that everything about the way this evening has been going is the prime example of every single college kid’s usual Friday. Sitting in a basement of Liu Yangyang’s house, your vision cloudy with a bit of alcohol and also the sweet, piney smoke of the joint that’s been passed around the room only a few minutes prior, music lowly plays in the background, adding a relaxed, yet exciting and bubbling atmosphere to it all– it’s the epitome of the experience you imagine before you go to college when you’re 15 and gazing longingly outside of your window, wondering if life when you’re older will be better and more fun.

And while you don’t necessarily think life is better now– you do have a shitton of assignments to do and stress eating up your insides– you do think it’s kind of fun. Everything is more bearable when you have a group of friends by your side, and while you wouldn’t call every single person in this room right now your closest friend– a friend for life, even– you’d say everything is better than being stuck in your house on a Friday evening, mourning the break up of One Direction one more time as you watch This is us again with spoonfuls of ice cream shoveled into your mouth, figure cuddled up under the blanket with your roommate by your side.

The fun only lasts until a round of Truth or dare takes place, though. You must admit that it’s the fundamental part of the whole hang out, and yes, it’s the thing you always see in the movies. It adds a bit of spice to it all and it’s twice as fun to play when you’re a little intoxicated, but still– you’d like to think you’re too old for the game now, even though your friends believe otherwise and never fail to bring it up again.

This time, it’s Jaemin who brings it up. You shoot daggers to his skull, annoyed eyes and all, but you don’t think he notices as he continues to excitingly sway his arms in the air when he repeats the submission over and over again, finally heard by his roommate Jeno that’s just come back from the weird dancing session with his best friend that he’s very obviously pining over, and grins at his roommate in agreement, starting the game. 

“Not again,” you whine audibly, because frankly, if you wanted to survive the evening with no embarrassment and no weird thoughts about one of the party guests, you don’t think a game of Truth or dare is your best move. Your disgust makes your own roommate– that’s suddenly glued to your side, too tipsy to even walk (you heard her exclaim that her legs are too heavy to be used)– giggle, already familiar with your thoughts on the game. And frankly, that makes you even more terrified– because when Aeri is drunk, she talks even more than she does when she’s sober, and well, there’s no promising that all of the information you’ve ever shared with her will stay truly confidential when she’s under the influence.

“Don’t start again,” she says, shaking her head, “you always say you hate it, but you always end up playing it anyway.”

She’s right. It’s not like anyone is pressuring you, but you kind of feel like the situation calls for you to join in– because what else are you supposed to do, watch them? There’s no fun in watching if you’re not involved, and you’d feel like an intruder if you just watched them do all sorts of dares while not being in on the game. 

“Yeah, because you’d all whine if I didn’t,” you say instead, taking a sip of your drink, letting the bitter taste of beer slide down your throat as she rolls her eyes at you, nudging you in your side with her elbow.

“Just say you end up having fun,” she snickers, “nobody would think that’s weird, you know.”

“Yeah, whatever you say,” you shush her and pet her hair, taking advantage of the fact that you’re very obviously less tipsy than her, as you turn to the middle of the circle and wait for the game to start.

Usually, a couple of rounds pass before your name is called. You enjoy the tension– it feels like you have time to prepare to do whatever task their hazed minds come up with or answer whatever question that’s been burning on their tongue, yet, it also feels like a buildup before the big thing– a strange sense of climax, if you will. 

This time, it’s no different. A couple of minutes pass as you watch Yangyang lick the bottom of Jaemin’s foot– because Jeno always likes to come up with the nastiest, most worrying dares of them all– followed by the sight of Shotaro kissing the forehead of the most attractive guy in the circle (Renjun wasn’t happy with the wet peck left on his skin). The guys almost always pick a dare, and you think that’s an advantage, since before it’s your turn to finally participate in the game, they run out of ideas for dares that are possible to do in the weed-smelling basement of Liu Yangyang’s house and you can safely choose truth instead. It’s not like you’re not brave enough to choose dare– you did so many times before and never once backed away from the task, not even when you were dared to kiss the person on your right (that was the night you learned Kim Sunwoo wasn’t all that, because the drunken peck he pressed to your lips wasn’t all that appealing) – you just simply tried to pick the safest strategy for the game. 

Another kissing dare could suggest that you kiss the person you find the most attractive in the room right now. Or they could ask you for a lap dance on one of the guys. The possibilities are endless, and even though choosing the truth isn’t that much safer, since their questions could vary all the way from ‘What’s the color of your underwear right now?’ to ‘What is your favorite sex position?’, you’re trying to comfort yourself with the fact that you could just lie. You know it’s kind of prohibited, and that it also defeats the whole purpose of the game, but still– you’re not planning on embarrassing yourself tonight, and you were always a pretty good liar when it came to words. Actions? Not that much.

Sinked deep in the stained light orange fabric of the sofa, eyes half-lidded, you await Jaemin’s question as you tell him you did indeed pick the truth. And you were right, there are no protests coming out of the boys’ mouths this time around, seemingly tired of coming up with original ideas for their dares. 

“Come on, man, we don’t have the whole day,” Renjun nudges the boy into his ribs, annoyed with the lack of words from his friend. 

“Actually, we do. I don’t see the issue-”

“Just ask something already!” Shotaro whines from his position on the floor, his back pressed against the side of the sofa.

“Fine,” the man straightens up in his position, as if struck by a newly found sense of clarity, the look on Na Jaemin’s face reeking of insanity, “I've got something.” 

The room cautiously looks at the platinum-haired boy sitting on the floor, his back resting against an armchair in the corner of the room as he blinks a few times, seconds passing, yet there’s still nothing coming out of his mouth. 

“Are you gonna say something, or will you continue to act all dramatic…?” Jeno snickers, making his roommate roll his eyes at the jab, finally breaking the silence.

You’d argue that he just forgot what he wanted to say– with how Jaemin gets when he’s drunk, it wouldn’t be half surprising– but it seems like his roommate knows him better than you do, because the man speaks up fast, and suddenly, you take back all your impatient thoughts that urged him to ask you something already, because the question takes you by surprise and leaves you in shock, staring wide eyed and speechless.

“If you had to have sex with anyone in this room, who would you choose?” 

You no longer wish he took longer to ask you the question. No, you wish he would’ve sent it to you telepathically, so you could prepare your answer beforehand. You’d save yourself a lot of trouble– being met with the gaze of everyone, looking at you as they await your answer is truly not helping you with the difficult task of responding to the truth, when in reality, you don’t think you can manage to even say anything.

Because truthfully, if you were asked this question at any time prior to the weird situation you found yourself in with Donghyuck– who’s, just by the way, still present in the room, but more quiet that usual, which you shamefully notice and worry about on your insides, but don’t mention out loud– you’d think that you wouldn’t have sex with anyone in this room. It may be hard to believe– even though the men in this room aren’t the sexsymbols they often think they are– but that's the sheer reality.

But now? You feel like the truth is written all over your face, you feel like everyone can see right inside of your head and read the words straight out of your brain. It’s embarrassing. You feel ashamed.

Looking around the space, shiteating grins meeting all of their expressions, you shrug and finally get some words out, hoping they satisfy their needs for an answer. 

“No one,” you say, praying you sound confident. 

“Yeah, no-”

“Oh, come on-” 

“That’s a lie-”

Multiple voices cut into your confession, all in disbelief. If this isn’t the proof of their impressively big egos, you don’t know what is. All of them now staring at you with furrowed eyebrows, not believing a single word that’s just came out of your mouth, you start to wonder about how to convince them that you are, indeed, telling the truth, even though you’re obviously aren’t, so you don’t have to take a shot of whatever liquid the host of the party has hidden in the closet of his basement as a punishment.

“I’m serious! I’ve never looked at any of you and thought, ‘yea, I’d let him get it’,” you shrug, taking a nervous sip of the beer in your hold again.  

“Okay, but if you had to? Like, imagine someone is holding your mother captive and telling you they’re gonna kill her if you don’t have sex with anyone in this room. Who are you choosing?” Jeno squints at you, and you’re starting to believe that the man just wants you to pick him. 

“I’d have sex with Aeri,” you muse, pointing a finger to her as she’s leeching to your right shoulder, snickering.

“That’s a cop out!”

“Look, man, I don’t find anyone here hot, okay?” you shake your head at the commotion, grinning to yourself to seem more believable. And with how they roll their eyes and sigh to themselves, you think it’s working. There’s a premature feeling of relief in your insides, thinking that you’ve done it, you haven’t exposed yourself, before you hear your roommate mumble from her slumber, making your heart drop deep down into your own fucking asshole.

“Not even Hyuck?” 

Slowly spinning your head towards her, the tight smile on your face suggesting that you’re going to kill her in under approximately five seconds if she doesn’t take back what she said, you’re painfully aware of the fact that everyone’s staring at you now, grinning to themselves with a look that says they believe that Aeri knows something they don’t– she’s your best friend, after all– and you realize that you’re going to have a hard time getting out of this one. 

You should’ve expected this the moment you saw her drink that much. Maybe you should’ve stayed home today. The information about Lee Donghyuck was still too fresh in her brain to not mention when she has some to drink– you understand, in a way. At least, you’re trying to understand.

“Fuck no,” you grunt out, furrowing your eyebrows in the best acting performance you’ve managed to put on since your theatre kid days. You don’t think you’re convincing anyone, though. You’re not even convinced.

“Was that my name I heard?” 

And again, your heart drops at the familiar tone coming from the place straight opposite of you, the place that’s very obviously in your point of view, yet you’ve been successfully avoiding the whole evening to not seem as obvious to everyone that the very man has been occupying your every thought for the last week or two. You realize this is the first time he’s spoken to you this evening, if you’re not counting the text messages you exchanged before you got here, and something about the fact makes you shiver.

Meeting his eyes, because it’s the natural thing to do when someone speaks to you, you mentally curse and feel your heartbeat quickening at the grin sitting on his face. Eyes roaming his body– all against your will–  you notice the comfortable way he’s sitting on the armchair in front of you, legs parted wide and his thighs on full display, hair a little messy and eyes glossed over and blown out, since he smoked just a few minutes prior to the game, making you realize just how painfully he resembles someone who just had a long make-out session; the thought automatically leading you to think of the fact that you’d like to have a make-out session with him right now, and wow, his thighs do look inviting to sit down on.

“You wish,” you spit instead, still wanting to save the situation. Averting your gaze from him to keep yourself sane, you choose to focus on the floor instead, heat rising to the tips of your ears. 

“I mean, it seems more like you do,” he grins, the whole group snickering at the sudden quarrel in between the two of you. Your conversation suddenly reminds you of the ones you had with him before the two of you started properly talking, and something about the confident smirk on his face makes you remember just how annoying you’ve always found him whenever you encountered him at this very place. You’re back to square one for a minute, with your defensive remarks, similar to the way you used to quarrel with him before, and the familiarity engulfs you like a warm blanket.

“Your confidence amuses me,” you bite back, choosing to look at him as you say it to add more impact to your words; your decision seems to only worsen the things for you, though. The conversation admittedly sounds a little too much like flirting, and the way you notice him clutching the can of beer in his hand only makes you more flushed under his gaze.

“You don’t seem amused.”

“That’s because the idea of having sex with you makes me want to leave this room,” you grunt, shifting uncomfortably in your seat.

“I’ll take you home if you’d like,” he winks at you. Alarm sound goes off in your mind, your hands clammy as you run them through your hair, and suddenly, you’re on fight or flight. And if you can’t escape the situation, you decide to choose the latter– throwing him the most jabbing remark you can think of at this moment, fighting to keep your dignity.

“On a bike, or something?” you snicker. “As if I’d let a guy without a licence fuck me. You know that’s below my standards, Hyuck.”

An amused gasp is heard in the room when this remark leaves your mouth. The main source of the noise is Liu Yangyang, the host himself, since he likes to laugh at times when it’s the least socially acceptable. 

Now, you know that there are only a few things in which men value their social status; one of them being the amount of girls in their bed, the next one their rank in League of Legends, and lastly, their cars. And while Lee Donghyuck is known to be quite the player when it comes to the first thing in the list of social ranking between guys (or at least you’ve heard so from the girls in the locker room in the past years. Not like you were listening to their conversations whenever his name was mentioned… you just have very good hearing) and he was known to be the one that carries the team whenever any game on Yangyang’s PS5 is played in the dimly-lit basement on nights much like this one, there was something always setting him back in the neat ranking, and that something was the state of his car. 

Why? You guessed it– he doesn’t have a car. Or a licence.

To be quite frank, by the expression on Donghyuck’s face– all wide eyes and mouth agape in shock– you hit him right when it hurts, the grin falling off his face when he takes a sip of the beer in his hand, seemingly to chase down the taste of being put in his place and to have something to do to not seem as awkward and embarrassed as he must be feeling right now. 

You feel victorious, in a way– you managed to mask your very obvious sexual frustration caused by the man, while also managing to rile him up with your comment, which is definitely a first in your dynamic– adrenaline rushing through your blood as you look at him with expecting eyes, awaiting his response. The rest of the crowd laughs at your remark, only fueling the joy you feel when he suddenly averts his gaze from you, licking his lips for only a millisecond (yet it doesn’t get unnoticed by your eyes) before he snickers again, shrugging.

“Okay then,” he grunts, pressing the tip of his tongue to the inside of his cheek in annoyance, “you won.”

You know what? Once he admits to it, the feeling of victory quickly fades. Watching his frustrated face, eyebrows furrowed as he looks everywhere but at your face, suddenly, you choose to drown yourself in the rest of the beer in your bottle, relieved when you notice the game progressing without you. 

You won, he says, but you don't feel like you did. Quite the opposite, actually. You feel a tad bit defeated. 

You managed to lie to the crowd, but the very obvious pit in your stomach reminds you that you can’t lie to yourself– and now, bear with me as I say something cheesy, yet true– because even though Lee Donghyuck can’t drive, he’s still very successful at driving you crazy.

You feel like the universe is punishing you for every little, smallest thing you’ve ever done wrong in your life. You feel like whatever force is there that’s making this world go around, absolutely, completely, wholeheartedly hates, despises you, and won’t have mercy on you as you’re left dealing with the text message shining on your phone screen four days after the party, at 8 in the evening. 

hyuck – drive me to a date hyuck – please ig 

Sighing, one, two, three times, you chew on the bottom of your lip as your eyes scan over the messages, and something about the very few words makes your stomach turn and twist in an emotion you’d describe as a weird mix of disgust and shock as you mentally try to come up with a reply. And it’s hard.

It’s difficult, because you hate it, you hate it, you hate it– the way Lee Donghyuck just managed to score himself a date only four days after your ever so growing sexual frustration has started to see the light of the day, you hate the way he’s asking you to drive him there– as if to show you that he still has it, that you’re wrong, and that even though he has no car and no license to boost in front of other girls, they still want him and you’re about to witness it as you drive him there. 

And you hate it so much you start to think you’re going to chew on your own fist and throw a rock through your own window, but you strive hard not to show it. And is there a better way to seem unaffected in this situation than to comply with him? If you weren’t so jealous about the whole thing, you’d surely just make fun of him and do it, no questions asked– a friendly favor, or something. And so you do it. Like it’s nothing.

you – ok text me when you’re ready 

After a few minutes, you end up sitting in your car, hands on the wheel ready to turn (and run into the nearest car out of pure rage, possibly), waiting for Lee Donghyuck to appear on the passenger’s seat, all dolled up and dumped in cologne, presumably– and that’s exactly what happens when the door swings open and your nose is filled with his usual smell but somehow amplified, and you catch a glimpse of his leather jacket and the shirt tucked into his black jeans. You don’t outright look at him– because you’re still trying really hard not to show all of your inner thoughts on your face– and so you only turn on the engine and hum at him, already making your way out of the parking lot.

“Where are you going, then?” you ask, tone of voice completely unbothered and not too stingy or tight. “And I’m just dropping you off this time, right? Because I won’t sit there and watch you have a date and wait to drop both of you back,” you say, playing with the car radio and trying to find a station that would both satisfy your need to tune out your thoughts with a good song and the need to do something with your fingers to seem occupied.

“Of course not,” he snickers, “wouldn’t do that to poor you. And just go the way I tell you. Now turn left at the end of the street.”

Sighing to yourself at his orders, you do your best at driving your neighbor to his date while trying to ignore just how ridiculous this whole situation is. You should’ve said no back when he first asked you to be his personal driver for the semester– failing Film theory class doesn’t seem like such a bad thing in your eyes now, when you look at the situation in retrospect.

“Can’t believe you have to be dropped off at your own date and you still pull bitches,” you shake your head in disbelief, hoping, praying you seem annoyed because of your duties and not because you’d much rather have him staying in so you could catch a glimpse of him in his window, crouched down in the blue light of his room (yes, he has neon lights in his room. Yes, you teased him about it countless of times before) as he plays League of Legends or stays up on a discord call with his friends, playing Minecraft.

“See? You’re missing out,” he chuckles, shrugging to himself. 

“As if I’d ever go on a date with you,” you huff, moving to turn the volume of the radio higher so you don’t have to make small talk with him anymore, agitated, yet completely ignoring the fact that it was you who brought it up in the first place.

Hyuck moves his slender fingers along the knob of the radio and tunes the volume back down, and you’re eager to repeat your previous steps just to anger him and also so you don’t have to listen to his sneaky, egoistical remarks for any longer, when you hear him tell you the next directions and you realize that you still indeed need to hear Donghyuck’s voice, or else you’re not gonna be able to drop him off at his destination and drive away as fast as humanly possible.

The terrain around you starts to look more stranded. There are more trees than buildings in your sight, lampposts decreasing in amount as you drive further away from the city center, and only when you pass the sign that tells you that you just left the town you speak up again, now truly concerned.

“Where the fuck are you taking your date, man? To the middle of the woods?” you huff. “Is she meeting you there?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he laughs, shaking his head at your furrowed brows. Something about his casual composure makes your nerves tick off and goosebumps appear all over your body, as if you were sensing danger, when you sigh out heavily in frustration and turn to look at him for only a split second, eyes meeting with his. 

“Or are you making me drive to another fucking state, you fucker? I don’t have that much gas right now, you dumb ass–”

“We’re almost there, don’t worry,” he rolls his eyes at you, pointing somewhere into the distance again. “Just turn right there and drive up the hill.”

“Up the fucking hill?” you repeat, concerned.

“I told you to not worry about it,” Hyuck hums, settling deeper into the car seat, letting you battle your own thoughts as you follow his orders and drive up the hill for him, praying no deer decides to jump onto the road and total your car right now. 

“I worry about the girl that agreed to go on a date with you, Donghyuck,” you mutter, “I’ll tell you that, she clearly doesn’t have everything alright in the brain, because this is ridiculous.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he swats your worries away with a swing of his arm, pointing towards a place that extends out of the main road– if you can even call it that, since no cars are passing through the hill ever, much more in these hours of the day– and tells you that you can park the car there. 

And you do as you’re told, despite your never-ending complaining– that’s the dynamic you have with Lee Donghyuck, it seems. 

Stopping the car out of the main road, your car shielded from one side by a row of trees, you step on the break and look at the man to your right in question, the engine still running. “Is this it? Is this the place?”

“Yeah,” he nods, a grin slowly starting to play with his features. Something isn’t right– you feel it in your bones and see it in his eyes, but you can’t quite put your finger on it, still utterly confused and in the dark about everything. “Come on, get out of the car.”

He wastes no time in unbuckling his seatbelt and hopping out of the vehicle, his figure circling the car as he leans on the hood, turned away from you and seemingly waiting for you to follow his actions. Confused, figuring that you can’t do much more about the situation right now– where the fuck is his date? Why are we on the top of a hill? Will his date show up? – all swimming around your brain, you hop out and find his warm being, standing one step ahead of him and staring at him with stern, frustrated eyes.

“Look, isn’t it pretty?” he asks, pointing somewhere behind you. It takes everything in you to turn and gaze at the sight in front of you, your heart still weak and angrily beating against your ribcage, but you do as you’re ordered, eyes bearing into the view. 

The whole town is stretching out right below you. Now that you’ve turned the engine off and your headlights have gone out, you see the lights even better, shielded by a blanket of stars glimmering above the horizon, and you can’t help but gasp out in the beauty of it all. This place makes you want to take a picture, so you can remember how you felt while standing here and admiring the city forever– so you can remember how you felt while standing next to Donghyuck, heart foolishly drumming against your ribcage– and you suddenly realize just how badly you despise the fact that he showed this to you just to send you off while he waits for his date, as if to show you everything you could have if you went out with him, even though the question was never even on the table in the first place.

Clearing your throat, you turn to him, eyes glazing his side profile. “Where’s your date? Is she turning up? I don’t think it’s safe to make her–”

“My date’s already here,” he hums, nodding to himself. 

This does nothing to clear out the fog of confusion from in front of your eyes. “Huh? Where?”

“Here,” he repeats. The word has you wearily looking around yourself, furrowed brows and all– and that only makes the man chuckle at your antics, low voice cutting out of his throat making its way straight to the bottom of your stomach. “There’s no one else here. Just us. And no one else is coming, so will you chill out and enjoy our date, finally?” he asks, locking his gaze with you in a lazy, yet attractive manner that has your hands shaking and your brain instantly panicking.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you process his words for a few seconds, doing mental acrobatics and racking your brain in thought. Nothing helps. “Our date?”

“Mhm.”

“Yeah, no,” you giggle out in awkwardness, feeling unarmed and like somebody’s just dunk a bucket of hot water over you. Shaking your head, you try hard to mask the way you’re feeling on the inside right now, because what are you even feeling right now? As you do some unreadable gestures with your arms as a way of declining and canceling everything that’s happening right now. “Us? A date? Yeah, not happening–” 

You mumble out, ready to escape the situation as fastly and as efficiently as you can while you try to make your way back inside of the car, not really thinking of the journey home you’re about to have to make with him on the passenger’s seat, when a hand grips your wrist, making you stop in your tracks. You take a few steps away from him nonetheless, and the man soon follows you before your body is swiftly turned against your car, the small of your back coming in contact with the driver’s door. Your breathing is quick when the man hovers above you, and you don’t feel danger– you just feel a bit panicked at the way tonight’s playing out. A date? You wouldn’t have thought of this in your most insane dreams.

“Why are you trying to run away?” he asks, his hand still holding your wrist, his fingers firm, yet gentle on your skin.

“Because– um– because-” you stutter, eyes instantly meeting his– regret pooling in the bottom of your stomach when you realize the proximity of his gaze, something tense bundling up in your insides, “this is ridiculous, Donghyuck, you can’t just–”

“I can’t just?” he tempts you, eyebrows rising to make you continue.

“You can’t just lure me into a date with you, that’s not how this works–”

“Would you go if I asked, then?”

“No, of course not!” you shake your head at him, tone of voice a few octaves higher than usual. Your eyes scan over your companion, his face reflecting the moonlight, and you find yourself counting the moles on his cheeks and noticing his sped-up breathing, automatically matching it despite not realizing it yourself. 

“Why? ‘Cause I don’t have a driving license, or because you’re just scared to admit that you’re attracted to me?” he challenges you, quirking up his brows at you in tension. 

Something about it makes you lose all the air in your lungs. He’s so close now you swear the scent of his cologne has made you drugged up, since you can’t seem to take your eyes off his lips for the next few seconds, completely in trance and electrified, and before you know it, you’re a blubbering mess, too lost in everything that is him to come up with something coherent. “That’s- that’s just not-”

He laughs at you, he snickers, as those words escape your mouth, not even a full sentence. You bet it’s enough of a confirmation for him that you’ve officially lost all control– you can’t seem to get out a teasing remark like you usually can, no smart words calculated and thrown his way to scatter down his ego, and you think he realizes that he won. You’re defenseless, you’re weak, and you really want to make out with him right now.

Which he might have sensed out of the way you’ve been yearningly staring at his lips the whole exchange. Still, he mumbles out a small “Stop me now if you don’t want this,” just to be completely sure.

And you don’t. You don't stop him when he leans in and captures your lips with his. You’d be a fool to.

His lips crash against yours with a fever-like pace, the tension that’s been building up between the two of you making itself known in the hurried motions of your lips. His kiss is deep, hands cradling your cheeks as he angles you to lock your lips with his better, not a hint of shyness or hesitance in his motions. Your fingers shakily grasp at the front of his shirt, trying to steady yourself when each motion of his mouth against yours leaves your knees weaker and weaker, your body pressed harder against the car door.

He tastes of mint, making you suspect he planned this and chewed on a gum before meeting you, and when his teeth gently pulls at your bottom lip, eliciting a gasp from you, his tongue is left exploring the inside of your mouth, making you grow hotter and hotter under his ministrations. Your hands occupy themselves as they finally let go off his shirt and sneak around his small waist, pulling him closer, and you swear that you’ve never experienced a kiss that would leave you so eager for more before, a kiss that would leave you so weak and open for anything that’s about to happen– as if you were already naked and bare, a puddle in his palms. 

You’re soon left out of breath, gasping for air when he pulls away from you, and his kisses turn into pecks left on your lips, open mouthed kisses slowly trailing to the corner of your mouth and down your jaw, lips hungrily attaching to your neck, his nose glazing the soft skin as if to smell your scent and ingrave it into his memory. Something inside of you unties and makes you lose all of your control, finally falling fully into the sensation of the novelty of making out with Lee Donghyuck against your car, and you find your hands tying themselves into his hair, tugging at the roots when he finds the soft spot on the crevice of your shoulder that makes you squirm, and you suddenly know what all the girls in the locker rooms were talking about. Each action of his has you gasping for air, eyes pressing shut in the blissfulness of it all– the bites he leaves on your neck, smoothing them down with kitten licks each time surely leaving bruises, making your insides light up with the acts of possession.

“Hyuck–” you gasp, his mouth sucking into another spot on your neck, your head instantly moving away from his way to give him more space to work his magic.

“Hm?” he hums, a satisfied sound cutting out of his throat as his actions get more slow, more lazy, but still just as electrifying. You don’t really know what you wanted to say– perhaps you had no point of calling his name just to say it, and the hazy look in your face is enough of a proof to him when he unattaches himself off your neck and locks his eyes with you, a grin settling onto his face. “Feels good?” 

Nodding eagerly, almost a bit fast and a bit too soon to your own liking (but you’ll worry about that later), you watch him lean towards you again, lips locking with yours in need. Your fingers trail up and down his clothed back, his fingers mirroring the same, but up your loose shirt (which reminds you that you didn’t even dress prettily for the occasion– since you didn’t know this was your date you're attending), cold hands against your heated skin. Shivering from the fresh breeze of the night, you feel him grin against your lips before detaching himself from them to speak against your mouth. “Let’s move this somewhere warmer,” he murmurs before he tugs you away from the car and opens up the back door, pushing you inside.

Swiftly getting inside and closing the door behind himself, Donghyuck appears hovering above you, caging you against the uncomfortable seat. Still, you don’t have time to feel any sense of discomfort as his fingers move your hair from the way and his lips are back on yours again, leaving you no time to think of the implications of the whole situation. 

“See? Isn’t this much better than arguing with each other all the time?” Hyuck snickers again in a moment of weakness when he pulls back from your face to admire your swollen lips, and the teasing has you pushing him towards the seats, a dissatisfied look on your face. 

“Shut up,” you whisper almost hurriedly, climbing onto his lap (not before you admire his sprawled-up legs and the sight of his thighs, though).

“Make me,” he challenges.

“Gladly,” you nod, attaching yourself to his plump lips again, since you can’t seem to get enough of the sensation of them against your weak self, every sweep of his tongue with yours making you feel more heated and impatient as you move against him in his lap, the motion earning you a dissatisfied grunt sent against your mouth as his palms grip your hips with unsaid urgency.

“Don’t start something you wouldn’t want to finish,” he breathes out.

Nodding, you hum. “Who said anything about stopping?” you muse out, grinding against him harder.

You’ll worry about the consequences later.

“Why am I the only one in the shot?” you squint your eyes at the male, watching him as he points his camera to you and tells you to smile and act natural. Donghyuck has on his varsity jacket and his hair is sitting messy, a bit curled on the top of his head, his legs are covered with loose gray sweatpants instead of his usual black jeans– he looks casual, and yet, he looks amazing, you foolishly think as you sigh to yourself and walk across the field, much like the male mentioned a few weeks ago when the two of you ate fried chicken with his free coupons, trying to capture the energy of what youth feels like to you.

“Because you are the main star, honey,” he grins at you, the nickname making you trip over a little on your own feet, before you turn back to him and send him a glare.

“I told you not to call me that,” you mutter, but feel the heat from your stomach slowly rising to the tips of your ears and the tops of your cheeks, your composure slowly crumbling under his gaze. Not only are you watched by his deep brown orbs, there’s also a camera pointed at you now, and if he doesn’t stop with the weird flirting he has going on– especially after what happened between the two of you last week– you don’t know how you’re supposed to contain yourself and act so you don’t look like an utter fool in front of everyone, when the clips will be played in class next week.

“Besides, the project is due next week and this is all we’re doing? Are you sure we’re going to be able to pull this off?” you ask, wary of his confidence. You’re not really sure if Donghyuck knows what he’s doing with this assignment. Why did you even trust him with it in the first place?

“I told you to leave it to me,” he says, “now be a good girl and run down the field, maybe twirl a little like a ballerina, I dunno… Hum a little tune to yourself, do anything remotely interesting and youthful, okay?” he instructs you, and you comply, ignoring the fact that he told you to be a good girl, because after what the two of you did last week, you’re not able to register those two words in a way that would not be mildly sexual in your brain.

You two haven’t spoken about the fact that you hooked up in the backseat of your car after your weird date last week. Truth be told, you two haven’t spoken about anything since it happened, because you felt too awkward and hesitant to bring any conversation topic up. The first time you two spoke was when Donghyuck texted you yesterday about the project, and you told yourself that you simply can't ignore him when it comes to these things, and so you agreed to meet up with him, hoping he won't bring up the events of last week. You were scared. What were you scared of, exactly? You have no idea.

Something in you was almost a bit shameful to admit to yourself that you managed to fall for Lee Donghyuck this quickly. Something in you was a bit embarrassed at the fact that you let yourself be so intimate and so close with the male, and although you don’t regret it, you don’t think you want to talk about it with him (or anyone, for that matter) just yet. Or ever, actually.

And although you could be rational and tell yourself that surely, Donghyuck wanted you in just the same way you wanted him, and there was nothing embarrassing about it, you didn’t feel comfortable with talking about the act with him, because deep down, you know it wasn’t just about the sex for you and you were afraid that it was for him, and you’d rather stay in the blissful unknowingness than to know he only wanted to have sex with you and not try to go somewhere further with your relationship. Did this inner monologue reek of disgusting insecurity? 

Yes. Yes, it did. But somehow, you’re not able to do anything about it.

And so you run down the field like Donghyuck told you to, and you twirl and twist and shout and dance around, trying your hardest to act silly and youthful and exactly like he would like you to, because you’d hate to be unnatural around him, and you pray it’s enough for both the project and him included. Turning back to gaze at him from the distance, you notice that he’s not even recording anymore, only watching you with a lazy grin on his face, eyes glimmering under the direct sunlight, and you wonder how you haven’t realized just how beautiful he is when he’s simply just existing all those months ago, and how foolish you feel with the thought and both without it now. Walking up to him, you muse. 

“Are we done here?” 

“I think we got all the shots we need,” he hums, nodding to your question. There is something reassuring in his smile, and if you were confident enough to grasp at the straws, you would try to talk to him about the events of last week. You lack in many ways, though, and you were never so self-assured as you try to portray yourself to be, and so you don’t. 

“Let’s go, then,” you say, shuddering from the cold November wind as you walk away from the man, expecting him to follow you. You drove here, since the place is a few miles away from the city, and the fact that this marks the end of your project didn’t really make you as relieved and happy as you thought you’d feel back when you agreed to be his driver for the semester. 

A soft fabric envelopes your shoulders, his varsity jacket hugging you into warmth. You smell his cologne when you shyly push your limbs through the sleeves– a self-indulgent desire, too strong to be fought away– and when you look at him to thank him, he wears a soft look in his eyes that glazes you with such tenderness you feel like combusting from the inside with the strengths of your own emotions. Your heart beats fast in your chest when he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear as you walk towards the car, and when a stronger wind hits your heated face, you think that maybe Donghyuck was right, after all. 

You do think this perfectly captures what youth feels like.

“So we won’t talk about it?” he asks, and you turn away from him in fear of your emotions being clearly written on your face. He doesn’t have to name it– you know what he means.

“No,” you shake your head, determined, yet a little scared of his response, “not now.” Not yet, you think. You want to enjoy today a little longer.

“Why?” he asks.

Taking a shaky breath in, sensing that you won’t get to avoid the confrontation like you wanted to, you shrug. “I don’t know if I’m ready to hear it yet,” you bitterly laugh, meeting his eyes with something close to fear in your eyes.

“Hear what?”

“That you… you didn’t really mean anything by it, y’know,” you mumble, “I mean, you probably just did it to stroke your ego, or something, after everything I said at the party, so… yeah, I just don’t know if I wanna hear it.”

There’s a heartbeat of silence after your explanation, and Donghyuck only stares you down with a blank expression. It's not often that you don’t get to clearly see and experience all his emotions flashing through his face, letting you know what he feels even before he gets to speak it out loud. Now is one of the situations, though, and it scares you– it makes you so deeply afraid you’d rather back away from this conversation– damn you for entertaining it in the first place, and so you pretend it never happened in the first place.

“You think I did it to stroke my ego?” he clarifies.

“I- I mean…” you stutter, shying away from his gaze.

“Okay, then,” he mumbles, jaw hardening, his eyes not meeting yours when he circles the car and gets to his designated place on the passenger's seat, “that’s fine, I guess. I’ll try to show you my intentions clearer next time.”

Sitting in class, head resting in your hands as you stare right in front of you, mentally counting down the seconds until the last class of the semester starts, you are only vaguely aware of the things happening around you. You register Aeri talking to you about the new episode of her favorite drama somewhere to your right and you are also aware of Haknyeon and Shotaro sitting in the row in front of you, laughing loudly to themselves about the way their weekend went– yours went terribly, just for everyone’s information, since you decided to drown your feelings in alcohol alone in your apartment, having to be led to bed by your roommate after she got home in the middle of the night from one of her dates with Eric. You don’t really realize it when the class starts, because the monotone voice of your professor doesn’t do much to wake you up, but you are painfully aware of Lee Donghyuck’s body slumping next to yours into one of the only vacant chairs approximately 10 minutes after the class starts, out of breath and slouched over.

Aware of his presence, yet still acting like a scared deer around him, you don’t make any effort into turning to him and greeting him upon his arrival. Still, you sense the smell of his cologne filling your nostrils and making you just a bit more tired and sleepy, your eyes closing on themselves before you’re woken up by the sound of your name coming out of the professor’s mouth.

Scared you’re getting scolded for sleeping in class, you straighten your back and put on your best polite expression, but then you realize your name wasn’t called, just mentioned, and the name of none other than your neighbor was following, when the projector on the wall in front of you lights up and a file named Final projects is opened on the professor’s laptop, each .mp4 file named with a pair of surnames, and two clicks after, your final project is the first one of many presented in front of the whole class. You tried to tell Donghyuck that you could help with the final editing, but the male said he had a vision he needed to achieve, and for that, he wanted to be in charge of it alone, and frankly, out of fear of interacting with him more than was absolutely necessary, you left him to do his thing, resulting in this being your first time watching the final video as well.

There’s a few seconds of silence, a point of complete blankness as the clip starts, and a song played on an acoustic guitar starts playing when the word YOUTH, all capitalized, flashes at the screen. 

A clip of you running down the field in your flowy dress starts the video, the camera zooming in on your figure when you twirl and skip around in the tall grass, and then you laugh over the background music, the sound making you gape in surprise. You didn’t know your laugh sounded like that, and with the hazy coloring of the clips and the solemn, youthful atmosphere Donghyuck managed to capture in the video, you find yourself thinking the sound was kind of beautiful. 

Then the clip cuts into another one– and you widen your eyes at the sight, because Donghyuck told you he’s only going to include the clips from the field, and you believed him, well, because you never saw him record anything else– as the screen shows you a bunch of moments, all wordless, of you just going on with your life. The very next one is of you arriving to class late, a grumpy expression playing with your features. You didn’t notice Donghyuck filming back then, when he offered you a cup of coffee as you laid back on the desk, and a fit of giggles erupts around the class at your behavior. The next clip shows you laughing at Aeri’s shoulder in Yangyang’s basement– a couple of clips of that night following, capturing you playing beer pong with your other friends, or taking sips of your beer when you sat down on one of the folding chairs in the corner of the basement– each one showcasing you completely natural, unstaged, and raw. You had no idea anyone was watching you, yet alone taking clips of you. Did Donghyuck have his camera with him all those times? Or was he just taking those with his phone, since you never even noticed?

There’s a clip of you showing him the middle finger through the window when he called you late at night one day. Another one of you driving, and frankly, you don’t even know where you were going, but the sound of you giggling breaks through the speakers and you slouch deeper into your seat, shy at hearing the sound. The very next one is of you sipping at your boba through your straw, and that’s when you realize those were taken by his phone– at least some of them– because you attempt to hide from the lens by showing your palm against it. Another clip shows you digging through bags of McDonald’s take out in the driver’s seat of your car, another one lets you remember the time you went to get fried chicken with him, thinking he’s sending the video he took of you to tease his roommate with the free food he got with someone else back then, unaware that he wanted to use it for the project later. 

There are a few clips that only last a second. You walking a few steps ahead of him– you think it was the time you two went to the mall, you angry with his antics. Another one of you picking out cans of soda from the rack in the convenience store. A clip of you driving, once again, but now the sky is starry and dark, and you remember the night too well, since it wasn’t that long ago. A clip of you glaring at your bangs in the rear view mirror, another one of you staring into your textbooks at the library. 

There’s only one clip that shows Donghyuck as well. It’s one taken without you knowing, much like the previous ones, and how you missed the phone plopped up against the corner of your dashboard, you really don’t know, but the video shows you two in the McDonald’s parking lot, your hand touching his on the gear stick as you show him how to drive. Only then do you notice the flustered look on his face and the nervous laugh he gets out in the clip, the sound making your heart jump in your ribcage. 

The last part of the video is of you walking a few steps ahead of him, his varsity jacket hugging you around your shoulders. It’s the latest clip of them all, and it makes you painfully shy to look at it. The video comes to finish with a few last strums of an acoustic guitar in the background, and you come back to your senses when you feel a hand squeeze your thigh under the table, the whole class erupting into claps. The video was beautiful, and you feel moved.

Although you should be more mad about the fact that Donghyuck took videos of you without you knowing, there is something incredibly moving about the fact that somebody was looking at you and felt the need to capture the moment before it went away. The clips were candid, real, raw, showcasing exactly how the memory went, how your laugh sounded, and how you looked through Donghyuck’s eyes. The video was exactly what it needed to be and more. 

There’s something about the fact that all of the clips were of you that made you feel weak in your knees. If the video was what youth feels like, does this mean you were his youth?

If you felt beautiful in the video, loved the way your eyes crinkled in joy, liked the way your expressions morphed into the purest form of whatever emotion you felt at the moment, did that mean this was the way Donghyuck saw you with his eyes?

“See?” you hear him whisper into your ear, his hand still resting at the top of your leg. “I told you I had a vision. I did a good job, didn’t I?”

You chuckle, then offer him a nod. “I didn’t know you were recording all of those,” you whisper, ignoring the words coming out of your professor’s mouth– surely evaluating your work right now. You don’t really want to hear it, though– you’re sure you’ll pass. After seeing what your neighbor’s capable of, you have no doubts.

“I wanted it to feel authentic,” he peeps, “to the way I see you, I mean.”

“Is this what you meant when you said you’d prove your point later?” you wonder.

“I mean, the fact that I’ve always had the biggest crush on you was supposed to come across when I liked your objectively terrible haircut you got at the beginning of the term, but yes,” he admits, sheepishly smiling.

“Okay, uncalled for,” you shrug off his hand from your thigh, to which he giggles and captures your limb with his again, interlacing your fingers. He sways your hands back and forth, offering you a soft look that drives you slightly insane. After all of this, you’re really not sure what you were so afraid of.

“How does that roadtrip sound right now?” 

“Still absolutely terrifying,” you note. 

“Even if I pay for gas?” he laughs.

Squinting at him, admiring the boyish grin playing with his lips, you sigh. “I’ll think about it.”

[jarofstyles]

Oh Baby, Baby! 4

It’s been a very long time but ��🤭🤭 here we go! Oh baby, part 4!

Check out our Patreon for early access and exclusive writing!

Warnings: pregnancy

WC: 3.6k

—-

Harry was absolutely insane.

Y/N was positive about that. She sat on the couch as she watched him bob about the kitchen, installing baby locks. Baby locks- and her bump was still little. Despite all of this, though, she found it stupidly attractive. His desire to be a dad, his dedication to the baby that was just a tiny little seed inside of her stomach, his already overprotective soul, it made her fall just a bit deeper.

The shift had been evident and obvious and neither of them had any awkwardness about it. It was no longer two best friends making a child- they were in it together. Harry was just as dedicated to Y/N as he was to their child. She had found that out relatively quickly. When they’d gone to the bar to meet up with their friends, Y/N and Harry both sipping on plain sodas as they caught up with people. He had gone to the bar to get her a bowl of cherries that she had been obviously craving since he had caught her looking at longingly in Sarah’s drink. He’d been approached by a very pretty girl that had her stomach twisting, seeing her place her hand on his arm which she had wanted to rip off violently. He had taken the slip of paper from her and nodded before heading back with the cherries he had paid a stupid amount for.

She had been quiet with his return, his heavy arm sloping around her shoulder like nothing had happened. He sunk back into his comfortable space, kissing the side of her head as she took one of the cherries to pop in her mouth. It felt bit hard to swallow when she did, the burning in her gut outweighing the sweetness of the cherry. Y/N hadn’t been able to hold back, turning to him after staying quiet for a bit.

“Are y’gonna go for it?” She asked,, trying to feign nonchalance. She had done a very poor job of it, though. Y/N was never one with believable poker faces. Harry could read her like a book.

“Who? Girl at the bar?” He asked with a quirked brow, shaking his head at her irritation when she nodded. Her slight pout and her irritated brows made him want to coo at her. She was so cute. “Why the hell would I do that when you’re right next to me? You’re the mother of my child. I dont need to look elsewhere. I adore you.” He turned her face, pinching her chin and pressing his lips to hers firmly for a chaste but loaded kiss. “Threw it in the trash on the way back. Told her I was an expecting father. Don’t need to go searching anywhere else.”

And that was that.

Now, doting dad and committed… boyfriend? Partner? Whatever their label was, he was exceedingly good at it. Phenomenal, really. He kept the fridge stocked with jars of the sweetened cherries and switched his cologne to a less spicy one because as much as she liked the other one, her pregnancy hormones absolutely could not stand it. He made sure to set up tea for her and get coffee if out because mournfully she was also sick whenever she smelled it. She was just hormonal and unhappy that someone else had hit on him.

Y/N had been grumpy lately. She didn’t mean to be, but with bouts of morning sickness and her breasts feeling a bit tender, a weird craving for fried chicken tenders with peanut butter, she felt irritated all the time. There wasn’t much anyone could do for that. That didn’t mean Harry deserved to be on the receiving end of her grumpiness, though. She felt a bit bad as she watched him walk back over to test out the locks, not seeming to be bothered by it visibly but… she knew he valued her a lot and the last thing she wanted was for him to think she was being mean in purpose.

Tears grew in her eyes, the sting making her even more upset. She kept fucking crying and she had been lucky to keep it from him this far, but it had only been a matter of time. A quiet sniffle was accompanied by rubbing over her eyes, not wanting tears to fall before she spoke. “I’m sorry, H.” She said, trying her best to keep her voice steady. Harry had quickly turned to look at her, concern etching over his features as he returned back to her side. “I shouldn’t have tried to start a fight. It’s not fair and you’re s-so lovely to me and I get scared you’re going to find someone who isn’t pregnant and whiny and eats weird things-“ she hiccuped, glassy eyes looking at his beautiful hands. It was hard to face him.

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Y/N was full of emotion lately but Harry had thought he made it clear that he wasn’t ever going to leave. “Sweet girl… hey.” He grabbed her chin with his thumb, tilting her head up to meet his eyes. “I’m not upset. I didn’t even know you had seen that. I’d never do that. I don’t want to. What I want is right here.” He moved to cup her cheek, wiping away a tear that had fallen down her cheek. Her stuttered breathing had him squatting in front of her, getting them eye level. This needed to be cleared up.

As much as he had been thorough in telling her that she was his, he hadn’t been proper in his declaration of need for her. “Look at me.” His instruction got her to look right at his eyes, a harsh swallow taken as she held her breath. “There is no one else. Maybe it’s my fault for not being clear, but I’m yours. Your partner in all of this, if you’ll have me.” Gentle strokes of the damp skin and the shaky breath exhaled as she took another second to absorb his words. “We made a sweet little baby inside of you, we’ve bonded but… m’not just here for the baby. I’m here for you. You’re what I want, and I’m sorry that I haven’t outright said it yet. I thought you knew how much I utterly adore you.” He got on his knees between her legs, still able to look at her face on as he brought her face towards him.

Delicately, he kissed over her skin. Feather light, soft and breezy, he kissed her forehead, her nose, her eyelids as she closed them to feel his affection. He was so serious about her that it grounded her a bit. Finally letting her body unclench, leaning her face into the pecks when he finished off with her lips. “I adore you too.” She mumbled back, holding on to his wrists. “I’m sorry. I- I kind of knew but we never spoke about it and when I saw you talking to her my mind panicked a little bit.” It was silly of her. Harry was right in saying he had made it clear she was his- her still slightly over sensitive cunt was proof of that alone- but the lack of clarification had gotten to her.

“Don’t need an apology from you. I know that if I saw a man talking to you, flirting… handing you his number? I’d be very annoyed. Not at you, but.. the idea. It pisses me off and probably wasn’t fun for you to watch.” He sighed, pulling back slightly to stare at her. “M’here for you and little baby inside of you. You both are my world. And I don’t want you questioning it again. Alright?” He squeezed her cheeks slightly with his hands, making her laugh through the last of her emotional tears.

“Got it.” She sniffed, welcoming the kiss he paired it with. “I- I still don’t think we need baby locks yet.”

“S’called being proactive, my darling.” He chuckled against her mouth. “Keep up.”

—————

Harry’s hand was threaded through hers as they left the appointment. Y/N was happy that as she was in her second trimester, but even more so, she was amused at her boyfriends antics.

He was diligent and doting on her, more than he had ever been before. The friend she had before had erupted from his cocoon, showing her a new side to him that she hadn’t anticipated. Protective, present, and so damn affectionate. He couldn’t keep his hands off of her. It wasn’t just sexually, either. The man always had his hand on her, lips pressing against some part of her body, fingers tangled with hers. It was very new, but very welcomed.

“So… soon they’ll be able to hear.” Harry mumbled as they walked towards the car. “So we’re going to have to play them some good music. Got to be careful what my child consumes because I will not have a kid with bad music taste.” He gave Y/N a look. “No radio for right now. I’ve got playlists, going to get the family plan for Spotify or something and then y’can use that.”

Y/N laughed under her breath, approaching his black SUV with a shake of the head. “Harry, I adore you, but please.” She gave him a look. “They’re going to be perfect. With a father like you, there’s no damn way our child isn’t going to know the ups and downs of rock n’ roll history.” Harry was quick to open up the passenger side door, holding on to her hand as he helped her get into the seat. “Besides, it’s mainly my heartbeat they’ll hear. They won’t start hearing a lot of external noise until the end of this trimester.” He had been on the baby websites.

“I know that. But we have to be safe, don’t we?” He was deadly serious, too. “We don’t know the exact time they’ll be able to hear it so…” he shrugged, making sure she was buckled before closing the door. Harry was already an active parent and Y/N couldn't fault him for that.

When he was in his seat and buckled, his hand moved the car into gear before finding its new favorite spot on her thigh. It still gave her little butterflies to feel him touch her so intimately, so casually. These adjustments had made her exceptionally happier in the last few weeks.

“What did you want for lunch, petal?” He asked softly, the music playing lowly after Harry adjusted the playlist. “Is it still chicken tenders? Or are you wanting something else?” The cravings had varied lately. Harry was never sure what exactly to get her so he waited for explicit instructions so they didn’t waste time or money.

“Can I have Taco Bell?” She asked, fiddling with the rings on his fingers. “Want one of the freeze things and.. maybe we get the taco box? With all the tacos so we can have it for later too?” Her stomach was growling, in desperate need of some food. “Want some of the chips and cheese too. Maybe 2. Your child is making me stupidly hungry.” The grumble made him laugh. It was very much his fault, and he wouldn’t change it.

“Course we can. Tomorrow I’m going to the grocery so I can get us some good food at home. Strawberries and greens for your smoothies.” While Harry was never one to dictate how she ate, he did encourage her to eat healthy when possible. He would cook for them since they’d basically moved in together, but Y/N was feeling too lazy to cook most of the time.

“Hm. Yeah, I think that’s good. I’d like some crisps and stuff to make dip… maybe some rice. I’ve been craving baby carrots with ranch a few times but we didn’t have it.” It hadn’t been so much that she would ask him to go out and get it. She was still able to go but Harry did like to take care of her so far. It had been a bit of an adjustment but she was learning to love it. “Y’know, you’re spoiling me. Going to make a monster out of me. I’m liking this ‘having Harry go to the shops’ thing.” Her grin was wide as she looked over to him in time to see him fondly roll his eyes.

“Well… I’m going to take care of you. You’re my girl, you’re carrying my baby. I’ve always liked spoiling you. Just didn’t do it as much because it would have been a bit weird.” He admitted. The sun was high in the sky and the clouds fluffy and white. The air was warm enough for them to have the windows down a bit as they drove, and Harry really felt like his heart was full. Just getting to experience this and spoil Y/N the way he had always had a weird itch to do? It was fulfilling a spot in his chest that had been vacant for a while.

“That’s good then. I like being spoiled so I think this could work out.”

—-

“Harry!”

The call of his name from across the house had him jolting, running from the kitchen where he had been preparing their meal, up the steps and down the hall to their bedroom. You never yelled for him like that. His brain had been on auto pilot, running over as fast as he could in his socks- dangerous- to find Y/N standing with wide eyes as their folded laundry sat in sorted piles on the bed.

Her hands were over her bump, visible in the cornflower blue dress that hung over her form. Her eyes were wide as she turned to look at him, mouth open as he approached. His hands immediately grabbed her face, looking her over. “What? What’s wrong?” He pressed. “Baby- y’cant yell for me like that and not tell me. Is there something wrong?”

“No! I don’t- I don’t think so?” She squeaked. “I felt them move! Like… s’not a kick or anything but it felt real this time! Not just the flutters. It’s like… squirming?” Her eyes were wide as she looked down at her belly, the shock of truly feeling their baby moving around inside of her taking her for a ride. “I didn’t mean to worry you but I just- I panicked and was excited. I’m sorry.” The woman hadn’t meant to worry him too much.

Harry felt himself melt in both relief and happiness at the clarification. His heart rate could finally slow down. Perching himself on the end of the bed, he was mindful of the laundry piles as he pulled her body in between his legs. “I’m not angry, Angel. Not in the slightest. You just scared me. Thought something was wrong. M’much happier with this result.” Hands moved from her hips to over her forming bump, stroking over it tenderly.

She had told him about flutters recently, how they’d made her excited- but this was a very new and exciting development. “I didn’t want you to miss out.” She peeped, looking down at him. “In case you could feel something. I know you love them a lot already and I didn’t want to keep the first couple times.”

Harry was in love. He knew that before, but her little moment now had solidified it even more. His lips pressed over the clothed belly, tilting his head up to look at her with his eyes full of fondness. “Thank you. I researched it and I don’t think I’ll be able to feel much until the end of this trimester, but I love that you wanted to tell me.” The moment had been more than enough for him. “What did it feel like to you, though? Tell me.” Holding her body to him and his chin against the bump, he listened intently.

“It was like… I don’t know exactly. They were squirming and bumped into the side of the wall? It’s hard to explain. It freaked me out at first.” A breathy left slightly moved his face as it rested on the belly. “Because I sometimes forget that there’s a real human in there growing. It’s incredible, isn’t it?” She placed her hands over his. “Like a little flower. Planted the seed and now the sprout is growing a flower.”

“Hm. Little sprout? I like that.” He turned to whisper into her belly. “Do you like that, Sprout? S’a cute little name your Mumma and I can call you. We’re going to find out if you’re a girl or boy later on but… it’s better than calling you ‘baby’, hm?” Harry more than liked that. “Can choose to be whatever you’d like, but think you’re going to be stuck with the Sprout nickname forever. S’already stuck. You’re going to be married with children and I’ll be calling you it.” He joked, rubbing her hips as he looked back up at Y/N.

She was so beautiful. Sometimes it struck him in the chest, like right now, how lucky he was to have been given her by chance. She had suggested this and they hadn’t anticipated this sort of thing happening, but it was the best thing to ever happen to him. She had that pregnancy glow, the beam of her smile. No more morning sickness and instead getting to enjoy her bump for a while. The leg cramps hurt a bit, but she and Harry worked on it with the massagers and vitamins. She was truly thriving, and he was elated.

“You’re so lucky, Sprout. Me and you. We get your Mumma, and she’s the most perfect woman. You will be grateful when you come out to meet her.” He felt her gentle hands stroke through his messy hair as he continued to speak. “Hope you’re nice to her the rest of the time you’re sprouting. She’s giving you some good genetics to work with here. M’gonna have the prettiest babies with her.”

“Babies?” Y/N rose a brow. “Who said we are having more than this one?” Her heart beat a bit faster as it did sink in. He meant it. He wanted the long haul. It was so exciting, so comforting to know. Harry reminded her often how how much he adored her, how he was proud to be hers, but that confirmation made it feel way more real.

“Well.. s’your body, so you. But I’d like to be the one who gives you more babies if you decide that I can.” He blinked up at her. “I’m more than okay with one, if that’s all you’d like. But… I would definitely like some more if that’s something you’d offer.” Obviously he would never pressure her into anything she didn’t want, but it was something he had been envisioning.

A full house. A dog or two. A set dining room table and sports practices, plays, dance recitals. Siblings spats and groans when Harry would kiss her. Picnics and beach days where he would remind the children to walk, do not run to the water. Applying sunscreen to grumbling kids and holding Y/N’s hand through all of their firsts. Perhaps it was a big dream to ask to follow through, but it was something he desperately wanted.

“You’d really want that? We haven’t even had this one yet.” She asked softly, surprise evident in her tone. “You like them that much?”

“Love them. And you.” He looked up at her again, pulling his lips from her stomach, letting the words sit in the silence for a second. “Love you a lot, Y/N. You’re all I’ve ever wanted. Want to build a family with you, a home. Not just a house or a flat. Want to do it all with you. You’ve been my best friend for a long time but I love you a lot more than that. You’re the person I’ve always wanted to be with but didn’t particularly know it. Didn’t allow myself to think of it. Now that I have a chance, I’m taking it. Keeping it.” And her.

Eventually he would propose, but he didn’t want her to think it was just from the baby fever. He loved her wholly before this but it had grown and changed shape and color. She felt like gold. Bright, shiny, priceless. Better than anything else he had ever seen and she had him wrapped around her finger.

“I’d like that.” She caressed the tops of his cheeks with her knuckles. “You’re my best friend too… and- and I think that there’s no one better suited for the job as the father of my children than you. I’ve loved you for a long time and it’s changed the meaning, like you said but.. I like that idea.” Building a home and family with him. Something so perfect to them. It wouldn’t always be, but they’d love it despite the imperfections and hiccups. She knew his heart, and it was pure.

“But to be honest? To me, you’ve always felt like home.”

[ickadori]

crying because whenever i go to the club i dont get to skip the line, but when my pretty friends come we get in immediately 💀 i would have the fffffattest unrequited crush on sukuna and he would just be fucking all my pretty friends, thats why i like the characters like yuji, yuta, and choso 😭

personally, if that happened to me, i would have shot the club up, but that’s just me 🤷🏼

sukuna is…sukuna is such a bastard. i hate that irredeemable man!! unrequited crush on sukuna is nasty work.

because he would 100% know that you have a crush on him!! crushes aren’t new to him, he’s been getting googly eyes, shy glances, giggles, and love confessions ever since primary school, he can spot a person with crush miles away.

he probably thinks it’s funny how dejected you look when he purposefully flirts with your friends, might even order a round of drinks for them, conveniently forgetting that you’re a part of their little group, too. he stands back and watches you frown and sigh and sink down into your seat, likely already used to this kind of treatment when you go out with your friends.

you’re not ugly, you just have a habit of attracting friends that completely overshadow you, it happens. not to him though, heh.

when he spots you standing in line with your girls, pulling at this and tugging at that, primping here and there, he always has to bite back a grin and swallow a laugh. you’re all dolled up. you always are, it’s one of those shitty fancy clubs after all, but he can tell you’ve put in extra effort today.

your usual fly-aways are smoothed down, eyebrows tweezed or waxed or whatever hell people do nowadays, lashes curled and lips plump, and you’re showing more skin than you ever had. you’re getting looks from the other guys in line -you always do, but you never seem to notice it. probably because you’re always watching him like a hawk- and two of them have already tried to strike up a conversation with you.

well those fucks aren’t getting in here tonight.

he figures he should give you something, half of a crumb to keep your attention and in turn keep his monthly amusement, and when you finally reach the front of the line, he gives you the eye contact you’ve been itching for since you left the house tonight.

“you ladies back again? ‘m starting to think that you’re just coming here to see me.” a lazy smirk settles on his face, and he keeps his gaze on you as he speaks, not able to keep the laugh at bay as he watches you flounder over your words.

one of your friends speaks up, and he can’t be bothered to pay it any attention, not when you look like you’re ready to combust already. “you look different,” he says and gives a faux quizzical look. “you change your hair?”

“oh! u-uh, yeah, i did!” you blurt out how you had styled it that night, and how hard it had been to get it just right, and how you weren’t too sure about it, and fuck you just didn’t know when to stop, did you?

“i like it - suits you.”

you stop mid sentence.

he gives you a slow once over and grins again.

“well, you have fun tonight, gorgeous.”

[honeybeefae]

Revenge Fuck Eris

Use Me (Eris x Reader)

BINGO: Revenge Fuck

(Okay I am back and I am READY! Also going to apologize for making this so short but i KNOW y’all will want a part two so dont worry. This was hella fun to write and I definitely think Eris would be 100% for a revenge fuck because he would egg you on. I really think this is one of my best-written scenes and I hope you guys enjoy it!)

WARNINGS: Smut, mentions of cheating (both parties), semi-public sex

What. The. Fuck.

Those were the three words your mind was repeatedly screaming when you walked in on Azriel, your boyfriend, your best friend, the man you’ve been with for years, pinning the youngest Archeron sister against the wall with his head buried in her neck. 

There was no explaining away the situation. Nothing innocent about the pose and you felt a dangerous mix of anger and betrayal brewing deep in your soul. You had stood there frozen as Elain’s eyes had met your own, at first widening in surprise and shame before Azriel did something that had her gasping and moaning.

You balled up your fists and heavily contemplated murdering them both before your shoulders sagged and you turned and left the room. It felt like all the rooms were caving in around you, your blood rushing to your ears as you stumbled down the hallway trying to find your room.

“Y/N?” A garbled voice called out, your mind not even registering it until the person physically stopped you and shook your shoulders. “Y/N!”

Your eyes blinked away the tears that were falling down your face as you made out the face of Eris. You had forgotten he was staying in the Night Court for the night, the Solstice party upstairs still in full swing.

“Leave me alone, Eris. I’m not in the mood.” You frowned, pushing his hands off of you and turning around. He rolled his eyes and grabbed your wrist, stopping you once more. It pissed you off.

“I said leave me alone!”

“Who did this to you?” He asked quietly, eyebrows knitted together in concern. “Who made you cry?”

“It doesn’t matter.” You hiccuped, looking at your shoes. When you had found them all you had felt was rage but now that you were alone, you were consumed by sadness and shame. What if’s were running through your mind, wondering if you had done something or if you had become unattractive. It was gnawing at your gut. 

“It does to me,” Eris murmured, putting two fingers under your chin so you were looking at him. “What happened?”

Eris, despite his flaws and the rumors around him, had always treated you well. You were his favorite member of Rhysand’s court if he had to choose though that wasn’t saying much. The two of you had similar fathers and bonded over it. Sometimes you would joke around and it always bothered Azriel. In fact, if you were ever close to Eris with Azriel in the same room he seemed to have a problem with it.

All that being said, could your trust Eris? Would he laugh in your face and confirm your worst fears? Would he use it to hurt you later? There was still so much that you didn’t know about him it was hard to decide if he was who he presented himself as.

But as he watched you, you saw no laughter or judgment in his eyes. Just worry.

“I caught,” You took a shuddering breath, wrapping your arms around yourself as the scene replayed in your head. “I caught Azriel and Elain…they were, he was…”

You couldn’t even finish the sentence. It felt like you were going to be physically sick if you continued speaking so you closed your mouth and closed your eyes, trying to take deep breaths.

His fingers disappeared from your chin and you had thought he had left, too uncomfortable to say anything or perhaps even go gossip, but when you peeked out you saw him still standing there.

Except his eyes were now filled with cold rage, his jaw tense. You saw that his fist was curled up by his side and could physically feel the heat coming off of him. He turned to look behind him, as if contemplating if he should go find the couple, before turning back to you.

“What an ignorant, foolish male,” Eris growled, long strands of red hair falling in front of his face as he shook his head. “To go out and find a star when he had a whole galaxy right in front of him.”

Your head snapped up to look at him when he finished his sentence, confusion evident on your face. What had he just said? 

“What?” You asked quietly.

“You heard me.” He whispered, watching you take in his words. “He’s a fool to go after someone like her when he has you. If you were mine…”

Eris cut his sentence short, tightening his lips to stop whatever confession was about to spill from his mouth. You, however, wanted to hear it and stepped closer to him. The tears on your face were shining in the candlelight of the hallway as you gazed up at him, your heart thrumming.

“If I was yours?” 

“I do not wish to make things harder on you. I shouldn’t have said anything to begin with. Let me escort you back to the party.” He ushered, trying to change the topic. However, you planted your feet firmly on the ground to root yourself in place. 

“No, I don’t want to go back to the party.” You said stubbornly, raising your chin. “Finish what you were going to say.”

“If I finish that sentence I am afraid my rocky alliance with this court will come tumbling down. Please.” His voice was tense but you could see how his cheeks flushed, how his breathing was just a little faster, and you couldn’t stop yourself from pushing back once more.

“Oh for goodness sake, Eris, just-” You began frustratedly, gasping when you suddenly found yourself pressed against the cool brick of the hallway with Eris looming over you. His body was pressed fully against you, his hand lightly grasping your face, and you could swear you could feel something grazing your thigh.

“If you were mine I would take care of you properly. I wouldn’t leave you in search of anyone else, I wouldn’t need anyone else.” He breathed into your ear, swallowing thickly. “If you were mine…I would ruin all other men for you. I would teach you so many things, show you how a lady like yourself should properly be bedded and fucked. You would begin every morning and end every night with my name on your lips and your legs wrapped around me.”

His words went straight to your sex and you couldn’t stop the small whimper that escaped you. Eris had always been a distant friend, if that, but you couldn’t deny his beauty. The way he carried himself, his attitude, and even his walk had you staring for longer than you care to admit.

You knew your body wanted this…you knew Eris wanted this…but then your mind flashed back to Azriel. The man who you lived with, the man who made you feel safe and secure. He had always made sure your needs were met, that you never wanted for anything. 

And he also was currently in another room screwing Elain Archeron’s brains out.

It seemed Eris caught your hesitation and while a small part of him wrestled with the morality of what he was intending to do, the bigger part wanted to show you just how better you could be treated. He also liked the fact that he would be taking something from the sulking Illyrian, something he didn’t understand the true value of. 

“Come on, little fox.” Eris purred into your ear, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin. “Use me. Get revenge. Let me show you what you need.”

Your eyes closed, feeling like you were standing between two doors that led to different fates. All sorts of conflicting feelings were swirling in your soul but when Eris trailed a hand up your leg, hiking it over his hip, the answer became crystal clear.

You wanted him. 

“Yes, yes.” You nodded, raising your hands to tangle in his hair. “Ruin me.”

A low growl rumbled in his chest as he crashed his lips against your own, your teeth gnashing together in carnal need as he easily moved your other leg so that you were now fully wrapped around him. The taste of him had you growing even wetter as he slid his tongue into your mouth, using one of his hands to free himself before shoving your panties to the side.

You cried out and threw your head back when he thrust into you fully, the delicious stretch of his cock feeling better than any man you had had before. He immediately set a hard pace, angling his hips so he reached that spot inside you that had you clenching around him tightly.

“Fuck, Eris, oh my gods…” You whined, your dress bunched up at your hips as your feet bounced with his thrust. Eris was no better, his lips moving to start biting at your neck and shoulder. He was being rough, his teeth catching your skin, but you loved it. It was making you feel a high you didn’t get with Azriel.

“I knew you’d be tight for me, knew you’d take me so well.” He praised as he grabbed both of your asscheeks for better leverage. “Do I fuck you better than that bastard? Hm?”

When you tried to answer he gave a particularly hard thrust that made you see stars, your eyes rolling back into your head as you rested it against the wall. You could feel your orgasm rapidly approaching, faster than ever, and you knew you were going to drown in it. 

He knew it too, could see the small o your lips were creating as he licked a long stripe up your neck and to your ear. Your hands moved his hair to grasp his shoulders, your nails digging so hard into his skin that you pierced it. 

“Look at you, Y/N, letting me fuck your pretty cunt in the hallway where anyone could see. But that’s what you want, isn’t it?” He taunted, his balls tightening with the need to release. “You want him to find you, to see you getting split in half by me. You want to be claimed in front of the world.” 

You tried to shake your head but Eris grunted in disapproval, squishing your face in his hand until your eyes were forced open. His pupils were blown wide in lust, matching your own, and you swore it was just the two of you in the whole world. 

“Say it.”

“I want it,” You moaned, right on the cusp of ecstasy. “I want him to see me like this, for him to see how much better you are.”

Eris snarled and kissed you once more, hitting that spot in you one more time and sending you toppling over the edge. It made your entire body shake and you felt like you were floating on air. He followed you into bliss easily, releasing inside of you until you were filled to the brim.

Both of you were sharing breaths when he pulled away, resting his forehead against your own. He still had you pinned which you were thankful for as you weren’t sure if you could walk yet. You came down slowly as you realized what had just happened, what you had just done.

And where you expected guilt to reside you felt…nothing. In fact, more than anything, you felt hungry for more. It was like brushing over a bite that itched. You couldn’t get just a taste, you needed everything. You needed to scratch that itch until you were satisfied.

When your eyes connected with his you knew Eris felt the same way. You smiled, exposing all your teeth, before nodding once. He gave you a small smirk and held you tightly against him before winnowing away to his temporary room in the Night Court.

Both of you missed the pair of vengeful hazel eyes watching you from the end of the hallway. 

[nyx-is-missing]

SUNSET PART 1

Or early summer!

Clarisse La Rue x Cassandra De Young (oc! Apollo's kid)

Summary: When Cassandra gets involved in a scandal early in the day, she goes to camp early.

Warnings: men....thats all i could think of actualy.

First read this!

Part 2 is here!

Cassandra De Young

Im fucked.

That's it, that's all i can say.

I knew it as soon as my hand reached his face and stinged, as soon as i heard a camera's flash, and as soon as i stepped into my mom's apartment.

Let's just rewind a bit, okay?

My family own a big business, that you already know by now, the thing is, when they reeaally want to do business with someone they go extreme, the most common technique is to get on the good side of everyone in the family, everyone.

They research, pretend to have things in common, to like the same things, to have the same views of life, and to make it more believable they always go for the person who is closest in age with them.

Usually i dont get involved in this situations because im younger than everyone else, the only teen in the family.

The thing is, this family also had someone around my age.

A 18 year old guy.....eighteen.

Let me tell you, i really wasn't going for trouble today, i tought he may be a normal guy, just with a little money, someone i could have a conversation with, drink some coffe, laugh and go back home and think "hey, not so bad"

He.was.not.

All he could talk about is how much money his family had, where he went for winter break, his pure blood horse, that only ate (attention to this one) IMPORTED GRASS.

Overall a huge dick.

But that i could handle, i've met people like this, i could handle a shitty talk for some hours, what i could not handle was having to go through all this with his hand on my knee bellow the table.

And here i was, spending one of my last days of spring being tortured by the fates.

"You're not paying much attention to the conversation are you?" He said, and gods that accent was almost making me want to jump out of a cliff, or push him out of a cliff, both would work.

"Oh sorry i was-"

"No need to apologize, people get bored i know" Not that he did something criminal by not letting me finish my sentence but, my gods every action coming from him its making me want to die right now "Its okay, i could find some way to make you focus"

Okay, im done

"Im gonna need you to stop saying odd shit" I looked him dead in the eye with a bothered look, and by the surprised look he gave me back i was 100% sure nobody ever told him to shut up when he was saying nonsense.

"C'mon, dont be like that-" he said trying to get his hand a little but upwards, and i only realized i slapped him when i felt my hand burning.

"Oh my gods im sorry i-" And then i heard the camera flashes.

Im going to need you to imagine the scene, my hand was still up, his hand was till on his cheek, and he had a scared look in his face, as did most of the people at the fancy coffe shop.

Do i smile now? Strike a pose? This one is definetly getting front pages at every place.

I chose the safest choice, got out of that straight to my house.

No..i did not payed the bill.

The whole way home i was trying really hard to think of something to say that was not going to make my family mad, especially my grandfather, but considering whe has always mad with something, that felt like a impossible mission.

First thing i saw when i opened the door of the penthouse was my mom, standing in front of the television, and sure enough, my face was on it.

She turned to me, but before she could even say something i started to explain myself.

"Its not what it looks like mom, i swear, i didn't do it on pourpose, let me explain please-" i couldnt actually read the look on her face, but she didnt say anything, so  i took that as a go ahead.

When i explained her what happened her face relaxed a bit, but not completely, and she had a look that said your grandpa is getting in my nerves because of this.

"I'll talk to your grandfather about this, but you need to know that the way you acted wasn't appropriate, there is cameras all around and you need to be careful...lets just thank the gods you didnt pulled out a dagger right?" She walked closer to me, and i knew she was trying to comfort me, its a pitty actually, i knew she didnt wanted kids when she had me, i knew how grandpa treated her when he found out, to me, it was enough that she at least tried to love me enough.  "You already have your things packed to camp right? I know you have some more days of school but ill call them and tell them you are sick, its best for you to leave earlier this year, then your grandfather wont talk your ears out...you okay with that?"

"Yes mama, ill just finish packing some small things...do i leave today?" I felt her hands on my shoulders, and heard a silent im sorry.

"Yes, but dont be like that, think that you at least wont have to see the news talking about you..youll just be there, with your siblings, eating strawberies and..whatever else demigods do daily, right?"

Like i said, it is enough to me that she tries, even when she isnt great all the time, i know people who dont even have this.

I nodded and went to my room, making sure not to accidentally hit a new sculpture, placed in the corridor.

I didnt wait for her when i finished packing.

I knew she wouldnt be the one to take me there, she never is, she has things to do with the family business, its what ive always heard.

So when i got to the underground garage with my bags i automatically searched for one of the family drivers, sure enough, he was there.

He was a nice guy, but quiet, i knew that he probably had orders not to talk to the family members unless spoken to, grandpa did this with all of them, i also knew he never actually knows where hes been taking me, he takes me there almos every year, but always stops at the road in front of the forest, maybe this sad look he has on his face its because he thinks he is taking me to one of those crazy wilderness therapies as a punishment.

Granpa would absolutely do that if he hadnt had to live with a great public appearence.

"Miss? We are here" He looked at me in the rearview mirror, i only realized i had doze of when my eyes met his and i blinked. "Hold on tight, im going to help you with your luggage okay?"

"Oh..thank you mr bell" He opened the trunk, and then the back door for me, extending his hand to help me get out of the car "thank you, again"

"Sure miss, just let me take your bags out and we are all set okay?-"

Another car dor noise made us both look to the right, to find Clarisse La rue, closing a taxi door, with just one big suitcase in hand.

Now, my story with Clarisse is kind of complicated, i've met her when he were, eight i guess, her family bought some shares in the family business and we saw each other very regulaly, and ever since then everything everyone told me about her is that she is a troublesome girl, that i should stay far.

But she was the one who realized i was a demigodess, and took me straight to camp when a monster found me, and she was the one who, many times when we were little, comforted me when my family made me cry.

It seems like she forgot all of that because she never even looks at me.

If you ask her, she has never even met me at all actually.

"Clarisse, you're early"

"Cassandra, you too-"

"Cass actually, i prefer cass" i corrected her, to wich she just rolled her eyes and muffled a whatever. "Thats all you are taking? One suitcase?"

"And you are taking all that? How do you plan on walking the whole way with all that? Im assuming he wont go with you" she said looking at mr bell, and its true, he could not walk the whole way with me, and i could not walk with all that alone...fuck

"....you could help m-"

"No, dont even think about it"

"C'mon Clarisse!" She didnt even answered me this time actually. "Arent you a Ares-" i looked at the driver taking the suitcases out. "A ares...type of kid? You will pass on the oportunity to demonstrate your muscles or whatever?"

She started to walk away with a bored look, did i already said fuck?

"C'mon ill do whatever! I- i dont know.. 20 dracmas!, no?, ill help you with the cleaning duty you'll eventually have when you fuck it up? I..ill do that AND ill cure you anytime you want, everyday, no matter the time!"

She stopped walking.

Yes! I knew it, one of the many problems clarisse had its that she likes to go out at night to train alone, and when she gets hurt she cant ask anyone to help her, because she would get caught

"Give me those suitcases already and shut up-" she was interrupted by a very happy me hugging her.

"Thankyouthankyouthankyouclarisse!"

I felt her hands on my arms and realized she was going to push me away, so i took a step back

"Geez Clarisse, you could've just told me to back off, dont be like that... just take these and ill take those"

I said pointing to the suitcases, and saying goodbye to mr bell.

Can i already welcome summer and his crazy energy? No? Okay.

[oh-allie]

shakespeare and swooning

alhaitham x g/n reader

synopsis; you read one shakespeare play and now you want to impress your "buddy" alhaitham with your newfound knowledge !! what could go wrong?

fluff, g/n reader, TOTAL CRACKFIC, OOC alhaitham, SWEARING, kind of a modern au ???? i mention "ringing tighnari" but that could just be imagined as using the akasha terminal !!!! didnt write this with a modern au in mind

warning ‼️ PLEASE dont expect this to be accurate, if youre a big classic literature fan then dont attack me for not being a NERD ☹️ just imagine a poser using their fancy words (because they think its cool)

you know how libraries are supposed to be a place of study and tranquility? no the fuck you don't, or at least you don't care, because running through the house of daena with shakespeares, "romeo and juliet," in your hands is NOT very tranquil.

multiple poor akademiya students look at you, PISSED OFF because your shoes are going clu-clonk on the marble floors, which wouldn't be an issue if you weren't scurrying through the library.

is that kaveh ?? he's giving you the same look he gives alhaitham every day ..

... but this is IMPORTANT !! you're on a MISSION right now !! you just finished reading the first act of "romeo and juliet," and you're convinced your brain has expanded tenfold in size.

you're now rushing to your good pal haitham to share your knowledge! how kind and gracious!

you're stopped before his house, you've known him for long enough and gotten close enough for him to let you come in whenever. you know kaveh isn't home, and haitham would never purposefully work overtime, so you're certain you can get his attention and show off in peace.

why are you so adamant about showing off to alhaitham? is it REALLY showing off, or are you trying to, heehee, impress him?? its too late to be flustered at this thought because you already unlocked the door with the spare key kaveh leaves behind one of haithams ugly ass decorative plants and you've taken off your shoes and oh god hes right there and the sunlight from the door is lighting up his face in that way that only happens to him and hes looking at you with a suprised, slightly annoyed, but incredibly fond look and oh no what was your plan again?

"greetings, alhaitham! ☝️🤓" you say, finding a surge of confidence remembering the story you read.

"... hey. what are you doing here?" his response is quick but before you respond he continues, "did you just say greetings?"

"indubidibdibdly! hath you be surprised?" you pretentious hipster. you think youre SO cool, but unfortunately your little crush doesn't seem very impressed either.

"okay, what are you doing? you're being weird." he's not even looking at you, and he's back in his chair before you can rush over and sit on the couch. "is something wrong? should i get tighnari to give you a checkup?"

you'd be touched by the care of the suggestion if he wasn't so cheeky in his tone.

"wha, what, no?! no what the hell- stop ringing tighnari."

"are thou o'er wrought with admiration?" you grin, somehow still under the impression that you sound cool.

he gives an eyebrow raise to that. not bothering to mark his place in his book, he stands up.

"i lie testy in why you act so unpregnant, my dear."

"what"

HUH ? what did bro just say ? testy ???? unpregnant ?? MY DEAR ??? backtrack again, UN-WHAT ??

"be still my beating heart, thou hast taken mine with absolute cunning." is he making fun of you i genuinely can't tell ... its like hes speaking in moon runes right now.

"haitham, heheh, WHAT are you DOING ??" you can't help but laugh at his funny little words, magic man. even if you're clueless to what he just said to you.

"whatever doth thou mean?" he's totally making fun of you !! after ALL your effort to impress him too?

"well, usually i do all the ranting and you sit pretty and listen, so it's weird that you're talking so much, especially like THAT?" fym sit pretty ....

"when words are scarce they are seldom spent in vain." that sounds familiar, but you can't think about it longer before he continues, "shall i compare thee to a summers day?"

"ALRIGHT, i recognize that one, dummy." you laugh, "were you really not impressed by me?" you whisper, the rush of embarrassment you shouldve felt in that library is finally catching up with you.

he stares at you for a second. you just wish you could find out what hes thinking up there, if you could even understand it.

and then he lets you into his mind, with a simple "i love you." as if alhaitham, renowned scribe of the akademiya, top student, couldn't find the words to describe how he felt for you.

or maybe that was what he felt for you. he loved you.

"... you called me unpregnant."

a/n; i read romeo and juliet like... 3 years ago.... so.. uam... 😇😇 totally accurate! hope this crackfic style of writing isnt too niche so this doesnt flop because EMBARRASSING....... do people even like al haitham anymore like guys lets go back to the good old days before the FRENCH came in..... (this is just me projecting cause i havent played genshin in a while and i still lovelove sumeru)

[kichikichiko]

Trust, 6 months and Physical touch

A/N: Hi everyone! I decided to write another fic for fun so enjoy! This idea came out of the blue teehee

Wanderer x reader (no gender specified, only "you")

Fluff, comfort, Wanderer is recovering from his trauma of physical touch, soft wanderer,not proofread

You knew what happened to him. Why wouldnt you?

He trusted you with his life, and he knew you'd accept him, even though a part of him fears that you wouldnt. But you stayed either way.

Physical touch wasnt a usual occurence with wanderer, its almost as if it happens once in a blue moon. From subtle pinkie linking when walking around the lush green forest in sumeru to quick pecks on the cheek before leaving your shared home and starting the day. You were patient and understanding, you always have been.

Wanderer felt like he owed you something, anything no... EVERYTHING. You turned his life around and yet he still cant seem to hold your hand longer than 10 seconds, and cant even handle a hug for more than 3 seconds despite being together for 6 months already. Youve always been so kind, it scared him a little.

One evening, wanderer walked to your room and stood near the doorframe.

"Dear? Whats wrong? Why are you standing there?" Ripping your gaze away from the book you were reading and setting it down near the bed side table. Wanderer hesitated for a bit, wanting to say something and yet the words doesnt seem to come out of his mouth at all.

You understood, as you always have. Standing up from your bed you walked towards him "somethings bothering you, you dont have to tell me. We can sit together by my bed and I'll hold your hand" your gaze softened and you smiled a bit when he nodded to your suggestion.

The puppet walked behind you as you both sat down at the edge of your bed. It was a comfortable silence between you both. It was times like this that made wanderer appreciate you more and more. Without words, you always knew if something was wrong. When his pride wont allow words to spill, his body language will do the talking. And you knew.

After a little while, you felt a gentle yet hesitant hand slither towards your own hand and held it lightly, as if it wad afraid to scare you off. Of course you understood and held his hand in the same manner but only, with a slightly tigher grip. (This is his first time initating physical touch eith you) As if to reassure him that you are there with him at that very moment, and you arent leaving anytime sooner.

He tightened his grip on your hand more and finally made eye contact, one that was filled with fear, confusion and a hint of comfort. "Im... Im sorry I never hold you for more than a few seconds. I just.. Im..."

You pressed your forehesd on his "You dont owe me anything dear, Im doing this because I love you. I understand what you went through, and we can hesl together. Im never leaving you"

"You better not be fucking with me." He laughed slightly while shaking his head.

You smiled at his small laugh "Of course not love"

With those simple words, words he has heard a million times ever since he was with you, his heart finally believes in you just a bit, enough to let himself break loose and embraced you, and he made it seem like he wasntt going to let go for a while either.

6 months of trust for a hug in the night sky, with the breeze blowing softly was worth it. And you'd spend 6 months more if it means he'll trust you completely to be able to hold you without remembering the past.