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gyuswhore · 2 months

Text

Grease (the tragedy)

“Careful, those marks on the floor aren’t just oil and paint.”

jeon wonwoo x reader

word count: 5.8k

warnings: smut [minors DNI], fluff, angst, mechanic!wonu, annoyances to lovers, blind date gone wrong but then gone right, kissing, clit stuff, oral (f. rec), thigh fucking (oop), this all happens at a desk LMAO, title is a what I thought was a funny spin on how people say "grease (the musical)"....has nothing to do with the musical though but lots to do with actual grease!!!

synopsis: In which you have to sit through one of the worst dates of your life, followed by the insistent tug of fate and compulsion that lead you straight back to where you'd sworn you'd never go.

[a/n]: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY WIFE CAMOTHY @highvern everyone go say happy birthday to cam or ill appear in your room at night 🔫 anygays HAVE FUN READING THIS I hope this is all the sexy wonu content you wanted, I cant wait for your reaction hehehhehe

and also bigbigbigbig thank you to jessifer @the-boy-meets-evil for proofing this for me!!! ily heh

and and to everyone reading this who is not cam, I hope you enjoy reading mechanic!wonu as much as I liked writing him heheh PLS REMEMBER TO REBLOG AND TELL ME UR THOTS it could be in the tags, replies, an ask literally anything!!!! id love to hear what you guys think!!!!

masterlist

[You]: do you think he died on the way [Liv]: hes still not there??? [You]: what do you think????? [Liv]: let me ask Amelia [You]: dont bother [You]: he can show up whenever he wants im leaving in 5 [Liv]: you promised you’d sit thru this!! [You]: sit thru what? an empty seat across from me???

Liv doesn’t respond immediately, and you immediately know she’s buggered off to ask her cousin why your date still wasn’t here.

It’s not like you couldn’t have asked him yourself, the sparse textbox sitting just under Liv’s contact. You open it to inspect the contents.

[liv’s cousin’s something]: Amelia gave me your number [liv’s cousin’s something]: friday night at the sage&salt at 7 [liv’s cousin’s something]: is that okay [You]: uh hey [You]: yeah that’s fine

Today 7:20 PM

[You]: im here?

The first thread of texts were enough to make you feel like this was some cold business meeting instead of a date, knowing wherever this would lead would be either the city dump or off a cliff. Liv was hearing none of it, taking the guilt tripping route, saying she’d already committed and her cousin was irritating enough even without a scuffle.

So when Friday evening came around you’d pulled on the first dress your fingers could find, took all of ten minutes fighting with your makeup to make it look like you did something and left the house with zero expectations.

Despite that, as you see a man walk into the establishment dressed like he’d gotten into a fight with a squid and a paper shredder, you feel the stone in your chest tank into the abyss. Zero expectations, and he’s somehow managed to strike out anyway.

The jacket looks like he’s put it on as a weak cover for the grime stains on his shirt and trousers, a couple jet black splatters across the outfit to really pull the whole thing together. It’s not like he looked homeless or anything, his face surprisingly handsome with his hair pushed away from his forehead. Although he remains looking like he’d been playing football in some neighbourhood parking lot before remembering he had an adult appointment too.

You’d never seen the man in your life, but your gut told you this was the shit texter who’d kept you waiting for nearly an hour. He seems to notice too, eyes locking from across the restaurant as the waitress leads him to your table.

“Wonwoo,” you greet with a difficult smile, half sure it came out as a grimace. “Right?”

“Yeah,” he huffs as he practically slams back down on the chair, and you wonder for a moment how the legs didn’t give out. He says your name and you nod. “Sorry I’m late, I got a call in the parking lot.”

He’s been in the parking lot this entire time?!

It’s like you’ve been doused in gasoline and lit on fire, yet somehow needing to give him a shaky reply anyway.

“O–oh, I see.”

The waitress saves you from spitting in his face when she asks if you were ready to order.

Dinner was off the table, as you discussed with Liv who forwarded it to her cousin to her–whoever it was that set up this god awful date–and agreed on dessert and perhaps a drink.

“I’ll have the chocolate cake,” you request in an attempt to make this somewhat better. You consider for a moment before asking for a drink as well, “And a dry gin martini, please.”

“Um,” he staggers as he barely skims the menu, ultimately flipping it closed. “I’ll have the same, I guess.”

Deep voice. You might’ve liked that if you weren’t already so peeved.

The waitress disappears with the menus, leaving you two alone for the first time.

“So,” you start with an exhale. “How do you know Amelia?”

“Her husband.”

“I see.”

Silence.

“How do you know her husband?”

He sighs like this is all inconveniencing him, and it irks you to an irrespective degree. Like you wanted to be here either.

“He brings his car to the workshop alot, became friends somewhere along the line.”

“Workshop?”

He looks a little startled, cocking his head to the side. “I’m a mechanic? Did Olivia–was it–not tell you?”

“No, she didn’t.”

It’s silent yet again as the man across from you refuses to elaborate. You curse as you ask him a follow up question. If there was anything you hated more than shouldering a dead conversation, it was sitting through an awkward silence.

One hour. You’d sit through this for one more hour and then you’d leave.

“What kind of cars do you work on?”

“Expensive ones,” he answers. You might’ve kicked yourself if he’d ended it at that, but he continues with a purse of his lips. “Ones that rich people abuse to an inch of the machine’s life and wonder why the dealership gives up on it. Vintage pieces too.”

“Have I heard of it?”

“The cars?”

“No, I mean,” you let out a breath. “Your workshop.”

“Jeon Motors, just a couple streets down actually.”

You did know what he was talking about, not expecting to recognise it through the empty question, passing by it on multiple occasions in this part of the city.

“Oh, I’ve seen it a few times.”

“Yeah, we’ve been there for a while.”

“Family business?”

“Uh–sort of.”

“Okay,” you sigh in an irritated laugh. This was going to be a very difficult hour. “Keep that to yourself too.”

“Is there a problem?”

Just as you lift your eyes to lock with his, a ready yes, there is actually a problem on your tongue, there’s an intrusion.

“Here are your chocolate cakes,” the waitress places the cakes down, and then the drinks. “And your dry gin martinis. Do you guys need anything else?” By the time the waitress is gone you’ve somewhat forced yourself to put that sudden surge of flames out, to a degree at least.

“Okay,” he sighs, grabbing his glass and downing nearly half the contents. He emerges, wiping a bit of a spill from the corner of his mouth. “Let’s get this out of the way.”

“Hm?” He’s speaking to you with a very weird surge of intensity, and it confuses you.

“Neither of us wanna be here. You’re clearly trying to be hospitable but I’d really rather you not, especially when we’re both doing this to get our respective ticks off our hides.”

There isn’t much you can do but stare at him.

“Have I misjudged your advances?” he asks over his glass, sharp eyes piercing.

“No!” you yelp, reaching for your drink yourself, taking big sips only to emerge sputtering and heaving.

Your date looks like he’s rising out of his chair when you raise a hand to stop him.

“No,” you repeat, less jumpy this time. “I guess we could’ve cleared that out from before.”

Did he…snort?

“Sorry.” Dropping his chin to his chest, he composes himself.

“What?” you ask, remaining annoyed as ever.

“Nothing.”

That does it. You slam your now empty glass down on the table, slipping your fork out of the napkin a little forcefully, the metal glinting in the light of the restaurant. You dig into a corner of the cake and shove it in your mouth.

If he was gonna be rude, you could be too.

“I don’t know about hospitable.” You swallow. “But I assumed not being an ass was kind of an unwritten rule for any situation really. Including the ones you’d rather not be in.”

Wonwoo stares at you with a blank face, his cake untouched. “I’m being an ass. My laugh couldn’t have offended you that much.”

“So you did pick that up,” you comment. “With the way this conversation’s going I would’ve thought it flew right over your engine.”

“I’d argue your laugh was the least offensive thing you’ve done tonight.” You plunge your fork into your cake again. “But clearly we’re in different realms of etiquette.”

Your eyes meet the rough stains on his attire, and then his own that bore into yours like a challenge. The cake isn’t too sweet, rich just the right amount and texturally sound. Maybe something good did come out of this fiasco.

“Okay fine,” he announces, sitting up straighter. “I apologise.”

“For laughing?”

“And for being obscenely late.”

“And?”

“And…” he genuinely looks like he’s struggling to figure it out, but catches your eyes flickering to his tattered and stained outfit. “And for my entirely inappropriate dressing sense. You’ll have to forgive me for that one, oil and grime are my spoils of war.”

“Wear it like a badge, mister mechanic, but perhaps somewhere it’s appreciated.”

Wonwoo has already finished his drink, his cake remaining untouched. “You’re quite adamant on disliking me.”

“And you’re quite adamant on being a horrid conversationalist.”

The corners of his mouth lift the slightest bit. Opening his mouth to respond, you cut him off. “Cars don’t talk? Or perhaps, machines are easier to understand?”

“More like I don’t care to be personable.”

“That can’t be good for business.”

“The cars speak for themselves.”

He’s a weird one. Even more so when he offers to pay the entire bill, promising you he wasn’t lying when he said he was good at what he does, and to “make up for lost personality points.” You manage to pay your half anyway, considering the circumstances.

“Can you at least let me drive you home?” Wonwoo asks as you both step out of the establishment soon after.

“Depends.” You fix the strap of your bag. “Will it fall apart on the highway?”

The blaring white of the restaurant's outdoor lights backlight Wonwoo to make him look like some sad angel. He turns to you, the same slight smirk that seems to be plastered on his face. “Why don’t you find out?”

“What do you mean sell it? I got this thing a year ago!”

There isn’t much you can do but sigh loudly as you listen to Olivia talk about the state of her car, the one that cost too much to justify but she seemed to use and abuse like a very replaceable toy truck.

Leaning against the hood of the darn thing, you talk to her. “The dealership is giving you a shit deal to take it off your hands, you might as well try your luck.”

The look on her face is easy to read as she silences. Not convinced in the slightest, waiting for the conversation to end just so she could figure it out on her own. Sighing loudly, you look back to the dark beauty with a crate of issues that make it spit and sputter to a stop every few weeks.

“How much did you say the repairs cost again?”

“Enough to put me on food stamps,” she whines through her frustration, tears pricking against her eyes as they glisten under the neighbourhood streetlights. “Why are you smirking like that?!”

“It’s just,” you pause as you consider your next words, pressing your lips together. “This is a little bit your fault.”

Lies, it was entirely her fault.

Liv stares like you’ve just offended her, which you’re sure you have.

“Care to share how this possible bankruptcy could be my fault?"

“Because you drive the thing like you have a secret reserve buried somewhere in Tenerife.”

“My apologies for making a habit of not being a public nuisance and going forty on a national highway.”

“Your speed-o-metre is not the issue here.”

“Yes, of course, everything’s my fault.”

“Liv, please!” You groan loudly. “Just…let’s try putting up a listing tomorrow. Consider the prospects and you can decide from there.”

Sagging her shoulders and stretching her neck, Liv decides to simply trudge back indoors in silence. You take it as a begrudging yes, and follow her inside.

That very night, when you were at the very cusp of falling into the dark space of sleep, your brain re-awakens before your eyes do. A jolt as the memory comes back to you of the many months ago, sitting in that restaurant across from a man who was too handsome for the personality he seemed to sire.

“Expensive ones,” he had said. “Ones that rich people abuse to an inch of the machine’s life and wonder why the dealership gives up on it.”

How fitting.

“Are you going to explain or should I explode instead?”

You’d mentally prepared for the bombardment of accusations from Liv, her questioning perfectly right as you yourself cringed at the thought of showing your face here of all places. The one last one that’d officially banned her from ever setting you up with an individual of her choosing ever again.

Hearing only silence as her answer, she appeals; “I thought he was the worst date of your life.”

“Nothing to do with his skills as a mechanic,” you mumble, refusing to make eye contact.

“And everything to do with this being a horrible idea anyway!” Liv stares up at the sign on top of the garage. Jeon Motors. “What makes you think this guy can fix my car?”

What did make you think he could fix Liv’s car? If you’d known you might have given her an answer, but as you stare at the giant signboard that you’ve driven past for longer than you can remember, you can’t help but feel this place has been haunting you. Just a little.

You can’t help but feel the tingle of goosebumps rise on your skin, the hairs across the expanse standing up at the thought of walking inside. There was no way you could differentiate the reaction from plain nerves or from the cringing drills that sound all the way outside the establishment. Regardless, you make an attempt to look confident as you make your strides into the pungent of the workshop.

The first thing you note is how…clean everything is. Cleaner than any other workshop you’ve walked into anyway.

The interior is bigger than it looks from the outside, the ginormous hall hosting about a dozen cars within your eyeshot alone. One side of the great hall holds an array of parked cars in different stages of dismantled and deconstructed, while the other side is lined with contraptions that look like stripped and enlarged elevators.

Once you’ve inhaled a beyond recommended amount of smoke fumes and listened past all of the clanging, banging and sparks, you register the people that are elbow deep in the hoods of the vehicle they’re working on, enough to leave you and Liv standing at the entrance of an establishment that you can barely make sense of.

“Can I help you?” A man in stained beige overalls approaches your wide eyed pair, face half covered in his baseball hat and hands occupied with a rag.

To your slightest dismay, it isn’t the man you’re looking for.

“Uh– is Wonwoo here?” you ask.

“He’s in a meeting right now. Are you a friend?”

No, just a failed love interest.

“He,” you falter. If you weren’t a friend…then what were you? “He gave me his card.”

“Do you need help with your car?”

“Mine, actually,” Liv pipes. “It’s outside if you wanna take a look first.”

With one sweeping look across the warehouse, your eyes land on one of the few doors on the left. You register the plain look of it for barely a moment before joining Liv outside.

By the time her car has been rolled and parked inside for a more thorough inspection, it’s taken you every last grain of your willpower to not stalk back out and wait in your car. For whatever reason, you can’t help but feel a very familiar spasm of irritation spark through you. Here you are, left anxiously waiting for the same man for a second time, merely feet away but remaining occupied with more important things.

At the very least, the multiple hands prodding around the car’s engine were being somewhat of use, attempting to survey the same issues that had been looked at about a dozen times before. You silently promise to be a better person if this trip wouldn’t be for vain.

“Am I late for something again?”

Your throat is suddenly clogged as you open your mouth and no sound graces your presence. The face that meets you has his eyebrows raised as he stares at you in expectation, a ghost of a smile on his face.

“W–Wonwoo, hi, um.” You clear your throat loudly, heat cursing your cheeks. “No, of course not.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure after…four months?” he asks, hands on his hips and his back straightened.

“I…my friend’s car needed to be looked at so…”

“Ah, of course!” He turns to where you’ve motioned, looking at the popped hood of the car his employees are working on. “I’ll take a look at it myself, don’t worry about it.”

He’s already walking away, towards the car and leaving you a ways away from the action. You stare at his back; the overalls tied at the waist and the stained white T-shirt that clings to his form from the humidity.

Wonwoo remains a man of a few words, and you remain at wits end about it all.

A loud honk gives you something to do as you jump at the sound so up close, scrambling to move away from the smack centre as another car pulls into the garage.

“Careful, those marks on the floor aren’t just oil and paint.” Wonwoo snickers from his place hunched over the hood as he cranes his neck to look at you.

You walk over to where he is to get out of the way. “Was that meant to sound like an innuendo?”

“I was talking about the occasional running over someone’s foot,” he answers. “Not sure what you were thinking.”

Ignoring the jab, you note that it was now only you and him crowding the car, “Where’s Olivia?”

“Went to look at spare parts.” You watch him as his gloved hands reach further into the enclave and yank at something hard.

“So you can fix it?”

“The car? It’ll take a couple days but it’s not really an issue.”

Furrowing your brows, you press on, “But the dealership—”

“Dealerships are the spawn of the devil,” he grunts as he finally wrenches out a spare nut or bolt or something that’s covered in oil. “Let me guess, they wanted her to sell it back to them?”

It’s your turn to raise your brows. “Yes. They tried fixing it, but it'd just stop again.”

“Because they’ve been fixing the symptoms.” He raises his eyes to meet yours, hands occupied with rubbing the part in his hands relatively clean with a rag. “They haven’t bothered to do anything about the actual problem.”

“Because that’s gonna cost…?”

“Couple hundred, give or take,” he announces nonchalantly, turning his focus back to the engine.

“But—” That’s it?

“Fifty extra for every question I have to answer after this.” You briefly wonder if Wonwoo’s eyes were always this piercing, boring into your soul like he didn’t need words to know what was going on with you.

“Fine,” you huff, moving to drag a chair over, mostly just so you could have reason to break eye contact, and plop down as you watch him work.

The more you think about it, the more you can find yourself unbothered by his strange behaviour. He wasn’t bleak, but nowhere near one of the more interesting people you’ve met. Taking the opportunity to really scan the man head to toe, you can’t say you find anything truly concrete to be this put off by him.

Not much of a talker, but with the times you’ve prayed for a man that knew when to shut up sometimes, you wonder how much you can actually complain about this boon in particular.

Besides, he was a looker, and you were completely content shutting your trap if it meant you got to shamelessly ogle at him from this close.

“You know, this place looks bigger than it does from the outside.”

Wonwoo stares pointedly.

You raise a shoulder in nonchalance, “Wasn’t a question!”

He simply huffs as he mumbles, “More length than breadth I suppose.”

“What are those things called?” you ask as you watch a sedan get lifted into the on some platform on the other end of the row.

Glancing back, he answers, “Post lift, car lift, whatever you wanna call it.”

“What does it do?”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Touché.”

Glancing back at him, you catch sight of his stained shirt once again. “Is that the same thing you wore to our date?”

Chin to chest, he registers what he’s wearing, hands still working on pulling bolts and boxes out of the hood. “Have about twenty of the same shirt, I can never be too sure.”

“You’re impossible.”

He smirks, “Touché.”

You questioned if this was a mistake.

Olivia could pick up her car herself, so why did you insist to be the one that did it? As you pay the taxi driver, you feel your ankles lock for a moment as you move to slip out of the cab. Frozen, you hear the driver ask you if everything was alright, to which your legs seem to work again, finally foot to gravel in front of the dreaded workshop.

The Jeon Motors sign blares the same as it always has in the afternoon light, glinting as it encourages you to walk in and do one of the stupider things you’ve done in life. Other than the ridiculous outfit you’ve put on, of course.

But alas, as you hand over your slip to one of the many mechanics in the workshop, you find yourself praying he wasn’t here after all, that perhaps you could miss him as you leave and never have to see him again.

Somebody yells out his name, and the dream drifts away like smoke.

Finding the courage, you look up to where the man shouted for him, and immediately wish you hadn’t.

Wonwoo remains in his overalls, the same ones that he had tied to his waist the last time you saw him. His undershirt however…

The tank top is revealing too much for you to pretend you don’t care, his hair remaining pushed back and away from his forehead as he walks over to you in what feels like slow motion. He takes the slip that he does not need, smiling at you as he says his hellos.

“Car’s all fixed up, just need some papers that need signing and you’re all set.”

“Oh, but Liv isn’t here today.”

“That’s alright, you can sign them too,” he reassures, motioning for you to walk with him towards the car. “The car was alright in the test drives, revving hasn’t caused any problems either.”

He halts in front of the now (supposedly) fixed black sedan and pats the hood lightly, “If anything happens tell her to bring it straight here, although it shouldn’t have any more problems.”

“What’s your rate of return on customers?” you ask, a slight smirk on your face.

He thinks for a moment, “Pretty crap. But I guess that means I’m doing something right.”

You consider yourself something of a helicopter parent when it comes to your own car, but perhaps you’d change that if it meant you’d get to come here a little more often.

Goodness, what’s gotten into you.

Wonwoo’s smiling too, and for a brief moment the silence is nearly awkward. A pause before he proposes leaving.

“Shall we go to the office then?”

Nodding eagerly, you trail behind him as he leads you towards the other end of the workshop, passing by even more cars in all their stripped or constructed glory. Glancing in front, you catch sight of Wonwoo’s back, ensnared for a moment before you snap your head away, reciting every curse word you know like a mantra.

“It’s less hot in here too, keep the air on all the time.” Wonwoo stands in front of the plain doors, hands on the handle to wrench it open. You recognise it as the same door you had noted a few days ago. “Would you like anything? Coffee, tea?”

“Um, just water is fine, thanks.”

It’s quite plain, beige and leather against cream walls and unfittingly white lights. There’s a desk on one corner that’s beyond cluttered with more papers than you can register, pens and other office supplies mixed into the disorganised chaos of the large tabletop.

“Sorry about the mess, I can never find time to sort through it.” To your surprise, the light tinge of his cheeks suggest he might actually feel a little embarrassed.

Cute.

There’s cabinets that line on one of the far walls, and you watch him take his gloves off to open it and reach for a cup. The white porcelain emerges stained with an ashy grey as his fingers betray him. He looks flustered, glancing at his hands and back up to the cabinet.

You can’t help but laugh a little, moving forward to help. “It’s alright, let me.”

“Sorry,” he apologised again, with a sheepish look on his face. “I’ll, um, wash this off.”

“Go on, I’m here,” you reassure as you move towards the water dispenser in the corner to fill your clean cup.

He returns with significantly cleaner hands and apologises one last time. “Seems all I do around you is apologise.”

You have the good humour to chuckle, “So I’ve noticed.”

He does well to clear out most of the clutter that’s on his desk, leaving enough room to set down a few pieces of paper as you take a seat on the opposite side.

As you scan through the papers, he attempts to make sober conversation. “You should…bring your car around for inspections if you want.”

“Oh? Even if I ask a million questions?”

“I can make an exception or two,” he grins.

“And if you charge me double?”

“Might not charge you at all.”

“Might?” you question as you lift the pen he’d given you to sign the first space.

“Might.”

“And what’re the conditions for that?”

He doesn’t answer as he ponders and you fill in the second blank. “I’ll have to think about that.”

You snort before you can help it, your last signature coming out a little wonky as your hands shake. Turning the papers over to him, you continue, “Well then, let me know when you figure it out.”

He stares pointedly as he accepts the papers before dropping his eyes again, “Can I?”

“Hm?”

“Can I? Let you know?”

It’s like you’ve been frozen over, the typewriter in your mind jamming as it punches out the implications of what he’s saying.

“It seems, at least to me, that we may have gotten off on the wrong foot,” he continues.

You hesitate. “I think so too.”

“I…I don’t want to put anything like pressure on you but–”

“Would you like to try the new gelato place downtown this week?” you ask finally as you save him from his misery. “If…you’d like.”

He looks stunned for a moment before he’s scrambling, “Oh–of course! Yes, anytime is fine with me.”

“Great,” you smile, lifting from your seat. “It’s a date.”

“I’ll promise to wash my hands this time…and my shirt. And I won’t be late.”

“Let’s not make promises we can’t keep,” you tease.

You’re nearing the door as he follows behind, and just as you’re about to pull down on the handle, you hear him say your name.

Turning around, almost too eagerly, you look up at him in expectation. He’s close, almost right behind you as he looks like he’s debating whether opening his mouth is a good idea.

“Are you doing anything else today?”

“Um,” you stutter for a moment. “I don’t have to drop off the car till later tonight, that’s all really.”

He swallows. “Do you wanna stay? Just a little while. We can stay in here, nobody comes in anyway.”

You aren’t entirely sure why you said yes, because you did actually have dinner plans with Liv later tonight, but the teeny tiny voice in your mind egged you on anyway. Besides, Liv wouldn’t mind, not if you were cancelling for this.

This entailed the very friendly contact of Wonwoo’s tongue in your mouth, and the extremely cordial way it seemed to caress your insides. If somebody asked you how it led to this, you don’t think you’d have an answer. Not that you care, especially when his hands are grabbing your waist and hips like that.

He’s already locked the door, reassuring you that nobody would find their boss and client in the smack dab middle of the devil’s tango. You take his word for it, relishing in the way his hot breath hits your skin below your ears, his mouth sucking under your earlobes as you whimper ever so quietly.

Your hands are on his exposed biceps, feeling him up all to your heart's content. “Do you–Do you always wear stuff like this?”

He emerges, wet lipped and eyes trained. “So I wasn’t imagining it.”

“Imagining what?” you ask as you let him unbuckle your trousers.

“Please. Like you weren’t stripping me with your eyes.”

If you were warm before you, you're boiling up now. Were you being so obvious?

“It’s alright,” he reassures as you feel his fingers make contact with the crotch of your panties, pushing in to put pressure on your clit. “Wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t picked up on it.”

You feel his fingers push the dampening fabric away as his fingers make contact with your hole, coating his fingers in the arousal that’s made itself known. It’s hard to not hiss at the way he begins to circle it, thanking the universe that the loud noises of the workshop outside were masking whatever evidence of the heinous crime you were committing inside.

Back against the couch in his office, you settle into the cushions once you feel him rub at your clit, one hand spreading your lips apart as he continues to massage your own wetness onto your throbbing cunt.

When he retreats you almost cry out, but are smothered when he plunges two fingers into your hole instead, curling them almost immediately inside you. The consistent brush of the tips of his fingers on your walls are making it difficult to keep your eyes open, and absolutely impossible to keep your moans at bay.

“Wonwoo, that’s so good, fuck.”

Through your closed eyes, you don’t note when Wonwoo gets on his knees. But you do feel him yank your trousers off entirely, and you definitely feel him place his wet mouth flush on your lower lips, sucking at your clit as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you mercilessly.

That’s all it takes for your noises to become increasingly high pitched, hands buried in his beautiful hair as he continues to pleasure you beyond imagination.

“I’m so close, keep going, please, it feels so–”

He somehow buries his face in deeper, sucking harder, licking faster, and it’s enough for you to finally feel yourself collapsing on the inside, your composure dissolving as you moan so loud you’re sure they can hear it outside, even through all the clanging and revs of cars.

There’s no way for you to know how long you lay there slumped against the couch cushions, but when you hear Wonwoo speak to you in your ear, you answer.

“Was that okay?”

“More than okay,” you say as you grab his face and pull his lips to yours, tasting the tang in his mouth from your arousal. “Do you have a condom?”

“I–fuck,” he thinks for a moment. “I don’t think I do.”

You try not to feel too disappointed, but you sigh into his mouth anyway.

“Can I fuck your thighs?” you hear him ask, and you might have just orgasmed again, untouched.

“Fuck, yes you can.”

With a yelp, you feel yourself lifted off the couch as you wrap your arms around Wonwoo’s neck, letting him guide you to his desk. “Wonwoo!”

You hear a loud crash of the desk being stripped of all its inhabitants, and your back hitting the cool of the table top.

Wonwoo unties the arms of his overalls around his waist, letting the legs pool to the floor before slipping his hard cock out of his boxers.

You don’t see it as you feel him lock your knees together and lift both your calves to rest on one of his shoulders. But you do feel it as he pushes the head into the seam of your thighs, watching the indent as the pink of his dick appears before you through the skin of your thighs.

Wonwoo’s face is contorted as he pulls back and pushes back through again, this time brushing against your still sensitive clit. You gasp at contact, and immediately feel him thrusting faster.

“Wonwoo,” you grunt. “Lower.”

He obliges, pushing his dick lower so it can rub flush against your clit as he begins to roughen up his pace.

You moan as you feel his free hand that isn’t holding your legs trail to the ends of your shirt, caressing over your stomach to pull it up and reveal your bra clad tits. He pushes his hands under the nearest cup and begins to grope you so wonderfully with his big, warm hands. Rolling the bud between his fingers, you can only grasp onto his wrists as a handheld to keep you down on earth.

The desk beneath you is rattling with noise, the full drawers making themselves known as Wonwoo pounds into your thighs like he would die if he stopped, mouth coming in contact with whatever skin of your legs he could reach, his breath fanning the side of your knees.

You’re close again, and you know he is too with the way his thrusts are beginning to grow sloppy.

“There,” he pants. “Almost.”

You orgasm for the second time, the throb your clit beyond comprehension as the rough of his dick slides across your clit mercilessly.

“Cum like this, Wonwoo please I need to see you cum.”

And he does, shooting the heft of his load to cover your already wet cunt and thighs, landing on your stomach as he continues to ride out his high between your legs.

The back of your head hits the table as you take in gulps of air through the aftermath of it all. Wonwoo is putting his weight on the back of your thighs, holding onto the table for support.

“Oh, Liv is never gonna let me live this down,” you pant, lolling your head to one side as you register him.

He peers up at you through his hair, the stupid smirk on his face, “Do you care?”

You’re smiling a little too when you answer, “Not really.”

And then your legs are off his shoulders as he nestles between them instead, diving in to lift your head and kiss you.

And you let him, although you wouldn’t really call it too much of a kiss—not when the both of you were smiling like idiots through the clash.

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kneelingshadowsalome · 7 months

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Hi!! I'm sososo obsessed with Satyr König oml you're a genius (also I've binge read your whole yandere könig tag it's so perfect). Okay so sorry in advance for my English, but:

I can't stop thinking about a shy (and kinda pervert lmao) nymph reader who sees him, sees how big and strong he is and how well he secretly protects all her sisters (and how irresistible his big, thick cock is) and really falls in love and is wildly attracted to him, BUT she's very shy and the idea of telling him her feelings is too mortifying, so when he's out in the woods she sneaks in his den, tidies the place up, brings him some flowers as gifts (yeah im inverting the usual roles lol), snuggles in his bed of furs (maybe touches herself fantasizing about him-) and König, well, notices the changes in his house and is VERY perplexed, so one day he returns earlier than usual and sees this cute, soft and unaware nymph moaning and whimpering in his den, her face against his furs, all wet and willing and ready to mate while she quietly moans his name, eyes closed and face red- he'd go FERAL

The idea of desperately horny satyr König with a more than willing needy nymph makes my brain melt oml

(And btw, do you think you'll ever write Satyr König again, in general?)

Satyr!König goes absolutely feral, yes.

He noticed the lingering sweet scent at the mouth of his den already, a sugary, floral scent that he knows so very well. He knows it to his core, because his nose wants to follow that scent whenever he catches it.

Only nymphs smell this sweet, like flower meadows and moonlight, like spring water and honeycombs. The distinct scent of a kore is eerie, and only gets stronger when he walks further into his lair, but what’s more is that he recognizes who this particular scent belongs to… He has memorized her in his loneliness, and every time he catches a whiff of her in the air outside, he can’t help but grow hard.

He barely even notices the absence of his usual mess, that someone has washed all his cups and put his wine pots in order. His den has seen a lot of brooming, and there are fresh flowers placed on his oaken table, thoughtful bouquets hanged from the roots of his oak. But before he gets to inspect those odd little things further – he’s used to trampling flowers out in the wild, he never even thought of using them as decoration, but they do look kind of nice, don’t they? – he hears a soft whimper from the back of the den.

From where he sleeps, and isn’t it peculiar how he can now smell something else, now, too… Something irresistibly heady, something that demands action at once, making his cock stir and swell to the point where it’s almost painful. There’s another soft moan, calling to him like an enchanted flute: his whole den has changed from a dark dungeon into a soft, scented temple, echoing with the sounds of a maiden in heat.

He finds her spread over his thick, musky furs, furs that have seen countless lonely nights, and have to be changed every turn of the moon because they’re so grimy. She doesn’t seem to have any trouble with laying down in his filth, the rough furs that smell of seed and satyr sweat, of old musk and maybe a few tears. Satyrs cannot cry, they say, but that’s only because no one ever sees them do so. He’s spilled more than his fill of salt on that makeshift bed, and not all of it was ropes of hot seed…

“P–please…”

She sees him, sees how surprised he is catching her here, in the place all nymphs always try to evade. She sees how hard he is while watching her bare and panting there, all over his furs, lips swollen from lust. Both up and down, her lips are wet and quivering; she’s completely ready to be taken, and only the tiniest sliver of respect prevents him from fucking her senseless right here and right now.

“Please, I beg of you…”

But when she begs for it like that…?

He doesn’t hesitate a moment longer. He simply cannot.

And why waste time on thinking how she got here (or more importantly, why she got here?) Why mull on the hot question of why isn’t the loveliest creature on earth trying to get away from him?

“No need to beg,” he grunts as he lays himself upon her, cock hot and already leaking as it finds her entrance.

The smell of ambrosia envelops him as he glides inside, the whimper from his nymph a song of paradise. She smiles softly at such immediate lust, or is it the sun that comes out of the clouds, somehow reaching under the branches of this oak?

She welcomes him with open arms, a tear falling down her temple and into her hair as he tries to be gentle with her. But it’s not really his size or his lust that makes her cry. Her hands trail up and down his sides, they try to desperately wrap around his wide torso. She looks into his eyes while he starts to rut her, amazed to have been granted such a blessing at all.

“I’m in love with you,” she sighs into the air between them, her eyes glimmering with worship in the dim, earthy dusk of his den.

He messes up with his thrusts, breathing out his shock while hovering over her. She’s so delicate and frail, and so desperate for a nymph who’s supposed to be frolicking in the open fields… She should be climbing in the tall trees and giggling at centaurs from there, she should be admiring the full moon and the stars, she should be playing in the freshwater with her sisters.

He always thought this one feared him the most, slinking into the shadows beneath the trees whenever she saw him. Casting her eyes down as if she didn’t want him to notice her at all, never mocking or teasing him like the others did. That’s why he left her alone: because he didn’t want to break her. She was far too pure for someone like him.

But now she’s here, with flowers and a hot, wet body, trying to grab him so hopelessly in her fragile embrace…

“You can’t say things like that, little one,” he warns, feeling something akin to fear for the first time in his life.

“Why not…? It’s true,” she chimes there beneath him, a few more tears of joy rolling down her cheeks.

His chest is burning, but the only sound that comes out of him is a low growl. A warning and a plea.

“You shouldn’t tease an old faun.”

“And you shouldn’t stop what you only just started...”

He blinks at her answer, at her soft smile.

Then, he shoots down to kiss her neck.

She moans from love when he opens his mouth, careful not to puncture her delicate flesh with his teeth: he only devours his nymph with soft hunger, licking and sucking her soft skin. Her giggles and sighs drive him to the sweetest madness as he starts to make love to her under the earth.

His home has never heard such cries of joy, felt or seen such displays of devotion… He returns her confessions thousandfold, in every way he can. These silly little creatures always fear a satyr’s love is only about lust, and therefore escape such hollow adoration, but he’s not here to just ease the pain in his sacks.

He’s now forever bound to her, whether she knows it or not…

#satyr!könig #nymph!reader #tw: lovemaking #könig x reader #purple prose

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vampiricgf · 3 days

Text

WATER SONG [PT. 1]

merman leon x gov't researcher reader

word count : 7k+

warnings : female reader, reader has a sort of type A personality and some mild anger issues, talk of medical experiments, he's referred to as a subject and specimen quite a lot, descriptions of predatory behavior (animal kind, not the sexual kind), slow pace, sfw, lots of yearning for touch

okay part one isn't terribly exciting im sorry ajdgakab I just wanted to establish a connection between the reader and him in the setting n such before developing any deeper connection. also like 1% research went into this so im sorry if you're knowledgeable about oceanic research this'll probably piss you off lmao. also all credit for this au idea goes to @/bunnivievve tysm for letting me write a lil interpretation of your idea! this was inspired by this post of theirs as well ‹𝟹

JUNE

Subject Zero.

Male, combined characteristics of humanoids and aquatic species. Captured by a trawling vessel, out in deep waters usually traversed by cargo freighters but occasionally by commercial fishing vessels. A freak happenstance. When the net had been dredged up in a fantastic spray of salt water, the hoard of tuna quickly spilling into the sorting containers, the men on deck had spotted something much larger than white fin tuna thrashing in the net.

Upon careful inspection they feared they’d pulled up a man, some poor unfortunate victim of a seafaring disaster. A capsized or otherwise destroyed vessel, a near drowning victim that had fallen overboard perhaps.

Until they spotted the flashing of sharp teeth, and the thick, muscled tail slamming against the wet metal under their feet.

Thankfully their transmission to the Coast Guard was intercepted, a naval craft catching the broadcast and setting course as fast as possible for the trawler.

And now Subject Zero finds respite in your “office”. If an office can be counted as more of an observation space, nevertheless. A part of you feels bad, the less scientifically trained and inclined part that is, for keeping such a clearly intelligent creature within a tank inside a black site. The initial placement had been… difficult. It was clear the subject missed the open ocean, and you did feel sorry that it had been so unceremoniously plucked from its home and deposited in such an alien space on land. But there was nothing to be done about it.

He was far too valuable as a research opportunity. The cold, clinical part of your mind understood that. He was a marvel of nature, flesh and blood proof that man could be intermixed with seafaring species, it was one of the single greatest events in modern marine biology. And an immense privilege for you, the scientist chosen chiefly to study the subject.

A dream. The government all but telling you to do whatever you deemed necessary, no concern over the expense. Gone were worries of securing grant funding for more piddling projects or the endless anxiety of thinking you would be stuck as one name in an endless list of names relegated to ordinary oceanic study. Not that your peers' works weren’t valuable, but you always held the selfish desire for notoriety. Had dreamed endlessly throughout your undergraduate program of the day your name would be the one filling up library indexes and publications with impressive, weighty studies. Discoveries so undeniable you would join the ranks of the most noteworthy in the field.

And seemingly, your wish had been granted. Subject zero would be the gravel that paved your road to success. It’s just a pity it has to be such an intelligent creature.

You sit back, uncuring from your hunched position at the desk, rolling your shoulders and wincing as you hear your joints popping. Documentation was a never ending pain in the ass but it had to be done, if you wanted to keep the convenience of not having to answer to nor justify your expenses to an overhead department. Ordinarily that work would be relegated to a lower priority researcher, but you preferred being able to sign off on it all yourself, comforted by the fact that there were no unforeseen surprises lurking in the documents or spreadsheets or data tables. Nothing anyone would be about to point out as a discrepancy, leaving you humiliated and floundering.

As you close your eyes you can feel it, the hair on the back of your neck slightly on edge. The feeling of being observed.

He seemed to prefer watching you when your back was turned or if you were otherwise unaware. If you were facing the ten foot thick glass of the massive elcousure he would recede into the farthest corners of it, shying away into watery obscurity. In a way it was cute, an obvious curiosity for the beings around him but he seemed stricken by shyness, didn’t know if you were trustworthy. Which was understandable. You were the one keeping him there, at least to his limited viewpoint. The one that denied him reentry into his former home.

That irritatiningly scentimental part of your mind whispered to you again.

What if he thinks you’re cruel?

So what? We don’t even know to what extend he does think.

You say that but you do care, at least a little. Thats why you sneak him extra food.

You sigh to yourself, pushing up from the familiar desk, palms flat on its slick glass surface before rising to your full height. Out of the corner of your eye you catch the white coat you don most of the day, every day, slung carelessly over the back of another chair at a separate station. Your badge attached via a shiny, silvery little clip. Walking over you purposefully keep your eyes directed away from the elcousure, your movements slow. This is a good opportunity to see how long he’ll watch you as long as he believes you aren’t paying attention.

The badge is solid, though lightweight as you pick it up, bringing it closer to your face. It’s hard to believe you look so excited in the small picture in the upper lefthand corner. Your name in bold typeface as last name, first name all neatly lined up next to the photo. In it’s reflection you can see him, one hand perched against the glass, that thick midnight blue tail swishing up and down in a soft, rhythmic motion as he stays still. Ever watchful.

Its hard to see in the little reflective glimpse but subject zero does have more… handsome features. You smile to yourself, recalling one of the other researchers giggling while telling you it wasn’t weird to note that because it was true. What man on land, with two legs, had eyes that shade of blue or a jawline that impressive? None that aren’t using photoshop or filters.

Maybe if the discovery of the subject was publicized there would be throngs of people banging on doors trying to find out where he’s being kept. It did make you huff out a laugh, the idea that a half fish man who couldn’t speak was more appealing than the majority of men on earth.

Maybe we should open an instagram page for him.

You shake your head to yourself, still smiling, as you set the badge down.

The office slash observation room remained quiet save for the occasional sound of sloshing water. It was late, well past time fo anyone other than the usual armed military guard to be roaming the facility. Well past time for you to go home.

At that moment you turn, just enough to peek over your shoulder and as soon as your eyes fix on the spot he occupied all you catch is a low flash of dark blue, retreating into the shadowy depths encased in glass.

OCTOBER

Three months of observation.

Hardly enough to form any evidence based conclusions, but enough time to get started on the right path. You had approximately nintey days of solid data on his diet, his presenting condition each day, endless notes on his observable physiology. He preferred deep water fish, clearly an omnivore as he also didn’t mind the addition of oceanic plant species mixed with the fish when it was introduced into the tank. In fact he seemed to greatly enjoy the sudden introduction of variety, although still preferred to eat his meals in a semblance of solitude.

His distrust was only natural, you had to remind yourself. Until such time as he’s fully used to his new environment you’re unlikely to observe any great variation in his behavior.

At least he wasn’t showing signs of aggression. That had been a legitimate concern, and still was, of course. All proper safety precautions were followed to the letter when it came to subject zero, and absolutely no one was to physically get in the tank, not until further tests could be done on his temperament and how he reacted to certain stimuli both pleasant and unplseant.

You grimace seeing a newly sent email notification, the little computerized ding signalling that your attention was required.

When isn’t it?

You put the sleek desktop into split screen mode, keeping the charts on the subject to the left while your email opened to occupy the right side. Amid the usual low importance emails from general staff there was a new one, at the very top. The name made your stomach twist in preparation of the message. Dr. Gregg had, for lack of a better phrase, a raging hard on for the opportunity to remove the subject from the tank and getting it into a smaller one in order to sedate and extract genetic material. It didn’t matter that he’d already been sedated and had samples drawn when he was initially transported here, no. The good doctor wanted more than that, but you couldn’t accommodate the request in good conscience.

Or rather, you were worried about the effect it would have on him. It could set back the last nintey days of progress, or worse, inspire severe mistrust and heightened aggression towards all researchers. There was no way, even with sedation, that cutting into him wouldn’t cause pain. And a source of pain that a creature like subject zero had no way of understanding would only lead to problems.

The two of you had been butting heads over the issue for the last week, culminating in an argument yesterday where you all but told him to get fucked. You were the lead on this, you made the decisions and he wasn’t going to usurp your authority. Your credit.

But as your eyes scan the email you can feel yourself getting physically hot, your blood pressure threatening to rise.

You may be the lead, the head researcher on this project, but do not believe for one moment that I will not go above your head. You are not CIA, doctor. You don’t call the final shots here, and it would do you well to remember that. Whatever your personal feelings on subject zero, you cannot stand in the way of necessary elements that better out understanding of the creature.

With shaking fingers you close the window, not bothering to respond and not trusting yourself to either. Every fiber of your being wanted nothing more than to march down that hallway and wring his wiry old turkey neck. Who does he think he is? He’s just some physiologist, some ancient fuck. Who is he to threaten you? If his contributions were so invaluable wouldn’t he have been made lead?

You squeeze your eyes shut, hands clenching in your lap as you breathed deeply in through your mouth and out through your nose. The meditation app you’d been using had provided you with some useful tools, being that your temper had plagued you since you were small. Always the first to fly off the handle at even the idea you could be questioned, your competence or credibility casted in doubt.

Inferiority complex, a nasty voice giggled in your head.

It’s not that it wasn’t true, and it was a bit of an achilles heel for you. But what took priority now was holding Gregg back, keeping him away from the subject and minimizing the risk that he could fuck it all up before you even had a chance to really begin. So, once you felt that initial flashpoint of rage quelling you reopened the email application, setting your shoulders back as you began typing.

Under no circumstances are you permitted to sedate nor perform any surgical procedures on subject zero. You have not been given any formal authorizations, so it would do you well to remember not to threaten your head researcher in the contents of easily retrievable emails. You are free to broach the topic with any superior officer on sight, and I am more than happy to entertain a line of questioning from said superior officers on why I do not believe it to be prudent at this juncture to allow for another extraction of material. Research is not a race, Doctor.

You can’t help but smile smugly to yourself, imagining his fury at opening your reply. If he thinks just because you’re young that you’re easily pushed around he is sorely mistaken. Nothing and no one is allowed to jeopardize the most important work you may ever do.

With that you abandon the desk, it’s dull and mind numbing work, in favor of standing in front of the tank yet again. It was nice, having a portion of it extending into this area as an offshoot of the main tank where all the feeding and the bulk of physical testing was done. He seemed to enjoy it too, which despite yourself you did place some importance on.

It was important to ensure he was as comfortable as possible. He was still a living being, despite his status as a research subject, and you took no pleasure in the idea of him suffering in any way. It was definitely a slight drawback, you could begrudgingly admit, that you tended to get… overly attached to the species in your care. You’d done the same in both undergrad and postdoc, although it was more important than ever before to keep a tight hold on those tendencies now.

How would you feel, if you knew that man was so hell bent on slicing you open?

Probably afraid.

What are you feeling now?

It would be so much easier if he were capable of speech. The bridges that had to be built between what was known and unknown had to come from the very foundations, things that required occasionally unpleasant experiences in order to build their understanding of him. But if he could just explain some of it, that would be easier. A half formed bridge is faster to finish than one from scratch.

Uselessly you peered into the clear, clean water. Between swaying stalks of plants there was nothing to see except the seemingly endless expanse of water. Several mind boggling tonnes of it, all kept nicely contained in ten foot thick military grade glass. Bulletproof. Shatter proof. Even if subject zero were to ram it with intent, crack it even, it would still hold.

You couldn’t help but wonder, as you remained staring through that glass, if he was lonely. Seeing so many strange, upright walkers but being unable to even touch them, even consider the act of doing it.

As you frown at your own reflection, you feel it again.

Duel observation.

It was bizarre, to him. These two legs, tall men. He knew they existed, they’d always known a different sort of being lived on the land, domineered it and then took to making attempts at dominating the sea as well. It had all become so noisy, so very nearly unbearable thanks to their hulking monstrosities of shining metal and the things they constantly kept dumping into the water.

Every day there were new threats to avoid. Long gone were the days of simply worrying about other predators lurking in the open waters or within the sediment and foliage.

He hadn’t seen the net, as they called it, until it was too late. Had been too caught in the euphoria of finding such a gigantic school of gorgeous, meaty tuna, that his mind switched off to everything but pure instinct as he’d circled them quickly, calculatedly. His jaw had felt the ache of hunger so viscerally it was like the bones themselves were vibrating with it.

And then they’d all begun moving. Swept up, trapped in an upward drag that he’d been powerless to fight against while overwhelmed by the wriggling, frantic fish flashing across his vision, no way to know what was forwards or backwards, up or down.

Then the shock of air. His lungs had seized up painfully with it, the feeling of being constricted by nothing at all yet everything all at once had been horrific, beyond frightening.

After that it was too messy, too jumbled in his mind. Harsh sounds, their sounds, were prevalent in his memory but just beyond his grasp. Far too loud without the water to act as a buffer between, softening the blows of each reverberation against his eardrums.

But her sounds were different. Or, it was that she didn’t make many to begin with. The look of them all was mostly similar from behind the thick material they kept him in, in this unknown space. At least they offered readily available food, although not nearly what he was used to hunting for himself and his webbed fingers itched at the thought of clawing through water in pursuit of some darting piece of prey. It would feel so, so good to sink his teeth into flesh, to feel it rip and catch in chunks between his teeth, the iron rich scent of blood swirling around. The roar of adrenaline in his ears.

It was difficult to keep his focus on much here, save for her. The best parts were when the others disappeared but she would still be in that corner, down the long corridor of water and he would be able to see her, sitting and doing wholly alien things with her hands at something large and flat, but vaguely shiny. Hers didn’t have webbing, none of them did from what he could tell. How did they ever swim competently?

She was softer than the rest and he enjoyed watching her do her strange tasks, sometimes she would pace around holding a sheet of paper in her hands, chewing on her bottom lip. Her teeth didn’t seem all that sharp, since she never seemed worried about cutting her flesh on them. What did they eat, with useless teeth?

Just like at the present moment, with her back turned it was easier to look at her fully. Usually he wouldn’t approach openly like this, unsure of the intentions of everyone here, but this space seemed to be reserved for her only which put him at ease. That and none of those harsh spotlights were present, if anything she seemed to prefer it half dark which was fine by him, preferable to that loud bright area behind him back through the water corridor. But she seemed tense, the set of her shoulders curled forward, almost in on herself. Something in front of her was clearly upsetting and in some odd way he felt offense on her behalf. She was kind, gave him extra food before she would disappear through the night, always seemed to be keeping a close watch over him and how the others were with him.

He may not be able to speak, but he’s pretty sure she was the reason he wasn’t suffering in this place. And that was good enough, at present, to make him feel a sense of kinship with her. Closeness.

As she carried on with whatever it was that kept her so occupied his mind wandered to what it would feel like to touch her. They seem to enjoy touch, most of them being very casual with the way they interacted. How did she like being touched? Or would she dislike being touched by him outright? Would she find his webbed, clawed fingers disgusting, would she flinch away?

He frowned behind the glass. Hopefully not, but there really was no way to know. They seem intent on keeping a wide distance from him, which wasn’t unwelcome. The only one he was at all curious about was her anyway, not that he would purposely antagonize anyone who ventured inside his new domain, though he certainly wouldn’t circle them like one of the friendly, if a little dumb, nurse sharks do occasionally out in open water.

He was so caught up in that worry he nearly failed to catch her movement, but his reflexes are faster than hers. Before she could approach the glass fully he’d already retreated a safe distance away. Watching as she stared into the expanse of water, her face unreadable but the set of her eyebrows told him she felt some kind of stress, strain.

His fingers twitched at his sides, thinking about reaching out to touch her again.

You smile to yourself, a soft hidden kind, at the now familiar feeling. It was like there was a strange sense of understanding between you two, although you could just be ascribing things to him he doesn’t possess. Thats always something to keep in mind, as a researcher but more often than not lately you’re coming to resent that line of thought. It was clear subject zero was intelligent. Maybe not to the degree of a human being, but he was close enough evolutionarily speaking, that he was like a cousin in the chain. An offshoot of the formerly solidly established line of human life. Theres no reason, as yet identified, that he wouldn’t be able to communicate if given the chance to learn how.

You aren’t thinking of him as a subject anymore. That’s dangerous.

You know it is, know that voice is right. But it doesn’t account for everything. The odd push and pull, hide and seek game you two play here in this office every single evening. Its to the point now that you feel tense, uncomfortable if you don’t sense him behind you, watching you work or pace around nonsensically. You’ve spent over an hour before reading and rereading the same observational notes and data sets because you kept grinning to yourself like a fool feeling those eyes burning holes in your back.

He’d even made appearances in your dreams a handful of times over the last month, flashes of deep, endless blue that clung to the soft corners of your mind as you went about your morning routines, ruminating over his appearance as steam from your coffee curled around your hands, ghostly fingers clawing at the air. Tension crept up your beck, spreading out over the tops of your shoulders and trapezius muscles prompting you to stretch against the back of your office chair, rolling your joints and hearing their familiar cracking in response to hours of sustained poor posture. Lazily you grasp your phone from the desk, thumbing open the music app and scrolling a bit through your shuffle playlist before settling on something bubbly, but easily tuned into the background.

You wonder if he enjoys music, what his preferences would be if he could swipe through your library of songs. It makes you smile to yourself thinking about it, maybe that would make for a good test of his thinking abilities, how he responds to different genres, different artists. Standing, you bend slightly to make a quick note on a half discarded sticky tab: musical testing?

And suddenly a somewhat mad thought grips you, what if you tried right now? Whats the worst that could happen, he lurks in the background while you sway around the dim office like a fool? At least the only people who could see would be the guards, not that they’d say anything either beyond thinking to themselves that every researcher here must be insane. That makes your smile grow wider, giggling to yourself a bit as you take slight steps in time with the beat, giving a little spin on your toes to face the take.

It only somewhat shocks you to find yourself face to face with him, that he hasn’t retreated to the safety of the shadowy corners. His eyes, a remarkably similar color to the water surrounding him, track your movements with abject curiosity as you follow an imaginary path, one foot placed delicately in front of the other to carry your body with the faint sound of the music. All the while his eyes never stray from you, even when he has to move to keep you in his sights, even when you come right up to the glass and offer a little spin in front of him, giggling to yourself a little more freely now.

And to your amazement, at your laughter, he smiles. He smiles and it makes your chest feel light, like a ten pound weight you hadn’t even been aware of was finally lifted off. Some might find his fanged appearance frightening, to you it was boyishly cute. A toothy little grin, the tips of his elongated enscisors catching against his bottom lip, and his thick, muscular tail began to move. As if, had he possessed legs like yours, they would be moving in tandem with you.

It felt like a genuine breakthrough, making you hug your arms around yourself as you stopped moving, still laughing and feeling just a tad bit lightheaded. He genuinely smiled at you.

He was moving with you.

That was a major breakthrough, even if just a personal one. Increased rapport meant things would be easier going forward, for both of you.

With a contented sigh you pressed one hand to the smooth, icy surface of the glass, your fingers stretching over the sleek glass and he does something that makes your breath freeze in your lungs. Gingerly, the way people stretch out their hands to scared animals, inch by inch his own rases to be a perfect mirror of your own. One larger, webbed, hand pressed to the glass right behind your own. It felt silly but you were too afraid to even exhale with any effort, for fear even the barest noise would ruin the moment and he would flee right back into the far corners, beyond your reach.

But he doesn’t, doesn’t stop holding your gaze for a single second and you marvel at the way his blonde hair sways in the water, like the finest strands of silk-

“So, thats why you keep refusing to allow any progress of this “research”?”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the voice from behind you, a signature grating tone you could pick out anywhere. As your head snaps to the side, body following the movement only a second after, you see him standing in the door way with his arms crossed nearly reeking of smugness.

Fuck.

One week.

You have one week to figure out what to do.

After shattering your late night revelation with subject zero, who has been increasingly attached to you ever since, the resident pain in your ass physiologist had made sure to fire off emails riddled with concerns and accusations addressed to the operatives truly in charge of the site. Questions of your ability to continue in any capacity with the project, the nature of your relationship to the subject, insinuating you had some kind of perverse intention, even going so far as to insult your credibility. Not only cc-ing yourself but “mistakenly” sending those emails to every person working on site.

It had effectively turned you into a pariah with regards to your peers. Whispers of conversation that would be cut off as soon as you set foot into a room. Strange looks from your coworkers, ranging from disgust to perverse curiosity. It felt like you were continuously on fire, every minute of every day. There would be a meeting in one weeks time, and until then you were relegated to nothing but the paperwork in your office, per the tense instructions given to you.

But your panic had less to do with your professional reputation, surprisingly, and more to do with feeling very nearly physically sick when you recalled how fixated he was with the idea of getting to cut into subject zero. If you were removed completely from this project there would be no one else to act as a roadblock, to keep that from happening.

Your eyes slide over to the observation tank, noting the worried way he’s been watching you for hours now. You wished you could haul him out of there, explain what was happening, the risk of what could happen to him. Maybe he would have some idea of how you both could get out of this. But was there any way out? Or is the only option allowing yourself to become a laughingstock, a professional embarrassment and to allow subject zero to languish in whatever horror would surely be inflicted on him?

You can’t say if desperation is the only thing motivating you, but your mind becomes mostly blank as you leave the office. Its early enough, after you’d been practically climbing up the walls all night, so maybe the choice was fueled by sleep deprivation. Whatever the case may be, you find yourself moving as if through a dream: down the cavernous corridors, turning and twisting to follow the slate grey concrete all the way to the impossibly large main observation chamber.

With a swipe of your ID card, forcefully and defiantly, the locks give a little beep before disengaging. Mechanically you make your way to where the suits are stored. Specially designed, one of a kind. Made of an interwoven, enmeshed material not unlike chainmail to prevent sharp teeth from being able to puncture both cloth and flesh, and featuring only the best in terms of diving design. The manufacturer had created them after winning a defense contract from the governenment and you wonder if they ever would have guessed someone would be stripping and tugging the suit on in order to come face to face with something most people would assume only existed in a fairytale.

But here you are: yanking and adjusting the suit before prepping the oxygen tank, also designed to be compact but sacrificing the amount of time one could spend fully submerged at any depth. Either way it would work for this application, although no one had been given clearance to dive yet.

You knew doing this would come back to bite you far worse than just those vendetta fueled emails. Diving without any clearance, using untested equipment. It was beyond insane. But the circumstances felt insane enough on their own to justify it. Subject zero was overwhelmingly likely to be just as intelligent as you were, and just as likely to feel physical and mental distress in similar ways. Trying to communicate was step one and what better way than face to face. Then you could form step two: proving beyond a reasonable doubt that he was intelligent and thus, could be advocated for medically even if he couldn’t advocate for himself.

That was the only way to halt the now speeding train of decisions being made on his behalf and without his input. If he could even write out the most barebones statement, even that would work to prove they needed consent to continue with any of this. Tomorrow you could wake up in a whole new world, one where there is technically a second legal classification of human being, one with a tail and gills. The though made you smile despite the tense circumstances.

What you were doing was a halfcocked, absolutely batshit attempt at a hail mary but it was worth a shot. Your reputation was already in tatters on site, how much worse could it be? If you fail in this all that happens is you’re dismissed and removed from the site, doomed to be a whispered footnote for future researchers. Did you ever hear about the lady that went crazy with one of the subjects? A cautionary tale about getting too attached to your work.

But fuck that. If you’re not at least a little attached to your work then do you even really care at all about any of it? You would argue that the resident physiologist holds no love for the work, only a love for the idea of something else experiencing pain.

With a deep breath you sit carefully on the steel ledge that runs the length of the tanks open ceiling. Easy, you just flip backwards and hit the water, reorient yourself and try not to get eaten by one potentially pissed off subject. Yeah, a real piece of cake. With that you decide theres no more time to waste, it’s probably already flagged in the system that you accessed the main deck, they’ll be here any minute.

Good, that means they can all see I’m not insane or inappropriate. He can comprehend things just like we can, the music wasn’t a fluke.

In the span of a second your worldview dips, swirls, and the splash of water hits your ears at the exact same moment the shock of cold does. The water is kept at approximately the same temperature as the water he was captured in, frigid Atlantic delights. As bubbles envelop you, you manage to get yourself turned right side up, carefully circling your arms to tred water and remain mostly stationary. This would be the key moment, you have to exercise extreme caution.

You’re another predator that has invaded the territory of a fellow predator. In the natural world, it’s a killable offense. But you keep your eyes open, sweeping the dimly lit, wide expanse of saltwater around you. No sign of him, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t here, watching you, gauging the situation. As you continue to keep your breathing even, your movements slow enough but steady enough to keep your body afloat, you catch sight of something in your peripheral. That intimately familiar midnight blue tail. He was moving behind you now, one webbed, clawed hand slicing through the water like knives as the rest of him came into your view. That sandy, dishwater blonde hair floating in fine tendrils around his face, framing piercing blue eyes that took you in critically, curiously.

You allow him to keep circling you, doing your best to calm your nervous system that felt on high alert, panic just on the cusp of overriding your sensibilities. Allowing that would spell disaster, you would certanly be killed if you started thrashing or spinning wildly, it would scare him, you could both be injured in any kind of violent altercation. They would kill him if he killed you.

But your worries abate as he slows to a stop in front of you, and despite your eyes staying locked together you’re conscious of the audience you have on the other side of the glass. The feeling of being watched by many people is something quite unique, it’s also unnerving. You wish you could apologize to him, you hadn’t realized before how uncomfortable literally living beneath a microscope was.

You raise your arm, hand extended, in a painfully slow movement that makes the muscles in your forearm ache. His attention goes to the appendage now how hanging between you two, eyeing it with equal parts suspicion and what seems to be excitement. The physical equivalent of a high pitched alarm happens in your body as he moves closer to you, the air suddenly locked in your lungs as you wait. This was another critical moment. Would he grasp your hand? Rip it off? It was entirely unknown, beyond dangerous.

But none of those things happen. The painting, god touching adam, comes to mind as he raises a clawed index finger delicately up to yours. They don’t touch but rather hover in proximity to one another before a grin works its way across his face, those sharp incisors catching against his bottom lip as his eyes flick back to your goggled face.

You hope he can see that you’re smiling too, but you hope its not like it is with monkeys where grins are signs of aggression. But it seems that fear is unwarranted as his tail twitches erratically, the wispy bits of filigree flesh on the split end swirling through the water in a gorgeous display of deep blue and white. Like sheer fabric winding through the air.

The ecstasy that floods your brain is a feeling like no other, a full body sensation that spreads from the tips of your fingers to your fabric covered toes. His tail moves to brush against your kicking legs, the heft of it is shocking. You can immediately imagine the sheer power of it kocking into you, it would feel like being hit by a freight train no doubt. For something that looked so elegant and otherworldly, it was still a threat.

But you couldn’t get distracted you needed some display of his intelligence, and you needed it now.

So you shake off the awe, do your best to refocus on his face. Carefully you draw back your hand, pointing to yourself and then at him. You repeat the gesture several times, hoping to receive a reaction that displays understanding.

And he doesn’t keep you waiting long.

In a flash one clawed, webbed hand encircles your wrist and halts your movement.

It’s like time suspends, a complete and total pause as you feel a different kind of chill within the suit. It’s like you’re watching in third person, your throat seizing as your fingers intertwine hesitantly. It’s an oddly tender gesture, and then your body is tugged through the weight of the water, pushed against the solidness of his chest. Your arms came gingerly around him, and his enveloped you in turn. He was all firmness, so solidly built it shocked you. You hadn’t properly appreciated the sheer mass of him, the way his body had been crafted for underwater pursuit, hunting. But also to accommodate displays of affection, just like your own.

And as you two embrace you can’t help but smile again. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough to form one hell of an argument on his behalf and you would shout until your face was blue that going forward, communication would take priority. Worrying about the innerworkings of his physiology could wait until later.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #resident evil x reader #merleon au #leon kennedy imagine

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fairykazu · 7 months

Text

WISH UPON A STAR FT. SCARAMOUCHE ! cws: best friends, mutual pining, requited, fluff, modern au, teens, gn!reader notes: guess what they wished for. this has been in my drafts since forever. so sorry about that. masterlist | moonflower masterlist taglist: @ainnofinway @lovemari @lily-lmao @aethion

it was friday and it was usually the days where you and scaramouche hang out and relax from school, which is almost always turn into a sleepover. both of you were in his room, underneath a blanket fort. leaning on scaramouche's shoulder, you yawned, "scara, did you know it's going to have a meteor shower tonight?"

he shrugged you off, your head hitting the pillow besides his torso, "really?" he liked how you didn't mind that your head hit the pillow, instead resting nicely on his shoulder. he didn't want you to know that he actually liked it.

you nodded your head, boring your eyes into his indigo lensed ones. he turned around quickly, ignoring your gaze as his ears burned. "when?"

"around 11:50, i think." ignoring his antics, you answered, smiling. "i hope we would see it by then, if your mom lets us."

"don't worry, she will."

he replied quickly as you furrowed your brow, "are you sure? how would we even see them?" as long as you could remember his mother is protective over him, but luckily, not to a point where she's overbearing. regardless, she hates when scaramouche gets rebellious which is bad for her since he likes to rebel whenever he can. you try your best to prevent it, but you end up wrapped into whatever he wants to do.

his answer was blunt, as sharp as a newly forged sword, "sunroof."

you scrunched up your face, scaramouche likes when you do that. it's funny to see your reaction to his seemingly careless replies. "the sun roof? seriously?"

it's clear that you aren't taking him seriously, maybe it's time to amp it up a bit.

he confirmed it and took it a bit further by crawling out of the fort to point up. he could hear the blankets rustle behind him while you crawled out of the fort from the tiny opening. looking where he was pointing at, you wanted to cry. despite his family being rich, his mom liked to spend it rarely, making sure it goes to the right places, which is smart. she is smart but man, how could you guys even see the stars from this one-by-one square?

well, not really one-by-one, but it's big but not big enough to see every star that's possible to see with the human eyes. you wanted to cry but instead you turned around, hearing scaramouche's chuckles. "did you really believe me?"

your frown pressed into a thin smile, "what?" you were in disbelief because not only did he lie, he's laughing at you. wow, rubbing salt in the wound is really cruel.

he liked to pull pranks or jokes on you because your reactions are almost always funny to watch. but seeing the doubt set into your face, it made him feel a bit guilty. so he decided to uplift your spirits instead."im lying! of course, i won't make you watch it from this window because this-" he drew a rectangle with his fingers. "- is too small for you. when it's around the time, let me know and i'll show you how we'd watch it."

"what?"

"i just know a place."

when he said, 'i just know a place', you didn't expect it to be on the roofs of the house and how you got there? you don't even know nor remember. it kind of just happened within a blink of an eye.

scaramouche was chuckling to himself quietly as you looked at him, dumbfounded. no one in this house ever discovered that he had dug up tunnels and pathways in secret. so of course, he had a pathway to go up the roof. is this really true?

kind of. mikoto figured it out it was him but despite it, she never tattletale on him so it's technically a secret. if you ask him why he did it, he'd just smirk but in reality, he was a devoted liv and maddie fan.

you two sat on the roof, where scaramouche laid out a blanket for the both of you. scaramouche threw up pillows in which you caught, "are you comfortable?"

"as comfortable as a person can be on a roof."

"good enough." scaramouche replied, climbing up and adjusting the corners of the roof. you're just happy that he didn't make you sit on the slanted roof but instead, where he had his hideout on the flattest part of the roof.

you took two of the pillows and set them down. scaramouche immediately hogged both of them as you frowned, "that was two for two of people sitting here..." you pointed to yourself and then him. "two people, scara. me and you."

"...uh huh, i'm following?"

"you're insufferable." you replied as your face lit up. "wait."

"what? what are you doing? you're making me scared."

you pretended to stretch your back as you declined on him, resting full body weight on scaramouche. "humph! what are you doing??"

"you're a hogger, you know that? this is what you get and you can't push me off." you said, expecting him to fight back or roll you off gently. but instead, you hear,

"fine. what time is it?" thank god, he changed the subject because you wouldn't have known how to continue it after he agreed with your antics for once. "around 11:40."

"good, we can wait out here then."

"good..." you glanced everywhere but where he was. "scara, i don't think your roof may not be the safest place for us to stargaze." you said, recalling your complaint from earlier.

scaramouche lifted himself up as he watched for you if you fell, his hand near your head in case you did. "either this or the sunroof."

"thank you for blessing me with the opportunity to see this beautiful night sky, scara!" you replied quickly as he hid his chuckle.

waiting for ten minutes just to pass away is taking forever, scaramouche thought as he annoyed you by poking you. it was easier to just watch paint dry than wait for the incoming meteor shower. but he looked at you while you began to fight back with his poking by poking him back, it was worth it.

"scara! the stars!" you jolted up as scaramouche pulled you back into his embrace. when you turned to his face, he explained, "i don't want you to fall down and die. i don't want to be linked to your death, how would i go to the ivy league colleges now?"

"uh huh."

but did you really care? no... you rested your head against his chest, noticing how his heartbeat was increasing. you wanted to make fun of him, but you didn't want him to notice so was yours; you kept your mouth shut.

you asked, as he was tapping your arm, "scara, isn't the stars so beautiful?"

scaramouche agreed with you but not for reasons you may think. as you looked at the stars, he looked at you.

"wait, scara! wish on the stars."

"that's so childish."

"but i heard they come true!"

"... fine but im not doing it because you said so."

"i know, don't worry."

#genshin impact x you #astronetwrk #modern au #genshin fluff #gender neutral reader #genshin impact fanfics #genshin impact x reader #wanderer x reader #genshin impact #fairykazu #wanderer #scaramouche x you #scaramouche imagines #scaramouche x reader #scara #scara x reader #scaramouche

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menlove · 3 months

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in honor of pride month. how queer (or Not) do you think the bugs are. for science

here's my semi controversial takes okay take them w a grain of salt idk these men (...people?) anyway

paul: I do think he's bi. whether or not he's like out to people around him or even himself who knows but he's. 100% bi. my evidence is well. really everything w john but also just his Consistent flirting with men in so so so so so many interviews. (my joking answer is that he's a lesbian. him and linda are lesbians.)

george: also bi, mostly bc of the stuff surrounding dylan & some of his lyrics. I feel like there's a quote somewhere where he alludes to having done stuff w men but I could absolutely be making that up in my mind lmao. feel like he also could have been sold on the idea that souls are genderless and so not necessarily Be a man in the more spiritual sense. like if he were a 20-30 smth year old today. or I mean even in his actual life I just don't know but I Could See It. 0 evidence for that beyond how many transfemmes I know adore george

john: CONTROVERSIAL ONE IM SORRYYYYY. but he's definitely the one that's For Sure Queer like we all know this. & a lot of people use the bi label bc he had relationships w women & this would be the easiest answer but I'm gonna be really and totally honest... to me a lot of his/yoko's/everyone else's quotes surrounding his attraction to men vs women make it sound Very comphet driven. like his quotes about yoko being the perfect woman bc she was so much like a man/himself in drag. "you think of rock hudson when we do it". him constantly comparing yoko & paul & never really discussing cynthia and in general just disregarding her existence entirely. (which is very shitty btw his treatment of cyn makes me rage, it just also reeks of marriage out of comphet and obligation while he was actually committing himself to paul, whether that was ever fulfilled or not). his general angst around being called gay. etc. to me he reads more as a gay man that never fully came around to identifying that way. but for the sake of not speculating on a dead man's sexuality I'll just say he was Definitely Queer. also given some of his quotes surrounding identity and gender and whatnot I do think he maaay have been gender queer as well but that one is definitely more speculative and vibe based. I could see a modern john or john if he lived being more genderfluid but We'll Never Know.

ringo: token straight I'm sorry buddy. I can enjoy a good fictional depiction of him being bi (shout out to that paul/ringo fic in hamburg that made me chew glass) but as for like. real life I haven't seen a single shred of anything pointing to him being anything but cishet. maybe! but if we're solely talking what I think is Actually going on... no.

#this got long bc of the john one but whsbsnsj #I just...... look I'd accept him as bisexual but unfortunately he's dead & so we have no solid answer #and just based on myyyy interpretation and vibes I get from what he Has said...#it just does Not sound like a genuine attraction to women like at all #could be! but yknow

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k-atsukibakugou · 5 months

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Mercury your event is SO cute I’m actually obsessed! I’m such a beer girlie, but if I had to pick a drink it’s gotta be a jägerbomb! And for the character you pick because I want you to be as free as possible I’m ready for anything👀

ehehehe i was a lil cheeky with this one, i leaned more into the leave you wanting more vibe with the jagerbomb also im sorry for the lack of beer i've never met a beer or cider i've liked LMAO i was going to make this endeavor but the more i wrote it the more it worked better with bakugou but i hope u like it!! teehee birthday bash intro + rules + menu | event masterlist

anyone who wasn’t a couple jagerbombs deep could tell you how bad of an idea jagerbombs are at an work party, but when you work at one of the most popular bars in musutafu, it’s more a rite of passage.

not even here a year, your work-best friend was the very first to inform you of the notorious annual work party, how messy they get, how she’d gone home with the chef one year, and how many servers had crashed in the booths over the years. finally, the time had come for the party, your friend already abandoning you to flirt with the chef again, although, you couldn’t play the morally high act about it when all your attention was on your boss behind the counter.

walking behind the bar, you perused the liquor on offer, mostly mid-tier stuff, but god, did the imported stuff look good right about now, something smooth to take your mind off of him. fuck, why’d he have to roll his sleeves up like that? his forearm muscles enough to make you wonder what else lies beneath that damn shirt, an endless expanse of muscles underneath a wife-pleaser singlet, thick thighs caged in his expensive slacks.

“need some help?” lost in your daydream, bakugou is beside you before you realise how long you’ve been ogling him, your indecisive daze in front of the alcohol drawing his attention (any excuse to talk to you, really). you’re nowhere near drunk enough for him to be this close, to get this messy. yet.

“you don’t have my beer on tap.” his eyes nearly roll back at your sweet tone, your gentle teasing that’s been driving him up the wall for months. he stays steadfast, dark garnet eyes unwavering, despite the top you’d worn specifically for them to wander.

“let me make it up to you,” he takes another step closer, the expensive scent of his cologne filling your lungs when he reaches around you for the distinct green bottle, trapping you between his biceps for a fleeting moment, “we’ll do something i used to have in my party days.”

grabbing two pint glasses and two shot glasses, you watch him work with the kind of swiftness and expertise decades behind a bar could give a man, every twist of his wrist calculates, not a single drop of jagermeister or redbull spilling, even when the latter threatened to bubble over the top of the glass.

“you used to do jagerbombs?” you can’t help but sound incredulous, your eyebrows shooting up to your hairline when you accept the drink from him. mesmerised as he pours his own, you try to imagine him younger, chugging back the bomb, swallowing shot after shot, stumbling home in the am. even in your daydream, his hair had speckles of salt through the blond of his hair, the silver fox look worked too well for him to see him any other way.

“why are you so shocked? i was twenty once.”

“it’s hard to imagine you… like that.”

“like what?”

“you know, a party animal, i can only see you drinking bourbon on the rocks.” he chuckles at the memories, of sleepless nights, of horrendous hangovers.

“i could still drink you under the table.” he challenges, already reaching to pour another, you try not to laugh in his face, the image of your all-powerful boss drunk and stumbling was something you’d pay to see. with a smile you could only describe as evil, hot, you clinked your drink with his before knocking it back, “sure you can, old man.”

after too many bombs, an assortment of other shots, some cocktail bakugou poured you and a sip (you weren’t game enough to have more of it, there’s a reason you weren’t a bartender) of the one you poured him, the pair of you stumbled into his office at the back of the bar. half the buttons are undone on his shirt, your hands sliding beneath the hem of his shirt even when he pulled away from you long enough to unlock the door, pulling you inside with him and nudge it closed once more before turning all his attention back to you; the way you stared up at him with glassy eyes, the way your lipstick smudged under your bottom lip, how your chest heaved (the way your tits looked when you did), how your dress rode up when you pulled yourself onto his desk, tugging him in by his belt loops.

he can’t even find it in him to care about the time-sheets crinkling under your ass when you bite your lip, can’t care you’re his employee and his mind goes blank of everything when you wrap your thighs around his hips. fuck, you’re irresistible like this; arching into him, kissing and biting his jaw, one hand tugging your dress further up your thighs, the other working off his belt to slide into his slacks, searching for more and more, more he wants to give you.

you’re just so, so, so hot… and he’s soft. he’s fucking soft. he finally has you under him and he can’t get it up.

let’s hope the alcohol buzzing through your blood is enough to clear your memory of this in the morning.

#mercurys birthday bash #「mercury answers」#「jo <3」#「kat <3」#「mercury writes」#tw: alcohol #bakugou drabble #bakugo drabble #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader

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quodekash · 5 months

Text

yeah so im gonna make my silly little commentary posts for we are sometimes but not all the time

he stared at his friend's water and started smiling like a fucking idiot 💀

h2o just makes him giddy like that 🥰

also I genuinely fucking adore Pham and Fang's dynamic, they care about each other so much (I might cry)

I JSUT FUCKING LOVE HIM SO MUCH CAN YOU BLAME ME

im sorry, i cant get over the fact that q fuCKING SANG SOUND’S SONG FROM MSP IN THE THIRD FUCKING EPISODE OF THE SHOW

HES JUST SO SMOL I FUCKING ADORE HIM SO MUCH DUDE

here to pick up his twink

HES JUST SO SMOL THO LIKE CAN YOU BLAME ME???

I JUST WANNA RUFFLE HIS HAIR AND PINCH HIS CHEEKS HES SO FUCKING ADORABLE

i think i just really love satang cos during msp every time sound was on screen i lost my shit and now every time toey is on screen i lose my shit

btw i fully had to rewatch that entire scene, i was entirely focusing on satang’s little adorable fuckin face that i forgot to read and process the dialogue lmao

his expression is like “did you bring me here to do your chores, or are you gonna be honest and just say you want to makeout"

the real answer is just that he wants to spend time with him btu doesnt know how to do that normally 💀

(and also that he wants to make out with him)

WHY IS EVERYONE SO FUCKING SMOL TODAY

HES TINY

HES THIS BIG 🤏

OML IT HAPPENED FOR LESS THAN HALF A SECOND BUT I PAUSED IT AT THE EXACT PERFECT MOMENT

I genuinely adore accidental kiss tropes in bls, its just so unrealistic its fucking amazing

[insert image of phum's friends walking in here (I had to delete some of my screenshots because I can only do 30 and I dont want to do more than one post for this)]

AND THEN HIS FRIENDS WALK IN, CLASSIC

it's so awkward and I am LIVING for it

people in bls always walk in at the WORST possible moments and its AMAZING

THIS WHOLE SITUATION IS SO RIDICULOUSLY FUNNY TO ME

phuwin’s character trying to cook is so me

and also my sister, one time she was making spaghetti bolognese for us for dinner and she put way too much salt, and then to attempt to solve the problem, she put water into the pan to "evaporate the salt" 💀

the best part is I didnt even realise why that wouldnt work until my brother started laughing

anyway, back to the ep

WHAT DRUGS ARE IN THIS EPISODE TO MAKE EVERY SINGLE FUCKING CHARACTER SO BABYGIRL

THEYRE ALL SO SMOL AND ADORABLE AND BBG WHAT IS GOING ON

HES SO TINY

Youre fucking KIDDING

IM SO SUDDENLY INVESTED IN THIS MAIN COUPLE

THAT WAS SUCH A SUDDEN SWITCH BRO

literally last week I was like "yeah okay I like it" and then suddenly im on the verge of tears when they make physical contact???

[insert image of pun eating]

PUN !

MY LITTLE GUY

I ADORE THEMMMMM

oh fuck yes I love this friendship already and it just started

AND CHAIN'S GETTING JEALOUSSSSS FUCK YEAH

they look like tired dads fr

is phuwin just fuckin short or is pond like 3 metres tall cos holy shit

LOOK AT HIM

SMOL BITCHES

EVERYONE'S FUCKING TINY TODAY

woah he really just went for it there

HOLY FUCK HE SAID YES

TAN IS LOSING IT HES SO HAPPY I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

great frame

[insert that entire scene with the jump onto him and the holding hands and the FUCKING CHEEK KISS]

HES MY LITTLE FUCKING GUY

HES SO NEURODIVERGENT AND I ADORE HIM

KICKING AND SCREAMING MY FEET RN

he's jealoussssssss

I love pun so much, I truly would die for him

Welcome back to another episode of Toey Thinks Peem And Phum Are Dating (And He’s Right)

Im gonna be completely honest, if pond looked at me like that, id probably do whatever he tells me to without a second thought

thats all im saying

LOOK AT THAT LITTLE FACE

HES SINGING THE FUCKING ABAAB SONG

IM CRYING DUDE THIS IS AMAZING

ARE THEY JUST GONNA SING SONGS FROM OTHER BLS FOR THE QHOLE SERIES? IM FUCKIN DOWN FOR THAT DUDE

this song is so out of winny’s range tho 💀

so fucking SMOL

also chains hand just always naturally rests on pun’s shoulder

literally all the time

what im saying here is I think they should kiss

HE DIDNT JUST GRAB HIS WRIST HERE HE GRABBED HIS HAND ERIJKGBNREJB HOLY SHIT

Cool! 👍

im glad they finally got there

FUCK YES NEXT EPISODE WE'RE GETTING THE SCENE FROM THE PILOT THAT MADE ME LOSE MY SHIT

PUNCHAIN FOREHEAD KISS AND QTOEY CHEEK KISS BITCHES

okay now I just have one final question before I take my leave: what the FUCK was the song playing in the background of the qtoey scene near the end of the episode

it was just electric guitar and I KNOW recognise it but I cant figure out what fucking song it was (literally I finished the episode at like 1:30 but didnt go to sleep til 3 because I was trying to find the song)

so please, if ANYONE recognises it and knows what it is, tell me as soon as you can cos Im fucking dying

update: a moot is pretty sure the song played over other qtoey scenes earlier in the show (the same way msp did with noelm) so now im fuckin PSYCHED for the new song that’s gonna come out eventually

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boydepartment · 1 year

Note

Hello jayjay...

I asked about requesting and then disappeared 😅 life got a little 😵‍💫😵‍💫 for a minute

Anyway 👉👈 if you're still up for something angsty could I request riki comforting you after a break up?

Like he thinks you're crying because your ex broke your heart when he dumped you but in reality you dumped your ex because you realized you were in love with riki, your best friend. Your heart is broken because of the impossibility of you and riki being together 💔

Like imagine riki being so sweet and taking care of you getting you your favorite snacks and letting you cry on his shoulder and him trying to distract you and make you smile with his silly antics and all the while he thinks he's making you feel better when in reality he's just reminding you why you love him so much which just adds salt to the wound because you know you'll never be able to claim anything more than friendship with him 🥲🥲🥲🥲

▪︎ 🧈bttr🧈 ▪︎

a/n: IM SORRY THIS TOOK A BIT! i got food poisoning LMAO and i had to do my lab

come up with lies - nishimura riki x gn! reader

MASTERLIST

wc- 350?? 500?? i am not sure

warnings- ANGST

you found yourself at your best friends door after you had dumped your boyfriend…

the breakup did not go smoothly in the slightest, your ex knew exactly why you were dumping him which led to your ex becoming aggressive.

you can still remember your his words clearly, “it’s because of him huh? everyone told me not to date you because of riki. but i decided to give you the benefit of the doubt. now look at me.”

you took a deep breath and knocked at his door, almost immediately riki swung open the door, he was expecting you as you texted him that you and your boyfriend broke up. he pulled you in a hug and you couldn’t help but start crying.

the sight of riki was making you cry, your heart hurt more seeing him than when you were breaking up with your boyfriend. the grip on your best friend’s jacket strengthened. riki patted your head and tried to calm you down. eventually you both pulled away from eachother and he led you to his room.

you sat down and rubbed your eyes, he knelt in front of you. his eyes looking into yours intently. which never failed to give you butterflies.

“you wanna talk about it?”

you looked at him, part of you hated him, but that was just your brain projecting. you hated yourself because you were in love with him.

“i cant right now…” your lips curved into a frown and you looked away from him. you couldn’t even talk about it with him.

for a long time you wanted to tell him how you feel, however, there was no signs he liked you back. hell, even if he did, he couldn’t date you. or give you the relationship you wanted with him.

nishimura riki worked his entire life for his career, you’d be selfish to let him risk it for you.

“here.” he stood up and walked to another part of his room, riki started digging through his closet. he spent a good couple minutes digging and humming. your heart hurt watching him.

it was crushed when he threw one of his hoodies at you. you caught it and he turned around smiling at you.

“you love my hoodies! you can have that one okay?”

your response to this was to immediately start crying again. riki’s face fell again.

“y/n if it smells that bad you could’ve told me!” he tried to joke but you just kept crying, letting the hoodie fall beside you on his bed.

riki watched you as you kept weeping. he sighs, hating seeing you this hurt over your ex… what could possibly make you feel better?

oh! he knew!

you watched as he walked out of his room, you eyed his hoodie to the side of you. you shouldn’t put it on, you shouldn’t give in to hurting yourself more. but you loved him. you think you’d always be in love with your best friend. you took a deep breath and put it on.

when he walked back in he had a bowl of ice cream with a ton of candy sprinkled on.

“i wasn’t sure what you wanted on your ice cream so-“

when you saw how hard he was trying for you, your eyes started tearing up again. riki saw this and blinked a couple times.

what on earth was he doing wrong?

the truth was, he wasn’t doing anything wrong. riki couldn’t help he was an idol, and you couldn’t help that you were in love with him.

he sighed before pulling you in a hug again. you leaned into him and continued to weep. you were letting your heart break more as you gave into his affection.

“please talk to me about what happened with your ex eventually… i know you loved him a lot and it hurts… i’m so sorry… i wish i could make it all go away…”

every bone in your body wanted you to yell that you weren’t in love with your ex and that you loved riki himself more than anything.

but you didn’t

all you did was softly mutter an “okay..”

you’d figure out a lie to tell riki later, right now you just wanted to cry into him while he held you oblivious to the real reason why you were so distressed.

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blossomwritesthings · 1 year

Text

𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞. | 𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬

⬷ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬┊ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 →

pairing: felix x fem!reader (afab) // chan x fem!reader (afab)

genre: nonidol/collegegrad!felix. waitress!reader. college au. hurt/comfort. angst. fluff. smut - MDNI, 18+ only. reader pov. friends to enemies to lovers au. slowburn romance. lots of pining. cheating. abusive boyfriend/ex. drama galore. the sexual tension is REAL in this one.

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. very thematic elements. felix is reader's estranged childhood bestie. chan is low-key an asshole in this ngl. heavy topics are mentioned such as: abusive/toxic relationships, cheating, and pathological lying. drinking/partying. the summer vibes are real in this one. there will be humor/fluff throughout to balance everything. and ofc smut too because who am i if not a whore for filthy felix smut. 😉

word count: 4.1k

summary: ever since you were born, all you've ever known is living a simple life in the small australian coastal town of bridgeport bay. you're content with working at your parent's beachside restaurant angel waves for the rest of your life, and you're happy with your place in the world - you have good friends and an even better boyfriend. that is, until everything comes to a standstill when a familiar face from the past visits town for the summer. and in the wake of his return, lee felix upturns everything you thought you were content with here in your comforting little beach town.

a/n: I literally got the inspo to write this chapter from a TikTok I once saw like, 2 months ago. and I was like, huh- that'd actually make a good fic idea!! 💀 anyways, stream skz's lola performance tmrw!!! 🫣 also, thanks to @cb97breathing for literally being my biggest cheerleader with this fic lmao, you ROCK bby and ilysm!!! 😭🥹💙 ALSO YES I JUST CHANGED MY ENTIRE TUMBLR THEME YESTERDAY SO IF YOU DON'T RECOGNIZE MY NEW LOOK IM SO SORRY- 🤡

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Every day leading up to the party at Jeongin’s, you met Felix outside early in the morning. At first, it just started as you waking up before the sun rose to catch a glimpse of him wading into the ocean waters.

But then, things steadily turned into you sitting outside on your parent’s porch, just like you had on his second day back at Bridgeport Bay. And each time he acknowledged your presence there in the wicker chair, he’d come over after his swim, trickling with cerulean teardrops from the sea and smelling of warm salt and sand.

The two of you got to talking, as the mornings passed. And the later in the week it grew, the more you realized how much Felix hadn’t changed. He was still the taekwondo prodigy from elementary school, who had risen to fame amongst his university classmates in South Korea. He was still the goofy kid from your childhood, the middle schooler who had grown up to play weird pranks on his friends in university. He was still the kid from high school who hated tomatoes, and always asked for them on the side when his university’s canteen had ‘burger night.’

He was everything you had known him for, but so much more too.

He was a grown adult, who had foraged a life of his own in a country thousands of miles away from Bridgeport Bay. He was a fully-fledged man - who had a degree in Performing Dance Arts and hoped to become a dance instructor after his summer break.

Not to mention, he looked very different from how you used to know him.

Every day that passed, with him standing there in front of you, drenched in seawater, you were reminded of this fact.

From the chiseled abs and sculpted arms and sharp, pointed jaw.

When the sight of that side of him became too much, you usually called it quits - claiming that you had to get ready for the day. In reality, you just had to make a hasty escape.

So that you could sink to the floor in your bedroom after you had said your goodbyes.

So that you could listen to the raging clang of your heartbeat against your ribcage in the quietness of your room.

So that your mind could play that version of him over and over again in the forefront of your mind.

And then before you knew it, it was the day of the party and you and Yeji were driving over to Jeongin’s house in her car. Chris lived close to Jeongin’s place, so he was going to meet you guys there.

“This party is gonna be so fucking good,” she was saying, just as she pulled up to his place. Already, there were loads of cars lining either side of the residential street. And just as you had remembered it, his quaint house was tucked right next to the beautiful mountainside of Bridgeport Bay that you had always glimpsed from your bedroom window growing up. “Like, I’ve been wanting to go to one for a while now… thanks so much for inviting me, babe.”

As you stepped out of her cherry-red Corolla, you flashed her an easy smile. “Yeah, no problem, I thought it’d be fun to have you tag along…” Plus, you had a feeling that you wouldn’t know many of the people at the party besides your immediate friends. And Chris, of course.

The two of you began to make your way over to Jeongin’s front door. You noticed the large number of people who were lingering outside, with adults who looked around your age holding bottles of beer, and couples making out while sitting on the front lawn. So basically, the usual that happened at such parties. The bass of the music vibrated through your heels and into your spine as you finally stepped through the threshold of the house.

Everything was dark, save for the few lanterns and candles that were lit throughout the place. Party-goers were everywhere, only getting rowdier as the minutes ticked by and the alcohol flowed through bloodlines. There was a makeshift dance floor in the center of the living room, which was almost unrecognizable from how many wriggling bodies were crammed into the small carpeted space. Men and women alike rubbed up on each other, and you quickly averted your eyes as soon as you saw a few begin to move like fucking pole dancers.

“I need a drink,” you said, massaging the back of your neck in awkwardness as you and Yeji flooded through the cramped hallway. It had been so long since you had been inside Jeongin’s house, but walking between the dark sage-colored walls brought you back to your teenage years when you used to come over on occasion to hang out with Felix and Jeongin and the rest of their friend group.

The kitchen wasn’t bustling with as many people as the rest of the ranch-style house, meaning that you could catch your breath for a few seconds. As you stood there, off to the sidelines, you watched as Yeji fetched you a beer - she was going to be the designated driver for the night, so no alcohol for her. The few guys that stood near the countertop that was overflowing with bags of chips and candy gave her silent looks of interest.

Your best friend had always been rather gorgeous, even at the tender age of nine, when you had initially met her. Her long, raven-black hair was silky and seemed to shine under the lights of the kitchen, and she had a perpetual smile plastered onto her face. For the party, she was dressed in a show-stopping black mini-dress that brought out the milky tone of her skin and clashed perfectly with her dark eyes and red-tinted lips.

On the other hand, there you were - in a simple pair of light-washed shorts and a pastel blue tank that had a small daisy print on it. Your outfit was nothing fancy, and nothing compared to the glamorous aesthetic of your best friend. But it was comfortable and you liked being comfortable.

Just then, you felt warm fingers thread through your own, pulling you back. You peered up to see a smirking Chris. “Hi, there, beautiful… mind if I get your name?” He asked in a low voice that was hard to hear over the blaring EDM music that was pulsing throughout the entire house.

Already feeling the smile brighten your entire being, you leaned up into him and gave his lips a sweet kiss. “Hi, babe- did you just get here?” Yeji stepped in front of you then, pushing a red solo cup of beer into your free hand that wasn’t currently threading through your boyfriend’s dark tresses.

“Nah, I’ve been here for a while- it's been nice catching up with some old friends.” Chris reached forward, grabbing the cup out of your hands and taking a big swig of the liquor. As he pulled the rim of the cup away from his mouth, he frowned slowly. “Ugh- this tastes like shit. I need to give Jeongin some pointers next time he buys the alcohol.”

“Hey Y/N, do you mind if I leave you here? I’m pretty sure I just saw one of my old friends from high school and I-”

Chris was already waving a nonchalant hand in the air, pulling you a little closer to his side as he said, “Don’t worry about it, Yeji, she’s in good hands.” You drew your gaze away from your boyfriend’s chiseled jaw and offered your friend a delicate nod.

“Seriously, don’t worry about me and go out there and have some fun… you deserve it.” Yeji squealed at your approval, wrapping one of her arms around you and giving your side a tight squeeze before she was flitting out of the kitchen altogether.

Just then your boyfriend was tugging on your hand, pulling you through the threshold of the kitchen and out into the throng of people again. “C’mon, I want you to see some of the guys from high school.” By ‘guys,’ he meant his best friends from the soccer team that he had played on throughout high school. He still kept in touch with them regularly, but you didn’t hang out with them that much, so it had been quite some time since you had seen their faces.

“But I hate big crowds,” you whined at him as he tugged you through the bodies that were smashed together in the dining room. Felix had said that it would be a small party with just some close friends, but obviously, he had only said that to get you to come. You’d need a lot more than just one beer if you were going to get through the night unscathed and still standing. Chris pulled you out to the back patio area, passing the pool that was full of shouting drunks. “And I don’t really-”

Your voice caught in your throat as your boyfriend finally stopped in front of the fire pit that was tucked away into the corner of the backyard. You had sat around the raging fire and had roasted marshmallows one time before, back when you were a junior in high school and it was winter out.

There, sitting around the fire, were a handful of Chris’ former teammates from high school. And also, some of Felix’s groupies.

And then, there was…

Felix, too.

He was sitting in a lawn chair that was pulled up close to the fire. He was tipping his head back as he took a long draw from his glass that looked full of coke. He had never been a big alcohol drinker. Similar to you, he was dressed down - in tight black jeans and a baggy graphic tee. A single thin silver chain hung around his neck, drawing attention to his exposed clavicle.

It took him a moment to notice you, but as soon as he did, he was rising from his seat and darting over to your side. “Y/N- hi, happy you could make it!” He exclaimed cheerfully, as he gave you a quick side hug.

Almost instantly, Chris was pulling away from your form and finding a seat near his friends, seemingly forgetting about your presence right then and there and instead focusing on his old friends.

You gave Chris a glare from the way that he was practically abandoning you around a bunch of near-strangers. But you managed to flash Felix a faint smile, “Yeah, thanks for inviting me. Although, I didn’t think there’d be this many people here…” Your voice trailed off, as your eyes followed the line of people that were spaced around the pool’s edge, jumping into the blue-tinted water or chatting with alcohol in hand.

Felix ran a nervous hand through his blonde locks, grimacing quietly, “Jeongin said it was just gonna be a quiet thing. But, obviously, he invited more than just a few people.” Rolling his eyes at that, he motioned with a tilt of his head to the two empty chairs that were nearby. “Wanna roast a couple of marshmallows with me?”

“I’d love to.” You said with a grin, as you took a seat beside the fire. Immediately, the warmth enveloped you, calming your racing heart and forcing you to relax in your chair.

Your anxiety was just from the large party.

You had never been a big fan of immense crowds.

Yeah, it was definitely from that.

Felix kept his gaze on you as he slid two fluffy white marshmallows onto separate roasting sticks. “I thought you were bringing Yeji tonight.” He gave you one of the sticks, and you soon leaned forward and slowly began to roast your marshmallow.

“She’s here- just off catching up with some of her old friends from high school,” you began, as you watched the flames lick around the whiteness, biting into the gooey skin and toasting it a beautiful brown colour. “You know how it can be sometimes… time slips past you when you meet friends from the past.”

Your eyes flitted over to his form then, and he caught your stare. The air seemed to halt around you, the tension snapping between you as his face darkened somewhat. The starry-night sky did little to brighten the atmosphere, the waning crescent moon shining high above your head and casting a light glow across his freckled cheeks.

Like the fucking elephant in the room, you both knew that your words were meant for more than just Yeji and her friends.

“Mhm- it can be a lot to deal with when you see old friends again.” He mused in a low voice, one that you knew was only meant for you to hear. His gaze slid away from you then, as he focused all his energy on smushing his browned marshmallow between two pieces of cinnamon graham crackers and a slab of milk chocolate. “Here,” he moved towards you, offering up the s’more with delicate fingers.

You snorted incredulously, pushing his hand away from your face, “That’s yours, Felix.”

“Well, I want you to have it.”

And before you could offer up any more protests, he was shifting against your side, shoving the sweet thing into your open hand. Fingers brushed across fingers, and you were jolted backward from the contact. From the softness of it all. From the feeling of his palm swiping against your knuckles.

“Besides, I’ve already had like, five tonight. I don’t need any more marshmallows for a while.”

Quietly, you took a tiny bite out of the warm dessert. The sugar burst across your tongue, and you were brought back to your childhood, during the days when you and Felix used to roast marshmallows on your parent’s porch deep into the summer months.

The melty center of the marshmallow reminded you of him.

The saccharine taste of it all remained you of him.

And suddenly, you no longer felt hungry for another s’more.

Eyes scanning over the fire pit, you caught sight of Chris. He was sprawled out in his chair, chuckling over something stupid that his friend was telling him with animated gestures. You could tell that the liquor was going straight to his head, making him dizzy and irrational. You always hated when he drank. He turned into a different person whenever he did.

Just as you were about to tell Felix that you didn’t want another s’more, a voice rang out from across your side. “Ayo- you made it Y/N… good to see you!” You peered up from your seat to see a beaming Jeongin. He reached out to you, rustling your hair playfully as he drew closer to the bonfire.

“It’s a bigger turnout than I thought it would be, that’s for sure.” You said, but you couldn’t help the smile that erupted across your face at the sight of your old acquaintance. It was good to meet up with the people from your childhood. It felt like you were taking a trip down memory lane, one which was endearing and peaceful, and full of happiness.

At least, most of the feelings you felt right then were joyful ones.

“I bring offerings,” Jeongin announced to the entire ground that sat around the fire pit, holding up the plethora of green beer bottles that he had clasped in either hand. “We’re about to play a lit game of truth or dare!”

Seungmin, one of Felix’s friends from high school, grumbled out from across the roaring flames. “Can you please stop using the word lit? It’s really fucking annoying and super outdated.”

Jeongin rolled his eyes dramatically, sticking out his tongue in defiance. “Get used to it bro- it’s my new favorite word.”

“You guys are so fucking ridiculous…” You heard Felix say under his breath from beside you. Nonetheless, you saw the fondness that crossed his face at the sight of his friends bickering together. Just like old times, it would seem.

“The rules are, if you can’t tell the truth or do the dare, you have to take a shot,” Jeongin explained, as he picked a few empty solo cups off of the ground and began to fill them up with beer. “We’ll go clockwise, so… Jason, you start.”

The first player up was one of Chris’ friends, and he chose one of the girls that you didn’t know to pick truth or dare. She chose a dare and was forced to jump into the nearby pool fully clothed. Everyone around the campfire clapped in delight at how daring she was, and the game steadily continued from them.

Halfway through the first round, Yeji appeared from the backyard porch. “What’d I miss?” She asked, as he leaned over your shoulder and peered into the fire.

You shrugged, giving her arm a fond squeeze, “Nothing much, we’re just playing a few rounds of truth or dare. You wanna join in?” You watched as she found a lone chair somewhere off into the distance, dragging it towards the fire and plopping into it right beside you. And just like that, Yeji joined in on the fun.

The first three rounds passed in a blur of shots being thrown back and confessions being thrown around. You had avoided playing wholeheartedly, instead opting to take a few drinks in the wake of avoiding pressing truths or a crazy dare.

As the night passed on, the crowd of people around the pool seemed to grow, the music from inside the house getting louder and spilling out into the backyard. A few more people joined in on the game as time slipped by, and soon, you had a large group participating in the fun. The entire time, Felix hadn’t taken a sip of alcohol, instead opting to nurse his cherry coke. You guessed he must’ve been the assigned designated driver for the night for some of his friends.

Yeji lost her rights to drive by her third shot, and since everyone else was pretty shit-faced, that left only Felix as the completely sober one. The idea of having him drive you home sent a pang of hurt to course through your veins. You didn’t want to be a nuisance or bother him in the least bit.

“I choose… Chris!” Changbin, one of Felix’s older friends, shouted over the loudness of the party. It was his turn to pick his victim and you could tell his ideas were going to be bad - if his wide smirk was anything to go off of. “Truth or dare?”

Chris’ eyes were so glazed over, the red flames from the fire reflected off of his irises in an eery kind of way. His cheeks were dusted with a crimson flush from the liquor, a deep, toothy scowl permanently etched onto his lips. At that moment, you didn’t even want the others to know that he was your boyfriend. His drunkenness was too embarrassing. Albeit, a lot of the others were nearly blacked-out too, but something about Chris slurring his words and yelling loudly did something funny to your heart. Made it trip over itself and forced a lump to form in your throat.

“I- choose… dare.” He mumbled elatedly, throwing his hands up into the air in defeat. But he seemed rather pleased to still be playing, to be given a dare that was cutthroat. He had always loved drinking games.

Changbin rubbed his hands together, grinning mischievously, “Alright… I dare you to… kiss the hottest girl here.”

You felt your heart drop into the pit of your stomach. You hadn’t expected the dare to turn out in that kind of sense. The others around the campfire let out dark chuckles, and you felt a shiver run down your spine as Chris shakily rose from his seat.

“Not even a fucking debate-” He started in a scratchy voice. As he neared you, you could feel your eyes widen painfully.

No, no, no, please don’t-

But then just as you thought he was going to dip into your form, he was turning to your side, eyeing Yeji like she was a piece of meat. She was pretty shit-faced, but still had enough sense in her to blush profusely.

And just as Chris was about to lean into her for a drunken kiss, you found yourself shooting up from your spot, palms landing on his rigid chest as you pushed him back so hard he bumbled around the lawn like a complete drunk.

“What the fuck, Chris?!” You screamed, the tears already beginning to prick at the corners of your vision. Your boyfriend gave you a deep frown, the light in his eyes dimming to annoyance. You could feel the eyes of everyone on you guys, and the sounds of the party seemed to dim in the background, as you stared at your boyfriend with the hurt already beginning to bloom in your chest. “Why would you-”

“I wasn’t actually going to kiss her, stupid!” He retorted back, chuckling at how stupid you had been.

And maybe you were being stupid.

Maybe you were overreacting.

After all, it was just some dumb drinking game.

It wasn’t that serious-

“Don’t call her stupid.”

Felix’s voice seemed to ring out across the entire yard, dancing around your ears and making your cheeks heat up in a peachy-pink colour. You turned to him, noticing the way he was scowling Chris’ way. He was up from his chair, fists clenched at his sides. It was hard to see through the tears that were steadily flowing down your cheeks, but you could faintly make out the taut line of his lips that were pressed into a displeased line.

“Felix, I-”

But then you had no time to react, as one of his hands was clamping down around your forearm, yanking you backward and to his form. “Let’s get out of here.” He said in a low voice, as his hand trailed down your bare arm and his fingers threaded through your own.

Just as you were getting dragged away from the scene, Yeji stumbled out of her chair, calling out to you in a desperate plea, “Y/N, wait!”

Felix offered her no time to explain, as he pushed you through the crowd of people and into the house. He lead your wobbly legs the entire way, holding onto your hand firmly as it was hard to see through the mistiness of your vision. Finally, when you arrived at his car, he opened the passenger door and helped you into the seat.

When he had buckled himself into the driver’s seat and the ignition was roaring to life, Felix finally turned to face you. Reaching over the center consul of his car, he gave your hand a tight squeeze.

“Forget about him, yeah? He’s not worth your energy right now.” He said in a faint voice, one that graced over your ears and was a nice respite from the booming sounds of the party.

You roughly scrubbed at your eyes, trying to will the tears to stop. You were feeling so many emotions all at once… embarrassment, betrayal, but also… relief, to be taken out of such a situation so quickly.

“Where do you wanna go?” Felix asked upon your silence, and just then you managed to peel your eyes open, taking a glance at the clock on the dashboard and reading that it was well after midnight. “Home?”

You leaned your head against the black leather seat. It felt cold under your skin. Comforting, almost, to have something chilled touch your feverish cheeks. “No, I don’t want to sit alone in my room, not yet…” His face became clearer in your mind then, and you saw the way his mouth ticked up in a faint smile from your vulnerable admission that you didn’t want him to leave your side so soon.

“Then I know just the place.” Felix mused in that silky, deep voice of his. And soon, he was pulling away from the curb of Jeongin’s home, merging onto the street and taking you to his mysterious location that would seemingly make everything better. The entire time he drove, his palm stayed pressed against yours, fingers threaded through yours. “You just focus on my hand, yeah? Don’t think about anything else…”

Just like that, his soothing voice was lulling you into a mindless kind of stupor. With the bright town lights flashing around you as he drove steadily down the highway, you were brought into a listless state of limbo.

And he was right.

Focusing on him, and his touch was helping tremendously.

Helped take your mind off of everything, and all of your warring feelings.

And instead, all you could focus on was the way that his palm felt so soft pressed against yours.

The way his fingers fit so perfectly between yours.

Almost like, you had been destined to hold onto each other’s hands.

To be continued...

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