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neowinestainedress · 2 months

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wave | lee donghyuck

pairing: lee donghyuck x fem reader genre: college au, academics rivals to lovers, kinda fake dating, forced to work together on a project, smut, fluff, humor (idk), music major!haechan, music major!mc | not really requested but thank you 💌 anon for the inspo summary: your indifference toward Lee Donghyuck, also known as Haechan, becomes rivalry when he decides to sabotage you. The battle turns into a war, the war turns into a plan, and the plan, well, the plan fails miserably... or succeeds wonderfully. After all, it’s all about points of view. Or, Haechan thinks he found a way to distract you and be better than you, but doesn’t think it thoroughly and screws it up. warnings: smut, mentioned weed consumption, alcohol use, fingering, oral (receiving), unprotected sex, public sex, jealous sex, bickering, teasing, etc | inclusivity notes: reader wears different hairstyles (no mention of texture, type and color), no mention of body type (but haechan lifts her a few times), no mention of skin color, no use of y/n wc: 22.4k (out of 42k)

a/n: finally i’m back! i started this fic more than a year ago so seeing it finally come to life means everything to me. i had so much fun writing it, so i hope you’ll love it too. please, let me know with comments, reblogs (that also help reach more people), or anon. i love knowing what you think. enjoy! also if there are formatting mistakes please let me know cause i’ve been having problems posting this and i copied it without editing it once again.

masterpost (with visuals and playlist) (i can’t post the link or else the post doesn’t show up in the tags, but you can find it on my profile)

Being number one in your academy isn’t a want, but a need.

You didn’t spend your entire life crafting your skills and splitting yourself between the books and the training room for all of that to be swept under the rug when you finally made it to your dream university; Neo Arts Academy.

Surely, with the prizes promised to those on top, you aren’t the only one with that racing passion to drive you through each day. Tons of people try their best, and even put their health at risk to reach the biggest success, but you manage to focus on yourself and keep your life in a pretty healthy balance.

You managed to focus on you… until something, well, somebody, started to come into your way.

Lee Donghyuck, also known as Haechan, his stage name —if he ever made it big in the industry he wanted to be already known.

You never paid him much attention. Honestly, you never paid attention to anybody, your only goal was to take care of your small garden and top everybody else, but when his competitiveness got the best of him, you just couldn’t push him in the back of your mind.

Apparently, his goals are the same as yours, and that isn’t a nice thing considering how competitive your world is. You first truly glanced at him during a songwriting lesson, when he huffed a bit too loudly behind you while he announced to his friend, probably named Mark, that he sucked at writing songs. However, you only chuckled mindlessly that time and went on with your day.

That was your first year there and everything went fine. Then the second year arrived and you applied for your minor degree in dance and that was when Donghyuck’s presence started to be louder. You had nothing against him, but you quickly learned he couldn’t stand you for some reason. Rumours were quick at flying around, being passed from mouth to ear and you knew them.

You simply couldn’t care.

Yet.

Haechan doesn’t hate you. He could never do that. After all, he doesn’t even know you. But he does know something about you. He knows your name, and how it is always on top of his in any ranking. He knows you will always win the contests he wants to win so badly. He knows you are good at theory and practice. He knows he just can’t win with you.

He also knows nothing can touch you. Not because you are unreachable and believe you’re superior to others. Actually, you are very modest about all your academic success, but you always walk straight on your road with the goal perfectly in the line of view.

Haechan doesn’t hate you. Though, lately, he has a strange feeling in his body every time he sits at his desk to study and his only motivation is to surpass you. Nothing different than the first months there, he got pretty soon you were going to be a tough but nice competitor, but fuck he never imagined you would be so hard to beat. Now that after a year he never won or got the top grade and always came second after you, you aren’t motivating him, you are driving him insane.

He doesn’t have many distractions, but he has friends, some hobbies outside of university, and even a part-time job. But you? Is there something that is distracting you? Is there anything that could distract you? He has no idea, not now that he is watching you walk into the room, ready for the classical ballet history class —yes, of course out of all the minors, you had to choose his— and sit a few rows in front of him, all alone as always, taking out your lilac book note and your pen.

Haechan has no idea, but he is going to find out something that can easily distract you and push out of your path.

You know people think of university as a moment to socialise, but being on your own has never been a problem for you. You have contacts with some of your hometown friends, and most importantly, you don’t mind doing things alone; you can go to the cinema when you want, you can pick whatever restaurant you like, you can take a walk, or stay at home.

You’ve always been comfortable in your bubble, and you’d like to keep it that way, but life has strange plans.

“Damn, always on a rush.” You recognize Haechan’s voice, but you don’t bother turning around because you’re sure he’s not addressing you. You think it’s weird he’s sitting next to you, but you blink the surprise away and grab your tablet from your bag. “Whoever put music theory at 8:30 in the morning on a Monday needs to go to jail.”

You chuckle at his comment, subtly rolling your eyes before opening the note app to go where you left it in the previous lesson.

“You write a lot.” This time you’re quite sure he’s talking to you, so your neck turns to look at him and you find him closer than you’d like him to be.

“I annotate, it’s just the essentials.”

He scans the notes quickly before scoffing. “The essentials? I don’t write as half as that.”

“Well, I think this is essential, but we all work differently,” while you’re answering him, you don’t even notice that his friend is not beside him, and you get lost in him for a second, mostly in the scent that’s filling your nostrils now that his brown jacket is so close to you.

“The professor talks too fast, how the fu— how do you get everything?” He stops himself from cursing and backs away, finally making you breathe some air that is not filled with his intoxicating perfume.

“I rewrite phrases. And, to be sure, I record the lessons, so I can re-listen to them in case something doesn’t make sense when I study them. And then I also re-write the not—”

“You record the lessons?” He almost snarls with his eyes bulging out of his skull as he, once again, stands too close to you.

“Is it illegal?” Your head tilts to the side as genuine curiosity blooms on your face.

“No, it’s… it’s…” he sighs, throwing his head back and cursing something under his breath in a tight dialect you don’t recognize. “I never thought about it.”

“Oh, well, it helps me a lot. Sometimes when I’m too tired to read I just play the lessons and memorize stuff while I do other things,” you smile, moving your hair to one side of your neck before grabbing the pen when the professor walks in. “You should try.”

“Oh, you can be sure I will.”

Haechan can’t be so stupid. He can’t believe he can be so stupid. Why didn’t he ever, ever, think about that? That’s a smart idea, better than crying and cursing when he tries to understand what he wrote down on paper when he revisits the notes, or asking Mark if he wrote some phrases he had marked down with several question marks or dots to fill —dots that he never fills.

But he’s still sure he can’t be a terrible student, he had always been on top of his classes, always aced them and his study method worked… but what if yours worked better? Given the results of the past year, and the start of this one, the answer is clear: yours do work better.

But he doesn’t think that it’s the only reason you are beating him in everything. What if you have other tricks?

Haechan is going to find out.

You always believed your only competition was yourself. You never liked to engage with other people and fight them or fear them. But Haechan had given you no choice.

It was an open threat at you when he purposefully told you a different day to turn in an assignment when you were sick, you had no choice but to fight back.

That was when Haechan truly became your rival. He had always been, you two were always at the top, fighting for the first place and the big prizes, but now it was a matter of pride.

Haechan had officially made it on top of your blacklist, at least he could arrive number one in something, not like there was a big competition to be in there, in fact, you didn’t even have one before he pushed your last nerve.

Fucking it up with you wasn’t Haechan’s plan, he wanted to befriend you and trick you into giving him some magic tricks, but things went… wrong. With Mark by his side, it was impossible to sit next to you. During songwriting you got up and sat on another seat in the middle of the lesson with the excuse of ‘not seeing from afar’, and he couldn’t approach you in any other circumstances. So, when you got sick for three days, he thought he could, for once, steal your spotlight.

He wasn’t sure you were sick, but he was sure enough you weren’t going to miss lessons days to study or work on projects; you never needed extra time, unfortunately, he knew it well. So the only thing that could lock you in your place was an illness of some kind. He did feel bad when you came back four days later and asked him if you missed something, he could see you still weren’t at your best, and he could’ve tried his luck by telling you the truth, hoping that the precarious state you were in was going to make you come up with a terrible essay on an instrument of the 18th century, but his eagerness got the best of him, and he lied.

So he had officially screwed his plan of getting closer to you.

“You are an asshole,” you scream, slamming the books in front of him on the table in the garden, not caring about his friends staring at you in shock. “And don’t look at me with that face of ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’ because you know what I’m referring to.”

“I don’t, though…” he whispers, trying to keep a distance between you because you look scary —half bent on the table, furrowed forehead, pointing finger— and he thinks you are very motivated to reach over his neckline and strangle him.

You roll your eyes, groaning in annoyance. “You told me Professor Kim left an essay for Monday, I thought I could use the weekend to do an amazing job and he called me to his office because I was three days late.”

Haechan gulps, and the table goes silent, you feel his friends’ gazes on you but they are the last thing in your mind.

“Mind to explain?”

“I… I didn’t do it on purpose?”

“You have to ask me if you are an asshole because your mother didn’t put a brain in your skull?”

“Hey, take it back!” He warns with a pointing finger, glaring at you.

“No,” you retort, crossing your arms on your chest and standing up straight. “You sabotaged me.”

“You are making things up. Maybe you should be in the creative writing major,” Haechan taunts, a shit-eating grin on his face.

You gasp offended, clenching your fists to avoid wrapping your hands around his neck. “You — you — ugh,” you huff. “This paper was graded! And you knew it, it’s part of the mid-course work he adds to our final grade. Why would you do that to me?”

“You think I did that on purpose?”

“When did you turn it in?” You ask and when his eyes widen you scream at his face. “See! You turned it on time. I fucking hate you!”

“I didn’t answer,” he tries to defend, a challenging edge in his voice, getting to your nerves more than the look on his face.

“First of all, I can see it in your face. You’re trying to look surprised and even scared, but you’re having the time of your life because, guess what, you can’t surpass me if you don’t play your stupid games.”

He snorts offended, gulping before leaning closer. “You think I can’t beat you?”

“It’s not what I think, it’s what the rankings say, it’s what our professors say, and it’s what all the external opportunities I’ve got say. But if you want to try to prove facts wrong, bring it on,” you shrug, grabbing your things and taking a step back. “No more dirty games from now on, Lee Donghyuck. Trust me, you don’t want me to start playing them too, you might not even see the top three if I do.”

The months to come are fire. You should keep minding your business but as soon as he opens his mouth in class you can’t press your lips together and fake it. You try, every time, but you fail.

“I just mean that the melody is what attracts people,” he argues during a discussion in the songwriting class.

You huff, shaking your head. “People care about the lyrics more.”

He scoffs loudly and the professor glares at him for the reaction but he still goes on. “People won’t listen to a song if the production sucks.”

You turn around, eyebrows pressed in a furrow. “And they won’t listen to a song if the lyrics are dumb, or tell a bad message.”

“Really? Catchy pop music is a thing even if you want so badly to maintain the purity of the art of music with only lyrical depth.”

“I love catchy pop songs, but there’s something objective in music and something subjective, if you paid attention to any of our classes you should know, right?”

The class holds back a laugh and the professor coughs, making you utter an apologize, more addressed to her than your enemy.

“Oh, trust me, I paid attention to class,” he retorts, mockingly smiling at you. “And we’re not talking about the quality but the appeal. People remember the rhythm of the song or the tune more than they remember the words.”

“And words can hold so much meaning for someone they will stick to them forever. Also, lyrics can have different interpretations and if you’re a good writer you can make one song fit for more occasions.”

“That’s dumb,” he says, looking at you up and down after scoffing. “Notes can transfer different emotions, what you said just doesn’t make sense, please.”

“Can we tone it down?” Professor Park warns, glaring at the both of you.

You nod and mutter another apology before speaking up again, “I believe that a good melody can easily attract people at first listen, but if we talk about the long run, a memorable song also needs good lyrics. And Mariah Carey herself said how being a songwriter makes your career last more, so I think it’s telling coming from one of the best voices ever.”

“I think you both make a great point,” the professor cuts the conversation off before you can jump at each other’s throat again. “It would be interesting to make a deeper analysis and maybe break down songs and compare data over time. If it was possible to keep the decorum…” she whispers the last word and you want to disappear because you hate the scene you gave. “But we need to move on with our lesson, so, as I was saying…”

Out of all the heated discussions you had in class, the one about the importance of production and lyrics, led to your worst nightmare, working on a project with him. Professor Park was so nice to pair you together because she wanted to see how your different points of view would’ve worked in the song you had to write and produce and even if you smiled and said, ‘it will be really motivating,’ to avoid yelling at her face, now you want to die.

You’re sure the first two knocks on the door don’t even reach the other side; your hits are too weak and the small apartment in that complex is too loud for anyone to hear. Is this the environment you have to work in today?

You roll your eyes and knock again, this time making sure it’s impossible for them not to hear you. You wait there only for a few seconds and then the door opens, revealing a boy your age you can’t remember.

“Oh, hi,” he cheers, big toothy smile beaming at you. “You must be here for Hyuck, right?”

You hum, nodding and murmuring, “Yes, I have to work on a project with Haechan.”

“Come in.”

You step inside the house and look around briefly before your eyes fall on the table in the small living room; there are books everywhere, headphones on the ground, boxes of food and empty water bottles, and most importantly talks too loud for four boys that were supposedly studying.

“Mark, can you lower the music?”

“Music is what I’m studying, I can’t,” the man you know well replies. “Why don’t you keep your pencil close to you? Jesus, there’s graphite everywhere.”

“You’re so annoying, I can’t go in my room, Jeno still didn’t take down the light boxes,” the brown-haired replies, sending a death glare to the boy at his side who quickly replies to his defence.

“Hey, I finished shooting half an hour ago and now I have an essay to write, leave me alone.”

“They’re entertaining, aren’t they?” Haechan’s voice brings you out of the haze of his bickering friends, their conversation fades in the background while your anger level rises just seeing his face when you turn around.

“Surely more entertaining than you,” you retort before taking a step forward, pretending to know where to go in that house.

Haechan rolls his eyes, thanking his friend who opened the door —Jaemin— and coming next to you. “You don’t know where my room is yet, so if you’d like to follow me.”

You trail behind him, waving at the men around the table but it’s clear that none of them even noticed your presence. Luckily for you, Donghyuck’s room is at the end of the corridor and the mess that goes down in the other room is not hearable enough to make your day a living hell.

“So, do you have anything in mind?” He asks after you sit at one of the chairs at his desk.

You shake your head, fixing your skirt and pulling out some things you might need from your bag. “Wanted to hear from you first. Since the melody is so crucial, we should start from that,” you mock in a fake-sweet tone, and you feel his glare on your skin.

“You truly are a pain in the ass, you know?” He scoffs, moving his hair out of his face, gaze fixed on you.

“And for what? Because I agreed with your theory?”

“If you have a melody in mind it’s easier to make the words flow.”

“If the melody has nothing to do with the idea, you only have some notes and not a song.”

Now that there aren’t rows of chairs dividing you, the heated argument has led you face to face, literally. And you feel your heart pound in your chest from the anger and, also because it’s weird to be this close to a stranger you can’t stand.

“Okay, Miss Taylor Swift, why don’t you enlighten me and show me what you got?”

You glare at him but he’s unfazed, holding the eye contact proudly. “My lyrics will be better than your production.”

“And are those lyrics in the room with us?”

“God,” you groan, throwing your hands in the air and your head back. “You drive me insane.”

“And you are pretentious and still never prove all the things that that little, bratty, annoying mouth of yours says.”

Deep creases show on your forehead, and you have to turn around because if you see his face for a second more you will slap him. But you want this project done, you have four weeks to turn it in, but you want this torture to be over as soon as possible, so you know you have to put the pettiness aside.

“If we want a great result and good grades, we need good lyrics and a good melody,” you say, calmly facing him again, slowly watching as his face softens. “My words and your production. I don’t care what comes to us first, if you think it can be useful, we could even brainstorm some tunes and catchphrases and then build it around it.”

“Now you’re making some sense,” he exclaims, smiling widely before patting the top of your head. “So that head is not empty.”

“Oh, seriously? I’m trying to have a truce, and you fuck it all up again?”

“No, sorry, I just think you’re really smart when it comes to college but a bit annoying when it comes to life.”

“You’re just mad you can’t beat me.”

“I can,” he retorts smugly.

“Then why don’t you do it?” You tease, cocking your head to the side.

Haechan scoffs, lips twitching in a quick smirk before he wets them. “I didn’t yet, but are you so sure I won’t?” He whispers, breath colliding with your lips and nose brushing yours, your brain doesn’t even register his hands on your legs right away, only when his fingers caress your bare skin right above the hem you wake up from the haze of having him so close.

“Time will — time will prove us,” you say, turning to the desk and scratching your neck. “Time will tell us, not prove us.”

Haechan snickers, moving closer to see on your tablet where you opened the notes, and smiles smugly. He thinks he found a way to distract you.

The project isn’t done in the first week, and to put a cherry on top, Professor Park decides to make it the big project for the end of the class, adding a cover for the single, a plan to sponsor it, and, if someone feels brave enough, even to record it. Even if you wanted to, a thing this big, and now with so much weight on the final grade, can’t be done in one week.

Yet, you think you’ll have to deal with Haechan only on your weekly meet-ups for that project and during lessons, you never imagined you would have to deal with him even during your library study on Wednesday.

“Why are you studying in the middle of the week?”

“You know, if I had to replicate a sound every time we start a conversation it would be ‘and now, I just want to sit back and relax and enjoy my evening, when all of a sudden I hear this agitating grating voice,’ and that is the sound that plays in my mind, actually.”

“Grating? Really?”

“Well, it’s the quote but it fits,” you reply sternly, bringing your attention back to the book. “Also, the question is not, why am I studying, but why aren’t you? How will you beat me if you don’t?” You wink, laughing under your breath. You don’t even need to see his reaction; you know his jaw tenses and his nostrils flare for a brief second every time you tease him.

You hear the chair in front of you scratch on the floor, and deeply hope he’s not sitting on it. But Haechan is sitting on it, staring at you as if he could steal the information from your brain and pass it to his.

“I am studying.”

“No, you’re not,” you reply, eyes widening when he rips a page from your notebook and a pen from your case. “So, what have you learned since now?”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes to the sky and instead run a hand on your face while sighing deeply. There’s just no way to get rid of him, right?

“You don’t even know what I’m studying.”

“Sound design,” he replies promptly, and you look down to see if he could’ve gotten a grasp from your books but there’s a paper on it and there’s not much written on it. Haechan smiles and moves to the chair next to you. “It’s because I started it too, there are too many notions, it would be a suicide to wait for the finals.”

“Oh, so you do something else other than think about me,” you tease, nudging him with your leg.

“Hey! I don’t think about you,” he replies firmly, frowning.

“Sure,” you huff, waving him off. “So, what do you know?”

“Well, all the basis we learnt last year, so the definition of sound, the path it follows, how it’s perceived based on the medium and how fast it travels through them, slowest through gases, faster through liquids, and fastest through solids, and that temperature effects it as well.”

You smile, content with the reply but you want to test him more. “What about the five characteristics of sound?”

“You think that’s a difficult one?” He asks, almost disappointed at the easiness of your question.

“Well, if you want to impress me so bad, I could ask you to list all the types of compressors?”

“You already know that?” He questions, quirking a brow, trying to think why he doesn’t remember them. “Wait, we didn’t do that in class.”

You laugh. “See, you’re witty. No, we haven’t done that yet, but since you love producing so much, I thought you knew it as personal knowledge.”

“Why do you talk as if you don’t want to do the same job as mine?” There’s a bit of annoyance in his tone, but there’s genuine curiosity in his eyes.

You shrug, pressing your lips together before diverting your gaze.

Haechan gasps. “Don’t tell me you don’t know what you want to do, yet, because I won’t believe it.”

“It’s not that I don’t know,” you reply, a low huff leaving your lips. “I’d like to try different things out, being a PR manager sounds interesting too. And I’m also pretty good at dancing, so that could be a career path.”

“It’s a shame we didn’t start practical courses, I would love to see you dance.”

“Yeah, sure, so you can mock me some more,” you groan.

He shakes his head. “No, you wouldn’t enroll in a program if you weren’t absolutely perfect at it, so I can’t come at your skills.”

“You’re so kind, I think I might love you,” you mock, moving closer to him and pouting before pushing him away with a light push on his chest and focusing on your papers again.

“And by the way, I know the characteristics of sound,” he says, right next to your face.

You smile and think to yourself that this might be fun. “Good, go on and tell me.”

You don’t get why Haechan’s roommate bicker so much. Not that you could lecture them when, as soon as you walk inside his room, your talks won’t be much different than theirs (worse, probably). But you think you and Haechan, at least, have a reason to fight so much. His roommates are… weird. They are close. They all are, in an annoying way almost, always moving in packs and breaking their back to meet up even if their institutes are scattered around in the Academy. Yet, they get heated pretty easily when they sit in the living room, and you can only blame it on stress as you chuckle, standing against the countertop with a glass of water in hand.

“Donghyuck left you all alone?” Jeno enters the kitchen, distracting you from Renjun screaming at his painting and Mark cursing while he tries to come up with a melody for a small assignment you decided to not worry about —you have Haechan to worry about now.

“Yep, told me to be here at 2 pm just to be in the shower instead,” you reply with a tight smile on your face that makes him laugh and scroll the black hair out of his face.

“My fault,” he explains while pouring himself a glass. “I convinced him to stay at the basketball field when we finished and he couldn’t meet up with you smelling like rotten leftovers forgotten under the august sun.”

“Creative writing?” You ask after you chuckle at his description.

“Nope, photography, Renjun’s worst nightmare.”

You laugh. “It’s because you leave all those big things around his room, right?”

“Our room,” he says, empathising on the first word.

“Okay, communism king, your room but I don’t think your comrade is happy about it.”

Jeno laughs, and hums before gulping down a sip of water. “I’m not rich yet to afford a studio so he’ll have to deal with his bestie working, sweating, and crying his way to the top.”

“You could’ve been a nepo baby and have everything handed to you.”

“Sucks not to be one. I wouldn’t even bother being in Uni, just leaving my best life with my camera and daddy’s money.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Haechan says entering the kitchen, hair still damp and casual housewear on.

“None of your business,” you reply, placing the glass in the sink and walking to the door. “Come on, we have a song to create. It could be our first Billboard number one.”

Haechan sighs, snatching the bottle of water from Jeno’s hand, briefly confused at his grinning face, and then follows you quickly.

“Are you trying to hit on my friends?” He asks, closing the door behind.

“Would you mind?”

“Yes, I’d hate having to deal with you in our group hangouts.”

“You already deal with me. More than you should since you always come to me even when we could not be together,” you say, tilting your head to the side, and sitting on your assigned chair. “Are you perhaps jealous? Do you want me all to yourself?”

“Nah, you can go and fuck all of them right no—”

“Okay,” you don’t even let him finish and you’re at the door, but he springs after you and stops you.

“What are you doing? I was kidding!”

“Why? Since when you can tell me what to do?”

Haechan groans and drags you back to your place, but he doesn’t sit just yet, he’s bent over to be close to you. “I need you here with me to work on this goddam song, and then you can go and have a gangbang in the living room, I don’t care.”

“You’d be mad you won’t be part of it,” you joke, having the time of your life watching his pissed-off expression as he stomps loudly back at his place. “Accept that you will never win with me, and maybe you won’t be so triggered every time we talk.”

“Shit, it’s late,” you murmur, lifting your head from the lyrics you’re trying to write down. Now you got the theme —it’s a love song that you hope won’t turn lame— and even a faint idea of a tune, and while Haechan tried to get inspired by other songs and tried instruments he wants to add to the track, you worked on the words.

“Don’t you think we’re trying too hard?” He whispers, placing the guitar on his bed before standing up and stretching.

“What do you mean?” You ask, lifting your neck so you can look at him after you turn around on the rotating chair.

“Music should come to you, it should be… spontaneous.”

You’d want to roll your eyes, mostly for the spontaneous part, but he’s right. Most artists don’t think about the songs they make, the song comes to their mind when they’re not thinking about it.

“Yes, but do you think we’re doing such a shitty job with this?”

He shakes his head, walking closer to you. “Not totally, I just think that if we want to be on top, we have to work around it differently.”

You gulp when he hovers over you and grips the side of the chair tightly. “Like?”

“We should… relax. Take our mind off of it and just wait for it to come,” he glances at the desk, studying the crumpled tries you gave up on and the only three phrases you were happy with written on the tablet. “We should get inspired,” he whispers, and you’re once again so focused on his face that you don’t feel his hand on your thigh, under the long black skirt you’re wearing, it surely must’ve been on you for a while if the fabric was already crumpled up and his fingers teased the hem of your panties between your hips and stomach.

“Is — is this how you inspire people?” You ask, glancing down with a rising chest but for some reason not pulling away.

“Don’t know, I’ve never done it before,” he chuckles, slowly moving closer to your core, observing the small signs of your body. “Should we see if it works?”

You hate him. You should be working on that lyric for the last half hour you have left. You hate him. He’s making it impossible for you to stick to your ‘minding my business’ plan that had worked through all your school years. You hate him, you do, and yet you nod, humming a feeble ‘yes,’ in response.

“Good,” rolls out of his lips, and it sounds so different from his usual tone, you can’t help but feel hot.

Your nails sink in the chair when his fingers slip right against your clit after he had your consent and starts teasing it.

“So, it’s a love song…” he says, and you frown, heart pumping louder as for a second you think he led you on and you looked like a pathetic horny loser, but his hand is still playing with your pussy and his face is still close to yours. “Chose that because you have somebody in mind?”

“We literally picked it for a reason last week, you —”

“God,” he shushes you up, pushing the panties to the side and teasing your entrance, it’s already damp, but not enough how he wants it. “Can you stop being so rational for once? I know why we picked it; remember I’m trying to inspire you.”

“Wait, you really think some fingering can inspire me to write a love so—” your words shut down when he places a hand on your mouth, eyes widening but pussy leaking an embarrassing amount of cum.

He quirks a brow in surprise and, shortly after, a smug smirk curls his lips. “Oh, so you’re into that?”

You can’t reply, but even if you could’ve, you’re not sure you would’ve said anything.

“So, anybody in mind?”

You shake your head. Your love life has been anything but exciting, and after a few tries, you were sure it wasn’t what you needed to focus on, especially because nobody sparked your interest. Nobody was worth moving your focus from your studies.

“Great, so I guess that’ll have to be me.”

“What?” You mutter muffled, closing your legs and moving on the chair.

Haechan rolls his eyes in his skull, keeping you in place. “Oh, come on, you can fake it for a few minutes. Don’t act disgusted, I’m knuckle-deep inside you,” he says.

“Not yet.”

“I’m knuckle-deep inside you,” he retorts after he pushes into you with two fingers, staring right into your eyes.

You bite back a moan and a curse under your breath. “Fine, but I don’t want to think,” you say. “Just, prove it to me. If you’re good, I’ll be inspired and I’ll come up with the lyrics, if you suck, we’ll go back to our original method.”

Haechan hates that he constantly has to prove things to you, and he hates even more that he does it, almost as if he’s your dog and he has to follow your orders while you keep him on a leash. But if this will work to come up with a great song, and in his outer-songwriting-course-plan to distract you, he won’t complain.

Honestly, he couldn’t complain even if it only meant to finger you. He might want to fight you every time he sees your face but, damn, what a face.

“Shit,” you moan. You don’t want to give him too much satisfaction, but he knows what he’s doing and it’s been way too long since someone touched you like that. Damn, even since you touched yourself like that. Maybe the whole ‘staring at your goals’ was taking some funny things away from you.

“Do you want to turn the song into a Hozier song?”

You huff, you just asked him one thing and his mouth is running again doing the opposite. “You wish you were this good to inspire a Hozier type of song.”

“Really?” He taunts, pressing his thumb on your clit, starting to tease the throbbing nub in circles.

“Yes,” your voice trembles, but your face shows confidence.

Haechan snickers, quickening the pace of his fingers, watching you fight against yourself to not show how much you’re loving it. “One second of this mouth on your pussy and I’d make you change your mind,” he whispers right against your ears, hot breath fanning your skin. “It’s a shame you don’t deserve it.”

You groan, head rolling back in disappointment, and that makes him laugh.

“You have to think twice before running that mouth, babe. Especially with me.”

“Never,” you talk back, opening your eyes and regretting as soon as they meet his. His gaze is too intense, and your brain is too far gone to keep it up.

Haechan only grins, enjoying your wrecked face and the sounds your pussy is making as his fingers keep working on you. You might try to deny him, but your body is speaking to him, and deeply so are you. It’s in your eyes, and your lips trembling, and in the beautiful moans that are rolling out of your tongue.

“Are you close, brat?”

You don’t have it in you to complain, or retort, the orgasm is right around the corner and you fear he would ruin the experience if you said something out of line.

“Answer me,” he orders, lightly slapping your thigh.

“Yes,” you breathe out, biting your lower lip to prevent the whole house from hearing you.

“Good,” he replies, smiling proudly and starting to move faster in and out of you, hitting your sweet spot every time he reaches the base, and torturing your clit with his thumb. And when it’s too much for you, you come. Body trembling against the chair, and legs pushing up as the shocks of pleasure run through you.

“Acid when you talk but sweet to taste,” he hums after pulling out his fingers from his mouth and you only glare at him as you quickly try to get yourself together again.

“It’s late,” he says, staring at the clock. “Go home and let me know if this was useful somehow. And not by replaying it in your mind at night wishing I was there with you.” He winks and you slap his shoulder hard. “What the hell!”

“I won’t come up with anything on purpose, and I swear if you keep being so annoying, I’ll be terrible at this.”

“You would never, this makes up like 80% of our final grade.” He challenges you with a glare.

“If I go down, you go down with me,” you retort, face to face, fiercely looking into his eyes.

“It’s not smart of you.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” you smile sweetly before it drops from your face. “It’s a threat.”

It’s not like you’re trying to avoid him after what happened, but that’s exactly what’s going on. You don’t regret the act per se, you just can’t believe it was so easy for you to agree to do that with him. And you know he will use it against you for eternity.

A very dumb move from your side to give him the possibility to tease you even more and about something you couldn’t defend yourself from.

But if you try your best to change corridors when you see him from afar, walk quickly back to your dorm room, and sit on the opposite side in class (you fail at keeping your mouth quiet, but you need to discuss with him during lessons), it seems like he’s doing everything he can to be on your path.

“I’m starting to believe you’re a stalker,” you huff, clearly scaring him when you stop abruptly in the middle of the library and make him stop in his tracks.

“I’m not.”

You raise a brow, staring at him until he huffs and throws his hands up in the air. “Fine, fine, I was following you but only because I wanted to know what you will study.”

“Why do you care so much about what I study?”

“So I know how to beat you?”

“Isn’t it more exciting if you beat me only using your brain by putting some knowledge in it without seeing my cards?” You say, pushing a finger on his chest and making him walk backwards until his back hits the bookshelf behind him.

“I think sneaky games are funnier, though,” he whispers, hand moving to rest on your side. “Especially with you.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes, and taking a step back, freeing yourself from his hold. “The games you’re playing are not sneaky. Why are you always in my business?”

He shrugs. “Why not? So, what are we studying today?”

“We are not studying together.”

“Why? Isn’t it funny? The same study method, same hours, but one of us will be better than the other. That’s a truly equal comparison.”

You run a hand on your face and keep walking to find what you need. “If you didn’t distract me every two seconds, I would’ve already been like five pages into my studying session.”

“Oh, please, you are wondering around the library anyway. I’m just keeping you company.” His body follows yours like a shadow, his heat radiating so close to your skin that you think you might go insane.

“I don’t want your company,” you say, moving your eyes swiftly over the books in front of you as you try to find what you are looking for in the sociology section. When you finally find it, reminding yourself you have to buy it so you can annotate directly on yours, you walk back to your table, but Haechan is still beside you like a puppy on a string. “Can’t you just leave me alone?”

“I could, and I’d want to, but I can’t,” he says, sitting at your side, smiling widely when you glare at him.

“This is a useless lesson for you,” you try to dismiss him.

“Is it? Because we have the same ones.”

“Jesus, okay, fine,” you give up, throwing your head back and raising your voice enough to make some heads turn in your direction. His biggest talent is to exasperate you. “But we give ourselves a timing, and then when we’re done, we’ll have to answer five questions.”

“And who answers to them all?” He asks, there’s a taunting edge in his voice, and a grin on his face.

“Is the best,” you reply as if it’s obvious.

“Yeah, but there should be a prize.”

“Being better than you is the prize.”

Haechan scoffs, and he hates to admit in his mind that he finds your snarky remarks so fucking hot, if you weren’t in a public library and if his job on earth wasn’t to detest you, he would’ve already had you bent on the table.

“I love how you’re always so sure of being better than me.”

You snicker and send him a flying kiss. “Honey, I am better than you.”

“Wait, I just left out a detail!” You almost scream when you compare your answers for the nth time because you can’t believe he has done slightly better than you.

“That detail is important,” Haechan replies unfazed by your indignation.

“No, it’s not. We would have the same score if this was graded,” you insist, feeling more angered than you should. It’s nothing serious, it shouldn’t be serious, but with him, there’s your pride on the line.

“But this is between me and you, so I win. Also, my phrasing in the second answer is better than yours.”

“Shut up, it’s not.”

“It is, and you just have to admit you lost,” he insists, leaning over, staring at you with a challenging raised brow.

You swallow, eyebrows furrowing, and then you sigh. “Your advantage is minimal. And you only won a battle, because I’m winning a war.”

“Fine, Napoleon, I still won and you’re coming to my place even Saturday so we can do this some more.”

“Hey, Napoleon sucked! He lost the most important battles, the only ones he should’ve won.”

“That’s why I called you that,” he winks, clicking his tongue mockingly.

“Oh, you think you will win the war? You’re wrong, honey, Waterloo is yours.”

Haechan laughs, standing up after putting his things in his bag. “I’m waiting for you on Saturday…” he says and before you can complain he starts singing, “Waterloo, I was defeated, you won the war…”

“Oh, shut up!” You say, hitting his arm as you push him away, but he giggles and walks away continuing with the tune.

“Waterloo, promise to love you forevermore. Waterloo, couldn’t escape if I wanted to…”

And you think that if only he didn’t try to sabotage your final grades in Music History, you might even find him funny.

Haechan hates you.

If he was sure he didn’t before, he is sure that he does now.

He can’t wrap his head around the fact that you, Miss zero social skills, and negative 100 friends, can be so good at debating. On every fucking topic. You’re well-spoken, witty, smart, somehow it looks like you know everything about everything. And even when you don’t know (and you always specify it — which he shouldn’t find so hot, but he does) you always come up with perfectly thought theories and analyses coming from the small knowledge you have on the topic. The thing he also hates is that you never sound like you’re showing off your skills, it’s just really nice to listen to you and —when he’s not the one intervening against you— you’re the sweetest person ever and everybody in every class absolutely adores you.

He wonders if you’re a robot. Maybe you’re some sort of artificial intelligence sent there to conduct studies on humans’ stupidity, and he was unlucky enough to start a fight with you. You just don’t seem real. And he’d love to dig deeper but he doubts he will find anything relevant.

You might be smart, but you also look incredibly boring. He tried to find out if you had interests, or anything that could distract you, but his research led nowhere. The biggest problem is that he hates you, but not to the point that he wants to get you suspended from University, so he has to find another way to make you slip.

Apparently, you’re playing the same game, but even at this, you are thinking faster and smarter.

“Where the fuck are all my anthropology notes?” Haechan mutters as he looks through his library, moving books and notebooks around, thinking he has gone insane. “Mark!” He screams, rushing to the desk to search again but he knows where he left everything; on the second shelf of the small library in his room, on top of the music theory book that hasn’t moved since a week.

“Yes?” His housemate peaks from the door only with his head.

“Did you mistake our notes?”

“What notes?” Mark furrows, backing away from his friend who looks out of his mind.

“The anthropology notes,” he says, voice full of annoyance because, why does Mark never know anything? He’s in the same course and, yet, he’s always somewhere else with his head.

“Man, I don’t even take notes during that lesson.”

“What do you mean you don’t? Ugh, never mind,” Haechan groans, rolling his eyes because he can’t believe he can’t count on anybody. “Have you seen them somewhere?”

“Nope,” Mark replies, entering the room. “I mean, I don’t know what they look like.”

“You know right we have a test tomorrow? The winter break is close, and some courses have it. You are studying, right?”

“Yeah, just not every…thing…”

Haechan rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “Why don’t you like it? I mean, I know it’s not really music related but it teaches you so much about other cultures and there’s a whole part about how music is different from culture to culture.”

“Next semester, we didn’t get there, yet. It’s a bunch of complicated terminology and theories I just don’t get,” Mark defends. He never understood why Haechan loved studying so much. He is only there for the music, and a few other theoretical lessons, but some courses don’t make any sense to him.

“So you plan on being terrible tomorrow?”

“I just want a decent result; I don’t strive for perfection like you and your girlie.”

Haechan almost chokes on his saliva. “My girlie? Who’s my girlie?”

“That girl in class you always get into heated arguments with, and then she comes here and I’m pretty sure you make out when no one’s watching,” Mark says so calmly it infuriates Haechan more than if he was teasing him.

“Shut the hell up! She’s my mortal enemy and while you have been paired with Yangyang for the song project, Professor Park thought it was nice putting her and me together.”

“Yeah, you can still make out with your mortal enemy,” he snorts, hitting his friend with a playful elbow hit.

“Mark, shut up and leave, I have to study,” he tries to cut short, pushing his friend out of the room.

“With what notes?”

“I don’t know. I left them on the shelf, and nobody entered my room since Saturday when she — Oh, my God.”

When your name resonates in the empty classroom after you’ve taken the anthropology test, your blood freezes for a second.

“Haechannie,” you cheer cheekily, turning around and pushing your tote bag far up your shoulders.

“Don’t,” he warns, lifting a finger to stop you from starting anything. “I have to talk to you.”

“Sure, the test was easy, right? You might have beaten me this time,” you say but you have to hold back a laugh when you scan his furious, pissed-off expression.

“Yeah, if you studied, it was,” he retorts venously.

“And you surely studied,” you say, faking innocence.

“You can study when you have something to study on,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Yes, and you do,” you still play dumb, but when he calls your surname, you know he’s not joking anymore. “Yes?”

“Do you, perhaps, know where the fuck my notes are?”

You look around, shrugging. “Where are your notes, Donghyuck?”

“I don’t know, I’m asking you for a reason,” he retorts, plastering a fake smile that doesn’t reflect in the darkness of his pupils.

“They might’ve mixed up with my stuff when you invited me over Saturday?” You sing-song, tilting your head to the side and shrugging.

“Might’ve,” he repeats, a hint of bitterness in his tone. “It was just a coincidence.”

You shrug again, pushing your lower lip in a pout. “Sometimes… things happen.”

“And if it wasn’t on purpose, why couldn’t you just text me?”

“Because I didn’t notice,” you reply innocently, batting your lashes, knowing it will get on his nerves even more.

He groans, closing his eyes to calm himself down before he speaks again, “then how do you know?”

“Don’t know, just making assumptions,” you say. “It turns out I’m really good at it.”

“I swear, I — I want to… I want to —”

“To what? Choke me because I got my revenge? Oh, it turns out it’s really not that funny when someone plays with you?” You mock, and in doing so you get closer to him.

“Goddamn,” he groans before your back meets the hard wall of the room and his lips meet yours in a heated kiss, his hands on your body and yours limp at your side as you’re too shocked to react. “I want to — I want to kill you, actually.”

You smirk, chuckling straight at his face. “Filled the space with the wrong letter, ‘cause you’re kissing me.”

“Maybe my kiss is lethal, maybe there’s poison on my lips.”

“Oh, you’re so romantic you’d die for me?” You coo, placing a hand on your heart.

Haechan groans, throwing his head back. “Why are you always so, so, so, God,” he curses, running his fingers in his hair. “I want my notes back, now.”

“I don’t have them,” you say, grinning because he looks wrecked. You know it wasn’t very morally mature for you, but it was only fair. Also, you know he doesn’t arrive last minute with anything, he had already studied everything and you’re sure he had answered everything on that paper, he just couldn’t revisit.

“My notes back when you pass by for the project or it’s war.”

“It’s already war,” you retort when he walks past you to leave.

Haechan turns around, locking his gaze with yours. “Oh, honey, it can get so much worse than this.”

You felt like testing your luck when his notes weren’t back on his desk, but you had no idea it could get worse than that, until it got.

When he deleted an essay from your computer and you had to remake and finish the work of five days in five hours, so you cancelled a project he was working on for another assignment you had. And then he erased the recording of a course from your phone, so you ripped his notebook in front of his eyes (and his roommates too). The list of petty things is long, and you’re not really proud (you’re sure not even Haechan is) of what you did, especially when things started becoming personal. You two want to destroy each other, but you are honestly just killing yourselves in the meantime.

Your book slams closed so hard that you almost zip your hands in it, and by protecting your fingers you lose track of where you’ve been. “Get lost,” you whisper bitterly as soon as you recognize the hand that did that.

“No thanks,” he replies, sitting next to you.

“I’m trying to read a book in the quiet of the library, so can you leave me alone?”

“It’s a public space, I can sit wherever I want,” he replies, leaning back into the chair, and widening his legs under the table. You know ‘cause you feel his knee push against yours and you have to retract your leg to avoid the contact.

You glare at him, breathing deeply through your nose because you can’t make a scene here. You two almost got kicked out of a class two days ago, and that was humiliating enough. So, you think that ignoring him is the best thing you can do.

“Wow, so you have a bit of self-control and don’t talk back. Never thought I’d see that day,” he replies sarcastically to your silence with an amused grin that curls his lips.

You hold back a scream and huff loudly, “I truly need you to get fucked right now.”

“Nevermind,” he jokes, pulling a tight forced smile and you close the book again, now too annoyed to even focus on the words on the paper. “I came here in peace, by the way.”

“Yeah, your peace is war in my country,” you reply bitterly, trying to shift away but those damn chairs make the loudest sounds at the smallest movements.

“That’s because you’re full of prejudices.”

You inhale deeply, rubbing your temple to soothe the headache you know is about to arrive. “Haechan, tell me what you want and then leave me alone.”

He smiles, happy you are finally willing to listen, before he clears his throat. “Okay so, I have to say that some of this is funny. I mean, only the debates and these random talks, but I’m not the biggest fan of all the other stuff we’re doing, so why don’t we bring it back?”

“Bring it back? As in?” You question, raising a brow in confusion.

“I liked it better when we would just compete without tearing ourselves down. If you cancel, ruin, or save one of my projects with the word boobs in it before sending it to the professor another time, I will go insane.”

You hold back a chuckle. You have to admit it was your lowest move, but it was quite funny when Professor Choi had a whole talk in class about being careful before sending out finished projects and exposed him in front of the class.

“No, it wasn’t funny,” he mutters sternly, watching you fight with all the muscles of your face to don’t break into a laugh.

“No, sorry, it was,” you defend, voice trembling, threatening a chuckle to come out. “Like Iloveboobsdemo1 is the best thing I’ve ever come up with. That could be the title of our song.”

“If you want to get expelled from all the academies in the world that would be a perfect idea,” he says, trying to be serious because seriously it wasn’t funny, but when you stare into each other’s eyes for too long none of you two can hold back the laughter anymore. “Okay, fine. It was funny, but I don’t want that to happen again.”

“So? Do you give up?” You taunt, tilting your head after placing it on your palms.

“I’m not giving up, we are changing strategies of our combat.”

“Oh, okay. You will lose anyway in the end, so if this can be more beneficial for me in the meantime, it’s fine.”

He sighs, rubbing his temples, and you chuckle. “Don’t laugh,” he whispers distraught. “I… could you sometimes at least pretend to give me some kind of chance of winning with you and not feeling like you’ll always have the last laugh?”

“I just replied.”

“No, a reply would’ve been ‘Yes, Haechan, don’t worry, we can change it.”

“Too wordy,” you comment, waving him off with a movement of hand.

“You said like ten words more,” he replies, voice breaking in his throat in a whine, but you decide to act as if you don’t notice.

“It still flowed better. See, that’s why the lyrics are in my hands. You’re really not good with words.”

“You keep doing that,” he groans, slamming a hand on the table, attracting some curious eyes on you before you glare them away. “But it’s fine, okay, so… no more dirty games? No more sabotaging?”

“Yes, no more. Well, not like this, but we can still play a bit, right?” You ask, retracting your hand right when you’re about to hold his to seal the deal.

“Yes, but nothing weird, or you know what I mean.”

You hum, reaching out again and shaking his hand. “It’s a deal, then?”

“It’s a deal.”

The deal somehow turns into Haechan always being next to you. He’s like a shadow, sitting next to you in class, studying with you in the library, and so on. You don’t mind him when he minds his business, but he rarely does. Especially during lessons when you need to focus on what the professors are saying.

You roll your eyes when Haechan sneaks a paper next to your notebook and you read ‘how would a dog wear pants’ with two badly drawn different options on it.

“Does it look like the right moment?” You whisper under your breath, side-eyeing him, and trying to keep your focus on the lesson. You see him nod and decide to mark the second option, thinking that he’d be happy with it, but he has the urge to hear a whole dissertation on something that will never happen, right now.

“Why?” He asks as if you’re not in the middle of a lecture.

“Not now.”

“But this lesson is boring,” he whines, poking your side with his elbow.

You huff, covering it with a cough when you realize it is too loud, and then take a sip from your bottle of water.

“You didn’t answer,” Haechan insists, this time poking your arm with the cap of the pencil.

“I picked one,” you mutter, pointing at the paper with your head.

“Elaborate and change my mind.”

“You think it’s the first one?” You say in disbelief, the utter shock causing the tone of your voice to be louder than you expected.

“Any problems there?” The Professor asks, and you feel your blood freeze.

“Mh, no, nothing, my pen has no more ink, I was asking for another one,” you lie, thanking God you two are sitting far in the back of the class and the Professor can’t hear and can’t see that your pen isn’t dead at all. So, with a suspicious nod, the middle-aged man goes on with the lecture while Haechan giggles beside you.

You glare at him, and he shrugs raising his hands. “If you kept quiet, it wouldn’t have happened.”

“If you let me concentrate on the lesson instead of asking dumb questions, it wouldn’t have happened,” you retort, and he laughs under his breath again, but doesn’t ask more questions. He still ruins your notes with ugly flowers and other drabbles and you let him be because at least he’s being silent and paying attention.

“So, you really are giving up,” you say when the bell rings and the class starts emptying.

“What makes you think that?” He asks, putting his things in his bag, just like you.

“You didn’t write anything down.”

Haechan shrugs. “Why would I? I have your notes.”

“No, you don’t,” you say but before you can realize he rips the notebook from your hands and snaps a picture of the two pages you wrote. “Hey! That’s not fair. That’s my work.”

“Your amazing summarizing skills and my artistic skills. I don’t gift beautiful sunflowers to just anybody.”

“Beautiful sunflowers?” You snicker, starting to walk down the stairs, pushing the notebook into your bag as Haechan follows at your side. “If Renjun saw them he would have a heart attack.”

“Can’t compare Vang Gogh to Picasso.”

“Keep Picasso out of your mouth,” you say threateningly.

“Still, aren’t you happy you will think of me while studying?” He bats his lashes, and you hold back an entertained grin.

“Can’t wait to go through the absolute most painful ulcers every time I glance down on those things.”

He gasps offended, bringing a hand on his chest. “See, this is what happens when you spend all your days on socials and your brain doesn’t know how to appreciate real art anymore.”

“You are so annoying, and distracting. Next time if you sit next to me, I’ll push you off the chair,” you warn, and only when a colder blow of wind hits you, you realize you’re walking back to your places together.

“Right!” He says and you think it’s the good time he leaves you alone, but no, he’s not done. “You didn’t explain why the dog would wear it only on its hind legs.”

“Is it really that serious? Why do you want to know so badly?”

“It’s funny. I’m sick and tired of hearing you only discuss music, sociology, and the media and other stuff.”

You sigh. But you still have a bit to walk, so you might as well have to deal with him and his hypothesis about dogs. “Because pants have to cover your lower body, so legs, and ass and everything else. If you wear them like the first option, half of the ass is out. And also, the back limbs correspond to our legs, we’re divided in half horizontally, not vertically.”

He doesn’t reply right away, processing your answer. And you think you broke him.

“Oh!” You exclaim. “Zootopia, animals wear clothes like the second picture.”

“Really? You had a whole statement that made perfect sense and then you added a cartoon to your thesis?”

“But it still makes sense,” you argue back. “And, most importantly, I made you agree with me,” you wink before stopping when you reach your complex.

“Fine, fine, you’re right,” he gives up before looking behind you. “You live here?”

You nod, searching for the keys in the tote bag, and you think it’s time to stop pretending that’s Mary Poppins’ bag and throw away some useless stuff.

“I thought there were only rooms here,” he states, looking at the big complex a few meters away from the university.

“There are common dormitories, and then there are some one-room flats. I got one with a scholarship when I graduated. It’s less expensive than an apartment and I get a small place all to myself.”

“Oh,” he whispers. He doesn’t know why he thought you had roommates. “So, you’re alone, alone?”

“No, you can’t come in,” you say.

“I didn’t ask that,” he frowns, offended you would even imply that. “I thought you… well, oh, never mind.”

“Yes, I’m alone, so I can do whatever the hell I want. If I want to cook, I cook. If I want to stay up all night to study, I do that. If I want to dry the clothes in the middle of the living room, that is also the bedroom and the kitchen, I do that.”

“Is it really that small?”

“It’s decent, I guess. It’s spacious enough to live in it comfortably but not big to the point I have to waste days cleaning it.”

“Maybe we could study there, no loud roommates screaming in the living room.”

“I like the mess of your place, and I’ll be there Friday.”

Haechan rolls his eyes. “Come on, I hate the library. Can’t we for once study at your place?”

“I never invited you to my studying sessions,” you groan.

“But you love it.”

“No.”

“Yes, you have an orgasm every time you know something better than me.”

“Please, shut up,” you wave him off, starting to walk away.

“I don’t care, I’ll be here tomorrow,” he screams when you’re too far, clearly running away from him.

“And I’ll be at the library!”

You never go to the library, to be honest, you were just unlucky enough that the washing machine thought it was the right moment to leak all over the floor and Haechan found you at home with your coat on the couch, the tote bag next to the door and your jeans half soaked as you tried to fix the mess on the pavement.

From that moment, your meet-ups become more and more periodic, whether it’s at your place, his or at the library. You hate to admit it, but the competition drives you forward, and you love seeing his face every time you defeat him somehow.

“Are you busy this Saturday?” He asks while he strums with the guitar to come up with a chord progression for your song.

“Yeah, why?” You reply, poking the cap of the pen to your cheeks, drifting your eyes on him.

“Want to go out with me?”

“What? Saturday is my day to study and do my things like I want to,” you say. It was the only day, along with Sunday, you had to fix all your notes without being wrecked from the lessons of the day, or listen to lessons while cleaning the house, and so on. You tried to squeeze everything there so Sunday could be your free day and you could dedicate it to your hobbies and to write for the magazine you worked for, nothing too serious, just some money to add to the survival costs that your parents would send you, and the monthly entrance you had when you would get called to help a dance studio downtown.

“Great, we’re going out tomorrow.”

You huff, slumping back on the chair. “No, we’re not. I’m busy.”

“You can take one afternoon for me,” he replies, placing the instrument next to him. “Come on, it will be fun.”

“Where would you even take me?”

Haechan smirks. “It’s a surprise.”

When Saturday afternoon arrives, you don’t know how to feel. You spent the whole night trying to find a positive thing about it, and the good thing is that for once you are leaving the house to do something funny —you hoped so— not all by yourself. The bad thing is that the person you are going to do this thing with is Haechan.

You try not to worry about it too much, he’s not that bad when he wants to, and he’s funnier than you’d like to admit, so maybe taking a small break from the obsessive studying and tidying, will do you some good.

When you hear the knocks on the door, you grab your coat and your bag and head to open it.

“Hi,” he says. “Anything to fix before we leave?”

“Don’t say that, they will hear you and break all together.”

Haechan laughs, briefly looking at your body, mostly covered because it’s still cold outside and you have way too many layers on you. “Toy Story for home appliances?”

“Yeah, that would be my life,” you reply, closing the door behind you and walking outside of the complex. “So, where are you taking me?”

“I told you, it’s a surprise,” he says. “Don’t expect anything big, I just don’t want to hear you nag about it.”

“Hey, I appreciate almost everything.”

“Yeah, it’s the almost that worries me,” he says. “Hop in the car.”

“You have a car?”

“Yeah, it’s right in front of your eyes,” he answers, gesturing to the space next to you.

You turn around, holding back a laugh when you see the old blue car, it’s surely a Hyundai, you have no idea about the model, but you know for sure it’s falling apart. “This is the car?”

“Yes, I’m sorry I’m poor.”

“It will get us killed,” you say opening the door, letting out a breath of relief when the handle doesn’t stay in your hold.

Haechan rolls his eyes and sits in. “Can you don’t be overdramatic for one second?”

“I’m stating facts. Are the airbags still working? Is the oil level high enough? The battery? And the water for —” Your eyes widen when his lips crash on yours. At first, it’s a harsh attempt to shut you up, but then his lips shily go for more, moving along yours with a small flame of need.

“I won’t kill you, but please shut up,” he begs when he pulls away, sooner than you want to, later than he should’ve.

You gulp, trying to shake the dizziness and the way his kiss made you feel lightweight. You might occasionally still want to wrap your hand around his neck but he’s quite good at being a charmer.

“I’m giving you the privilege to pick the music,” he says once you’re on the open road, the lights of the city shine against the windows and the other cars pass beside you.

“Yeah, can I connect my Spotify to the car? Oh, wait, this model from the future directly brings the singers into your backseats so you can have a live concert,” you joke after seeing the car radio.

“Wanted to take the metro?”

You laugh. “No, I’m just… why did you say that as if I could connect the aux or the Bluetooth? It was funny.”

“Fine, you’re forgiven,” he says. “Just play it through your phone.”

You hum, already deep into the scrolling of your music catalogue. “Can I put my driving playlist?”

“You have a car?”

“No, I have a driving playlist.”

“Why would you have a driving playlist if you don’t have a car?”

“Because right now it comes useful,” you wink, pressing play without waiting for his answer.

Haechan smiles, quickly glancing at you before his attention is fully on the road. “Baekhyun?” He asks with surprise when the second song starts. “You listen to Baekhyun?”

“Everybody should listen to him,” you reply, already getting defensive because his next words could be the last straw of your ‘relationship.’

“Oh God,” he whispers.

“If you tell me you’re a hater I’m jumping out of the running car and changing the trajectory of your life forever,” you warn, turning to the side to have a better view of him.

“Me? A Baekhyun hater? He’s my father! I just can’t believe you have some sort of sense and taste.”

You slap his shoulder, making the both of you break into a light-hearted laugh.

“You scared me for a second,” you say, placing your hand on your beating heart.

“Sorry. So, it turns out we have one thing in common,” he jokes, creases creating at the corner of his eyes as his features soften and a genuine smile blooms on his face.

You shrug. “I mean, we have many things in common, actually. That’s why we get along so badly. Maybe it’s true, opposite attracts and that’s why we don’t attract.”

“I think we do attract… proved it a few times.”

“Once,” you reply immediately.

“Twice, with the kiss…”

“You did that to shut me up.”

“I don’t shut up just…” anybody… “I felt like kissing you.”

You smirk, loving watching him struggle. “Nothing wrong to admit you find me attractive,” you tease.

“Unfortunately, your mouth ruins everything.”

“My mouth is the thing that attracts you the most about me, or else you wouldn’t keep lingering around me like bees on honey.”

“Bees make honey, they’re not attracted to it. Bears are.”

“Yeah, you look like a bear, you know?”

He glares at you, and you laugh. “Bears are cute.”

“And attracted to honey.”

“And do I look like honey?” You ask teasingly. “Wait! You always call me honey!”

“It’s a mockery honey, not a sweet honey. You’re not my honey.”

You think about it. “You’re not my honey… could be a line of our song.”

“No academy talking today. It’s forbidden. You have to forget about uni.”

“Fine, I’ll forget about it just for today.”

The dates with Haechan, you can call them dates, right? Well, anyway, whatever they are, they become more common. At first, you tried to reject his weird, most of the time, last minute, proposal, because they would throw in the air all of your plans, but after a while, you somehow still found a way to go back on track without screwing up your academic goals.

“Why don’t you stay?” Haechan asks. It’s another Friday afternoon, and you two met up to go on with the song’s project. Much to your dismay, you have to admit you are the one who’s holding you two back. It’s like words can’t come out of you, not like you want to, at least. But Haechan’s not mad at you. Actually, you like the atmosphere around you when you lock in his room for those sessions. One time, he even made you try edibles to see if you could come up with something, but you ended up making out on the floor instead, so you stopped going for that path.

“I don’t know,” you say, huffing when you glance at the words in front of you and remind yourself that they don’t make sense. “I was thinking of going home and maybe listening to your tracks and…”

“Come up with something?” He drags the chair closer to you and steals your papers to read them. “It’s not as bad as you made it to be.”

“Yeah, it’s a good song, but it’s basic. And I feel like it’s a bit… cliché.”

“You do know that everything has already been written?” He jokes, but it’s not a teasing remark, it’s the truth, and he’s genuinely trying to lift your spirit.

“I know, but it’s not my style, this is not how I usually write, I —”

“You write?” He stops you and only then you realize what you said. “Like, you have written songs before?”

You nod, shame pervading you when he stares at you with an expression you can’t comprehend. “Are you going to make fun of me?”

“No, I just thought you preferred lyrics over production, but I had no idea you were a lyricist.”

“Now, lyricist… I try, sometimes…”

Haechan smirks, poking your tummy making you cover it with your arms. “So there is something you’re insecure about.”

“Oh, I knew you were going to have a ball about this,” you groan, rolling your head back.

“No, hey, it’s just… I’ve never seen you like this about something you do. You are confident, usually,” he explains with no hint of mockery in his voice.

You sigh, looking at your feet tapping the ground and then look back at him. “It’s just… very personal,” you confess. “I think it’s clear I don’t have lots of friends. I used to, back at home, but here I’m alone. But even back then I’ve always felt like there was something I couldn’t completely let out. That’s why I love dancing, I can express myself in a different way, but I found out it still wasn’t enough and when I started playing the piano again I… started writing. It started almost as a joke, and it was a cheesy break-up song when my ex cheated on me, like the cheap version of drivers license,” you joke and he laughs with you.

“But it was still better than this, I guess?”

You hum, shaking your head. “Nah, my first song was a mess, but then it was like I just couldn’t stop writing, so my songs became my diary. Every time something happens, I write about it.”

He hums, moving the chair closer until your legs intertwine. “So, to write a love song you would need to fall in love?”

You’re taken aback by his question, and don’t reply right away. “No, I just need to be inspired. I’ll watch some movies, and it will come to me.”

His face twists in mild disgust as he shakes his head. “Movies are fake, it’s better to live things on your skin.”

“I don’t have time to date, and I can’t just find someone that easily,” you say laughing. “But don’t worry, I won’t make us fail. I’ll try to edit this and make it work if I really can’t come up with anything else.”

Haechan is not convinced, it’s clear in his face and the way his leg is bouncing nervously, but he doesn’t get back on the conversation. “Are you staying?”

“I have some notes to edit and —”

“You have tomorrow,” he cuts you off. “Come on, I have to do it too.”

You groan, hating the way you can’t say no to his big eyes staring at you. “Fine, but not too much.”

It’s useless to say that none of you get those notes written better.

“God, are you fucking Professor Kim?” Haechan growls, grabbing your wrist and stopping you in the college corridors right out of Music History class, the last lesson of Tuesday.

“What?” You babble out, surprised by his angry tone and his speculation.

“No cause you’re his favourite and it’s driving me insane,” he utters under his breath, glaring at you.

“I’m his favourite?” You tease, tilting your head to the side, loving the fire that turned on between you two. It had been three calm months, the bickerings were too intellectual and you missed this.

“Yeah, I gave him the exact same answer and he found the tiniest thing to say I wasn’t right, just so he could hear yours instead and praise you.”

“Oh, poor baby boy, Professor Kim didn’t give you head pats and now you’re mad?” You pout, patting his head in a mockery gesture.

Haechan groans, throwing his head back, and pushing you into the nearest empty class, closing the door behind.

“Haechan, what are y—”

“Shh,” he says, shushing you with a stern gaze and a squeeze of your wrist. “You passed by his office the other day, didn’t you? Needed extracurricular help ‘cause you didn’t understand something,” he mocks with a high-pitched voice. “Taught you how to play his flute in a historically accurate way?”

You’d love to laugh at his terrible blowjob-music reference but when his gaze darkens, you only chuckle, and that’s enough to drive him mad.

“God, for you is just a game, isn’t it?”

“You really think I fucked Professor Kim?”

“No, but I’m pretty sure he fantasizes about having you bent over his desk and, fuck, it drives me mad.”

“You wish he fantasized about having you bent on his desk?” You joke, smirking.

He groans. “No, I hate the way he looks at you, and talks to you, the last thing he had to do today was to call you a good girl in front of the whole class.”

Your lips curl in an amused grin, but your heart —and something else— flutter at the way he says ‘good girl,’ you try not to show it and go on with your teasing. “Not my fault I’m good, and I’m interested in his subject.”

“Your fault you lick his boots,” he groans, pushing you flat against the door, standing so close to your nose. “I know you’re smart and you don’t need to ride a dick to be first in class but…” he stops, inhaling your scent, and leaning against your forehead.

You lift his head with two fingers under his chin, and lean in, whispering, “you still want to see me bent over a desk, and you want to be the one railing me, isn’t it?”

He doesn’t reply, not verbally at least. The only answer is a guttural moan and two arms lifting you, making your legs wrap around his waist as he kisses you roughly.

“Hyuck,” you moan into the kiss when he starts walking toward the desk, sitting you on the edge.

“Yeah?”

“We can’t — we — this is, we can get expelled…”

He snickers. “Be quiet and nobody will even hear us.”

“What if they lock us inside?”

“Shut up,” he groans again, kissing you another time as his bag drops on the floor. “You drive me so fucking mad, you have no idea.”

You snicker under your breath, but your heart loses a beat when his hands roam on your thighs, moving closer and closer to your heat. “Wait,” you whisper.

“Wait, what?” He hums, cupping your chin and lowering your head, staring straight into your eyes. Haechan scoffs when your thighs squeeze against each other and he can see you gulping. “Don’t act like you don’t want this,” he whispers, leaning closer to your lips, making you believe he’ll kiss you, but you only get a taste of his thumb rubbing over your full lips, “don’t act like you don’t want me.”

“Haechan!” You scream when he rips off your tights, the tear of the fabric resonating in the room as you look down in shock. “I’m gonna kill you,” you groan but he’s not bothered in the slightest.

“They were getting in the way, and I get rid of everything that gets in my way,” he says with a smirk.

You laugh mockingly. “Then why am I still here?”

His brows furrow and a small pout forms on his face but he shrugs it off. “I’m taking care of you, I told you,” he groans, kissing you harshly. “You’re not winning the war.”

“Oh, and your military strategy is to fuck me?”

“Yeah, until you forget everything.”

You huff loudly when he finishes ripping the tights from your legs, the only pieces left the ones trapped in your shoes, and you’re glad the skirt is long enough to don’t make you freeze on the way back home.

“So much better,” he says proudly, staring at his work of art, letting his hands wander on your now bare skin. “And, now, let’s find out if there’s a way to shut you up.”

You look at him in anticipation, waiting for his next move as if your life depends on it. And you hate to be so eager, you hate you fantasized on it more than you should’ve, but you want to know what his lips feel like. And it’s almost as if Haechan hears your secret thoughts.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” He taunts, kneading his fingers on your flesh.

“Nothing,” you mutter, trying to sound more confident than what you are.

Haechan laughs at you, shaking his head as he slowly gets on his knees, looking up at you. “You are always so fucking proud and annoying.” His hands rest on your knees before he pushes them far apart, forcing you in place as you uselessly try to close your legs. He tsk, shaking his head. “Don’t act ashamed, I’ve already felt you, and tasted you.”

You don’t reply. It’s hard to keep eye contact but this is bigger than sex, this is a game between you two and, he might not beat you in class, but he’s beating you right now.

His laugh brings you back to earth and you hate the smug smirk that’s sitting on his face. “So you do get quiet, thought I needed to give you a taste of my mouth to shut you up.”

You open your mouth to retort but the stern glare that flashes on his face is enough to put you back in your place.

“Good girl,” he says and your body trembles before you can even try to hide it. “Should I get a better taste of you?” He stares at you, waiting for an answer that doesn’t come, not like he wants to at least. “Use your words, babe. You know how to run that mouth when you want to, so, beg for it.”

“Fuck, no,” you retort, trying to move away but his hold on you doesn’t give any signs of loosening up.

“Okay, then,” he says, slowly standing up, and grabbing his bag. “See you around.”

“What?” You squeal, grabbing his wrist. “What are you doing?”

“Leaving,” he replies, shrugging.

“That’s not fair,” you reply, and he snickers.

“What? Are you wet? Do you want me?”

You don’t expect that reply and struggle to find the words, even more now that he’s standing between your open legs, keeping them apart, and his eyes are staring down at you, pinning you down in place. “I don’t want you,” you lie, swallowing the gulp in your throat when his right hand sits on your waist. “I just… I want to fuck.”

“Oh, do you? Well, there are plenty of people here, I’m sure many of them would want you. You know, even if you don’t pay attention to anybody, people look at you,” he whispers, caressing your jaw with his other hand. “First on the list is Professor Kim. Don’t you want to feel the thrill? Come on, go to his office now, so I can have something to hold against you forever.”

You chuckle. “Yeah? Want to blackmail me so I can do all the essays for you? Maybe you’ll get the best grades like this,” you tease, pulling him closer by the collar of his shirt and making him groan.

He licks his lips, staring at yours, and you smirk. “I don’t need you to be first, and you know it.”

“Do I?” you tease. “Want to be first at something?”

“Don’t,” Haechan warns, eyes darkening even more while the tent in his tight pants becomes even more evident.

“What? You can be the first one who fucks me on a desk if you quit playing hard to get.”

“I’m not playing hard to get,” he replies, leaning even closer, your bodies are pressed together and you can feel his hard dick press against you. “I won’t be the one begging, especially to eat you out,” he groans, cupping your chin unexpectedly. “Don’t act as if you didn’t think of this before. I’ve seen the way you get lost in my fingers when we study together. You see me twirl a pen in my hand and you wish I was inside you, don’t you? And when we argue? There’s always a small fragment where you lose focus and stare at my lips. Where do you want them, honey?”

Your brows furrow but your entire body reacts differently, a small shake, while wetness pools down your panties, soaking them even more, and your eyes close because you can’t bear his smug glare.

“I said,” he urges, giving a quick squeeze to your chin, “where do you want my lips?”

“On — on me,” you breathe out, voice muffled by the firm hold on your face.

His lips twitch as he leans closer and kisses your cheek. “Here,” he says, holding back a laugh when your eyes widen. “That was where you wanted them, right?”

“Oh, fuck off, you know what I meant,” you huff.

“No, I’m the dumb one, remember? You are smarter than me, you know everything. I’m always a step behind, I need you to guide me step by step,” he mocks in a condescending tone, pouting.

You take a deep breath. “I hate you.”

“Oh, I know,” he laughs. “But if you use just three magic words I’m sure you’re going to love me for a while.”

You don’t want to give up but you’re on fire, and you fear that the more time passes by the more someone could find you out.

“I’ll ask nicely one last time,” he whispers against your lips. “Then I’ll ask you to do something for me and you’ll lose my lips for the second time. Where do you want them?”

“On my pussy,” you whisper, not meeting his eyes.

“Fucking finally,” he laughs. “Was it so hard Miss big brain?”

“Stop mocking me!”

“Mocking you?” He asks, getting on his knees again before grabbing your panties to pull them down. “I might hate you but it would be dumb to not recognize your qualities, right?”

You don’t reply, you have other things to worry about. For example, your mortal enemies kneeled between your legs in an empty class of your Academy, staring into your soul, ready to eat you out.

“So, since you’re so good with words, here we go again. Beg.” Haechan craves putting his lips on you just as you do, but this is the only moment he can have some power over you. And after the humiliation of today’s class, he has to make you pay for it a bit. Or maybe he just wants to hear that even if you’d choke him and slap him, you still want him.

“Please, Donghyuck, please,” you plead, looking into his eyes.

He’d love to hear you beg for him more, but the way your cunt is dripping on the desk is already enough to tell him how much you want him, and for now, it’s enough.

When his lips come in contact with your skin your legs immediately hook around his shoulders and you can feel the chuckle on your wet folds.

“Eager, honey?”

“Just, please, eat me out already,” you barely have time to finish that he stops playing around and starts moving his mouth on you. Your head falls behind while your thighs squeeze tighter around his face. Your hands clench on the edge of the desk as you try to keep your balance, but it gets harder with every lick of his tongue.

“Keep quiet, the door is closed not locked,” he reminds you, pulling away from you just to pick up again.

You try to don’t be too loud, but he’s better than you expected and maybe this was the wrong time to try this out. You should’ve simply begged him to fuck you, but now that you’re in the middle of this, the last thing you want is to stop him.

One of your hands is brave enough to let go of the hold on the desk and reach his hair to push him closer to your body, surprising him.

Haechan always thought you were much more shy than this, honestly, he didn’t even hope much for this to happen. But you surprise him, not only you let him have you in a random class at your university but you are also pushing him closer.

“You are eager,” he muffles against you, he can’t pull away when you’re pressing him down with so much force, but the way you’re acting is setting him on fire. He loves hearing you moan and whimper, not a word coming out of your pretty lips to confront him, just bliss on your face and voice. And that pushes him to give you even more, putting his entire self into eating you out until he almost drags screams out of you, making both of you forget where you are.

You’re not sure how many minutes pass by but when the orgasm rushes in your body you feel it’s too close. You’d probably force him down for another round if you were in any other place but you don’t feel brave enough.

“So? Disappointed?” He asks, cleaning his chin as he stands up, reaching you again. “Don’t lie, you’re still dripping down the desk, you’re even more turned on than last time.”

“I’m not,” you lie. You know you are, and Haechan knows it too.

“What is it? The thrill of being caught? My skills? Just me, or something else?”

You don’t know why you reply with what you reply, but you do. “Maybe someone else,” you tease, not even sure he’ll take the bait, but he’s too caught up in you to see the games you’re playing.

“Yeah? And who’s that?”

“See, I always believed you were perspicacious and could catch details, I can’t believe you didn’t get it. You’re so sure Professor Kim wants to fuck me, ever thought I want him too?” You bat your lashes and Haechan tries to silence a groan, but you feel his fists clench at your sides.

“Don’t play with me, I’m not falling for this.”

You shrug. “Fine, I’ll still think about him while you fuck m—” he shuts you up with a rough kiss, pushing you down the desk with a quick movement that makes your heart jump to your throat.

“He’s not even that hot,” he groans, turning you around before bending you on the desk, and pulling your skirt up around your waist. “And he’s not even that old, there’s not even the charm of the dilf.”

“He’s smart,” you talk back, not sure how much you can pull your luck.

Haechan scoffs, slapping your ass. “Not smarter than me.”

“You’re not the professor so…”

“A degree means nothing,” he says, his chest pressing against your back. “What’s that you like so much about him?”

You chuckle. You’re not sure if he’s playing into your game or is just so easy to fool, but either way, you decide to keep going. “Everything. Don’t you see him?”

Haechan groans. Out of all the people, out of all the professors, he has a very personal beef with him that started at the start of the year and the way you just praise him so much —even outside of this specific situation where he got you’re messing up with him— drives him insane.

“Because he’s the best at everything? Isn’t he?”

You nod, expecting him to talk back but the only answer you get is the sharp sound of his belt being pulled away from his pants and smacked against your ass. “Fuck,” you curse, hating the way your body buzzes with pleasure at the impact.

Haechan chuckles. “I wonder what he would think of you if he saw you like this.”

“He wouldn’t think,” you say. “He’d act, fucking me like I deserve instead of wasting time like you.”

When his cock fills you up with no warning you almost scream but his hand is quicker at reaching your mouth.

“Yeah, would he fuck you better?”

You groan in his hand, but your brain goes blank with each thrust into you, pulling his hips back before he snaps them forward, so forcefully that you slide upward on the desk and he has to pull you down so that your hips don’t hit the wood.

“Answer me,” he urges, making a makeshift ponytail with your hair to force you up. “Would he?”

“I… I don’t know,” you cry out, feeling him deep inside of you, filling you perfectly.

“You just have to test me until I snap, don’t you?”

“He seems —fuck— fitter than you.”

Haechan snickers mockingly. “Yes? You want to be thrown around? Like you’re worth nothing? Do I have to do that to make you feel good?”

You shake your head, ass perking up, your feet on their tips as you try to keep balance.

“No? Is being fucked in a class enough for you? Does it satisfy your needs?” He hisses, eyes rolling back when he focuses them where your bodies meet, your cum dripping down his length and balls. He can’t believe how turned on you are. “Thought you were innocent but look at you.”

“Not my fault you don’t catch details,” you retort with a small bit of sanity —not really— you have in you.

“Details? Or maybe you’re just an actress. Making everyone believe you only think about grades and studies and here you are, drooling while I fuck you over a desk. Begging for my dick.”

You don’t even realize you are drooling down the desk and when you’re about to clean your chin, Haechan grabs your hands and pins them in place behind your back.

“No,” you whimper, falling flat with your chest pressing down the wooden table.

“Yes, honey,” he mocks. “I want to see you become a mess for me. Should I take a snap of you like this? Send it to Professor Kim so he can see he will never have you like this?” He whispers against your ear. “Think I don’t know it was all a play? Not only you don’t like him, but you wouldn’t risk your reputation for a terrible fuck when you have a brain like yours.”

Your pussy clenches. It’s the way his voice sounds like velvet, it’s how deep it’s hitting you, it’s in his words, and the way it turns you on that your number one rival, the one that despises you, still knows your value.

“Still, I’m pretty sure he wishes he could see you like this,” he adds, biting your earlobe. “A shame he can’t, right?”

“Y-yes,” you mumble in a pathetic wail.

“But maybe I could still keep it to myself,” his hips start moving with more force and you can’t hold back your moans as you clench around him. “Yeah? Want me to take a photo of you like this?”

You wish you could reply but words just don’t come out of your lips, brain emptying and eyes rolled back in your skull.

“Maybe another time,” he says, breath getting ragged as he keeps fucking into you with determination. “Don’t really want to pull away to take a pic of us.”

“There — there won’t be —fuck— another time,” you reply, forcing yourself to speak.

Haechan snickers. “The mess between your legs tells me otherwise,” he mocks, reaching in front of you to play with your clit, making you shake. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, you deserve good things, even a good fuck from me.”

“Too much,” you cry out, feeling your eyes getting wetter as the orgasm starts choking you.

“No, you just haven’t had a decent orgasm in ages,” he retorts.

“Shut up! You know —shit— you know nothing.”

“Honey, I can only imagine you playing with yourself, but your hands or toys don’t come close to me,” he says, so smugly you can feel the smirk on his face. And you can’t even retort because —as much as you hate it— he’s right.

“Come here,” he says, putting a hand over your shoulders to pull you closer to him. “Are you close?”

You nod, biting your lower lip until it bleeds because you’re sure the sound of your ass slamming against his hips is already a giveaway of what’s going on inside this room. You clench around him when he bites down your shoulder to muffle a louder groan as his hips start moving faster as he chases his climax.

You feel your legs give up as the second orgasm hits you and you hold against the desk again because you don’t know where else to hold on to. Haechan tries to keep his curses low, sticking his face in the crook of your neck and you feel you could come again just by his voice alone; his moans the pretties sounds you’ve ever heard.

“Oh god,” you breathe out when he gently lets go of your body and you can relax on the hard surface again, squirming in discomfort when he pulls out of you.

“I hope you didn’t tear my panties apart, too,” you say, rolling on your back, making him laugh.

“Don’t move, you’ll stain the skirt, it’s the only clean thing on the table,” he says, grabbing a napkin to prevent you from making even more of a mess.

“And who’s fault is that?” You ask, glaring at him.

“You should just thank me for the orgasm, better, two orgasms, I gave you.”

You huff, rolling your eyes, but still letting him clean you up, after all, the cum was his, so it’s his place to clean it. After you’re sure you won’t ruin the last untouched piece of clothes you have, you sit up, taking your —uncomfortably— wet panties to put them on.

“So…” he whispers as he cleans up the rest of the mess on the table and shoves your broken tights in his bag, “it was just for fun, right? You have no intentions with Mr…”

You break down laughing. “You’re so easy to fool. You seriously think I’ll ever let him see me like this?”

Haechan scoffs, finishing fixing his clothes before walking to the door. “It’s not about what you would do, is if you think of him.”

“I don’t,” you reply, following him even if you feel like your legs could give up any second. “I wonder if your jealousy was also a play,” you tease, nudging him as you two walk down the corridor to leave.

“It wasn’t jealousy, you would just have terrible taste if you truly liked him, and I have beef with him.”

You chuckle, deciding to believe him.

“Wait,” he says, stopping to search for something in his bag.

“I’ll go for the door, reach me,” you say, starting to head on, you’re not even sure you two could be there at that time. “Lee Donghyuck,” you curse when you try to push open the front door. “What did I say?”

He walks toward you nonchalantly and shrugs. “Yeah?”

“They locked us in!”

He smiles, shaking his head, and grabbing your hand. “Can you run?”

“What?” You blink a few times, trying to understand how his question fits the situation.

“After I fucked you like that, can you run?”

“Shush,” you scold, fearful someone might hear, you’re not sure who since you seem to be completely alone, but better safe than sorry. “And no, I don’t know, I… why would we run?”

“Do you trust me?” He asks, reaching out his hand for you to take.

“No,” you say resolutely.

“Good,” he smirks before he starts running into the corridors, giving you no chance but to follow him, cursing and damming every life decision that led you here, with cum threatening to leak out of you after you finished having sex in the class of your Academy and are now running to go God knows where, locked inside the institute.

“Hyuck!” You scream when he runs up the stairs and you swear you never felt so much adrenaline rush in your blood but when he looks back for a second and shows you his big bright smile with his hair falling in his face perfectly, you swear the world stops and all your worries are lifted from your shoulders. Maybe you trust him. Maybe you need to be this carefree sometimes.

Your heart jumps in your throat when he pushes open an emergency door and the mild breeze of March runs over you. You breathe in deeply, pushing into your lungs the air and the first early spring scent, letting the wind play with your hair and your clothes while your hand never lets go of his.

And then you both start laughing. Never looking back, and terribly looking forward, watching your steps as you run down the emergency stairs. You laugh, and you’re happy and you can’t believe your fingers are still intertwined with the ones of your mortal enemy.

When you reach the ground floor, hidden in the back of the palace where the sun doesn’t shine, there are still some tears spilling out of your eyes. You two pant, trying to catch your breath, and look at each other before you have to look away or else you will start laughing again.

You can’t believe you followed him blindly.

Your hands are still intertwined.

With each passing day, Haechan is convinced he has a perfect plan. It’s all part of the original plan, but if he gets you to try out romantic things, not only will he distract you from your perfect grades but he will also make you come up with a song that will give him a perfect score.

There are some small details that Haechan didn’t even consider. Detail number 1: where this could lead you two and your relationship. Detail number 2: that while distracting you, he will inevitably distract himself. But he doesn’t get it until it’s too late.

Haechan can’t remember when you started to dress up so much every time you hang out. You always dress well, or maybe he is biased for thinking that even the most basic white turtleneck shirt and cargo pants when you are too done with life to put up your skirts, dresses, or cutely styled other types of outfits, look amazing on you. Yet, during these last few dates, you started doing more, playing more with your hairstyles, trying different make-up, and always looking perfect in whatever clothes you put on your body.

Haechan hates you. Now more than ever because this was supposed to be your silly little race to the top of your second academic year and yet here he is, feeling his heart pound in his throat as you walk toward him. With your hair in a slicked-back ponytail, a freaking heart-shaped side part, your short red dress, while the white cardigan covers your arms and shields you from the light breeze, and your red short heels tap on the asphalt and bring his attention to the white socks that reach you right below your knees, while your hand clench around a heart-shaped bag.

He hates you because he wants you too badly and he’s terrified this is crossing the lines of bland and stupid physical attraction.

You smile, calling him Hyuck and he’d love to scream because he can’t be so smart and yet so dumb at the same time. But he tries to ignore it, and smiles back at you, addressing you with your surname so he can put some distance between you. You don’t even get mad anymore, it makes you smile tenderly as you lower your face to the ground and tangle your arm with his to walk to the car. Now he hopes that the old sardine can will make you two blow up, not to kill you, but to don’t make you accept a date from him anymore.

But that old car struggles but doesn’t crash, and drives you to the restaurant safely.

“This place is so pretty,” your voice rings in his ears, bringing him out of the thought he’s struggling with since you walked out of your apartment.

“Yeah, it’s musically themed, thought it was a good idea.”

“And the dishes also have song names? That’s the best thing I’ve ever seen,” your face lightens up when you scan the menu and in reflection, he does too.

What the fuck are you doing? He curses when he catches himself lost on you, too focused giggling like a child as you catch the references between the songs and the plates. You look like a cliché embodiment of love, and he thinks you’ve done it on purpose. It’s way past Valentine’s Day, but he feels that Cupid is flying right above you, ready to play him a dirty trick.

“So? You picked?” You ask, bringing him out of his thoughts, and he shakes his head, coughing while glueing his eyes on the menu.

“Nope, I’m a bit uncertain,” he says, pretending he wasn’t just too busy staring at you a few moments ago.

You laugh, humming. “Oh, I know.”

“What did you get?” He asks, meeting your eyes above the paper in his hand.

“I wanted to get the Summer 69’ appetizer first,” you reply and he smirks.

“Are you hinting at something?”

“Oh, shut up, you perv! It just looks tasty, there are different appetizers from different parts of the world and it’s a cold start.”

“Then we can take the big one so we can share?”

“Sure,” you reply, smiling at him. “Oh, and then ‘I wanna dance with somebody’ as the main dish.”

“Do you?” He winks.

“I’m not sending you signals, I’m just starving,” you reply, rolling your eyes, but he hears the low giggle that you try to hold back.

“Fine,” he smiles. “I’ll take ‘Maneater’ in your honour.”

“I’m a maneater? Oh, thanks, the best compliment ever actually,” you say playfully.

He smiles, stopping for a second after he hands you his menu. “You look beautiful tonight, by the way.” And when your mouth parts and no sound come out of it, he thinks he screwed it up. It’s not the first time he compliments you but well, the other times didn’t sound so serious.

But then your face breaks in a smile, and your eyes light up, shily diverting the gaze as you thank him before the waitress saves you both from the embarrassment that’s tangible in the air.

“Karaoke? Are you being extremely nice, borderline perfect, tonight so you can show me the biggest twist ever?” You gasp when the karaoke downtown enters your line of view. You’ve been walking for a while now since he couldn’t find a spot nearby, but he never mentioned where your next stop would be.

“I’m always nice to you when we go out on da— like this,” Haechan replies, opening the door of the place for you to get in first. “Also, since we’ll have to record the song soon, I think it’s time to test our vocal abilities.”

You giggle, waiting for him before you start walking to the desk to book a room.

“Karaoke is for fun, never to show off you’re like Celine Dion.”

Haechan chuckles, nodding in agreement while you reach the booth that the lady at the counter assigned you.

“Right, I’m more like Ailee, actually,” he jokes, closing the door behind you.

“Prove it to me, I always hear your mouth run to talk shit but never to sing melodies, so…”

“Should we go for a duet?” He asks, starting the TV to scroll down the songs listed.

“Nope,” you say, sitting on the couch. “A solo song first.”

“Fine,” he says, humming as the titles pass in front of your vision. “Mhh, what about Dean?”

“Love him, would love him more if he came back from the death and dropped another album of the year,” you say, sitting back to fully enjoy Haechan’s performance.

He chuckles at your comment. “This one was a painful reminder,” he says before clicking on “Instagram,” making the logo of the place appear before the countdown, signalling the beat was about to start.

You never thought you would find yourself so caught up in him but when he opens his mouth, you feel like you’re being taken to another world.

His voice sounds like honey, so raw yet so lovely. And as he keeps singing, you think that he would be wasted as a producer, a voice like his deserves to be heard by everyone. But when he finishes, you don’t show any of the emotions you felt.

“Your performance was very touching,” you say while standing up to grab your mic, “but I’m a performer, so I’ll go with Queen Britney.”

“Can’t wait to see your Superbowl worth it performance,” he snickers, sitting back against the small couch in the room as he watches you getting ready.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you start, winking at him and swinging your hips to follow the rhythm of the music.

Haechan would love to find it as funny as he does at the start, but when you start singing for real, and moving around in the small boot, he gulps, feeling the air around him starting to dim. And it only gets worse when you turn around and start to perform for him. Of course, you know the song by heart, you don’t need to read the words, and you don’t need them to change colour to know when each verse, chorus and bridge starts.

“Oops, I did it again, I played with your heart,” you wink, tilting your head to the side, still moving your body to the beat. He can’t tell, not right at the moment, but he thinks you’re replicating the choreography. That’s the last worry in his mind.

I played with your heart.

And Haechan thinks you really did that. This doesn’t feel like a game anymore, and not even like sex. He looks at you, even right now, that you’re sensually singing a Britney Spears song, and he can only fucking smile like an idiot.

“Wow,” you exhale when the song ends, fanning yourself with your hand, “it’s really hot in here.”

“It definitely is,” he whispers, drifting his gaze from you.

“So? How was I?” You ask, head tilted to the side, and a big, bright smile on your face.

“Good,” Haechan mutters, catching himself staring at you for too long again, shaking his head, the red blush on his face is humiliating. “You were good.”

“Yes,” you cheer, clapping your hands. “Should we duet, now?”

He hums, grabbing the remote again and searching ‘duets’ in the search bar. “Sad, sexy or silly?”

You roll your eyes. “Really?”

“What? I’m trying to understand the vibe we want to go with.”

“I’ll let you pick,” you say just to regret it when you see the song choice on the screen. “Seriously? Anything you can do?”

“What? It’s fitting for how relationship,” he says nonchalantly.

“That’s a crazy choice.”

“Worried you can’t actually do better than me?” He winks, passing you the mic as the song loads on the screen.

“You’ll see,�� you challenge with a glare.

One minute into the song you regret having agreed to that, not remembering the last time you sang like this, but the look on his face when it’s time for you to hold a long note for 15 seconds is worth it. And it keeps going until the end, as you both surprise each other with all the skills that this song requires.

“Wow, you’re good,” you both say when the song ends and you break down laughing, a sound that grows bigger when the screen lights up to show a perfect score.

“Maybe we make a great couple together,” you say, laying back on the couch, tired from the singing.

Haechan turns to you, smirking and nodding. “I guess we do.”

You sit up, resting your chin on his arm. “Can you take another one?”

“Oh, don’t test me, baby.”

“So, ice cream is good for vocal cords?” You giggle as you walk to the side of the Han River with the ice cream in hand. It seemed like Haechan didn’t want to end the night anytime soon, but you don’t feel like complaining.

“Yeah,” he hums with conviction, licking another stripe of chocolate.

“On which book you’ve read this scientific fact?”

“The ice cream ghost came to me one night and whispered the secret to my ear,” he jokes, making you laugh.

“Uhm, yeah, I think that ghosts are much more reliable than old men in white coats in a lab,” you joke, but then you remember something you wanted to talk about since you’ve walked out of the karaoke. “Mhh, you know what I was thinking?”

Haechan shakes his head, waiting for you to talk.

“I think we’re going down the wrong path with our song,” you voice out. “Especially me. A warmer, darker, I dare to say more sensual vibe, fits us better.”

Haechan chuckles and you glare at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he giggles, but he can’t lose against you so he goes on. “That’s the production, you know?”

You huff, rolling your eyes, and jumping on the handrail to sit. “I never said it wasn’t important.”

“Whatever,” he snickers. “So I have to scrap everything I’m working on?”

You shake your head, cleaning your hands after swallowing the last bite of the cone. “No, I was thinking about the second base you were working on, the one with the guitars and violins, remember?”

He hums, but he’s dangerously close to you, and you don’t understand why his hands wrap around your waist.

“I think we could use that and —” you gulp when he places his feet on the handrail under you and reaches your height, “and then I can change small things of my — my writing to fit more. What do you think?”

He smiles before it turns into his usual smirk. “I still think you’re worrying too much and you’re not letting it come to you,” he whispers, and the air of his breaths puffs on your lips before he erases the space between you and kisses you.

You feel your breath taken away as you feel like you’re falling behind in the river as the wind blows harder and your hands immediately leave the handrail to reach for him.

You’re not sure that wasn’t an attempted murder from him, but you can’t care when you feel your heart flutter and your legs give up as he deepens the kiss.

“Let it flow,” he whispers, kissing you again, whispering against your lips, “and the song will come at you.”

You know it’s not what he’s talking about, but you kiss him again, this time pushing him down so your feet are on the ground again. Your hands are holding tight on his sweatshirt as you pull him even closer and he does the same wrapping his arms around your frame tighter.

You find yourself in the same position in the living room of his apartment, struggling to make it to his bedroom without waking some of the others up. Not that you care much, it would be fair payback for all the chaos they make when you and Haechan are studying together.

The clothes fall on the floor as quickly as he’s on top of you on the bed.

“I hate that I have to ruin your pretty face,” he whispers, fingers deep inside your sopping wet cunt, pumping in and out painfully slowly as he stares at your face, a cute mix between ecstasy and annoyance because he’s giving you something but not enough. “The red eyeshadow looks really good on you, you know?”

You groan, rolling your head back. “It’s not time for compliments.”

“I’ve been complimenting you all night,” he says, teasing your clit with flicks of his thumb but without giving you much. “It is a shame you will look like a mess once I’m done with you.”

“We can’t be loud,” you say, hating that, for one reason or another, you two always have to keep quiet.

“Nah, Jeno has his headphones on playing games with Yangyang. Renjun has headphones on with music to don’t listen to Jeno. Mark’s not home and not even bombs wake Jaemin up.” The explanation is particularly non-sexy now that he has his fingers inside of you and it doesn’t make you relax much, but you hum nonetheless and beg him to keep going.

“Patience, honey. We’ve got all night,” he smirks.

“Yeah but —”

“Ah, ah,” he says, clicking his tongue and silencing you with a finger on your lips. “What did I tell you before? Let it flow.”

“It was different it was —ugh,” you mumble when he covers your mouth with his hand, eyes widening before they narrow to send him a deadly glare, but he only smirks. He has control now. He always does when he has you underneath him, he still has to fight with you a bit, but you both know this is the only time he can ever win against you. And tonight is special, he wants you to let go of the reins completely, he wants you brainless, because even if your brain is the sexiest thing of you —yeah, yeah, and the thing that is making his college years hell on earth— your brain is also the thing that makes you obsess over the smallest thing and doesn’t make you follow your heart so freely.

Yeah, tonight Donghyuck wants you free, but for the sake of the dirty talking later —and to fool himself he doesn’t care about you that much— he’s going to say he wants you dumb.

And he’s starting strong tonight, his beautiful, long fingers reaching deep inside you, hitting right against your sweet spot, causing so much cum to pool around them and drip down while your pussy clenches hard and your hips buck up to ride the pleasure with him. And you don’t have it in you to fight; it feels too good, especially when he starts rubbing your clit and whispers dirty talk about how well you’re taking him.

Your eyes flutter open, just in time to catch the proud smirk on his face as he stares at your body, you dare to say, in awe. It shouldn’t warm your heart, but it does. You don’t even care if he sees you like a prize he won, right now, because even if he does, you know he only fights hard to win the trophies he cares about. He wants you, he likes you, even. Between the hate and the tension, something about what attracts you two together makes this work. And it’s fine.

“Hyuck,” you breathe out, chest panting and toes curling as you feel the familiar knot in your stomach. But you don’t expect the next words that come out of your mouth. “Kiss me.” When you realize what you said, you anticipate him mocking you, your ears already hear the snicker you know, oh so well, but it never arrives. What arrives are his lips on yours as he leans down, pressing his chest against yours while his fingers keep working wonder inside you.

The kiss is passionate, but not rough like the ones you’re so used to sharing. There’s no anger in it, just need and greed, and chemistry. So much chemistry, your hands have to run in his hair and tug them, making him moan and his dick throb against your thigh.

“I want you so bad,” he slurs against your lips. “I will do some dumb shit one day for you.”

You don’t get what he means. You don’t even know what he could mean by that given the nature of your bond, but his words, mixed with the sultry tone of his voice, are enough to make you come. You barely register the orgasm, hitting you like a singular explosion of a firework, leaving you gasping, exploding as quickly as it came yet slowly running through your bones as the feeling tones down.

Haechan snickers softly. “You love it when I get in trouble for you, don’t you? Even when it’s just a promise.”

Your lips part to reply but he shuts you with a kiss. “No talking, not unless I tell you to. I know everything I need to know, your body tells me that,” he says, grinning like an idiot when he shows you his cum coated fingers, tapping them against your lips, silently ordering you to taste yourself. You would never do that, but tonight it’s like he’s commanding you like a puppet on a string, and you obey. Closing your lips around him and sucking hard.

He smirks, feeling his dick get even harder as he stares at your lips. “That’s what I do to you, pretty girl. And I’m not even started.”

Your pussy throbs in anticipation while he pulls his fingers out. You know he’s one to keep promise, and you can’t wait for what’s to come. But he’s taking too long, and you can feel his hard dick against your leg, so your hand creeps down to touch it.

“You’re not in command tonight, angel,” he says, grabbing your wrist to stop you from moving your hand on him.

“But I want you,” you whine, trying to win him with a pouty look on your face.

It doesn’t work as he pushes your hand over your head and leans in. “Patience, princess. Keep quiet, don’t be greedy and just trust me. Can you do that? Or is it too hard for you?” He groans against your ear, making your hips buck up.

“I — I can,” you whisper but he stops with a glare and your brain replays his words ‘quiet, no words from you tonight,’ and he means it. So you nod, breathing in deeply as you feel weak in the knees for the way he looks at you.

“Good girl,” he says, pushing up to stand between your legs, pushing them open.

When he slips inside you, you gasp, dragging your nails on his back. “Are you alright?”

You nod, forcing yourself to look into his eyes.

“Good, and now,” he whispers, kissing your lips, and dragging out of you, “I want you to give into me and completely turn your brain off. You have me, that’s all you need right now.”

When he starts moving in and out, your body succumbs to the pleasure. Your muscles relax as you let him take care of you. His lips trace over your sensitive skin, leaving kisses on your neck and chest. His hands run over your body, touching and squeezing every inch. And he reaches so deep inside of you that you feel you can barely breathe.

“Just like this,” Haechan whispers close to your ear, gently biting the skin on your jaw. “Don’t think about anything,” he groans, hitting you deep after pulling out of you completely. “Not a single worry in that pretty brain of yours.”

You rarely let him win, but you have to admit that the way he makes you feel, the way he can lift all the stress off your shoulders, is a talent. He knows what he’s doing, and the scary thing is that he knows how to get you. So easily wrapped around his fingers, crumbling into nothing at his tiniest touch.

You whimper loudly when his fingers press against your clit, seeing stars at the new stimulation.

“You can take it,” he groans. You’re about to talk but he traps your lips in a messy, wet kiss as he pulls you closer by your waist, hitting even deeper. “You’re a good girl, right? You can take it.”

You’re doubtful, but you do take it, over and over again. You lose track of time and stop counting your orgasms after the third. There’s no need for that. All you need is the pleasure Donghyuck gives you, fucking you until both of you can’t do it anymore.

There’s nothing left once it’s over, no strength to talk or clean up the mess, just the warmth of your bodies cuddled against each other.

“Good morning, I will kill Lee Je — what the hell,” Renjun exclaims, entering the kitchen, making you turn around as if you’ve been caught stealing, holding the mug full of coffee in your hands and giving him a shy smile. “What are you doing here?”

You gulp, pushing your hair out of your face before coming up with a lie. “We studied too late.”

Renjun steps further into the room, staring at you with a raised brow before he tilts his head and studies how you’re dressed. You’re wearing Donghyuck’s sweater and pants.

“Oh, now they call it studying? Last time I checked you’re not med students, didn’t know music had anatomy in the program,” he taunts, grinning at you as he comes to your side.

You choke on your saliva and don’t have time to come up with a reply because he strikes again.

“Oh, no, maybe you were exercising vocalization, it’s better when it’s done together, right?” He winks and you glare at him.

“It’s not what you think,” you lie, but honestly you feel so embarrassed about everything. You didn’t think anybody else would be up this early on a Sunday, but it’s clear you don’t know Renjun well. You could’ve left, but you didn’t want to. It was slowly starting to sink in that you didn’t like the solitude of your life anymore.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anybody,” he says, sitting in front of you. “Come here, don’t stay up.”

You do as told, and smile when he offers you a pack of biscuits. “I would’ve cooked something usually, but Jeno kept me up all night.”

You chuckle. “It’s fine, normally I don’t even have breakfast.”

“You don’t?” He gasps, and you nod.

“Yeah, just coffee.”

He looks down at you, shaking his head in disappointment. “It’s not healthy.”

“I know, I know, I’ll try to eat more, okay? For you.” You reach out your hand and he takes it.

A fit of cough brings both of your gazes to the door and you see Haechan stand against the frame. “Once it’s Jeno, another time it’s Renjun. I bring you home to study and you flirt with my friends.”

“Drop the bullshit, Hyuck. He knows,” you say, rolling your eyes.

Haechan’s eyes widen, but he slowly fakes indifference. “Knows what? That you don’t have time for a relationship so you can’t date him?”

“That you two fuck,” Renjun answers instead, making him cough.

“That’s not true,” he defends. “I hate her,” he says, laughing, but when he meets your eyes and sees them sadden, he feels pain in his heart. “No, no, I don’t hate her, but we’re… you know our relationship, why would we fuck?”

“Who’s fucking?”

“Not you, Jeno. Not you for sure,” Renjun says, rolling his eyes.

“Hey! Why do you always gotta be so rude,” Jeno whines.

“I doubt he’s not getting laid,” you chuckle, and Jeno winks playfully.

“See, words of a wise woman,” he brags, walking to the fridge to grab something.

Renjun sighs loudly. “A woman that doesn’t know you.”

“Would you fuck him?” Haechan asks out of nowhere and you glare at him.

“I just said that he’s hot and smart, I don’t see how he can have a hard time finding somebody,”

“’Cause he’s annoying,” Renjun answers, but Haechan’s not listening.

“I didn’t ask that,” Donghyuck says instead, his attention is all on you as if there’s nobody else in the room.

“I don’t answer stupid questions,” you reply before sipping from your cup and drifting your gaze away.

“Wait, why are you here?” Jeno asks, only now realizing you’re not supposed to be at their place, not in the morning at least… wait… “Wait! Are you two fuck—”

“No,” Haechan answers sternly, glaring at him. “We’re studying. And it got late, so since we were closer to my place, I let her stay the night.”

“I thought you left yesterday saying you had a date, though,” Jeno says confused.

You chuckle under your breath before you feel Haechan’s hand wrap around your writs to pull you out of the room, not even giving you time to finish your coffee. “A studying date, and now drop it.”

When you reach his room, he groans loudly, walking to the closet to pick something to wear. You watch him move for a while, but then you can’t keep your thoughts inside your head anymore.

“Are you ashamed of me?” You ask and he turns around with wide eyes.

“What?”

“Am I something to be ashamed of? Do I don’t fit in the standard of the people you would usually fuck?”

He sighs, shaking his head. “No, I don’t want them to get invasive, they don’t let me live once they know something. And with you, it’s more embarrassing because of our history…”

You giggle, trying not to show the relief you’re feeling because, for a moment, you thought he was one of those types of men.

“Why can’t you ever make things easy for me?” He asks, annoyance in his voice. You have so much power over him, more than he likes to admit, and he feels like he can’t even be too mad at you about it.

“Sorry, it’s just, it’s funny having a history with you,” you explain. “My mortal enemy, always ready to steal my number ones, and my good grades.”

“You’re so annoying, you’re never sleeping over ever again.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I won’t let you fuck me ever again.”

“Liar,” he says. “And now move, I’ll drop you home.”

you can find part two on my account on the story masterlist or haechan’s masterlist (i can’t link it because if i do the post won’t appear in the tags)

general taglist: @froggyforhyuck, @wingsss45, @tddyhyck, @technologyculturedneo

fic taglist: @hcluvie, @gusgus0517, @multifandomania, @413cl, @odgsuji,

@hey-hey-heybitch, @nctrawberries, @n0hyuck, @haechoshi,

@girlwholoveslpreppyattire, @viciousdarlings, @hyuckmoon,

@jaeymark, @hqech, @xntlax, @milkyway-vxm, @fullsunahceah,

@beomgyusonlywife, @toroufriteh, @yesohhsehun @shxnz

@haecastor, @hyucksaint, @sk8ermark, @midnightrained

@maiteeeeesstuff, @smwhrinthehaze, @yoursyuno

#nct fanfiction #haechan smut #lee haechan smut #donghyuck smut #lee donghyuck smut #haechan fluff #lee haechan fluff #donghyuck fluff #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #haechan scenarios

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chiwhorei · 1 year

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Bésame

Miguel O’Hara x reader

Tags: 18+ ONLY mdni, College AU, roommates to lovers, tooth-rotting love for this man, pussy-devouring, fingering, squirting, I wrote this in one go so you get what ya get

Word count: 2.3k- written in one, prolonged blackout

Notes: I’m fucking back bitches. I missed you, I missed this. I hope I stick around this time. This was supposed to be a blurb about squirting but the melancholy romantic won again.

Cross-posted to Ao3!

There’s something about the smell of crisp summer morning, the feeling of gentle air, humidity whispering across your face. The inescapable heat of late July is hidden from the world in its earliest hours.

“Keep up Mamí, I’m not getting stuck in the rain because you’re daydreaming.”

You pick up the pace, jogging in quick steps to catch up to Miguel. He’s farther ahead than you realized, strong muscles and wispy brown hair outlined by dark storm clouds.

Your breath is heavy, rattling against your ribs while you match the canter of Miguel’s long stride. He’s never gone easy on you, but your labored breathing makes him ease up a bit.

“What’s got your attention this morning? Or were you admiring the view behind me?” Miguel reaches up to adjust the cloth headband keeping his hair out of his face. His arms look like they’re chiseled from marble, strong, tanned skin flexes under the cutoff he wears in some iteration every morning.

Your eyes glaze over, not realizing the intensity of your gawking until Miguel’s eyes find yours. The color is deeper than usual, darker and melting into the black of his pupil. You write it off as the gloomy weather above, but he licks his bottom lip before relinquishing your stare.

You forgot what he asked you, but he doesn’t press the subject any further. Out of character, but appreciated.

“What time is your last class over tonight?” He asks, you fix your eyes on a stop sign ahead to avoid getting lost in his stare again. You see him from the corner of your eye, the angle making it seem that his gaze is focused on the bounce of your chest.

It’s just the angle, you sound even less convincing in your own head.

“Uh- well it’s Monday, so I have lab until 4:30.” You groan out the last part, ruminating on the long day ahead of you.

“My evening class got canceled for today, so I can take care of dinner tonight.”

You hum at him, his offer settles against your shoulders like honey. Something to look forward to at the end of a long day.

Sometimes he almost feels real.

He folded you into his life like melted chocolate. An easy, peaceful affection towards you since you moved in all those months ago. An offer to join his morning runs, filling a thermos of coffee for you to grab before leaving the apartment, coming home to dinner with that casual dismissal that makes your head spin.

“It’s no problem, mamí, that’s what roommates are for.” He’s always been so plain and earnest, smoothing over any objections with a sugary term of endearment and those big brown eyes.

Your heart aches so deeply when you forget that he’s just your roommate. Stabbing and twisting in your breastbone when you think about how much effort he must put in with dates.

You stop abruptly, feet cemented to the sidewalk and chest heaving rapidly. Miguel slows to a stop when he notices you missing from his side.

“Hey, don’t tell me you’re quitting, we’re two blocks from the apartment.” His voice is light, but his eyes fall from amusement to concern when he sees how hard your breath falls from your lungs.

“Whoa, what’s wrong, are you feeling okay?” He paces towards you and another deep inhale fills your senses with his musky scent instead of the rainy morning air you desperately need.

“I- I’m fine,” you struggle against the words, lifting your gaze to see Miguel’s sweat-slicked curls flop against his forehead.

You blame the early hour, or light-headedness, or a moment of delirium as your hand comes up to tuck the stray hair back under his headband.

“You’re so beautiful, Miguel.”

Your words tumble out, breaching the filter in the back of your mouth that keeps you from saying stupid shit to the man you’re stuck in a lease with.

Miguel’s breath hitches, concern falling away and filling its place with an unreadable expression. His eyes pace between your pupils, freezing the blood flowing under your skin. Why does his proximity make you act like a love-sick puppy? The frustration wells up, lining your tear ducts.

“That- I- I’m sorry.” You return his look with an awkward laugh, coughing around the lump in your throat.

Your body moves on autopilot, sidestepping his frame to make a run for it, but Miguel circles your wrist with a large palm. His skin is callused and warm as he pulls you to stand in front of him once again.

He holds you in his stare, burning eyes and the light grip of your wrist is more than enough to keep you in place.

There’s nothing more you can do but stutter around your tattered pride. Racking against your brain to find an excuse for your weird behavior. A possession? A moment of psychosis? You’ll call a priest later, but you first need to get away from Miguel and the sweet smell of cologne and sweat so you can think clearly again.

“Mi hermosa,” your balance is kicked out from under you as he holds both wrists against his chest.

Miguel’s lips dip down to you, you can almost taste his cherry chapstick as he traces his words above your mouth. You feel the first drops of rain as they hit Miguel’s cheek and bounce off your nose. Before you can taste that distinct cherry flavor, the angry crack of thunder pulls your bones from your skin.

“We need to get home,” you see a flash of lightning as it reflects in Miguel’s eyes, it splits the clouds and opens up a swollen reservoir- rain pounding down on the two of you, “we’re getting soaked Mig-“

“Say the word, Mamí,” He interrupts you, barely fazed by the storm that was ripped from your soul and clawed itself into the sky, “Tell me to fuck off and I’ll never try this again.”

Miguel drops his grip on your wrists, moving those eclipsing palms to the juncture of your neck. His lips beg for your touch once again and for the millionth time.

“Bésame.” Your accent is rigid and unpracticed, remedial at best but music to Miguel’s ears. His mouth meets yours in a wide smile, fingers finding purchase on either side of your neck.

His kiss is dripping and desperate, if you’re not careful you could drown right here and sink into the concrete.

All of the times you’ve imagined this moment are nothing compared to the real thing. He’s aggressive and hungry, licking into your mouth and vibrating your tongue with a growl.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Miguel bites at your lip before pulling away, his face is obscured in the pouring rain, “you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

How wrong he is, you think.

Miguel pulled you through the threshold of your shared apartment as soon as the door was unlocked, the only sense he has left is depleted- used up from keeping his composure while you fumble with your keys. His strong, broad arms circling around your waist to tug you ever closer, keeping your mouth open and whining against his.

Your feet lift from the carpet as Miguel lifts you up with the same effort as a paperweight. The feeling of his hands settling on your ass is the last pull against your unwinding composure. You’re legs wrap around his middle and you grind down hard against his abdomen.

“Fuck, I can feel your pussy through your leggings.” His words make you dizzy, grinding against him with a brainless rhythm.

“We don’t have to,” his lips trace down your neck between each word, “we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

The sincerity in his eyes hits you squarely in the chest and moving across your skin like fever.

“Miggy, I need you. Please, anything you give me- I’ll take it.”

Your even tone shocks the both of you, the most confident you’ve sounded all morning.

“Fuck, I almost want to make you regret those words.” His teeth graze the tender spot under your chin.

“But the first thing I want is a taste of that sweet little cunt.” You’re sure your knees would buckle if Miguel wasn’t holding you, the rough tambor of his voice will be the death of you- you’ll take your chances.

Miguel carries you past the small kitchen and living area, you don’t notice where he’s sat you until he pulls his lips away from yours.

His room smells like fresh laundry and pine, the bedspread he’s set you on is tucked neatly on either side and soft under your touch. You’ve sat in this exact spot plenty of times, to study into the late night, to watch reruns of your favorite show on lazy Sunday afternoons- but never like this.

Miguel pushes you lightly so your back hits the mattress, he spreads your legs apart at the knee and you feel the tight fabric of your leggings as it shifts against your pussy.

Your running set is tight against your skin, sweat and rain covering your trembling body so that every inch is sticky and damp.

Miguel’s pointer and middle finger rub against your pussy, memorizing the outline of your plush lips under thin nylon. He’ll tuck the image into the back of his mind in case he needs it later.

“Mmm, no panties this morning,” he muses, pressing his thumb against your clit.

Miguel pulls at the fabric on your pussy, letting it snap back against your skin, you can feel the tight material drenched from your aching pussy. You want to tell him that you can hardly take this teasing, but all that comes out is a wobbly string of please, please, please.

“Don’t worry, Mamí, I’m gonna take care of you.” Your thoughts don’t catch up to him until the chill of open air hits your bare cunt. Your soaked leggings are tossed to the corner of his almost clinically clean room.

Miguel takes a moment to marvel at the sopping wet pussy he’s got trapped against his mattress.

“Que maravilla,” he kisses his words flatly against your puffy lips before coaxing them open with his nose. His face is covered in you already, glistening across his lips and chin. But it’s not enough, it won’t be enough until you drown him.

His tongue laps at you like you’re what’s keeping him alive. He kisses with his mouth open, collecting your offering to him and drinking it down with every flat lashing of his tongue.

You taste tangy and sweet, a heady mix of sweat and pheromones that pulls him in ever closer. Desperate to drink his fill of you. Every long swipe at your sloppy hole is dotted with a kiss, every inch of skin is electric- zapping against your clit with every measured nip.

Miguel’s fingers find their way to rest against your pussy, pushing in gently when he’s satisfied with how well his tongue worked you open.

Once the digits are wettened, Miguel pushes two in to the first knuckle. He groans at the feeling of how welcoming your pussy is, how responsive you are to his touch.

He licks his praises against your soft skin as your muscles relax around the thick intrusion. His vision fuzzy at the edges thinking about how you’ll take his cock. The thought is pushed back for now, lingering on it could break you when he’s just gotten started.

Your hips rock down against him, catching your clit with his wide palm.

Your whimpering emboldens him, cock weeping in the waistband of his shorts. He’s harder than he’s ever been, the frustrating ache in his balls is poured right into the quickening pace of his fingers. He needs you to break- crumble into pieces so he can put them back together.

“Miguel, fuck, I need- you need to slow down or I’m gonna“

Your pleas fall on deaf ears, Miguel is hypnotized at the sight of your pussy spilling over against him. He doesn’t relent even as you cry out and shake under him. He doesn’t miss a beat as your pussy squelches, clear liquid splashing against his chest.

“Oh fuck, you didn’t mention you’re a squirter.” His pace is torturous, pumping against that spot deep inside you that turns you into a puddle.

Once his other hand comes down to circle your clit, you know that you’re done for. The fear of letting loose like this is something that holds your rigid body from completely letting go. No one’s ever pulled you from that damn before, but Miguel has torn it down completely.

“Let go for me, Mamí, need to feel you cum against my fingers, need to see you squirt for me again.” The words drip from his mouth like hot syrup and coat your stiff muscles.

He pulls more out of you with each pump of those skilled fingers, more than you ever thought you had in you, more than you could imagine.

You cry as you cum, tears spilling over your cheeks in fat streams. The feelings you’ve kept inside for Miguel, the schoolgirl crush, the craving, the primal need all splashes against the both of you with the telltale spasm of your cunt against his fingers.

Your mind feels like it’s been dipped in wax, dripping from it’s fixed position to coat your shoulders. He makes quick work of tugging you back down to earth, lying next to your limp body with an anchoring hand on your stomach. He coos you, whispering praise into your hairline.

The sun peeks through Miguel’s window, clouds moving on to the next town and leaving the still early morning to brighten up the sky. Your face feels hot in realization.

You’ve got a long day ahead of you.

* * *

All work is mine blah blah I don’t wanna go find my old copyright thing but I’ll piss in your water supply if you steal this.

#miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara #atsv x reader #miguel spiderverse

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six-eyed-samurai · 6 months

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AGAIN AND AGAIN - A REINCARNATION AU

A/N: Help, what have I done? Sorry if this doesn't fit the characters, I was writing it sleep deprived and as neutral as possible. Support me and my poetry (that I came up with in the shower)

Heavens blessed me with you

The Knight, who when your parents announced you would marry you off to some elderly Lord, kept true to his word and took you away, escaping into the clashing colors of freedom and love in another kingdom far, far away, only for your world to darken into black and white once more when your enraged parents caught up and had him executed; it was now your turn to keep your side of the oath and join him in the afterlife when you drank the poisoned chalice.

In every rebirth

The Roman General who passed by you, lashing out any "potential buyer" when he walked disgusted through the slave market - he bought you freedom and yet somehow you stayed with him forever willingly cuffed by shackles of affection...until he died of an assassination and you were hung for having an "affair" with someone of higher class, but not before you both screamed to whatever god that would listen to come back to each other once more.

I promise I'll find you

The Baker who's never cared a penny about the other air headed girls from his small British village until you, a young noble lady recently moved into the old Baskerville Manor, turned up requesting his help in setting a banquet. Excuses after excuses pile up from both sides in an attempt to extend your brief time together but soon, oh, too soon, you leave as per your family's orders and he's left to wonder how you're doing now, because after years and years of searching they refused to let him in.

Through tears, death, dreams and mirth

The White American who finds you working day in day out at the laundry lady's for little to no pay, so from his not so small tips grew to slipping love letters through the pockets of his clothes, but soon you're fired and bade to leave for your skin colour and he's still bitterly cursing the townspeople for their blind racism.

And I know it's just a gamble

The Hockey player who grins at you who always shows up to his games in every match until he asks you out on an ice skating date, but alas, how could he have known that the day you finally showed up in his jersey, much to his delight, would be the day a crazed fan clubbed you on the head with his own hockey stick, much to your doom? He left the industry as cold as the rink.

Unfair, repeated roll of dice

The F1 Racer who whines about the most ridiculous problems happening to his car and making bad impressions of the other drivers just to see his beloved mechanic even crack a smile - no oil or dirt stained on you could ever dim that brilliant smile when you both went on a joyride together into the sunset...oh, wait, his death on the track did.

But in this temporary, fleeting

The Roommate who knows exactly what you want for breakfast every morning, and soon it spiraled into having a meal together for lunch and dinner too, especially when he added candles and rose petals! You still make your coffee the same way he did even after your studies took you abroad and both of you decided it was for the best to break up.

Moment in fast ending time

The Landlord who did NOT expect such a cute little you to move on when he decided to make a little cash on the side renting out his spare room...never mind, it's still on rent because now you've moved into his room. He managed to save your photo album from the charred remains of your house though...although he couldn't save you.

Tell me, oh tell me

The Drug dealer who just recently entered your big brother's gang, who protected you with his scrawny body every time any sexually frustrated asshole came to harass you. Your declarations of love didn't come in heartfelt words or gifts but a smoked joint with each other. You both didn't get delusional, because why should you when your fantasies were right in front? It was the same when you overdosed after someone ratted him out and sent him to a life sentence in prison.

Darling love of mine

The Mafioso who charms you with his suave words and cool under fire attitude, causing you to giggle and kick your feet whenever he came back to your door with flirtations and blood on his face from those who disrespected the mob boss's goddaughter. It was the classic romantic Italian dinner when he got down one one knee...except for the part when his rivals arrived to gun him down and you're left staring at his broken body and shattered ring.

You're just as lost

The Neighbour who had no idea the babysitter for the kids next door would be so goddamned FINE - if only he hadn't fumbled and stumbled over his words in the elevator! But that's alright, even little Ray and Katie are rooting for him and you! Your first date might not be fancy, but he was more starstruck in awe of you than he was of the night sky as you sat on top of the roof.

In paradise

"I feel like I've know you all my life."

"In every lifetime?"

"Maybe!"

And somewhere deep inside, you both knew it for certain: the endless cycles of pain were finally broken.

"I'm so glad of whatever karma that I did in my previous life got me to meet you!"

"You better continue it in this life so I can see you in the next one!"

Not karma, actually, but a series of broken promises finally repaired.

***

Sukuna, Giyuu, Kokushibo, Gojo, Takemitchy, Mikey, Ranpo, Nikolai, Kirishima, Hawks, Kakashi, Nishinoya, Kuroo, Toji, Kazutora, Nanami, Eren Yeager, Gyutaro, Kunikida, Zuko, Yuta, Inumaki, Levi, your favourites!

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tenshinokorin · 1 year

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TnK's Trigun Fic Listing

Ok now that I've got 15 fics out for Trigun (so far) and at least a couple of those are upwards of 20K and some of them are sequels and followups and ongoing, I thought maybe I should do a proper list of things, to make it easier for people who want to read in some kind of order. I'm terrible about talking up my own work but this is also for my own reference so that's fine, right? ^^; All fics are Vashwood-centric (I will get to Nai in a minute I have a backlog) and ratings vary from Gen to Explicit, though all are intended for an adult audience. This list is complete as of September '23, I will update it periodically as needed!

NB: I'm lucky enough to have gotten fanart for some of these and sometime when my head is not full of mud I'll go in and add links to those where I can. (Or please drop a link in the replies if you are one of the wonderful artists in question!)

THE BIG THREE STORYLINES:

Someday Out of the Blue & I Believe in the Kingdom Come

Trigun '98 canon. Reincarnation fic. The first one is a story I started writing over 20 years ago and quit after a chapter because I was just too heartbroken (and did not know it, but was also too young). Picked it up and finished it this April (2023) after Stampede clobbered me and I fell off the "we don't talk about wolfwood" wagon. The second story is a direct sequel to tie up some loose ends from the first one, and also to indulge my need for a proper happy ending. (I think a lot of folks don't realize Someday has a sequel but it does!!)

Black is the Color and Mysterious Ways

Trimax Canon. Resurrection/Fix-it/Angstmance with a much shorter, sillier, smuttier epilogue. Three years after the end of Trigun Maximum, Vash is having some trouble laying his ghosts to rest. (You may have seen this incredible artwork which has gotten around a bit and boosts the story better than any summary of mine possibly could.) Weird things happened when I was writing this, I don't mind telling you. Mysterious Ways was mostly an excuse to explore some of the more interesting concepts brought up by the first one, but saying anything more would be spoilery.

Eyes of the Storm

(Mostly) Trimax canon. Cryptid Vash AU, slowburn romance, ongoing. When Nicholas D. Wolfwood gets roped into being the new caretaker for the now-abandoned orphanage where he spent his childhood, he soon finds out that his own hidden memories are not the only thing haunting him. (What the fuck is a Typhoon?) Wolfwood, Vash, Livio, Elendira, et al. This is the one currently in progress at six chapters out of ??. Pretty SFW so far BUT NOT FOR MUCH LONGER CAVEAT LECTOR.

List continues with standalone and shorter fics below the cut!

Honeymoon

Generic Trimax/98 setting. Plant Heat, Wingfic, Tentacle Fic, What the fuck is Hay Fever. Wolfwood offers to help Vash out with a personal problem and gets a little more than he bargained for.

Strange Powers

Generic Trimax/98 setting, comedy/smut/potato jokes/fisting with a loaded prosthetic. What if Vash and Wolfwood (accidentally) got really, really hella high?

Hurricane

Trigun '98 Canon.

Vash: Make money? As a priest?

WW: Well. *mysteriously* Not only that.

Vash: (oh my gosh he's a prostitute)

Shortfic. Wolfwood tries to figure out how to offer his services to someone he doesn't really want to be a paying customer. Short and smutty while also demolishing Wolfwood's professional boundaries.

Skin Tight

Generic Trimax/98 setting. The Infamous Red Dress. PWP, Wolfwood needs to be in the Vash Sensory Deprivation Tank, Vash in high heels, the dress gave its life for this fic you should read it and honor its sacrifice. Look. This is just porn, guys. You want the porny fic? This is the porny fic. (just kidding most of them are porny fics but this one is especially so.)

Secondhand Secrets

Generic Trimax/98 setting. Introspective/Vignette/Wolfwood POV. Vash's artificial arm always moves in his sleep, and Wolfwood wonders what he's looking for.

Personal Jesus

Badlands Rumble canon (post-film), Wolfwood has poor emotional coping strategies, hurt/comfort (Wolfwood provides both), first-time. That red hotel minifridge never stood a chance.

A Fool From Any Direction

Trigun '98 Vash's weird horny schtick is a front, and self-respect doesn't save lives. Which is too bad because when Wolfwood finds out what Vash is planning next he's gonna kill him.

Benediction

Trimax but could also be '98; Sometimes being a hero is not all it's cracked up to be. Or maybe Vash is the one cracking up. Hurt/Comfort, Wound Care & Bible Quotes, Noman's Land is a bitch of a planet. Shortfic, feels, non-explicit/no sex.

A Bit of a Tight Spot

Generic Trimax/98 setting. Costume Porn, PWP, No corsets were harmed in the making of this fic. I feel like this one gets missed a lot which is MADDENING because you guys. WOLFWOOD'S DOUBLE Ds IN A CORSET. And like, in a gender euphoria way, not in a comedy drag kind of way (though comedy drag does make a small appearance). I don't know how the good minister tightlaced in cuban stockings while giving Vash a blowjob in front of a mirror in the attic of a whorehouse can get so often overlooked, maybe my title or summary is lacking, but it's one of the hottest things I've ever written and its engagement is just in the basement? When (emphatic baffled hand motions to Nicholas D. Wolfwood wearing a garter like a thigh-holster). Anyway.

The Quick and the Bed

Trigun '98 Comedy, Romance, First Time. The single bed trope. Drunk Idiocy. Wolfwood's vows are in serious danger. (Wolfwood does not have vows.) Readers have let me know that they find this one amusing. Roommates of readers have sent me threats of bodily harm due to badly-stifled hysterical laughter at 3am.

THAT'S ALL FOR NOW MORE STORIES WILL BE ADDED AS THEY OCCUR!

SMALL DISCLAIMER: I'm a full-time working writer and my fanfic is something I give away for free out of love. Please don't copy, alter, plagiarize, feed to AI in any form, fold, spindle, or mutilate. I'm not in the market for concrit, but if you like my stories please feel free to leave me a comment/kudo, download/print/fanbind for personal use, or let other readers know!

#trigun #vashwood #trigun fanfic #tnk fic #trigun '98 #trigun maximum #trigun stampede

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hanniiesuckle17 · 4 months

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Chapt. 03

A/n: I’m so sorry guys that this series has been all over the emplacements with posting times. But my life is slowly coming back together and I’m enjoying writing more and trying to get back to it so!! I also apologize for any misspellings or grammar mistakes I didn’t have time to edit this! Here we gooooo!!! Tag List is Open <3

Tag List: @ashisparanoid @mini-meanhoe @leggomylino @doolsetnet @desertofdessert-blog @hoes4hoseok @mrsunshine999 @jisungsjheekies @hannie-squirrel00 @cotccotc @yangs-jeongin @binniebutter @orangegyu @little-precious-baby @raethethey @sofie296 @bluejayboys @bunnyjaycheoluwu @mingiholic @doom-fics @justhere4kpop @honeyhotteoks @star-hrts

C. L. Tag List: @realrintaro

Pairing: Jisung x Reader x Seungmin

Genre: SMAU, Series, College AU,Love Triangle, Comedy, Fluff, Drama, Smut, Best Friend AU, Slice of Life AU, YouTuber AU

Schedule: Not Scheduled ATM

Warnings: Cursing, Partying, Substance Consumption Including Alcohol and Cannabis, SMUT (Choking, praise, teasing, dirty talk, safe sex, blowjob)

Synopsis: Timing is everything. Sometimes it’s the right person and the wrong time and sometimes it’s the right time but nothing is going your way. Life revolves around this college friend group as everyone is intertwined in fate. Time will only reveal the ending.

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : 03. a little more atmosphere

Y/n’s Pov

No matter how many times you had been to the frat sectors of your campus you could never get over how normal the houses looked. Other than the size of the houses it looked more like a regular neighborhood. White, gray, and blue houses lined the streets with inviting lights along the sidewalks. Further down you could see a good sized group of people lounging and gathering in the front yard of a house.

There was a cool wet breeze in the air. The kind that felt gentle on your skin. Your little group made its way down the street. The three of you: Nadia, yourself, and Felix, had taken a shuttle to this side of campus with the knowledge that none of us would be able to drive home. To be honest Hyunjin, who was already at the party, may have already pressed the company to do a pre game round before coming that left a fluttery nice cloud over your thoughts.

There was no doubt where Sigma Chi’s pledge event was happening. The music could be heard two doors down. It was highly likely it would cause no issue considering that the neighbors were also probably attending the party.

As you entered the house you were swallowed by rhythmic music, bodies, and colorful dancing lights bouncing around the room. This was definitely not your first frat party not that you would tell your parents. Your eyes surveyed the scene and easily found Jisung slightly elevated with his mix set up. There were a few guys chilling with him behind his set up, clearly enjoying the party.

It sometimes slipped your mind that your best friend was almost a local celebrity. Then again it also rarely crossed your mind that someone might think the same about you. It still felt weird that Jisung was always asked to DJ the parties on campus because of his radio show’s popularity.

His eyes met yours and quickly were overtaken with a smile- a bright grin that reached every part of his face. He waved before holding his hand up as if asking you to stay still. Felix and Hyunjin were still trying to get the group situated so you saw no problem and waited. Jisung dipped his head and adjusted some of his equipment.

It was as if his vision tunneled and channeled on you as he watched you expression change. The almost instantaneous joy on your face never failed to make him feel proud of himself as he switched to your favorite anthem. It was something he did only for you and no one else.

Your body jumped up and down to the beat- hands in the hair. Jisung started jumping along with you and the small crowd in the house immediately started getting hyped like it was foreign club.

Someone tapped your shoulder. You turned finding Seungmin’s friendly face. His hair was a little messy from the party atmosphere put everything else about him was clearly meant to flatter. The black button down he wore lay perfectly on him accenting his frame.

His hand smoothly slid from your shoulder to your hand. Gently he lifted it and encouraged you to twirl to the music for him. It was hard not to admit the action made you feel a little warmth on your cheeks. It was either that or the shots were kicking in.

As you finished your turn he pulled you into his chest and leaned down so you could hear him over the music. “You look really good, Y/n.” His long fingers hesitantly adjusted your top layer of clothing.

Seungmin greeted the rest of the group and you all headed out back onto the patio. As you stepped outside your shoulder brushed a giggling blonde haired boy. “Oh sorry-“ you said turning back to look at him. The boy had a half finished blunt in his mouth, lazy smile on his face. He had a funny pair of sunglasses falling low on his nose and his attention trained on the girl who was holding his hand behind him. The boy’s other hand was holding an entire bottle of jack.

Seungmin laughed and put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Woah there bro,” He looked between you and apparently his fraternity mate. “Jeongin this is, Y/n.”

His eyes widened and a massive smirk grew on his face. His fingers adjusted the bottle of alcohol so he had two free fingers to reach and pull the joint from his lips. “Oh yeah- dude, she’s Jisung’s friend right?” Seungmin looked a little annoyed that’s how you were being introduced as. “Hey, boo. Yo- you ever want something hit me up I’ll give you the Jisung’s friend discount.”

The boy didn’t even wait for your hesitant smile response and he turned away dragging away the girl in tow behind him. “So-that our newest recruit, Jeongin.”

“What a colorful gentleman,” you mused with a laugh as Nadia handed you a drink.

The evening rolled on in a happy blur. The music was good and always the perfect vibe, though you would expect nothing less from your best friend. You enjoyed the time with your friends, everyone drinking and having fun. Occasionally a game would come up to play but eventually everyone would fall back to your lounge spot and just talk for hours.

You were lounged on a patio couch outside, Seungmin’s leg resting over yours as he took up the rest of the couch. A nice rosy glow painted his cheeks. Felix couldn’t keep a giggle from bursting out which made you burst out laughing for a reason you could not even remember.

Feeling the need for another drink you tapped on your friend’s leg, which he immediately lifted. You stretched and offered refills before heading into the house towards the kitchen.

The party had taken a turn as the hours had grown late. Instead of the thundering base the house was now filled with a sound that made you feel suspended in pleasure. The colorful lights flowed in tune with the music and the rooms were collecting clouds of smoke hanging in the air like chandeliers.

Making your way past several people in the kitchen you found the island counter which was covered completely in bottles of liquor and mixers, coolers, and ice. A plethora of bad choices. How lovely!

Your hand instinctively went for the rum and you began pouring a drink to your liking. The air shifted and you felt a familiar presence enter behind you. An echo of laughter followed him in the room. His eyes immediately met yours before grabbing a random cup from the counter and drinking from it.

“Are you enjoying the party?” He leaned on the counter next to you, head tilted with his little impish grin.

You rolled your eyes with slight smile that did not go unnoticed by Jisung. “I just wish it had a little more atmosphere, you know.” Hearing the sarcasm drip from your lips had the boy pushing himself off the counter and puffing his chest and stepping up close to her.

“Oh yeah- you wanna fight bro-“ He stopped when he heard you collapse in a fit of giggles and his arms instantly came to rest on your elbows making sure you hadn’t lost your balance. “Nah that’s not me, honey. I’d atmosphere the shit outta this place.” Jisung filled the rest of your cup, knowing just how you like your drinks. “Changbin’s giving me a break.”

You nodded, sipping on the bubbly concoction. “Makes sense,” you replied, leaning against the counter shoulder to shoulder. “No wonder everyone is basically fucking.” The two of you looked around and laughed before tapping cups and taking a giggly shot.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a moment before Jisung turned and nudged your shoulder. “Hey- you wanna get some air?”

“I’ve got some in my lungs already but I could always use some more.”

“Ass.” Jisung said with a laugh, his hand resting on your lower back as he guided you to the front of the house.

Twinkling stars and fluffy clouds emerged as you exited the frat party and followed the sidewalk in the front yard. There was a step in the path and Jisung comfortably plopped himself down there as if it was the comfiest seat on the block. The ground a was a little wet as it had just begun to rain- more like a mist, gently kissing your warm cheeks.

Cans and party favors littered the grass around us. The air smelled fresh and new, something you always loved about rain. The part still roared on inside the house, Changbin’s music seeping through the walls and onto the street. Occasionally colored lights would flash through the windows and catch in the tiny droplets of rain like crystals.

There was a small group of college students chilling out with drinks on the porch. Whispers of their conversation floated to your little spot but neither of you really cared to listen.

After taking a drink, you pulled your phone out to see the night had already come to almost three in the morning. “Ooooo the witching hour,” Jisung joked shaking your shoulders. After he let go he set his drink down in the grass before pulling something out of his pocket. “Do you mind?” Jisung asked placing a joint between his lips.

You shook your head and took a sip from your drink and watched as he lit and took a deep draw expertly inhaling before gentle pools of smoke floated out of his nose with a sigh. His eyes lazy opened and met your gaze before he offered you a hit.

Shaking your head you said, “I’ve already had a bit to drink.” He nodded and leaned back on his elbows before tilting his head back and taking another deep hit. You could almost see the point where a nice little daze came over his eyes. A beautiful funnel of smoke came from his lips straight up into the air.

“I forget- do you smoke, babe?”

He giggled as you shrugged. “Nah, I mean…One time- Felix and I, we made these like pretty sick edibles.” It was impossible not to remember how fun that night was. Jisung let out groan, hands covering his face, before he shot up and came only inches away from your face.

Your eyes widened as you looked and him and the grip on your cup got a little tighter. He had a lazy smile on his lips as he whispered, “Fuck- make me edibles, Y/n.” Something about the way he said your name had your hazy mind tripping over itself.

“Uhm-…”

“Dude- that would be the best high ever! You’re food and- fuuck, Y/n.” Jisung grabbed your cheeks and squished your face. He looked at you for a second, clearly feeling the effects of the smoking blunt in his other hand. “So do you wanna try?”

You giggled as his arm slid behind your back and he leaned into you. This side of Jisung was all too familiar. “How does it always end up like this?” You ask pushing him away a little.

“Like what?”

“You teaching me to do all kinds of shit like; you taught me how to kiss, and you taught me how to sneak out and all that other stuff.”

He laughed and flicked your forehead. “Your fault for hanging around a bad influence.”

“Somehow my parents think you hung the moon.” Jisung held your gaze before looking to the joint and back to you. “You kinda wanna teach me don’t you?”

He grinned, pushing his slowly dampening hair from his face. “Kinda a lot.” You nodded and took the blunt from his grasp. He watched you eagerly as you brought it to your lips. “So you’re going to want to suck and then inhale. But think of it more like a helium balloon than a straw.”

You felt a sweet smell float into your nostrils that somehow felt like pepper. The back of your throat burned a little as you breathed it in. After a second you couldn’t help but cough.” He laugh at how cute he found you. The watering in your eyes and scorched remnants of your throat spoke volumes that you were quite the opposite as you continued to cough.

Gently Jisung patted your back before ruffling your hair. “That sucked balls.”

“How do you know what balls taste like, bitch?”

Rolling your eyes, your fingers brushed your friend’s hand as you passed back the joint. “Not for me, I’ll stick to edibles.”

“Which you will be making me soon by the way," his words were ever so slightly slower letting you Jisung was definitely feeling good right now. You nodded and let him lean his head against yours. Suddenly the mist gently floating onto your skin became heavy droplets and both you and Jisung sat up at the feeling.

With squinted eyes your friend turned to you and said, “My car’s right over there- you wanna?”

“Yes, please!” You shouted as the rain began to pick up just enough to be uncomfortable.

Jisung pulled you up and tucked you and his still lit joint under the shield that was his arm. Quickly the two of you shuffled through the shower to the gray sedan that he had been driving since high school. The lights flashed through the weather as the backseat door was flung open and your best friend ushered you inside.

Once you were safely enclosed in the vehicle, you watched his slender form jog around to the other side of the car before climbing in with you. “Did it go out?” Jisung asked, clearly referring to the joint he had handed to you at some point.

Lifting it, he smiled seeing the tiny golden embers still burning. “Niiice.” Jisung then reached between the front seats and turned on the car before cracking the back windows ever so slightly so the smell of the rain would float in and the future heavy smoke filled air would flow out.

While he was adjusting things, you were busy getting comfortable having brought your slightly rain filled drink with you. Jisung handed you his phone, a habit of his whenever you were in his car. It was the only time he would ever let you play your own music. “Yeahhh I’m gonna ruin your buzz with death metal music.”

“Y/n no- that is so not the vibe pleasssse,”

“You handed the phone and with it the power. Kisseth my ass.”

“Bend over.” Jisung had a lazy smirk on his face and you were happy that the car was dark except for the colors coming from the dashboard a small world away. Suddenly the backseat felt much smaller than it did before.

Obviously he was joking, but that did nothing to stop your already pink cheeks to flush even more. “Fine, I’ll pick good music.” From the way your voice got softer Jisung could tell you were blushing. He leaned back into the corner of the door and the seat and took another draw before blowing it gently out the window, savoring the feeling of the smoke leaving his body.

He watched you scroll on his phone, letting his unfiltered thoughts float freely as rain pelted the roof above. Maybe it was just he hadn’t seen you in a week, or maybe all of the smells around him seemed fresher, but something magnetic was drawing all his senses towards you.

When music softly starting coming from the surrounding speakers, you looked up to find Jisung already looking at you- a loopy smile on his face as his fingers rolled the blunt back and forth between his grip. “What?”

“I’ve missed you,” He said, brushing his nose and pulling your legs into his lap.

There was no helping the goofy giggle that came out as you were now feeling the effects of all the shots that were taken earlier in the night. “You just saw me the other day!” The handsome boy shrugged and you felt him absently rub his palm up and down your calf. You were almost certain he was not even aware of his actions. For just a second your head dropped back on the seat and you let yourself get lost in this perfect atmosphere.

“Yeah- but I mean I wanted to hang out with you at the party tonight,”

“Yes, the party you were working?”

He laughed once again drawing patterns along with the music on your leg. “Hey if I’m drinking I’m not working. Why didn’t you come up to the booth and chill?”

There wasn’t really an answer. Not one that Jisung would like anyway. Jisung didn’t have anything against Seungmin, but the two always ended up butting heads on something. “Well, Seungmin was the one who invited me and it is- in a way- his party,” The boy rolled his eyes before turning to look at you with a smile. “I’m chilling with you now though!”

“Who's more fun, me or the kappa boy?”

“You were just playing their pledge party. How do you not know the name of the fraternity?” You could feel yourself struggle to string together so many sentences that long in a row. “It’s Sigma Chi.”

Jisung’s lids hung low over his eyes as he laughed. “Whatever, admit that I’m more fun already!” He whined. Without another word, you told him exactly what he needed to hear, if only to shut him up. There was nothing that made you happier than being with Jisung even when he was being an ass. In fact when he was being an ass you found him the most loveable. It was one of the hardest things about having a crush on him.

Clearly the effect had set in on Jisung, but it didn’t take him long to notice every so now and then you would sneak a glance at him messing with the joint. “Do you want to try again?” He asked with such patience you didn’t expect that it made your heart skip a beat. Remembering the awful burning sensation you vigorously shook your head no. The tiny bit of fear in your face made Jisung laugh. He was always going to be the stoner out of you two. He also had no doubt that you were probably getting at least a small contact high from the lingering smoke. That was what gave him the idea.

Jisung normally had zero filter and thought about nothing before he said it. So, of course this instance was no different. “Do you want to shotgun?”

“Like get in the front seat? Why?”

Your best friend burst out laughing, slapping the side of your leg in his lap. “Bro- no,” Jisung’s laugh was contagious and between him and the slow feeling of inebriation, it didn’t take long for you to laugh along with him. “Hold up- let me show you,” Jisung turned so he was now facing you and he gave your ankles a tug, silently asking you to come closer.

Scooching across the backseat of his car, you came face to face with your friend. You had been this close before many times but it always made your heart race. “You like Harry Potter right?” Jisung questioned in a funny accent that made you giggle. “Okay, so- hey! Eyes on me!” He jokingly scolded you for getting slightly distracted by a group of people running outside behind him. “So, you’re gonna pretend like you’re a dementor sucking out my soul.”

“What soul?”

He rolled his eyes with a smile and brought the joint up to his lips and you tried your hardest not to let your gaze linger there. With gentle hands he brought your face even closer to his own. Once he had a mouth full of smoke, Jisung tapped your cheek with his finger and you parted your lips slightly. Suddenly you were very aware of your surroundings and even with the rain and the music it felt very quiet. You watched in fascination as the smoke gently billowed from his lips towards your own. Not exactly sure what you were doing, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

You could feel the smoke as it scratched the back of your throat leaving a tingling sensation behind. There was still a burn in your nose but it almost felt like someone had just sprinkled too much pepper on their food. When you opened your eyes, you found Jisung still holding your face, his eyes trained on your lips.

A tension hung in the air as rain pelted against the car windows. Your friend looked at you with heavy eyes, dozily fixating on his finger as it moved to brush and trace over your lips. You felt your skin come alive as you simply held as still as you possibly could while he gently traced over your features. “Jisung?” His eyes brought themselves back into focus but he made no effort to move any amount of distance away from you. “You good?”

“Oh-I’m fantastic.” You could feel his hand ghost over your shoulder before it dropped into your lap. “This is the best high I’ve had in a while.” His other arm reached up and laid itself across the top of the backseat. His head flopped onto his arm as he looked over at you with his brown doe eyes.

“I’m feeling pretty nice too,” You giggled, resting your head on the seat and enjoying the floaty feeling engulfing you.

A goofy smirk played at the corner of his mouth. “You wanna feel even better?” Before you could ask how or why Jisung’s lips were on yours. Oh this was a terrible, awful, stupid, irresponsible idea. That thought went out the window when you felt Jisung pull you closer to him by the back of your neck. He grinned as you returned the kiss with an equal passion. College was for bad decisions right? This was definitely a mistake that would feel so...fucking…good. You pulled away to set your drink in the door’s cup holder and Jisung chased after your lips. “No, where are you going?” He almost whined. “Come back to me.”

You gasped as his grip got a little tighter around your throat. By what some might call a happy accident you had turned into his hand, his thumb moving to the other side of your neck. He smirked, giving the soft skin in his hands a gentle little squeeze as he turned your attention back to himself. “That was really fucking cute.” You stayed frozen in his grip completely enamored with the way he was looking at you.

Jisung had a curious grin on his face, almost as if you were a peculiar new toy for him to play with and explore. “Well- who taught you that…”Instead of pulling you back up into his lap your body was twisted and pushed down into the car seat. You were very aware of his knee brushing up between your thighs as Jisung looked at you from above.

Mesmerized, your eyes tracked the swing of his silver chain. A gentle tug of your chin brought the focus back onto him. You were completely enamored with the way he looked at you with his pretty face. It was a struggle for your brain to function as you tried to find a better word to describe how happy looking at his face made you feel in that moment other than…pretty.

His smile dripped away into a sly smirk as he said, “Mmm, now I’m curious what other things you do.” You giggled as his lips tickled their way down your neck and playing with your shirt. “Hey- that a cool sweater why don’t we,” Jisung joked before pulling your top over your head. The second the fabric revealed your face he captured you in a giggly kiss that made your noses bump together.

You felt a cool touch against your very hot skin and for a moment you didn’t even care where it came from that it felt so good. Had you opened your eyes the sight would only have made your legs squeeze tighter than they already were. Jisung was latched onto your neck and chest while his other hand sneakily has made its way past the barrier of your pants.

And then, all of a sudden, you felt a weight on top of you that cause you to groan and then laugh. “Oh my god- Ji- what was that!”

“Sorry my wrist gave out,” He giggled making no effort to relieve his weight from your chest.

You slapped his shoulder “Here, get off of me.” With little contest, Jisung pushed himself up and reclined in the backseat. With lazy, happy eyes he watched as you crawled into his lap and the between his legs on the floor. His pretty brown eyes tracked the way your hands moved up and down his thighs. “Better.”

In the backseat it was hard to see but you watched his eyes darken as you smiled at him. He watched with a raised brow as your bottom lip was pulled by your teeth. “What are you doing?”

“Showing you what else I do,” You reached up and smiled as you started undoing his pants. For a moment he let you feel him, the cloth underwear providing you a hint of what you had only guiltily dreamed about.

“Hey- wait gimme a sec…” Jisung said nervously laughing and pulling your hands into his own.

Your brows furrowed and the silence between changing songs seemed to last a little longer than you had noticed before. “What’s wrong?” He seemed to notice you begin to second guess yourself.

“Dude- I don’t let anyone see me half soft.”

“Jisung we’ve taken baths together!” You said between giggles as you rested your arms on his thighs.

“Yeah, but we were five! Just shush- trust me I don’t need long.”

Sighing, you rested your head on his thigh and looked up at him. His senses zeroed in on the gentle touch and tap of your fingers on his leg and you were so close that he could feel the soft brush of your breath against him. He watched the way your lips absentmindly whispered the words of the song playing in his car. When you noticed him staring you gave him a little smile, leaning your head deeper into him.

“Yep-that’ll do it. Come here. Now.” He leaned down and pulled you to meet him for one last steamy kiss. Eager to prove yourself, you parted and gently pushed him back in his seat. His eyes widened and a weighted sigh left his lips as he felt your tongue wrap around him.

It was easy to take him simply because the sight of him enjoying your mouth made it water immensely. It was as if every little sound and move from his beautiful face made you want to live only to experience this. His hand very quickly found purchase at the back of your head, twisting your hair between his fingers. “Fucking hell…” he breathed, hand covering his eyes.

Jisung pushed it back into his hair only to meet your eyes as your lips quite literally popped off his dick. Your stomach twisted and your thighs begged to squeeze together as you attempted to hold eye contact with him. It was hard but somehow the hazy fog in your brain gave you the confidence. “You mind if I get more comfortable,”

He shook his head and smiled as you came face to face with him again. With a curious grin, he watched you slide your pants free from your legs and toss them in the floor. The consequences of this would be great, so now was the time to make it worthwhile. Your knees came to rest on either side of his waist, pressing into the backseat. A cool breeze from somewhere in the car ghosted over your lower back as you slipped your hand past your underwear and felt a smooth wet sensation coat the tips of your fingers.

Jisung let out a low moan as the same hand gently wrapped around him coating his length with the soft feeling. His own hands tried to pull you closer to his lap. “Why so far away?” Jisung smirked, his lips coming dangerously close to yours.

“You got a condom, then?”

“Back pocket.”

“Really, Ji, that’s kinda gross,” you giggled, as he lifted the two of you a little so you could reach.

He nuzzled into your neck leaving open mouthed kisses in his wake. “It’s only for emergencies just such as this.” He captured your lips in a kiss that made your body melt as you pulled the wrapper out of his wallet. “This definitely qualifies as an emergency.”

You listened to the soft music and rain pelting against the window as Jisung slipped on the condom and pushed the fabric of your panties to the side. Slowly, you began dropping your hips down onto him and let your eyes flutter closed.

Eagerly, Jisung tried thrusting up into you before he had even fully bottomed out. It made you smile and sink down onto his lap. A low groan came from beneath you and his hand wrapped around you almost in a hug. Your heart was beating thousands of miles a minute wrapped in his embrace feeling everything you had to offer each other.

A shiver crawled down your spine as Jisung’s hand trailed down your back and twisted your underwear in his hand- tugging it away from your soft skin. It was so easy to completely fall into the steady rhythm the man below you was setting. Your fingers rooted and twisted in his hair as a soft moan left your lips.

“Do it again.” Jisung smirked and started putting more intention behind his movements. Stuck in a happy cloud, you complied and let every sweet sound fall loose and into the air hanging heavy around you. “Fuck- I’ve never heard a sound like you…” he groaned, letting his head fall back.

Seizing this opportunity of the weakness, your lips attacked the beautiful skin of his neck. With hooded eyes you watched each little twitch of his face as you kissed and bit down his chest. Jisung wasn’t as vocal as you had imagined, but hearing his baited breath and raspy groans had you breathlessly grinding against his own thrusts.

His long fingers pushed your focus back to his brown eyes before capturing you once again in a kiss. Remembering the oh so sweet little trick from earlier they then gently wrapped around your neck, squeezing the sides. A shaky whimper was cut off in your throat.

You opened your eyes to see Jisung staring at you with that goofy, mischievous smile that made every inch of your body feel happy. His other hand was pressed firmly on your lower back before you felt it move up and start to undo your bra.

Whether Jisung’s body count was higher than yours or not, you knew it would take more of his focus to remove that article of clothing than it would be to stop you from doing whatever your wanted. You let your hips move and bounce a little and almost instantly you could feel his body react under you.

He had only managed to undo one of the hooks, and now was simply trying to pull the straps down your arms. Jisung could do little to keep his arms from going limp, fully succumbing to how amazing you felt around him. His eyes closed and his head dropped onto the seat behind him.

The streetlight cast shadows through the drops of rain still falling on Jisung’s rear window. The shadows rested on his cheek and lips making you want to do nothing but touch them. Leaning down, pushing his hair away from his forehead, you kissed him. Though his body was relaxed, Jisung returned the kiss fervently.

“Keep going,” he rasped against your mouth.

The idea of you basically fucking yourself on his dick in the backseat of Jisung’s car would have made the everyday ‘you’ red up to the ears. Yet here you were, desperate to listen to the quiet sounds he made as you used him.

Regaining his composure Jisung tried to move your underwear that had shifted back and was rubbing against the two of you. Each attempt had him frustrated in both the best and most aggravating way. After giving up with it, you felt a sharp but lazy smack to your ass.

“Jisung-“ you moaned against him.

“Mhmm if you keep going like this I’m gonna fucking lose it.”

You could see the windows quickly building up with steam as your bodies moved in sync. Coming down just in the perfect way, you gasped and let loose a starved moan. Every very small amount of sense was shook loose from your brain. A kind of euphoric feeling was coming over you.

You hardly gave a fuck about getting off. It was going into this, the furthest thing on your mind. The universe had glitched and this wasn’t supposed to happen but here you were pulling on your best friend’s hair as he was desperately trying not to cum so soon. His muscles were tensing and his breath became short and quiet. His face beautifully twisted in pleasure. Jisung’s arms wrapped around your waist and back in tight hug that begged for you to keep going.

“Fuck, yes- Y/n, just like that, honey…” he groaned. You could feel that familiar knot forming at the pit of your stomach. That wonderful warm tension. “Oh- fuck,” his voice trailed off in glorious moan that had you clenching around him.

Quickly his hand reached down and held you against him, pushing him deeper than you expected to go. Then that tiny little ball tightly twisting in your stomach floated apart in the wind and left you in shaky feeling of ecstasy. All you could do was melt into his arms with a whine.

Jisung’s chest heaved as he stared up at you. You had no time to be embarrassed about exactly how of much your own wetness you both were in. He held your gaze as his hand rubbed up and down your back before tangling in your hair, bringing you down for a breathless kiss.

⇄ ◃◃ II ▹▹ ↻

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lunajanearabella · 3 months

Text

๋࣭ ⭑⚝INTRO TO MY RP BLOG!!

((I do not own Ramshackle or the canon ramshackle characters on this blog, they belong to @zeddyzi so go support the creator of that masterpiece.))

๋࣭ ⭑⚝With that being said...

๋࣭ ⭑⚝𝓛𝓾𝓷𝓪 𝓙𝓪𝓷𝓮 𝓐𝓻𝓪𝓫𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓪 𝓑𝓮𝓻𝓻𝔂-𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓮𝓼 𝓕𝓵𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓼๋࣭⋆˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚

Autistic

Same age as the scrap trio

INFP

Spanish & French

Female

She / Her / Hers

ℱ𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓁𝓎

Elena Jane Flores (Mother)

Daniel Berry-Jones (Father)

Mary Maximilian Hurtado (Step mom)

Josefina de el Monte Flores (Grandmother)

(Can't think of more names...TmT)

𝓕𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼

Vinnie (More exactly her lover), Stone, Skipp, Sora, Zaria, Adi, Pebble, Maggot and the street cats.

𝓝𝓮𝓾𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓵

Tre, Maroon, Karma, Vinyl and Arville (sorry I Don't Know much characters)

𝓔𝓷𝓮𝓶𝓲𝓮𝓼

Ditch & his gang, Her father, maniatic lootbags and streetgangs!

𝓛𝓲𝓴𝓮𝓼

Reading

Researching about anything

Literature

The arts

Her hair

Her mom

Romance books

Her jewelry

Vinnie

Sewing

Fashion design

Her garden

Sneaking out

The "strange feelings" she's having and that she hates (the feeling is lesbianism and shell 𝄞♬♪have to stop the world just to stop the feeling♬♪)

Hiding things from her dad

Eating

𝓓𝓲𝓼𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮𝓼

Violent street gangs

Snobby lootbags

Her annoying and weird suitors

Her father

Her step family

Mud

Itchy fabrics

Artblock

Her father finding out her secrets

Luna Jane Arabella Berry-Jones Flores, is my ramshackle sona and lover of Vinnie, She is a rich girl that has a mean and stuck up behavior at the start but slowly becomes sweeter, nurturing, nice and caringto more people, she's also very curious and since she decided to be different LOVES to learn new stuff, but please don't mess with her routine.

She starts off as mean and oblivious and naive as the others until one day she goes to one of the many ramshackle's next top sweetheart pageants as a guest for winning three times when she was a infant, and seeing a certain brunette scrap fight some lootbags, which somehow made her start to have "strange feelings" (she's gay and in love but she needs to listen to Chappell Roan to know that)

She then has more unexpected meetings with Vinnie that is basically Luna and Vinnie bickering, Vinnie pranking Luna in some way and Luna leaving confused, angry but also flustered at Vinnie's nature.

She then starts discovering herself and loses that obliviousness and wants to start getting to know scraps her and Vinnie slowly start becoming friends but always still with a tension.

The thing Luna still is oblivious with her feelings (GOOD LUCK BABE, YOU'LL HAVE TO STOP THE WORLD JUST TO STOP THE FEELING) and I think surely Vinnie thinks Luna is too good for her.

I didn't know how to make a intro for a blog so I took @small-world-au 's intro as a template (of course with their permission) so thankssssssss darling!

Here's some songs that remind me of Luna or her lady and the tramp thing with Vinnie.

(Maybe ill update this if I have more ideas)

Also Ramshackle is owned by @zeddyzi

VOICECLAIM: CASSIE "SKINS"

EDIT!

Luna after the occurrence with Vinnie she starts writing this tiny magazine, where she writes all the towns gossip, she obviously wouldn't be allowed to do this so she writes these tiny magazines with a alter ego called "Lady Amourville" and to not be discovered she also writes a bit of gossip about herself... At the start she writes only about the gossip between the rich folk but then as she becomes less and less ignorant she writes more and more about the scraps at a point where she writes about scraps equally if not more than the rich folk and it slowly becomes a testimony book and a way to show the rich folk that they're not so different from the scraps, that they all have they're dark sides, problems and love affairs and some metal and paper can't make them different from eachother. So it basically becomes a instrument to show her advancing as a character, and also that's it's heavily inspired in Lady Wistledown from "the Bridgertons".

(Maybe I'll start writing little chapters and things about her storyline in ramshackle and her romance with Vinnie, let me know if you'd guys like that and your completely allowed to make fan-things for the Ladytramp (Luna x Vinnie) ship and for my character, as long as you give me credit and also because I LOVE WHEN MUTUALS DRAW AND MAKE FAN-STUFF, FOR MY SELFSHIPS I'LL REBLOG YOU AND THANK YOU A MILLION TIMES LIKE A LITTLE GIRL RECEIVING A TRIP TO DISNEYLAND AND I'M SERIOUS!!!💕💕)

#Spotify #ramshackle #ramshackle vinnie #zeddyzi #vinnie #ramshackle Luna #ramshackle ladytramp #ramshackle oc #ramshackle self insert #saphiccsssssssss #good luck babe #𝄞shell have to stop the world jus tot stop the feeling♪♫♫♬

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absurdthirst · 2 years

Text

Boyfriend for Hire {Ezra x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 21.1k

Warnings: Modern AU, escort work, technically prostitution, oral sex (female and male receiving), vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, masturbation, angst, miscommunication

Comments: When you are instructed to bring your boyfriend to the company New Year's party, you have a problem. He doesn't actually exist. Hiring Ezra, an escort who provides companionship for those who can afford it, turns into something far different than what you imagined.

A/N: Happy late New Year!!!!

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

Thank you @thewaythisis for finding the pic I wanted.

|| MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“I hope all of you have a wonderful holiday season with your families.” You stare down at your checklist for the end of year board meeting and halfway turn out, knowing you will be working through the holiday to get ahead on some projects that will be happening in the year to come. “That brings me to our New Year’s Eve party.” The CEO captures your attention and you look up as he smiles happily. “This year, I’ve decided to host a party for all of our execs and junior execs. I want all of you to be there.” He turns towards you. “We can finally meet this mysterious beau you keep talking about but we never see you bring to work functions.”

Panicking slightly but trying to remain calm, you shake your head. “Uh, we have plans for the New Year.” You protest, making him frown.

“Unless you are out of town, which you’ve already said you will be here, I expect all of my employees there.” He decrees. Shit….now you have to pull a non-existent boyfriend out of thin air.

Ezra looks away from his laptop when his phone begins to ring, his work phone. He takes off his glasses and sets them down before he pushes the green button to answer the call. “Hello?” He answers after clearing his throat.

“Um, hello. Is this Ezra?” A woman asks and Ezra smiles at how nervous she sounds.

“This is he.” He responds, tapping his fingers on his desk.

“I, um, I got your number from a friend. I have a New Year party to attend and I need a man to go with me…to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

Ezra bites his lip to smother his chuckle at that, “that’s my speciality, little bird. Shall we meet for a drink and see if I’m a good fit?” He suggests.

“Ye-yes. That sounds good.” Ezra lets you pick the time and place and after telling you he will be there, he hangs up with a smirk. He has a job for New Year’s Eve. Perfect.

You fidget as you wait, choosing a high top table away from the rest of the bar, your drink in front of you medicinal to keep you from jumping out of your skin. You know what you are. What you are perceived as. A workaholic. A bitch boss who demanded too much of your team and only cared about your career.

It was true, you were career focused and you didn’t think it was a bad thing. However, when everyone started asking about your personal life, because apparently separation of work and home life doesn’t exist anymore, you had lied. Made up what sounded like the perfect man, at least not anyone you had ever dated. Now you need to produce this wonderful person and you have no clue how to go about it without hiring someone. You’ve not been on a date in years and you don’t really want to. Men are always insecure when they realize you hold more power or make more money, or whatever seems to emasculate them. “Shit.” You hiss, lifting your drink to your lips with a slight tremble to your hand.

Ezra spots the red dress you said you’d be wearing and makes his way over to the table, adjusting his jacket as he confidently strides over to you. “You must be my date for the evening.” He offers you the most charming smile he can muster as he takes your hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. “Ezra, at your service.” He declares and takes a seat opposite you, admiring you for a moment. You’re beautiful, not the usual elderly woman he is escorting to boring social events. You’re gorgeous in fact and he smiles, knowing this won’t be a difficult date for him unless you are an absolute bitch.

You introduce yourself and then lean back as the waiter comes over to take Ezra’s drink order, giving you a moment to observe him. He’s elegant, far more than what you expected. None of the greasy appeal you had assumed you would have to deal with. His date casual outfit looked like it would belong at any high class country club, although the blonde streak in his otherwise russet hair is shocking in its charm. “Ma’am? Another?” You break away from looking at Ezra and stare down at your ice.

“Please.” You murmur and wait for Ezra to speak as the man walks away to fulfill the drink orders.

“So…New Year’s Eve? A work shindig. Tell me little bird, what kind of man are you searching for to accompany you to the party? I am well versed in being whatever gentleman you require. You give me the details and I will play whatever part you desire.”

Twisting in your chair, you pull out your notebook, having written down everything you’ve told your colleagues about this fictitious boyfriend. Sighing as you open it and turn it around to hand to him. “This is what I’ve told them about my…lover.” Boyfriend seems so very juvenile to say and you swallow harshly, waiting for him to scoff at the unrealistic spin you’ve woven.

Ezra takes the notebooks, reading your bullet points and he bites his lip at the imaginative meeting between you and your “lover” until he reads what your beau enjoys, how he treats you. “Chérie, you might’ve discovered the most perfect man on the planet.” He jokes softly and you sigh, reaching for the notebook.

“I know I embellished but I- I wanted you - him - to sound good.”

Ezra pulls the book away from your reach, “I didn’t say it was impossible to create. I am a talented actor, I can assure you that this man will be attending your party with you. I can be this man but…I’m not cheap.”

It’s on the tip of your tongue to say that price doesn’t matter, but what kind of executive would you be if you gave away your negotiating power? “What would be your cost? Expenses? What would I be paying for?” You ask, tucking the notebook back into your large bag and looking over to see the waiter bringing the drinks back to your table.

Ezra smiles and thanks the waiter for the drinks, pausing the conversation, then he looks back at you while he lifts his drink. “Cheers, Chérie.” He smiles and clinks his glass against yours. “I’m not cheap. I am very discreet. I am good at what I do. I guarantee by the end of the night everyone will be convinced that I am in fact your lover. Three thousand. For the night.” He tells you his price, knowing it’s high but he’s good at what he does.

He is pricey, especially when you consider what the going rate for escorts is. You aren’t blind, you’ve seen the expense reports for some of your male counterparts, claiming it as ‘entertainment’. However, you aren’t looking for sex, you want a sophisticated man to be able to charm those around you and give a convincing performance. You take a sip of your drink, contemplating the idea. “Agreed, I will pay you half upfront and half at the end of the night. However, if you are not convincing, I will keep the other half.”

Ezra smirks, liking your moxie, and he shifts to lean closer to you, “oh don’t you fret, little bird. You’re gonna be thrilled by the end of the night.” He lifts his glass towards you and takes a sip of his drink. Leaning back in his seat, he’s excited to spend the New Year with you.

****

As part of the package, Ezra picks you up in the town car he hired for the evening. A friend of a friend has a company and he has a deal with them. A few hundred bucks isn’t much when he’s making thousands. He knocks on the door of your ridiculously posh apartment and waits for you to answer, adjusting his bow tie to ensure he looks suitable for your beau.

Putting in your earrings, you quickly walk to the door and open it. “I-“ stopping mid-sentence, you take in the polished suit and the way that his hair is even more carefully styled. “You look fantastic.” You murmur. “Let me get my purse and wrap.”

Ezra nods, hanging by your front door. He doesn’t want to intrude and he waits patiently for you to come into the hallway after you lock your front door. “You look exquisite, chérie. I will surely be the envy of every man in the room.” He reaches for your hand and brings it to his lips to kiss the back of it. “Shall we go? The car is waiting.” He extends his arm after letting go of your hand, excited to remember all the tidbits he’s been memorizing since your meeting a few days ago.

Nervous as you take his arm, you allow Ezra to walk you towards the elevators. “Have you memorized the key points?” You ask softly, the clicking of your shoes on the marble floors the only thing you can hear beyond your quiet conversation. “When we met, first date?”

“We met in that coffee shop over on Desmond Street. Brewsters. We bumped into each other during the morning rush and that was it. I took you to dinner at Le Mar and brought you roses. We kissed that night but nothing else. We’ve been dating for ten months. It’s been bliss. I took you to the fair and bought you that pretty bracelet you’re wearing for your birthday. I know your middle name. I know where you were born. I know the town you grew up in. Trust me, baby, I am a professional.” He pushes the button to call the car, turning to look at you. He reaches up to caress your face.

Suitably impressed, you wonder why your cheeks heat up when he touches your cheek. “You have a scar.” You just realize it, seeing the thin, silvery scar on the apple of his left cheek. “Where did you get it? In case anyone asks, of course.” You don’t mention that you think that it’s charming, giving him an almost roguish appearance that makes you think of old fashioned duals for honor with his syrupy accent.

Ezra chuckles softly, “serving this country. I was lucky that’s all I got. I nearly lost my arm. Was shot a few times but made it through. You should probably mention that I was an army man. Might win some of those bigwigs you associate with over. They always appreciate a man in uniform I’ve found.” He snorts, remembering the amount of times he’s seen lust in their eyes imagining him in a uniform while their wives stood beside them for appearances. You press the button for the ground floor and Ezra stands beside you after you drop his arm.

“Oh.” You murmur to him. “Sorry.” You don’t know what to say to that. Instead, the silence settles between you as your elevator car takes you down and you step out into the ground floor. You take a deep breath, wishing you could just stay on your couch in your leggings and work on reports while watching the New Year’s Eve program on TV and drink the wine you had bought and the nibble on the little charcuterie board you had ordered with your groceries on a whim.

Ezra shakes his head, stopping you walking for a moment. “Hush. You don’t have to be sorry. You didn’t send me to my death. Those bastards did. Let’s make this an amazing night for you.” He cups your cheek and leans in to softly peck your lips. “Come on chérie, let’s go impress your coworkers.” He winks and takes your hand to guide you to the town car.

“Thank you.” Ezra helps you into the car and slides in beside you as the driver closes the door. You are impressed that he went to the lengths that he has with ordering a car. You had half expected to have to order an Uber. “Where did you grow up?” You ask curiously. “Is your accent authentic or…dramatic?”

Ezra smirks, “I’m not that good an actor. I’m from Louisiana. Born and raised until I joined the army and left for good. Moved here about five years ago after my - my incident. You like the accent? Or no?” He asks, watching you as the car pulls away from the curb towards the hotel your company picked out for the event.

“I like it.” You assure him, reaching over and patting his thigh before remembering yourself and pulling your hand back.

“Don’t.” Ezra grabs your hand and pulls it back. “We would be comfortable touching each other, chérie.” He reminds you. “You have paid a lot of money to be with your ‘lover’ tonight.”

You bite your lip, shyly looking away and clearing your throat. “You must think I am ridiculous, needing to hire you to pretend to be my lover.” You murmur. “I - I concentrate on work, not men.”

“That’s smart. Men fuck everything up. Men complicate things. You’re a smart girl, focusing on you and your work. The right man…he will come along eventually. I understand the pressure, the way people question you constantly. As a woman, you’re expected to settle down and marry, be with a man and have the American dream but not everyone is made for that. Some don’t want the man, some don’t want the kids, some don’t want the house. It’s 2022 for God’s sake, women should be able to do whatever they damn well want.” He says with conviction, “I’m - I mainly attend functions with older women whose husbands have passed.”

That catches your curiosity, wondering if he is some sort of a con man. Swindling sweet old ladies out of their money with sweet nothings and attention. “How did you decide to become an..an escort?” You lower your voice, not wanting to say it too loudly even though the window of the town car was up.

Ezra sighs, "um, it's a long story but the short version? I got out and back here I had physical therapy and therapy...lots of it. By the time I was healed, I couldn't find a job so I moved to the big city. When I got here, I got in touch with some friends who put me in touch with an older woman who wanted company - no sex just company - and from there, she referred me and so on. It pays well and no one cares about my résumé."

“Fascinating.” You truly mean that. It’s not like you are unaware of people paying for company, hell, you are doing it now. But his story on how he came to get into this is interesting. The things he must see and here while he’s providing entertainment are sure to be noteworthy. “Have you ever had disagreements with your clients?”

“Sometimes. Not everyone is a fit but as long as the terms are laid out, we don’t tend to have a lot of issues or complications. Communication is key so if you don’t like something, you need to tell me, chérie.” He orders softly, offering you an accompanying smile.

“I don’t understand why they wanted to do this on New Year’s Eve.” You huff even though you do know why. It’s an opportunity to get drunk and party, writing it off as a corporate expense. “I don’t like being out on nights like these.” You admit quietly, looking out the window at the crowded streets.

Ezra snorts, “I have always had a hatred for the new year. Another year wasted.” He sighs just as the car pulls up and he shifts to get out, holding his hand out for you to exit the car. He smiles at you, shifting into character as he prepares to face your coworkers and bosses.

Stepping out of the car, you’re nervous. All of this could be a disaster, what where you thinking? This was insane, you should have just told them you broke up with your mystery boyfriend but it’s too late now. Ezra’s hand is a lifeline and you cling to it, never really liking social functions. For work was fine, but you hate small talk and know that they will be judging you - and the man you brought.

Ezra squeezes your hand, noticing how stiff you have gone. “Relax, chérie. I’ll take care of you.” He promises, knowing it’s his job to take care of you but also, part of him wants to make sure this night goes well. You seem like a good woman despite your workaholic tendencies and he wants to ensure you impress your bosses. Walking into the ballroom, Ezra is impressed at the display and immediately a man approaches you, saying your name.

“Charles.” You smile warmly, reaching out to the CEO of the company as he stops in front of you. “You said to be here and here I am.” You chuckle and shake his hand, motioning to Ezra beside you. “And I have brought my significant other, as requested.” You introduce the two to one another quickly.

Ezra extends his hand after letting go of you, shaking your boss’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you sir. My chérie has told me good things about you.” He offers a charming smile and Charles chuckles, “all good I hope?” He asks and Ezra nods, taking your hand in his again. “Of course. My lady works hard for your company. Workin’ all hours of the day and away from me.” He pouts playfully and leans in to kiss your cheek.

You hum, tilting your head as if it is a kiss you receive everyday rather than this being the first time. “Well, you know I love my job.” You smile and look back at Charles. “The party looks like a success, everyone is having fun.” Code for quickly getting smashed but it’s not sloppy yet.

Ezra lets go of your hand and wraps his arm around you, pulling you close. “Yes. Yes. You should go have fun. Ezra…it was a pleasure to meet you.” Charles smiles and Ezra nods back, “come on chérie, let’s go get a glass of champagne.” Ezra guides you to the bar, gesturing for the bartender. “I think that went well.” He murmurs, leaning close to you so it looks like he’s murmuring sweet nothings in your ear.

“Yes it did.” You look around the room, already ready to leave. Allowing Ezra to order for you, you are happily surprised when he orders a good vintage of champagne. If he is hanging around older, wealthy women, he would most likely have developed good taste and you appreciate it.

Ezra thanks the bartender and hands you the flute, lifting his own up. “To 2023.” He smiles, clinking his glass with yours. “I think it would be appropriate for me to kiss you…if you will allow it.” He adds, not wanting to overstep however, he can feel eyes on him and he wants to make a good impression.

You bite your lip for a brief second before you nod. You’d be lying to yourself if you hadn’t wondered if he was a good kisser. The little crease in his bottom lip very distracting and you’ve glanced at several times. “I think a moderate kiss would be appropriate right now.” You murmur, knowing you don’t want to cause a scene.

There’s a part of Ezra that wants to kiss you, the way your lips part and the small furrow in your brow has him ready to kiss you silly. He doesn’t kiss during his usual bookings, most of the women are older and don’t require that of him. He gently grips your chin with his free hand, leaning in and his eyes meet yours for a brief moment until he closes them to press a soft kiss to your lips.

It steals your breath. Making your eyes glitter and your hand reaches up to grip his shoulder. Nearly overwhelmed just from the petal soft feel of his lips against yours. It’s not demanding, but you yield anyway, the softest moan echoing in your throat.

Your moan makes Ezra deepen the kiss a little. Sliding his tongue into your mouth for a brief moment until he pulls back and kisses the corner of your mouth. “Well, isn’t this adorable?” Cynthia, one of your department managers comes over to see you. “This must be the beau you’ve mentioned before. Though we never caught his name.” She clicks her tongue and Ezra extends his hand after lowering it from your chin.

“Ezra, pleasure to meet you.” He offers her a charming smile while keeping his posture aligned towards you.

You and Cynthia never really see eye to eye. She has some kind of grudge against you since you were promoted over her although she didn’t have the skill set for your job. “Cynthia.” You nod politely and smile. “Where is your husband? I’m sure Ezra would like to meet him.” Her husband is boorish, but you have to pretend to enjoy his company to play nicely.

“Oh he has a work meeting. He’s been so busy.” She waves it off and Ezra frowns, “work meeting? It’s New Year’s Eve.” He takes a sip of his champagne and pulls you close with his free arm. “It’s a shame he left his beautiful wife to see in the New Year alone.” He tuts, “I would surely perish if I wasn’t able to kiss my beautiful girl at midnight.”

You fluster, slapping at his chest lightly as you feel the heat creep up your cheeks. “You always say the most outrageous things.” You tease, like he is always showering you with praise. Your perfect man would, even though he is a figment of your imagination brought to life by paying Ezra three thousand dollars.

Ezra grabs your hand, bringing it to his lips to press a soft kiss on your skin. “I merely speak the truth, mon chérie.” He coos, nudging his nose against your hairline.

Cynthia narrows her eyes slightly, “I can’t believe we are finally meeting Ezra. I thought she had made you up. You seemed too good to be true.”

She raises her eyebrows when Ezra shakes his head, “she’s focused on her work and we like to keep our private life just that. Private.”

You don’t like the tone of Cynthia’s voice, but you bite your lip and lean into Ezra’s side. “He is my little escape from work when I need it. So I keep him away from our office.” You don’t like the accusation in her comments, especially because they are true.

Cynthia hums, “very well. We had better mingle. I know everyone is just dying to meet your Ezra. Come on, let’s go mingle.” She reaches for Ezra’s hand and he pulls away from her.

“I’ll let my partner lead tonight. We will need another drink before we continue our exploration around the room. Pleasure to meet you Cynthia.” He says a little sharply and she huffs before striding off. “I can see why you decided to indulge in a fantasy boyfriend.” He murmurs in your ear then kisses your neck when he catches the eyes of your coworkers now speaking to Cynthia.

“She is very competitive.” You snort, closing your eyes slightly in pleasure. “I’ve never seemed to understand why, but she wants to prove that I wasn’t the right fit for the position. She wanted it. Or wants it.” You indulge yourself and lean in to kiss his cheek. “Thank you for being here. I know you technically have to be, but thank you.”

Ezra wraps his arm around you and gestures for the bartender to order you another round. “I might have to be here but there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” He tells you truthfully, “you are a beautiful, smart woman and you deserve a perfect New Year’s Eve. You deserve your coworkers to know you are dearly loved and adored. You should be. You’re a good woman.” He murmurs, caressing your waist.

It’s been a long time since you’ve felt such a strong attraction to someone. Your stomach clenches and you feel your pussy bottom out. “You are engaging and attractive, so I will take your words as the highest compliment.” You promise him, picking up your champagne glass when the bartender brings it and taking a small sip. You don’t like to get too drunk, but the bubbly is delicious.

Ezra grins, glad to hear that, and he looks over his shoulder as the band starts to play. He reaches for your glass, setting it down on the bar and he grabs your hand. “Let’s dance, chérie. I want to show you off to your coworkers.” He guides you onto the dance floor, pulling you close into his arms.

This is completely different than any other time you have been out with your coworkers. Often mandatory drinks where you have one and leave, or work dinners where the focus is work. This is an actual party. Letting yourself be pulled into his arms and smiling as the two of you start to move in time to the music.

Ezra has always prided himself on his dancing. His mother had taught him and after he came home injured, he promised himself that he’d learn to dance again. He promised his mom a dance before she died. Now, he’s swinging you around to the music, a smile on his face.

You know people are staring at you, but you don’t care. Too busy enjoying the moment and you let out a happy laugh when Ezra pushes you away to spin you around and pull you back close to him. “Wow.” You beam at him. “You are amazing.”

Ezra is pleased that you’re happy with him. “Not as amazing as you, mon chérie. Every man in this room wants to be me right now with how absolutely exquisite you look.” His hands slide lower, dangerously close to the curve of your ass. “Are you enjoying yourself?” He asks, leaning in to kiss your neck.

“I am.” You confess breathlessly, feeling like this is some kind of hazy dream. It would be a fantasy, and you are enjoying every minute of it. His hand flexes right above the swell of your ass and you wish he would just squeeze it, but you won’t beg for that. “Ezra…”

He knows what you want from him and he usually would never indulge in the physical affection his clients desire but you are different. His stomach twists with how beautiful you are - inside and out - and he obliges your wordless request, cupping your cheek to press his lips to yours.

The two of you dance in your own little world, your heart pounding as his tongue flicks against your lips and you let him in without a second's hesitation. Feeling like it is the most natural thing in the world, you have come to stop on the dance floor and you don’t even realize it.

People watch you and Ezra, some with mirth, some with surprise, quite a few with jealousy. Ezra keeps you close and only pulls back when the song ends, applause thundering in the ballroom and Ezra pecks your lips before he turns to clap his own hands. “The best dance I’ve had in a while.” He winks and takes your hand to guide you to a nearby table. “Are you hungry, chérie? You want some food?” He gestures to the buffet of hors d’oeuvres.

“We should, since we are drinking…” You hum, enjoying the warmth of his hand far more than you probably should. You know his rules, sex is off the table but right now that is all you can think about. Blaming it on the champagne, you look over to him. “Should we share a plate? Try a little of everything?”

Ezra nods, leaning down to kiss your forehead then he makes his way over to the buffet to grab a plate of food for you to share. He sits back down beside you, handing you some napkins. “Here you go, chérie. I can get more.” He tells you, winking at you as the band continues to play.

Picking up a spinach and cheese tart, you hold it out to Ezra to try. Surprising yourself because you are not trying to talk about work or slip away since you have been seen by the CEO. You are actually enjoying yourself. “Have a bite, sweetheart.” You coo playfully.

He eagerly leans forward, taking the bite and he can’t help but let his tongue touch your fingers before he chews. You are too delectable. Sexy and independent. Two qualities he greatly admires in a woman. He leans in to kiss your jaw after he finishes swallowing, “delicious.” He murmurs, pulling back to look at you.

Your lip is between your teeth and you wish that he would never stop. Food play has never been an ideal fantasy for you but now you want him to eat everything off your body.

“So this is your mystery boy toy?” Jackson, another department head, strides over. His posture is cocky as he looms over you and Ezra. “You gonna introduce me? I’m her work husband. She’s never mentioned you.” He wrinkles his nose at Ezra. Jackson has always wanted you, flirted with you, and now he’s not happy that you brought your mystery boyfriend to the party.

“Yes I have, you just haven’t listened.” You roll your eyes and look back at Ezra. “Ezra, this is Jackson. Jackson, Ezra.” You manage to make it appear that you are smiling but your teeth are clenched together in annoyance. “He is a colleague and not my work husband.”

“I shouldn’t be jealous, I know I’m a lucky bastard to have this exquisite creature as my lover. It’s, uh, interesting to make your acquaintance, Jackson. She’s never mentioned you. My name is Ezra. Lucky to belong to this exquisite woman you have the pleasure of spending your work days with.” Ezra reaches for your hand, kissing the back of it.

Jackson narrows his eyes, unhappy that the so-called boyfriend exists. He had been sure it was a figment of your imagination, no man was that perfect. Embarrassed that you would call him out about your work relationship, he presses on. “Don’t worry, Ethan, was it?” He purposefully says Ezra’s name wrong. “I take good care of her while she’s here. If I didn’t bring her lunch, she wouldn’t eat!”

Ezra frowns at that, looking over at you. “Is that true, amor? You don’t eat lunch? We shall have to rectify that. I shall be making you a lunch from now on.” He promises, not even looking back at Jackson. “And the name she moans in bed is Ezra, just so you know.”

Your cheeks flame hot but not because he’s embarrassed you, but because you are imagining doing just that - moaning his name in bed while he pounds into you. You have no idea what his dick size is but you can just tell he would be an attentive and exhausting lover. It makes you squirm slightly, needing friction and your suddenly dry mouth needs some more champagne.

Ezra watches you take a sip of champagne, your neck extended, and he bites his lip, deciding to take the chance. He leans in to kiss along your neck and you softly moan. His cock twitches in his pants and Jackson stands there for a moment until Ezra pulls away from you to look at him. “Are we keeping you from mingling?” He inquires and Jackson shakes his head, huffing before he stomps off. With a chuckle, Ezra kisses along your neck and down to your clavicle, “I must say, you smell simply divine, chérie.”

You whimper, shivering slightly at the feather light kisses along your skin. “I- wanted to- to seem like- like someone you would be with.” You admit breathlessly, aware of your reputation as dull. The sexy perfume was an indulgence beyond the clean scent you would wear into the office. Something that made you think of sex rather than work meetings.

Ezra hums, pulling back to look at you with a frown. “Why wouldn’t I be with someone like you?” He asks softly, hating the insecurities he finds swarming your eyes and he cups your cheek. “You’re a beautiful, smart, successful woman. You’re far too good for someone like me.”

You know that he is a companion, that you are paying him, but you also know that he has to be very intelligent in order to move in the circles that he does seamlessly. “I’m not.” You protest quietly, reminding yourself you had to pay him to pretend to be your lover. “I doubt you would be interested in someone like me. I am a workaholic.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being dedicated to your work but you need to take time for yourself. For your pleasures. Indulgences. You only live once, mon chérie. Don’t waste your life working.” He tells you just as the band announces the countdown to midnight. “Come on, let’s see in the new year in style.” He stands up and extends his hand to you.

When the clock strikes midnight, Ezra pulls you close and presses his lips to yours. Cupping your cheek with one hand and his arm around your waist, he slides his tongue into your mouth with a groan and kisses you at midnight. Putting his heart behind it as he wants you to feel special.

It’s just for the night, you know this. Still, you cling to him, letting the streamers and balloons with the confetti fall around you. Noise makers being blown and others exchanging kisses. Although all you think about is Ezra. Making you whimper when he finally pulls away after half a minute of kissing into the New Year.

He grins when he pulls back, “happy new year, chérie.” He kisses your nose and pulls you close again, marveling at the display of balloons and confetti as the band begins to play “Auld Lang Syne.” He doesn’t ever break his rule of not sleeping with his client but you, pressed against him, feel marvelous and he leans down to kiss you again. This kiss is dirtier, sloppier, as he tries to wordlessly portray what he wants.

It shifts - this feeling between you. The spark ignites and you would be lying if you said you did not want him. Your own arms around him tighten and you press yourself against him shamelessly. If it wasn’t so rude, you would drag him out of here. Only when he pulls away to gulp down air do you dare voice it. “Should we leave?” You ask breathlessly. “Go back to mine?”

Ezra hesitates for a second, knowing he shouldn’t be doing this but he desperately wants you. He wants to make you moan his name, he wants to pull you apart piece by piece. “Let’s go.” He rasps, “do you have to say goodbye to anyone?” He asks, sliding his hand down to squeeze your ass.

You know none of them will miss you, you shake your head and whimper when he squeezes again. “Let- where is your driver?” You demand, ready to say fuck it and drag him to a bathroom. You don’t care right now.

Ezra nods, taking your hand after reluctantly letting you go, and he guides you to the exit. Practically dragging you through the hotel to the car he has waiting for you. He opens your door and helps you in before he gets in after you and slams the door. “Chérie, you are -” He surges forward to press his lips to yours, a rare display of speechlessness from Ezra.

This time the kiss is even more desperate, consuming. You moan louder now that you are in the safety of a vehicle and away from the prying eyes of your coworkers. Not worrying about what they will say about you. Instead you let your hands wander over Ezra’s suit, sliding under his jacket to the warmth underneath.

Ezra groans your name against your lips as your hands slide up his chest but when you touch his shoulder, he pulls back. “Sorry!” You rush out, wondering what you’ve done wrong and Ezra shifts away from you.

“It’s okay, chérie. Just - gimme a moment.” He rasps, shifting a inch away from you as he tries to catch his breath and compose himself. He turns his head to look at you, an easy smile now on his face and he leans in to kiss along your neck.

You want to push away, something not being right about the way he reacted but you can’t make yourself. You will ask later. Ezra kisses at your pulse, his tongue pressing against it and making you groan. “Ezra….” You whisper breathlessly, your fingers sinking into his hair and your movement guides him to kiss down your chest into your cleavage.

He licks along your cleavage, dipping his tongue below the material of your dress and the car comes to a stop, the driver clearing his throat. He pecks your lips and shifts to get out of the car, adjusting himself before he offers you a hand. After paying the driver, he shuts the door and wraps his arm around your waist. “Come on, chérie. It’s a new year. Let’s celebrate it in style.” He kisses your cheek while you grab your keys for your building.

There are several other couples making their way back to their units, spirits high. You and Ezra cling to one another in the elevator and giggle with other drunken couples. Only pulling away from each other when the car stops on your floor and you pull him out into the hallway. “Happy New Year!” You call back to the other two couples still on the elevator as the doors close.

Ezra is eager as you struggle to unlock your door, his hands caressing your waist and his lips kissing along the nape of your neck. You pant and struggle to open the door so he takes the keys, swiftly opening the door to your apartment and he pushes it open, letting you lead.

Normally you don’t throw things around, keeping everything in its place so you can know where it’s at, but right now all you want is him. Tossing your keys, clutch and wrap to the floor, you swing around and press your lips to Ezra’s the moment he steps inside your apartment as you back him up against the door and close it.

He loves how eager you are and he feels the same way. His hands trying to touch every inch of you he can reach. He groans into your mouth when you start to push his shirt off of his shoulders and he’s grateful he remembered to wear a t-shirt underneath. His hands squeeze your ass and he tentatively reaches for the zipper of your dress, not wanting to overstep so he waits for your reaction before he continues, pulling the zipper down.

Biting your lip, you nod. Eternally grateful that you have worn something sexy underneath the dress. You didn’t wear it for Ezra, you wear things that make you feel good. Especially when it clashes with proper business attire during the week. This is merely a coincidence that you have lace and sheer material under your dress. Letting him peel your dress down to reveal your body to him, you wait for his reaction.

Ezra swallows harshly when he sees what you are wearing. “Oh chérie. You are - you are the most exquisite creature I’ve ever had the honor of laying eyes on.” He coos, almost scared to touch you in case you disappear. He finally summons the courage and pulls you into his arms, his lips pressing against yours while his hands explore the newly exposed skin.

His hands feel like hot silk on your skin, caressing you and seemingly bringing you to life. This time your tongue flicks against the seam of his lips to beg entrance. Making you huff happily when he groans and opens to let you in. Your own hands move down to his belt buckle, ripping at it hastily.

Ezra groans, flicking open the lace bra and he pulls back so he can tug the straps down your arms, flinging the lingerie aside and he ducks down to take a nipple into his mouth, groaning against your warm flesh as he works the sensitive bud between his teeth.

“Ezraaaa!” You cry out, eyes widening before they close. You manage to get his belt open and then the suit pants. Shoving your hand down to wrap around a thick cock over his underwear, you moan sinfully when he twitches in your hand. “I- fuck, oh my god.” You whimper, imagining him inside you.

He hisses around your breast when you squeeze him and he swears he could cum then and there. “Fuck.” He curses as he switches to your other breast, his hands hooking in your panties and he pushes them down to your ankles. He pulls back and away from your grip, his breath hitching at how utterly devastating you are and he kneels, kissing your stomach as he lifts your leg onto his shoulder.

Your eyes widen when you realize what he is about to do. Unable to comment before he is nuzzling into your thigh, inhaling your scent right before his tongue swipes across your cunt with enough skill to make you cry out.

He is tentative, not in a hurry, but as soon as your tangy arousal hits his tongue, he’s ravenous. He growls, diving in to slide his tongue through your folds, flicking your clit and his hands grab your ass to pull you close.

Your knee threatens to buckle, but you stay upright. Looking down at the sharp curve of his nose as it presses into your mound. “Of fuck, shit Ezra-it’s-its been so long since someone’s done this.” You admit breathlessly.

He pulls back for just a moment so he can look at you. “A travesty, mon chérie. You should have this gorgeous pussy sucked and licked often.” He tuts and dives back in, doing just that and revealing in your cries.

The sounds you make are filthy, and loud. You know people passing by can hear and you don’t care. All you can think about is the way the tension in your belly is pulling tight and you’re going to cum. “Ezra, Ezra, Ezra!” You cry out, body trembling when you fall apart.

He keeps you upright, pushed against him, and he works you through it with lazy strokes of his tongue. He loves how he’s already pulled you apart and he kisses your clit for a moment until he offers you a lazy smirk, looking up into your hazy eyes.

“Oh my god.” Your entire body seems to melt under the pleasure of your orgasm. Panting as you look down at him and wonder how the fuck he’s going to top that. “I- wow.” You manage, a goofy grin on your face. “I don’t know if you can top that.”

Ezra smiles, “I can have a damn good attempt at it, chérie.” He stands, licking his lips and he kicks off his dress shoes and reaches for his pants, pushing them down along with his boxers. He shrugs off the dress shirt and you reach for the hem of his long sleeved t-shirt. “I, uh, that stays. I don’t want to take it off.”

Your brow furrows in confusion as you look up at him, but his eyes have almost a pleading expression so you nod. “Okay, no problem.” You wonder if he has some scar that bothers him, it would make sense. Instead of making it a big deal, you turn and walk towards your bedroom, looking over your shoulder. “Come Ezra.” You order playfully.

Ezra exhales softly in relief and lets you guide him into your bedroom. It’s sophisticated and warm and he only gets a second to admire it before you are pushing him onto the mattress. “You’re eager, baby doll.” He chuckles, caressing your waist when you straddle his thigh and his hands slide up to squeeze your tits.

For a moment, your own insecurities rear their ugly head and you wonder if you seem desperate. Not that Ezra lets you think of that, or anything for long with his hands on you. Instead of pulling back, you lean forward and bite his bottom lip. “I am eager.” You confess. “I want to feel you inside me.”

“Condom?” He rasps against your lip, his hands sliding down even more to squeeze your ass and rock you on his thigh. His cock is throbbing. It’s been a while since he’s had sex and even longer since he got to touch someone so utterly beautiful. His usual clients are older women who try to get him in their beds but he won’t sleep with them, no matter how much money they offer. He wants sex to be natural, something he desires, not just based on money. He loves the way you moan his name. “Condom, baby doll.” He repeats, needing to be inside of you.

“I- shit…” Your clit is grinding against his skin and it feels amazing. “I- I think they - I have some in the drawer.” You aren’t sure, it’s been so long and it’s on the tip of your tongue to tell him that you don’t need it, but you are strangers. No matter how natural and easy this seems, it wouldn’t be smart to sleep with him unprotected.

Ezra manages to reach into your nightstand, searching around for the condoms while his eyes watch you grind on his thigh, feeling how slick you are. “Jesus fucking Christ.” He growls, growing impatient but he manages to find a condom, ripping into it and handing it to you. “Put it on me, chérie and use my cock for your pleasure. I want to feel you cum, see you fall apart.” He orders, squeezing your hips when you take the condom from him.

Your hands shake as you roll the condom down his impressive length. Nearly leaning forward so you could take him into your mouth, but you stop yourself. Knowing that the two of you are too worked up for teasing. Once on, you are quickly moving over him, straddling his waist and lining him up to sink down on his cock far faster than what is probably necessary but you love the stretch of him.

“Fu-” Ezra’s words die on his tongue as you envelop him in your hot, tight cunt. His jaw clenches as you sink down onto him and he caresses your hips while his eyes threaten to close. “My - my God, chérie. You are - so delectable.”

Your own moan claws out of your throat while you circle your hips and press him deeper. “So good, Ezra.” You whine. “You feel so good.”

Ezra looks up at you, reaching up to grab your neck and drag you down towards his mouth so he can kiss you. He slides his tongue into your mouth and groans when you start to move, rocking on his cock. “Feel so good, chérie. So tight.” He murmurs, caressing your side until he can squeeze your ass.

It’s unusual, bracing your hands on his chest and feeling his shirt rather than skin, but you don’t let it stop you. “Been a-a long time.” You pant, starting to bounce on his cock a little faster and feeling a little rush of arousal to make it even slicker.

“Me too.” He confesses, watching you and he caresses your arms up to your shoulders as you bounce on his cock. He’s desperate to see you cum again but he can be patient. He grabs your ass, spreading your cheeks before he brings his hands down to smack them.

You squeal, rocking forward and clenching around him. “Fuck!” The sting of his hand feels amazing and you are immediately rocking back onto his cock even harder. “Again, more- fuck, please.” You beg, biting your lip as he twitches inside you and presses against something wonderful.

He repeats the action, loving your squeal of pleasure, and he loves your begging. Wanting to hear more, he grabs your hips and manages to flip you over onto your back without slipping out of you. He doesn’t waste a beat, pushing into you with a deep groan, he starts to fuck you.

Pulling your knees back, you gasp out his name. Loving how deep he surges into you with the harsh and steady slap of his hips. Rougher, just like you imagined. It’s thrilling to have a man who is polished outside the bedroom who knows how to fuck. Instead of touching his shoulders since he had tensed up, you grip his sides and moan.

He grabs your thigh, pushing it back against your stomach and he sinks even deeper, drawing moans from you both. “Fuck, chérie. You - you feel divine.” He moans and leans in to kiss along your neck. “Are you going to cum for me?” He murmurs against your flesh and he licks up to your jaw, biting as he steadily thrusts into you, adjusting the angle every other thrust until - “oh shit!” You squeal and he smirks against your skin. “There it is. That’s the stuff. Cum for me baby doll.”

It’s not hard to give into his demands. The hard pace coupled with the intensity of his focus on the angle that had made you squeal nearly makes your back arch up off the bed. “Ezra- gon- gonna c-cuuuuuuum!” You cry out, your entire body stiffening when your cunt clamps down around him and soaks his cock in your juices.

Seeing and feeling you cum around him has him groaning out your name, loud and wrecked as he thrusts into you. It’s true what he said, it’s been a while and he’s not sure if he’s going to last. “Fuck baby. I- I’m gonna - shit. Shitttt.” He hisses, barely managing to thrust a few more times before he cums, spilling harmlessly into the condom.

Panting, you nearly forget yourself and grab his shoulders but you manage to catch yourself. Lunging up, you press your forehead against his and kiss his lips for a long moment while he rides out his high. Collapsing back into the bed with a satisfied sigh.

Ezra grunts, closing his eyes as he revels in his high until he has to pull out. Gripping the condom, he pulls out of you and ties it off, tossing it onto the nightstand and he grabs you to pull you against his chest. “That was…absolutely indescribable.”

You relax against him, making sure you don’t touch his shoulder and smile. “Yes it was. Best way to ring in a new year.” You laugh and are shocked at how good you feel. You didn’t want to go work, or boot up your laptop. You wanted to stay right here. With Ezra. “It was wonderful.”

Ezra kisses your head, "I'm glad you enjoyed it." He is sad to leave you tonight. The first time he's truly enjoyed the company of one of his clients and he knows his next client will pale in comparison to you. He sighs, shifting away from you. He knows you'll want him to go and he feels dirty to think about the remainder of the money but his rent is due today. He needs it.

There’s a shift and you are sad to feel it. Now that you are both satisfied, it’s time to remind yourself that this was a business transaction. The sex hopefully wasn’t a part of it, but you owe him the money you promised. “Let me-“ you slide out of the bed and reach for your robe. “I’ll get the rest of what I owe you.” You turn and rush out of the room, wondering if he had slept with you because he wanted to, or to make sure he was paid the full amount. Picking up your clutch off the floor, you open it to pull out the small envelope with fifteen hundred dollars in one hundred dollar bills in it. Sensing that he would prefer payment in cash rather than risk a check.

Ezra is behind you, grabbing his pants and shoes to redress while you gather the rest of the money. He feels dirty. He has never had sex with a client before and right now, he feels like he’s being paid for fucking you even though he wanted you, not for the money, but because he likes you. He is tying his shoes when you hold out the cash for him, standing there in your rope with your hair a mess and mascara smudged. You look like a fucking angel that he has dragged down into his hell. “Thank you chérie. I- I had a wonderful time. I hope you are satisfied?” He asks once he stands up, shoving the cash into his pants pocket.

“More than I ever expected to be.” You admit with a smile. It’s slightly awkward and you wish you knew what to say, but you aren’t smooth with things like this. “Thank you Ezra, for tonight. I know that we went beyond some of your boundaries, but I- I really had a great time with you.” You want to lean in and kiss him, but you don’t want to push.

Ezra smiles, reaching out to cup your cheek. “Me too. I had a great time. Best new year I’ve had in a while.” He admits and unable to resist, he leans in to kiss you softly one last time. “Thank you chérie. Happy New Year.” He grabs his jacket and tie from the floor and walks towards your front door, looking back at you one last time before he leaves.

****

It’s been two weeks since you’ve seen Ezra. You tap his card that you have on your desk, contemplating your next move. It’s been a distraction you don’t need but you can’t get him out of your mind. Popping up while you are working and especially when you are in bed alone, your hand or vibrator between your thighs. Sighing to yourself, you pick up your phone and select his contact information and hit call.

Ezra frowns when he sees your name come up on his phone. He keeps all his clients in his cell phone and his stomach twists as he picks up the phone and hits answer. “Chérie, my dear, how are you?” He answers, leaning back against his seat with a soft smile.

“Ezra.” Your stomach flips and flutters at the sound of his voice. You wonder if he’s thought about you at all. You hope he has. “I was wondering if you had a free evening this week?” You murmur softly, feeling unsure of yourself now. “For a- a dinner.”

He opens his agenda, searching the week. He has a couple of events with his older clients but he has a free night on Thursday. “I am free on Thursday night. I, uh, won’t charge as much for a dinner.” He says, unsure if he needs to keep this professional despite the way his heart is thumping in his chest.

Of course he wants payment. Your heart clenches, the hope that he had felt something during your time together dying. You’re a practical woman and try to see it as having a need met. Men did it all the time, why shouldn’t you. “Thursday will be fine.” Your voice is stronger this time. “Let me know your rate and where to meet you.”

“One thousand. I’ll text you the restaurant. I know a great bistro. Private and delicious. See you soon, chérie.” He murmurs before he hangs up. Hating how he is taking your money when he enjoys your company so much but he has to keep up appearances. He needs to be professional and practical.

One thousand dollars. It’s a lot, but you want to see Ezra again. You know you shouldn’t do this, but you never felt as good as you did when you were with him and you crave that feeling again. Opening your calendar, you make sure to block out that night as unavailable. You will be busy having dinner with Ezra.

****

Ezra adjusts his tie as he waits for you to arrive. You told him you’d meet him at the bistro and he stands when you walk in, looking absolutely gorgeous in a black silk shirt and jeans. “Chérie, you look absolutely delectable. I doubt I will need dessert from this bistro if I get to have you.” He murmurs, kissing your lips softly before he pulls the chair out for you.

You fluster at the compliment, unable to stop yourself from melting into his arms. The kiss was too brief and you sat as he pushed your chair in. “That would be up to you.” You promise, staring at his gorgeous form as he sits down before you put your napkin in your lap. The bistro is intimate and you wonder which one of his clients brings him here. “How have you been?”

Ezra shrugs, “not too busy. I’ve mainly been working on my manuscript. I’ve been working on a play. A re-enactment of my time during the war and how my life went to it. My therapist got me started on it, said that writing things down is healthy and it snowballed from there. You? I’m sure you’ve been busy with the new quarter.” He offers you a soft smile and reaches for your hand to squeeze it.

“It’s been busy.” You nod but you want to focus on his comment. “A manuscript? Ezra that’s- I’m sure it’s amazing.” Your skin tingles where his hand is touching you and you swear that your heart skipped a beat. “Have you been writing for long? I feel like you would be amazing at it.”

Ezra bites his lip and shrugs, “I, uh, I’ve been writing it on and off for months. Pausing when I can’t figure out the next step and resuming when it comes to me.” He caresses the back of your hand with his thumb, “I haven’t - I don’t have any backers and no one has read it yet so it could be utterly shit.”

“I doubt that.” You assure him. “You are far too eloquently spoken and a story weaver for that to be true.” You want to offer to help him but you aren’t sure if he would take offense. “You could always test a chapter, see how it’s received?”

Ezra sighs, “I don’t have the contacts. Actually, there’s this client whose husband is a publisher but she can hardly ask on my behalf.” He shakes his head, knowing the husband turns a blind eye to her evenings with Ezra going to events he doesn’t want to go to. “Perhaps…you would read it? See if you like it?”

“Of course.” You immediately nod, eager to read his writing and offer any suggestions you can. “You can send me whatever you would like me to read and I’ll give you my honest opinion.” It does sting to learn that he accompanies married women but it is none of your business.

The smile he offers you is sincere and wide and he squeezes your hand before he brings it to his lips to kiss the back of the. The waiter comes over and Ezra orders a bottle of red wine, “and two of the special.” Ezra orders, turning to look at you. “You gotta try this cheese soufflé. You’re not allergic are you?” He asks, silently cursing himself for getting ahead. He doesn’t know if you are lactose intolerant or vegan or have other requirements.

“Oh that sounds delicious.” You moan, your stomach agreeing with you by giving a particularly loud rumble of hunger. Wincing, you are thankful the waiter has already walked away and didn’t hear it. “Sorry, I haven’t eaten since…” you actually don’t remember when you’ve eaten last, you had gotten roped into a work meeting at lunch and hadn’t been able to get something.

Ezra frowns, “you haven’t eaten today?” He asks and you shake your head. He tuts, “that simply will not do. You must eat, I insist on it. You must prioritize yourself, chérie.” His tone is low but intense as his dark eyes focus on you.

“I forget at times.” You admit. “Or I drink enough coffee that I’m not hungry.” Your life is caffeine, perhaps too much of it. You smile softly. “I do need someone to bring me lunch, I guess.” You joke, reminding him of his promise in front of Jackson.

Shaking his head, Ezra tuts, “I’ll come to your office and take you for lunch. Show that smarmy prick that you are treated right and I’ll make sure you get some lunch.” He remembers that he will have to charge but part of him doesn’t want to do that. He wants to spend time with you, find out more about you.

“No, you don’t have to do that.” You promise, knowing that it’s not his responsibility to take care of you. This is all pretend. “I will start having meals delivered to the office regularly and just have them say it’s from you. So no one suspects.” Why you didn’t think of it before, you don’t know. “I know you are a busy man.”

Ezra chuckles softly as the waiter comes over to open the bottle of wine. “I’m not that busy. Not too busy for you.” He says without truly thinking about it. He lets go of your hand and tastes the wine, nodding and thanking the waiter after he pours two glasses. “To us.” He toasts, a soft smile on his face as he looks at you.

“To us.” You murmur softly, wondering what he means by that as you take a sip of the wine. It’s delicious and you smile as you take another sip. “You seemed surprised to hear from me when I called.” You set your glass down and decide to be straightforward. “Did you not expect to?”

“I figured I’d had my use. Planted the seed about your boyfriend and you’d make the excuse that I work a lot, I’m away on business until you eventually reveal that I was too clingy and wanted too much from you - wanted you to cut back on work - so you broke up with me. You are sad but composed and me? I’m a wreck. You tell them I’m calling you over and over again to beg you to get back together but your job is more important. Impresses your bosses, confirms that you’re wanted and maybe, you’ll meet someone at work who can fulfill all your needs. This ain’t my first rodeo, chérie. I know how it goes.” He tells you.

You snort, impressed with his genius and shake your head. “No office romances for me.” You tell him firmly. “I’ve seen too many of them go up in flames where someone has to leave. No, I would prefer to have a lover outside of my profession. Even a competitor with another company is not for me.”

Ezra hums and nods, understanding more about you. You are a strong, independent, smart woman and he loves it. “I can understand that.” He nods and leans back as the soufflés are placed on the table.

You send the waiter a smile of thanks and groan at the incredible smell. “Ezra, it smells delicious.” You are nearly drooling as you pick up your fork. “Thank you for having dinner with me. I- this is better than eating alone in my apartment while I work.”

“Chérie, It’s always a pleasure to spend time with you. Never, ever think that I don’t want to spend time with you. You’re - you’re so beautiful and smart. I just can’t believe you don’t have a man to spoil you.” He doesn’t say that because you’re paying him but it’s the truth. Deep down though, he’d be here regardless of the money.

“No one would want to put up with my work schedule.” You scoff, remembering how it was frowned on that you worked the way you did. “Men put in hours and they are praised for focusing on their careers, being a real go-getter. Women do it and it's unbecoming.” You roll your eyes and bring a piece of the soufflé to your lips. “Oh my god.” You groan happily at the taste, closing your eyes at how perfect it is. “This is delicious.”

“Unfortunately some people still think women should be in the home.” Ezra rolls his eyes, “Neanderthals…every single one of them. I don’t subscribe to that archaic mentality. Women like you…they are capable, strong, independent. You pick a man based on how you feel about him, not based on what he can provide and that scares men. To have a woman not dependent on them? You have to be a strong character to enjoy a woman like you.” He winks and takes a bite of his own soufflé, a groan escaping his lips.

“Are you a strong character?” You ask flirtatiously, enjoying his outlook. “Why am I asking? Of course you are. You deal with women of all ages, some of them more independent than I am.” You hum, reaching for your wine again. “I am sure you have stories to tell. After your first book, you should write those stories down. Names changed for privacy, of course.”

With a chuckle, Ezra sets his fork down and nods, “oh there’s been some tales. Some women…they had lovers who they wished to make jealous. Some had occasions that I simply wasn’t prepared for…like a funeral as they didn’t tell me the event, just that it was a family function. Some wanted more from me than I was prepared to give.” He frowns at that one, remembering the way the woman groped him and offered far more money than they agreed. He doesn’t have sex with his clients…well didn’t…until you came along.

“Oh…..” you wonder if he counts you among those women now. You had assumed that he had wanted to sleep with you, but you had never heard anything from him and the only way you could spend time with him is if you paid him. “I’m sorry that you had bad experiences. You aren’t a piece of meat to be bought and treated how they want.” You offer, feeling slightly ashamed of the way you had practically begged him to fuck you.

“It’s nothing compared to what female escorts go through. Women don’t get nasty, they don’t threaten me or force me. I am lucky. I - I only have sex when I want sex and you…you’re the only client I’ve ever had sex with.” He reveals softly, his eyes flicking around the restaurant before they settle back on you.

“Ezra….” You reach out and touch his hand gently. “That night- I didn’t expect to sleep with you because I paid for your time.” You promise him quietly, not wanting anyone to overhear. “I wanted to be with you and it was amazing. It’s been a long time since I’ve thought about someone everyday and replay something like I have with that night,”

Ezra inhales with a soft chuckle, squeezing your hand. “Baby doll, I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the moment I left your apartment building. You are funny, intelligent, and devastatingly gorgeous. I- I want to spend more time with you.” He says and brings your hand to his mouth to press a kiss on the back of it.

Biting your lip, your stomach flips pleasantly. “I- I want to spend more time with you too.” You confess, smiling at him. “I broke down and called you because I couldn’t stay away.”

“I’m glad you called. I- I want to spend more time with you. It’s just - my rate-” He knows he should tell you he will be with you for free, he wants that, but he also will be sacrificing time he could be earning money from his other clients.

“I can pay.” You rush out, knowing you’ll spend whatever it takes to feel like this again and again.

Ezra bites his lip, knowing he shouldn’t do this but he wants you, “I can do a reduced rate so - so it’s not as expensive.”

“What would you think?” You ask him, feeling a negotiation coming on and you like that. It wouldn’t be fair to just demand his time for free and yet you know you don’t want to pay expensive rates every time you want to see him. Especially if it’s how you want to be spending time with him. “I think that it might be fair to say we might sleep together again, and I don’t want you to feel that I expect it - but there is chemistry between us…”

Ezra grins, nodding in agreement, “I feel it too. Rest assured, I feel this - this spark of chemistry between you and I, baby doll. What about…$500 a date? Nothing extra if we should happen to fall in bed.” He suggests, feeling dirty to take your money but he needs to survive.

You purse your lips and tilt your head towards him. “I was thinking $300 a date and I will pay for any dinners or activities.” You counter with a small smirk on your face.

He raises his eyebrows, cock twitching in his pants at the look in your eyes and he nods slowly. “$300? That’s a deal.” He reaches for your hand once more to shake it and he kisses the back of your hand. “I look forward to many more nights in your company, mon chérie.”

You make a little noise of pleasure, sure that your time together will result in you falling into bed together often. “I must confess something.” You slide your hand out of his delicately and pick up your wine again. “I want for you to come home with me tonight and let me pleasure you the same way you pleasured me last time.”

He can't stop the smirk on his face as you offer to pleasure him. "It is I who should be offering to pleasure you. You were...exquisite. I want to bury my face between your thighs and remain there until my dying day." He confesses, licking his lips as he remembers how you moaned his name.

You try not to take that to heart, knowing he is flattering you. Perhaps not like a paying client, that would be vulgar. More like a new romance. “Then I suggest you finish your dinner.” You tease, taking a sip of your wine and then picking up your fork. “I want to have you for dessert.”

Ezra dramatically picks up his fork, shoveling the food into his mouth and he downs the rest of the wine then he calls the waiter over. "Can you cork the wine and get us the check? My lady wants dessert at home." He winks at you and leans back in his seat.

You giggle quietly at how eager he is, knowing you’ve already soaked your own panties underneath your dress. Finishing your own dinner before you reach for your purse. “No, I will pay for tonight.” Ezra insists, making you pause, but you give in when he shoots you a serious look.

"I want to pay." He tells you, knowing he will feel guilty if you suck his cock tonight and he couldn't pay for dinner. He may be an escort but he's a gentleman first and foremost. He hands the waiter his card and signs the check when the waiter comes back over. "Are you ready to leave, chérie?"

“Absolutely.” You take his proffered arm when the two of you stand. It feels like you are a real couple, walking out after a fantastic meal to go home together. “Did you drive, or…?” You had taken an Uber, wanting to be able to drink if you wanted with no issue.”

"I took an Uber. I can't - I don't have a car." He admits and he bites his lip as he pulls out his phone to summon an Uber to take you both to your apartment. He wraps his arm around your waist while you wait for the car, leaning in to kiss your neck as you stand on the sidewalk.

Closing your eyes, you lean into him. “Ezra…” you murmur, feeling that pool of arousal in your core already. “Do you-“ You break off, hesitant to push but then you decide to ask. “Would you like to stay the night? Rather than going home? Or is that too much?”

Ezra bites his lip and looks at you, “I, um, I would like that. It’s not too much.” He assures you and leans in to kiss your neck, “I would surely be remiss to deny myself an opportunity to remain in your bed after our carnal pursuits.”

The Uber pulls up and you excitedly jump in, eager to get back to your apartment with Ezra. “I- god I wish we were already back there.” You whisper in his ear. “I have been thinking about you all week but my fingers haven’t been enough.”

“I’ve been thinking about you too.” He promises, his hand on your knee sliding a little higher as the Uber drives towards your apartment building. “Been jerking off thinking about that exquisite pussy.” He whispers in your ear before he nips it with his teeth.

Shuddering, you let out a tiny moan, shifting your knees apart so he can move his hand a little higher. “Should have called me.” You pant. “I would have told you to come over. Jerk off on me.”

Ezra smirks, taking the hint, and he slides his hand higher until he is pressing against your clit through your jeans. Your responding whimper has him aching in his pants and he wishes he could finger you in this Uber but he’ll receive a bad rating. “You’re a naughty girl, baby doll. Would you have licked up my seed if I’d asked you?”

Blowing out a harsh breath, all you can do is nod, making a small sound of need. You could imagine it, on your knees in front of him while he is jerking his cock and telling you to open your mouth before covering your skin in his seed.

The Uber driver hears whispers and looks back to see Ezra has his hand between your legs. With a snort, he speeds up a little, certain that you want to be out of his car as much as he wants you out before you start to get frisky.

Ezra chuckles at your squeak, his fingers rubbing you through the denim until the car pulls up outside of your building. “Thank you kindly.” Ezra says, withdrawing his hand and reaching into his wallet to hand a tip to the driver for your PDA. Once you’re on the sidewalk, Ezra wraps his arm around your waist to guide you towards the entrance, now desperate to feel you naked and beneath him.

This time the elevator ride is more tense, both of you not letting go of one another but there are others in the car. Making you nearly sigh in relief when the doors open to your floor. You smirk when the elevator closes again and rush towards your apartment, eager to have him inside you again.

Ezra reluctantly lets go of you so you can unlock your front door but he grabs your hips, kissing the back of your neck. “Hurry up, chérie. I want you to strip down and wrap those pretty lips around my cock.” His hands slide down to squeeze your ass and your hands shake until you finally get the door open.

Again, you are dumping everything and turning around to reach for him. Desperate to feel him. You feel him unbuttoning your shirt and push back so you can quickly strip down to your bare skin. Eager to get on your knees for him and watch him fall apart right against the door of your apartment.

Ezra groans at the skin you bare and his hands are immediately reaching for your bra. Last time was hesitant and new, now he’s hungry for you. His hands reach for your tits after you let him pull your bra down your arms and he pinches your nipple, wanting to be a little rougher.

“Fuck.” Your head rolls back and your chest pushes itself into his hands, loving how he’s being more aggressive. Still wearing your panties, you start to sink down to your knees but Ezra catches your arm, shaking his head. “No, chérie, I want your pussy to leak onto your floors.” He growls, making your cunt clench and you hastily follow his orders to remove your underwear before you kneel down in front of him,

He watches you as you kneel down and reach for his belt, expertly unbuckling it and he groans when you pull his throbbing cock out of his pants. “Fuck chérie.” He hisses which turns into a low moan when you take him into your mouth. “Shit.” He curses, eyes fluttering but he refuses to close them as he looks down at you.

You can feel him react. His cock throbbing in your mouth and you love it. Taking him deeper until he hits the back of your throat. It’s going to be hard to take all of him, so you wrap your fingers around the base to start pumping while you get used to his girth.

“Fuck. Oh Jesus Christ. Chérie, your mouth- it’s heaven on earth.” He compliments breathlessly, trying to keep his hips still so he doesn’t choke you but fuck, it’s hard to not want more. You whimper and he caresses your cheek.

Humming around him, you already have spit sliding down your jaw and your eyes are watering but you don’t care. All you want is to see the wrecked look on his face. You hollow your cheek and press deeper, swallowing when you feel you are going to gag.

“Fuck baby.” He leans over slightly so he can squeeze your tit and he closes his eyes when you take him deeper. “Oh shit. I’m gonna - you’re gonna make me- you want - face? Mouth?” He pants out, not wanting to cum down your throat unless you want it. It’s been too long since someone sucked his cock.

You pull off for him for a split second. “Down my throat.” You gasp, taking him back into your mouth and looking up at him through your watery eyes. Letting go of the base of his cock, you grab his hips and pull him towards you, encouraging him to let go and use you.

Ezra hisses, rocking his hips and he groans when you swallow around him. A few thrusts of his hips, he is cumming down your throat in hot spurts, your name pulled from his lips.

You try to swallow it all, but it’s not something that you can manage. His cum spilling out from the edge of your lips to slide down your jaw while you gulp the rest of it down and let him ride out his pleasure, watching him as your cunt throbs.

Ezra pants, struggling to keep his eyes open as you let him drop from your mouth and he hisses, caresses your cheek before he scoops up his cum from your chin and pushes his fingers into you. “Jesus Christ, chérie. You - you are - fuck. Are you dripping?” He asks, shifting to kneel down and he cups your cunt, wanting to see if you are wet enough.

Whining, you grind against his fingers, wanting to feel him. You are soaked and ready to cum even though you know he is not going to be able to fuck you right now. “Fuck, Ez…” your eyes close and you lean forward to rest your forehead on his shoulder.

He rubs your clit, wanting you to cum while he recovers. You lean against him and he slides his fingers back to push two inside of you, groaning at how fucking wet you are. He presses his thumb against your clit, “want you to cum for me.”

You don’t care that you are still on the floor, his fingers inside you feel amazing. Thicker than your own and able to curl against that spot that makes your entire body light up in pleasure. “Fuck!” You gasp out, grabbing his arm to steady yours as your hips jerk towards him.

Ezra hisses when your walls flutter around his fingers, showing how close you are to cumming. “Yes baby doll.” He feels you gripping his arm and he tries to not flinch but he leans in to kiss your cheek. “Cum for me?” He asks, not telling you but asking you to cum for him.

His gruff request works, asking you to come apart for him does the trick. The clever fingers curl and press up against your g-spot again and you wail his name. Cunt spasming around his fingers while you soak them, thighs shaking in pleasure.

“Yes. That’s it chérie. Such a good girl for me.” He murmurs, working you through it and he groans when you lean forward to press your lips to his. “Are you going to let me fuck you?” He asks, cock hardening once again.

“Yes.” You whine breathlessly, lashes fluttering and you finally realize that you are holding onto his arm. Letting go without trying to draw attention to the fact that you feel him wince. “Here or in the bed again?”

“Bed.” He rasps, wanting to fuck you from behind. He groans as he helps you stand and he pushes his pants down, pulling off his shirt and he remains in his under shirt. “I want to fuck you from behind.”

You have no problem with that, leading him into your bedroom and you look over your shoulder as you kneel down on the bed. Smirking, you shake your hips at him invitingly. “Come fuck me.”

Ezra can’t help but reach out and smack your ass, loving the way the skin jiggles and he chuckles at the squeal that escapes your lips. “Condom?” He asks, his cock now aching with need and he grips his length, pumping himself a few times.

“Same drawer.” You bite your lip, wanting to ask if he would get screened so he didn’t have to wear a condom, but you don’t want to pressure him into something like that. You watch him open the drawer and pull out another foil packet, cunt clenching when you see his cock bobbing as he moves.

He rips it open and rolls it into his length, groaning as he pumps himself before he kneels behind you, gripping his cock to position himself at your entrance. “Fuckkkk chérie.” He hisses as he pushes into you. He leans over you, kissing along your neck as he pushes deep and gives you a moment to adjust around him.

He feels so deep in this position. Making your head fall to hand down and hips to push back against him as you moan. “Fuck Ezra, you- you’re so deep.” You whimper, walls fluttering around him as you enjoy the way he fills you. “God, I- be rough.” You beg, wanting to feel him for days after this.

Ezra follows your order, grabbing your hips and he sets a harsh pace, pushing into you with soft grunts escaping his lips. He wants to be rough, he wants to push into you hard and make you feel him for days. “Fuck baby. You feel so good.”

Gasps and whines are all you can manage through his harsh pace. Gripping the sheets in your fists while he pulls your hips back as he slams into you. His hips slap your ass and it feels like his cock is spearing up into your throat. You love and show him by clenching down around him every time he hits that perfect spot inside you. “Ez-Ez-Ezraaaaa!”

Your moans spur him on and he leans over you, cupping your tits and massaging them as he rocks into you. “Fuck baby doll. You feel - you feel like heaven.” He murmurs, kissing along your neck and nipping, careful to not leave a mark.

Every thrust of his hips pushes you closer to cumming. That heat and tension curls in the pit of your stomach and makes you arch your back when he pinches your nipple harshly. Gasping out his name and closing your eyes. “Fuck baby, so close.” You pant, collapsing down to your elbows and laying your cheek against the bed. “Harder.”

Ezra slides his hand down to rub your clit, wanting you to cum around his cock. He hisses your name, rocking into you. “Cum for me, mon chérie, please.” He begs wanting you to cum for him, to clench around him.

Within another dozen thrusts, you are doing just that. Almost a delayed cry of pleasure as you suck in a breath of air, you squeal out when you exhale. Your entire body responds to the overwhelming punch of his cock against your g-spot and you swear you feel him jerk to a halt, unable to move for a split second while you lock down around him.

When you cum, he stills, unable to move and he kisses along your spine as you shake beneath him. He withdraws after a moment, shifting to kneel on the floor and he leans forward to lap at your clit, sensitive from your orgasm, and he pushes you into another one, wanting you to cum again. His hand squeezes his condom covered cock while his tongue pushes into you.

“Fuck, fuck!” You moan, unable to believe that he hadn’t just continued to fuck you. Making you pant and squirm under the broad strokes of his tongue. He’s relentless, not allowing you to settle down before he’s demanding your body give him more. Your stomach clenches and heaves when he curls his tongue deep and that sharp nose presses against your other hole and nearly breeches it, making you cry out again as another orgasm rushes over you.

He works you through another orgasm, loving how responsive you are. He hisses your name and shifts to kneel behind you, pushing back into your fluttering cunt. “Oh Jesus Christ.” He groans and starts to fuck you, hard and fast as he seeks his own pleasure. “Fuck chérie, You are heaven sent.” He is close but he wants you to cum one more time so he starts to rub your clit, his cock pushing deep.

“Ezraaaaaa.” You whine shifting forward to lay down on the bed, Ezra following you where you are flat on your stomach. Turning your head, you watch him out of the corner over your eye. His fingers are trapped under you, rubbing your clit and you moan again.

He straddles your thighs, one hand grabbing your ass while the other continues rubbing your clit. He desperately needs you to cum, his cock aching as he pushes deeper than before, punching into your guts as he pants your name. “Cum, one last time. Cum for me baby doll.” He pleads, so close to his own orgasm and he needs you to cum one last time.

You scream his name, clenching down around his cock and soaking him in your juices. Panting out while he furiously rocks into you and seeks his own high. “Pl-please c-cum!” You beg, desperate to feel him cum, even if he’s wearing a condom.

He can’t hold back even if he tries, he pushes into you, gritting his teeth, and he thrusts a dozen more times before he’s burying his cock deep. Spilling into the condom, he groans, unable to say your name as lights flash behind his eyes, the pleasure consumes him and he slumps on top of you without pressing his weight into you. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He pants, kissing your neck.

“Godddddddd.” You groan, laughing quietly as you pant. “That was so, so good.” You murmur, wishing you can kiss him. It’s strange to feel his shirt on your sweaty skin, but you understand that he has some kind of hang up about being shirtless. “Wish you had filled me up.” You slur, almost unaware that you had said it.

His cock twitches inside of you and he swallows harshly, “yeah? You want that? I’m clean. Always - always get tested monthly just in case. Shit, baby girl. You want me to fill you full of my cum next time? Make you drip?” He rasps, biting down on your shoulder.

Whining softly, you nod against the sheets. “Fuck, please Ezra.” You try not to think about why he gets tested monthly. It’s not your business and it’s not your place to feel possessive of him. Your cunt clenches around his softening cock and he hisses against your skin. “I want that.”

“Me too.” He murmurs, kissing your neck again and he grips the base of the condom before he pulls out of you. He sighs and shuffles off of the bed, tying off the condom and disposing of it before he lays down on the bed next to you again. “So good.” He murmurs, turning onto his side and cupping your cheek, leaning in to kiss you softly.

Turning, you lean into the kiss and enjoy it. Your eyes closing and humming against his lips until he pulls away. “Let me go get us some water.” You murmur, moving to shift off the bed. “Worked up a thirst and I know you must have too.” You want him to be comfortable. Especially since he’s staying.

Ezra watches you go with a soft smile on his face. You’re an incredible woman and he’s lucky to be in your company. He feels dirty for having you pay him but he has to pay his bills. When you come back into the room, he has his underwear on and he is sitting on the edge of the bed. “Thanks, chérie.” He says before he gulps down half the bottle. “I, um, I need - I want to show you…all of me.” He says, gesturing to his shirt.

You can feel the anxiety rolling off of him in thick waves, making him seem a little green around the gills. You set your own bottle of water down and move over to where he is sitting. “Only if you want to.” You promise, touching the back of his hand that’s resting on his thigh. “Just because we are spending time together and in bed together doesn’t mean you have to do anything you don’t want.”

“I want to. I- it’s just - you might be disgusted by my monstrous appearance. I- I was injured, as you know, and upon my return from war, I had surgeries and therapy and - I - my ex hated how I looked. Said I repulsed her and if you should happen to feel that way, I understand. I just - I feel like I want to show you all of me.” He swallows harshly and reaches for the hem of his shirt, slowly pulling it over his head while his heart pounds in his chest.

You don’t say a word. Your eyes map the scars that crisscross over his torso and shoulders. He apparently almost lost his right arm, the deep scar tissue around it nearly cutting the meat of it in two. “Ezra…” standing, you slowly move towards him. You want to reach out and you do so ever so gently, not wanting him to flinch away. “I see a man who survived horrors and I’m glad you did.” You promise, touching his bare skin and caressing one of the marks on his body.

“You- chérie - You’re not repulsed? You - you don’t think I’m a monster?” He asks softly, his entire body sparking as you caress skin that hasn’t been touched in years. “You didn’t pay for a monster. You deserve more.”

“You are not a monster.” You want to scream at the bitch who planted that idea in his head. “You are a man who has seen war, and been marked by it. But that does not change who you are here.” Your hand drifts up to his heart and you press your palm there to feel his heart pounding. “I want what I see right now.” You promise him, leaning down and kissing his shoulder, one of the scars on his skin and look up at him. “You deserve more than to believe you are a monster.”

Ezra sighs, cupping your cheeks and he leans forward to press a kiss to your lips, unable to believe how fortunate he is to have you in his arms, with him. “Chérie…you are magnificent.” He murmurs against your lips and his heart pounds in his chest. He knows the lines are blurring for him between client and lover but he can’t seem to stop himself.

You sigh into the kiss, closing your eyes and you let your hands slowly caress his skin. Tracing the scars gently and reverently, wanting him to feel appreciated. When the kiss ends, you smile at him. “You can leave your shirt off around me. I don’t mind.”

Ezra swears he nearly cries when you kiss his shoulder and he knows in that moment, he falls for you. He swallows harshly and caresses your waist, “thank you chérie. Are you- are you thirsty? Let me get you some water.” He wants to look after you, he wants to care for you.

You smile at him, wondering if he has forgotten that you brought him water. “I’m good.” You promise. “If you need to do anything, the bathroom is through the door right there.” You offer.

Ezra was so caught up in his emotions, he forgot you brought in water and he nods, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “You wanna watch a movie? It’s still kind of early.” He caresses your spine, just breathing you in.

There’s something incredibly domestic in the idea of watching a movie with him. Nodding, you smirk and send him a small wink. “As long as we don’t wear clothes.” You compromise teasingly, knowing that if he wants to get dressed, you won’t stop him. You don’t want him to be uncomfortable. “Here or in the living room?”

“Here. I want to keep you in my arms.” Now that Ezra has had skin to skin, he wants as much as possible. He was terrified you’d reject him, think of him as a monster but you haven’t rejected him so he wants to spend as much time as possible with you. He wants to feel you pressed against him.

“Perfect.” You kiss him again and stand up so you can pull the covers back and pile the pillows in the middle so you can cuddle together. You slide into bed and pat the spot next to you. “We can turn on something and just relax.”

He lays down, pulling you against him after you grab the remote. You’re both naked but he’s never been more comfortable. He kisses your neck while you scroll through Netflix. “What do you want to watch?” You ask and his hand caresses your waist before his fingers slide lower until he’s cupping your cunt.

“Whatever you want to watch.” He murmurs, sliding his finger between your folds to slowly rub your clit.

“Ha.” You pant, the slow press of his finger against your bundle of nerves is incredibly distracting and you can already tell that neither one of you is going to pay attention to the TV. You quickly select a movie, not even aware of what it is and throw the remote down so you can give him the same amount of attention, your hands caressing his chest gently and your lips pressing against every scar you can reach.

His heart pounds in his chest as you caress skin he’s kept hidden since he left Louisiana and he adds a second finger, rubbing your clit with soft movements, in no rush to make you cum. He wants you to savor this, just enjoy the pleasure without any urgency. “Good movie choice.” He jokes, voice raspy as his cock starts to harden as the little whimpers and moans that escape your lips.

You moan, lips against his skin and your eyes flicker up to meet his. He’s someone you are paying for his time, but this feels like more. It feels real and for the first time in forever, you wish you were in a relationship. You wish you were with Ezra, that this was just a normal night. Continuing to kiss every mar and imperfection on his body, your other hand slips beneath the sheets and wraps around his half hard cock, holding him firmly.

Ezra hisses when you grip him, his fingers rubbing your clit a little harder and he shifts his hand, pushing two fingers into you, pressing his thumb to your clit. “You are perfection, mon chérie.” He murmurs, kissing along your neck before he presses his lips to yours, loving how breathless you are as you slowly work his cock.

It is the height of decadence. Lazily stroking a gorgeous man’s cock while his fingers pump into you just as slowly. Giving and taking pleasure as the movie plays and neither of you pay attention to it. “It is so easy with you.” You admit, almost afraid that you might say something stupid and break the spell over this moment.

Humming in agreement, Ezra works his fingers deeper into you, pressing his thumb against your clit a little harder as he wants you to cum again for him. “It’s because you’re so - so fucking perfect.” Ezra admits with a groan when you twist your wrist just right to make him moan your name.

You aren’t perfect. You know you aren’t. It’s not like every man you’ve tried to have a relationship with hasn’t pointed that out. You work too much, you don’t have time for them, you don’t mother them. Instead of focusing on that, you twist your wrist again when he curls his fingers deep. “Always easy with you.” You moan.

He loves hearing you say it even though you both know you’re paying for him to be here. He hisses your name and thrusts into your hand, pumping his fingers a little faster while the movie continues to play. “Are you going to cum for me, chérie?” He asks, leaning in to kiss your neck, biting down gently on your earlobe.

You groan out his name and your eyes flutter shut. “Eventually.” You tease, a small smirk on your lips. Squeezing his cock, you’re rewarded with him twitching in your hand and you pump him a little faster. “Only when you cum with me.”

He groans, loving the way your fingers feel wrapped around his cock and he hisses when you swipe your thumb over the edge. “Shit. You’re gonna - I need you to cum with me.” He pleads, continuing to pump his fingers despite his balls pulling tight to his body, warning him of his incoming orgasm.

“I’m going to, baby.” You pant, feeling your cunt start to flutter around his fingers deep inside you. “I’m gonna cum for you. Gonna cum all over your fingers.” You whine, turning your head and pressing your lips to his. Your moan pouring into his mouth while stars bust behind your eyes.

He groans when you clamp down on his fingers and you grip his cock just right in your hand, squeezing him so that he grunts into your mouth. His tongue slides against yours while his cock pulses in your hand, spurting his cum onto his stomach and chest, dripping onto your hand.

It’s beautiful, both of you coming apart together. Groaning into each other and riding out your pleasure panted out with every breath. “Ezra.” You whimper, kissing his lips again and again until his cock softens.

He withdraws his fingers, pushing them into his mouth with a groan to taste you and he cups your cheek with his wet hand, sliding his tongue back into your mouth. He has never felt this sexually charged. He’s almost ready to go again, certain that he would be if he was younger. “Fuck, my baby doll, you’re - you intoxicate me.”

You chuckle breathlessly, knowing that you feel the same but it has to be usual for him. Maybe he’s a little vulnerable because he’s exposed himself, but any number of women would give anything to have his attention and his touch. “Hopefully that doesn’t change anytime soon.” You murmur, shooting him a grin before you duck your head down and lick up some of the cum splattered on his skin.

“Jesus Christ.” Ezra hisses, caressing your cheek, and he surges forward to press his lips to yours, tasting his own cum on your lips and he smiles against your lips when you pull back. “Shall we restart that movie?” He jokes and you giggle, nodding as you snuggle into his side.

****

The next morning, Ezra watches you get ready for work with a grin on his lips, loving this routine you go through. It’s unbelievably sexy to watch you get ready and he sits there in his pants, watching you as you put on your underwear. He knows he could easily watch you do this every morning and that scares him a little, how easy it is.

It’s been a long time since you’ve gotten dressed in front of anyone, but you don’t mind Ezra watching you. There’s something in his gaze that makes you feel warm and you like it. Humming to yourself as you rub lotion into your skin, you think about the outfits you haven’t worn in awhile and walk into your closet to pull out the business attire.

When you come out of your closet, Ezra groans at how beautiful you look in the blazer and skirt. He shifts, standing up and he walks over to you, kneeling down on the floor. His hands run along your legs and he pushes your skirt up. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” He murmurs, looking up at you and he hooks his fingers in the panties he watched you put on, pulling them down. “I want breakfast.” He teases, lifting your leg onto his shoulder before he slides his tongue through your folds.

“Ezraaaa.” You whine, thankful you don’t have your shoes on as your fingers tangle into his hair. You had expected him to leave first thing, or to not be interested in anything intimate, but his tongue proves you wrong. “Fuck- I- I’m going to be late.”

“Be late. For once in your fucking life.” He winks and dives back in, flicking his tongue against your clit until he sucks it into your mouth, groaning when you buck against his mouth. He grabs your ass, encouraging you to rock against his face. Once he’s made you cum, he will leave even though he’s going to hate it.”

“Oh fuck!” You cry out, his tongue flicking over your clit with expert precision. You vaguely think about calling in sick and staying like this with Ezra all day but he has places to be as well. “Fuck, fuck, you’re going to fuck me, right?” You gasp out. “Oh fuck, fill me up and let me ruin my panties all day?”

He groans into your pussy, wishing he could spend all day buried in your cunt but you have to work and he needs to spend time away from you before he gets even deeper. He slides his tongue into your cunt, his nose pressed against your clit and he fucking loves the way you rock against his face.

Your body loves the attention, primed for another orgasm by his skilled tongue or cock through most of the night. You hadn’t slept much but you feel invigorated. “Fuck Ez,” you whine, tugging on his hair until he groans into your cunt again and it sends you over the edge. Crying out wordlessly, you flood his tongue with your juices.

He laps it up, working you through it with his tongue while he savors everything you give him, his cock now aching and he caresses your legs as he pulls back to look up at you. “Chérie, you want - you want me to fuck you?” He rasps, chin glistening with your cum.

Despite the fact that you need to leave for work, you are nodding. Turning around and pulling your skirt up more as you bend over the bed. “Fuck me. God, I want to feel you all day, baby.” You beg, closing your eyes so you don’t ask him to be here when you get home.

Ezra doesn’t think about the condom, too focused on pulling his trousers down to pull his hard cock out, positioning himself at your entrance and pushing inside of you with a deep groan. His hands grip your hips and he doesn’t allow you a moment to adjust before he starts to fuck you hard and fast.

Rocking up into the balls of your toes, you cry out when he punches deep. Loving how it feels like his cock is kissing your womb and hitting perfectly inside you. Mewling every time his hips slap against your ass, all you can do is take it and you Fucking love it. “Ez- oh-oh fuck!” You squeal when he pushes deep and hits your g-spot.

To feel you without protection has Ezra thinking he’s been allowed into heaven. He hisses and continues his hard pace, eyes fluttering closed with how wet and tight you are around him, so fucking hot. “Oh shit, baby doll, you feel - it’s so good. So goddamn fucking good.” He smacks your ass, loving the squeal that echoes in your bedroom.

Every thrust of his cock pushes you closer, legs starting to shake and you feel like you are about to combust. Pushing your hips back and where he roughly drills into you again, you shatter. Toes curling and back arching, you practically scream his name. Creaming all over his cock and you realize he’s not wearing a condom and it makes it even sweeter.

“Can I - fuck. Can I cum inside of you, chérie?” He asks, panting as he leans over you. His eyes fluttering closed as he bites down on your neck, trying to control himself as you squeeze his cock, soaking him and his entire body shakes as he tries to control himself and not cum inside of you without you saying yes.

“Yes! Fuck yes, Ezra cum inside me. Please cum inside me.” It’s borderline pathetic how desperate you sound but you reach back to grab his hip. “Fuck baby, fill me up.”

He can’t deny you anything, thrusting deep as he cums, painting your walls as the deep groan of your name bounces off of your bedroom walls. “Oh my fuck-” He chokes, cock pulsing as he slumps over you, filling you up with his hot seed.

The whine you let out is low, pleased, as he fills you up. Loving the slow rolls of his hips while he pumps every last drop into your cunt. Knowing you will be leaking him for hours while at work. “Fuck-I, no more condoms.” You pant. “Just like this, every time.”

Ezra kisses along your neck, unable to believe you trust him enough to cum inside of you. He’s never had that with a client but the line is blurring. You are no longer a client, you’re more than that and it terrified him. “Fuck yes. So good.” He murmurs and pulls out of you with a hiss. He grabs your panties, helping you step into them and pulls them up to keep his cum inside of you, stopping it from dripping on the floor. “You need to get to work, baby doll.” He smacks your ass before he pulls your skirt down.

Turning around, you press your lips to his again. It’s crazy how deeply you feel for him but you know that his time is money. As it is, you feel like you’ve taken advantage. “Let me know when you’re free again.” You murmur, straightening up so you can fix your appearance for work. “I would like to see you again soon.” Like tonight, but you don’t say that. You don’t want to be clingy.

“Me too.” Ezra murmurs, knowing he needs the $300 rate you agreed but he wants to say fuck the money and continue kissing you. However, he has obligations and when you step back to grab your purse, he feels dirty, he feels like he’s taking advantage of you. “Maybe tomorrow night. I have…I have an appointment tonight.” An older lady, a widow, who wants him to attend a function with him. He knows he will just be there to impress her friends but the money is too much to pass up. Maybe he can work on his writing this afternoon.

Taking out the bills, you fold them over and for a moment - fear that he is fucking you to make sure you come back floods your system. Making you falter for a moment before you press the bills into his hand and kiss his cheek. “I- I should leave.” You murmur, not sure of how to ask him to get dressed and leave with you. You aren’t together and you shouldn’t leave him in your apartment by himself.

Ezra nods, pulling up his trousers and tucking his shirt in before he shoves the money in his pant pocket. “I’ll see you soon, mon chérie.” He murmurs, kissing your cheek and he grabs his jacket while you lead him to the door. He knows you need to leave and he follows you out of your door. The elevator ride is silent and he watches you as you stare at the numbers on the screen. He wants to say something but what can he say? You want him for company and sex, he needs to push his silly feelings aside.

The doors open and you look up from your phone, stepping out into the lobby. “Thank you for last night.” You offer, wanting to kiss him but you aren’t sure about what you can do now that you’ve paid him for his time. Your phone beeps and you sigh, looking down at it. “I’m sorry, I am so late. Ask the doorman to get you a car if you need one.” You flash him a smile and turn around to hurry toward the doors that lead to where your car is waiting.

Ezra watches you go with a sigh, knowing you just want him when you aren’t working. He needs to control his emotions and be professional. That’s what you are doing and he must follow suit.

****

You snuggle into his chest, the morning light shining through the window and Ezra caresses your spine as you sleep against him. He didn’t get a lot of sleep, too busy thinking about work. Too busy thinking about you. You’ve been paying him to stay at your place for the past month, going out for dinners, you even took him to a work event. Three hundred dollars for every night he spends with you and you’ve spent a lot of money. He hates it and today, he’s going to end it. He can’t keep taking your money. You stir against him and he kisses your hair, “morning, chérie.”

A soft, sleepy smile starts on your face as you turn your head. Mornings with Ezra are amazing and you have slept better and been more relaxed than you ever remember being. It’s sad that you have to pay for a man that you’ve fallen in love with, but you understand it. Time is money and you knew that the first time you slept with him. “Morning.” You hum, scooting up to press your lips to his. “Hmmm, what time is it?”

“It’s ten. You slept in. Someone must’ve kept you up all night long.” Ezra teases, pressing his lips to yours once more until he remembers that he has to end this. He sighs, shifting off of the bed. “My damn arm has gone dead. Let me - I need to piss.” He says, pulling away from you as he shuffles into the bathroom. He doesn’t know how he’s going to end this, it’s going to destroy him but it’s for the best. When he comes out, you are sitting up in bed, still sleepy and yet so gorgeous. “I’ll make you some coffee.” He says as he grabs his pants, pulling them on so he can have this conversation with you.

You rub your eyes, a little confused at why Ezra is rushing out of the bed. Although it’s late, you have been spending hours in bed on the weekends before you finally get up and venture out to get brunch. There’s something odd about it and it makes your stomach flutter nervously as you slide out of bed and grab your robe to tie around you before you make your way to the kitchen. “Do you want to go out and get coffee? Some breakfast?” You ask, coming over to kiss his bare back as he stands in front of your coffee maker. His back tenses and you slowly pull away, thinking he is having some pain this morning. Sometimes his scars ache.

Ezra doesn’t respond as he works on fixing you a cup of coffee. “No. I, uh, I can’t go out for brunch today. I have…other obligations.” He lies and you frown, stepping back from him.

“Oh. I, uh, okay.” You swallow harshly and he bites his lip as he watches you walk over to your purse on the counter. “I can pay you now. Let you leave and we can - we can see each other tomorrow.” You aren’t happy but what can you do? You can’t force him to stay.

“No.” Ezra says, his voice almost wavering but he manages to remain strong. “I don’t - I don’t want your money and I can’t - I can’t see you again.”

“Oh.” Your heart breaks with his words and immediately you are trying to fight back tears. It’s stupid that you had gotten in so deep with this man when it was only supposed to be one evening, one stupid New Year’s party. “I see.” You manage to keep your voice steady and you turn to pull out the crisp, three one hundred dollar bills and you lay them on the counter for him. “Take the money, you spent last night with me.” You insist before you set the bag down. “I- I need to - excuse me.” You rush back towards your bedroom, needing to lock yourself in the bathroom for a moment so you don’t do something stupid like begging him to stay.

Frowning as you rush off, Ezra looks back towards the door you just slammed. He shakes his head, suddenly pissed that you are just dismissing him without even talking about it. He knows he’s the one ending this arrangement but that’s because of his feelings for you. You just seem to not give a fuck. That makes him furious. He stomps over to your door, banging on it. “You can’t just lock yourself away. I- is that it? We’re done?” He asks you through the door, leaning against it as he sighs, his heart breaking.

Inside the bathroom, you cover your mouth with your hand, tears pouring down your face. “What do you want, Ezra?” You sob. “Is this- I don’t understand.” Your heart feels like it’s about to explode and all you want is to be left alone so you can wallow in your misery. “Is it a shakedown for more money?” You didn’t think it was all fake, but maybe he had just been using you. Maybe this was to try to get you to offer him more.

He hates hearing you cry and he’s so mad that you think this is because he wants more money. “More money? Are you fucking joking with me, baby doll? I don’t give a shit about the money. I- I can’t keep taking your money when I- it’s not just work anymore. It never was. Not since the moment I met you. It’s never been an arrangement for me. Chérie, it’s always been for pleasure, because you’re incredible. I - I can’t keep taking your money when I’m in love with you. It’s not right and it’s best that I walk away now. I know you just wanted company and I’m the moron who caught feelings and it’s not fair to push that onto you.”

His confession just makes you sob harder, confused and hurt by all of this. Especially the suddenness of him not wanting to be with you anymore. “Don’t lie, Ezra!” You shout, curling your arms around yourself to try to provide some small comfort. “I know- I know that you were just doing your job. I know that the only way I would get to be with you was if I paid you. Why-” You voice breaks and you gasp out a sob of heart wrenching pain. “Why do you think I kept paying you? It’s the only way I could spend time with you! Stop making fun of me.”

Ezra frowns, “what - what the fuck are you talking about? Please. Please can you come out of there so I can talk to you properly? I’m not making fun of you, my love. I - I want to be with you. I just - you kept paying me and I - I’m a scoundrel and shouldn’t have taken your money. I’ll give every cent back to you. Just - just please, let me see you one last time before I go. I can’t - I know you don’t love me. I’ll go.”

You don’t want to, you don’t want to confront him. You’ve never been good in relationships, never wanted to fight or deal with the heartbreak associated with it. You would rather just leave, let him go but he’s in your house right now. Stumbling to the door, you know you look horrible with tears running down your cheeks and your nose running but you can’t care right now. You open the door and you can’t even look at him, staring down at your feet. “Please stop.” You beg him softly. “I know- I know I’m stupid but stop pretending.” You hiccup and try to wipe away your tears. “You don’t want to be with me, I know that. So just- go if you want.”

Ezra’s heart breaks at your confession and he can’t stop himself from reaching out to cup your cheeks. “My love, oh mon chérie. You are - please - seeing you cry has me damn near ready to beat myself up.” He tenderly wipes your tears with his thumbs, forcing you to look at him. “I don’t want your money. I want you. I love you. I’m - I’m a fool to let this arrangement have carried on for this long but I need you to know that I am madly in love with you and if you don’t feel the same, I will walk out that door. I will return your money. I cannot take it. I did not need to be paid for a single moment of this time together.”

Your chin trembles and wobbles while new tears spill over your lashes. Wanting so badly to believe him but why would he say he couldn’t see you anymore? “I- then why can’t you see me?” You ask. “I- I always want you here. I love you, Ezra. It’s why I’ve wanted you here. Everyday, I - I’ve wanted you. I paid you because I- I thought it was the only way I could have you.”

He’s dumbstruck when you tell him you love him, taking a few moments to respond to you. “Why would you love me? I- I’m a monster. I- I don’t have a proper career. I spend my nights as a date for elderly women and I am not good enough for you.” He admits with a whisper, wiping away the new tears. “You deserve better than me.”

“I hate whoever told you that you’re a monster.” You hiss, shaking your head still cupped in his hands. Your own hands find his sides and you pull him closer. “You're not. You are a man who gives older ladies companionship and friendly banter, letting them feel young and wanted again.” You know he’s not sleeping with anyone else, you’ve actually met a few of his clients when you’ve been out to dinners. They are all sweet, lonely women who can pay for his company. “You are a writer, and a good one. Your book will be a bestseller, I know it.” The conversation has shifted focus and you find yourself defending him to him. “Why do I deserve better than the man I love?”

Ezra swallows harshly, tears stinging in his eyes, and he leans in to press his forehead against yours. “Can you forgive me, mon chérie? For talking about leaving? I didn’t want to leave. I- I love you. I love you and I don’t want to go. I want you. If you can accept me as I am, I want you.” He murmurs, kissing your nose.

“There is nothing to accept, Ezra.” You close your eyes and try to catch your breath. “I love you, just as you are. I- you are perfect to me.” He never got upset at you when you worked at home, always let you finish up while he lounged beside you on his own computer or watched TV. Never tried to get you to change. Why would you want to change him?

He smiles, exhaling shakily then he presses his lips to yours, sweet but passionate as he breathes you in. He pulls back after a moment, “I love you, chérie. I love you more than life itself. I thank whatever deity is above that you called me for that New Year party. You’ve - you make me feel whole and accepted and loved. I could spend a lifetime repaying you for that.”

“I love you.” Now that you’ve said it, it’s almost second nature to repeat it. Addicted to the way it sounds when you tell him. “I- God, you don’t know how much you mean to me.” You promise, hugging him close and hiccuping again.

****

Ezra keeps his arm wrapped around your waist, smiling as you enter the ballroom for your company’s annual New Year party. Last year, you hired Ezra to come with you and now, he stands proud beside you. His book is now published and on the bestseller list like you predicted and he’s given up his escorting, now deciding to spend his nights with you and only you. “Have I told you you look gorgeous tonight, chérie?” He asks when you are standing at the bar, waiting on your champagne.

“Only when you tried to convince me to stay home and allow you to peel off my dress early.” You tease, leaning in and stealing a kiss. He’s officially moved in and every morning you wake up in his arms feels like a miracle. The second bedroom has been turned into his office, allowing him space to write and create. Often when you come home from work, you will sit on the sofa there and go through your emails while he finishes his self imposed writing limit. “But it pales in comparison to how handsome you are.”

Ezra bites his lip, staring at you and unable to believe how lucky he is to have you. You accept all of him, scars and blemishes, all of him. "Marry me." He blurts out, his dark eyes fixed on yours while you lean against the bar.

Rocking back, your eyes widen in surprise. “Ezra- what?” You forget how to breathe for a second and all you can hear is a slight buzzing in your ears. “I- you’re joking, right?” Ezra shakes his head, knowing it wasn’t the most articulate proposal in history, but he’s not joking. “You-you want me to marry you?” You whisper, unable to believe that this is actually happening.

He clears his throat, reaching for your hands, and he turns you towards him. “Mon chérie, I- I adore you. I wake up and am beyond grateful that you are in my arms. I never thought I’d find someone like you. I never imagined being with a woman like you after coming back from the war. I love you, I want you to be mine. I want you to be my wife. Marry me.” He requests and lets go of your hands to reach into his pocket. “I planned to do this later but I- I can’t wait.” He opens the small velvet box, displaying the simple yet impressive diamond he had purchased for you.

Gasping softly, your hand covers your mouth as you stare at the perfection that Ezra has picked out for you. Making tears spring to your eyes as you imagine marrying this man. Something that you never thought was in the cards for you. “Yes!” You cry after a moment, laughing and flustered. “Yes, I will marry you.” Lunging forward, you throw your arms around him and kiss him fervently. “I love you.”

He wraps his arms around you, the ring box in his hand and he grins against your lips until he is pecking them over and over. “I love you.” He murmurs your name and takes the ring out of the box, sliding it onto your finger. Others have noticed the scene and are applauding, including your bosses who orders a bottle of champagne for you and Ezra.

“Congratulations. Who would’ve thought you’d be getting engaged tonight?” Your boss winks at Ezra who chuckles, having emailed your boss to ask for the band to play your favorite song - the song that was playing during your first dance a year ago.

The song begins to play and Ezra takes your hand, guiding you to the dance floor. “I want to show off my beautiful fiancée.” He smiles, pulling you into his arms and he begins to sway with you to the music while your entire company watches, the ring on your finger glistening. You have tears in your eyes when you rest your head on Ezra and he kisses your hair. You had hired him a year ago to pretend to be your boyfriend and tonight, you’ll be leaving with him as your fiancé.

#pedro pascal #ezra prospect #ezra x reader #ezra x you #ezra x f!reader #ezra prospect x you #ezra prospect x reader #ezra prospect x f!reader #ezra prospect smut #ezra prospect imagine #ezra prospect fanfiction #ezra smut

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nightsdreamgates · 7 months

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I absolutely LOVE your au and your writing ✍️ for it.

Can I ask for some general dating headcannons for reala and nights? It can be the main game or your au, whichever you prefer

To make it much easier for me, since I'm STILL sick 😭😭 I will write general Headcanons for both of them from the main game! Pretty summarized too to not make it seem like a cluster giggles

# ;. NiGHTS Romance Gen. HCs:

" Despite his carefree, troublemaker and anti-hero perks, NiGHTS never always been just reduced into being ``goofy``. He is a nightmaren with many layers, that he hides it under his playful nature. He can be quiet, as the full moon night, can be snarky, as a serpent, yet caring as well... Not afraid to show how he really feels, yet intriguing when he chooses to simply observe and keep his own points to themself. How?... How could be so frustrating yet so adoring at same time?! Whoever manages to get inside this maren's mind, things gets more clearer."

NiGHTS never expected much to be in a relationship, but they also always had curiosity on it!

In a romantic sense, NiGHTS would be the funny bf/gf in the relationship, sometimes teasing you to a point that it's annoying, only to see your grumpy face and angry huffs

Their way of love communication, is gifts, quality time and touching. Giving you little trinkets that made them think of you, spending time on Nightopia while slowly holding your hand without you even noticing

NiGHTS like the way your hand feels, how your skin is smooth or so delicate with his - To a point that when he carries you in a bride style, they rub their cheeks into yours as a form of affection

NiGHTS from the game itself, we notice that he speaks on his own language - althought I think he also can speak in any language you are native of!

About the languages, if you teach them a few accents from your native language and it's meanings, NiGHTS will start using them correctly as he can, even creating few new words just for you to make fun of him

He is an attention seeker and pretty petty when he wants to, so when you ignore him or slightly brush him away, they start to become dramatic and cling onto you, just to make you feel guilty or bad for it (never in a harmful way, since he cares about your feelings too!)

If he would have a favorite memory, one that they find the sweetest, it would be one night, you and him started to talk about your own future, your problems and fears... The way that you looked at him once he admitted his mistakes and even fears, he felt like the world had turned merciful to him... to give someone he can trust on, without worrying much.

Now one silly and last that I thought, is that sometimes when you have to rescue him out of the ideya palaces, when he had made you upset a day ago, you would tease on him and even prank, making him to have to say the magic words so you can help him!

NiGHTS still has his ego and pride... But the way you manage to break it by simply being kind, fair and gorgeous to their eyes, is what gets him more lost in knees for you ♡

# ;. Reala - Romance Gen. Hcs:

" How could I even be choosen by this sort of feelings? Love isn't made for someone like me, althought it gives me a sense of admired by inferiors - loved in a sense of being cared, sounds stupid. And if it does, then I'm a fool for had fallen so easily in your schemes. I never truly cared about anything besides myself, since I am the only one to trust. Say whatever you want, my devotion to my purpose is still loyal, but I don't trust my creator. If what you say is true, if I can have the dignity to deserve `love`... Then show me. "

During the time he had spent with you, all you did was nothing but show him respect in a different way.

With his power, mighty and fear he brings upon his own kind, you seemed to not fear him. Which intrigued him as much it annoyed him.

Now that he understand your fearless nature, is nothing but respect, the way you act merciful, kind and caring to him, was enough for this tough maren' soften in your arms.

His way of showing love, is words of affirmation, praisings, touching and gifts. Ways that he can dedicate on now this relationship, on how he deserves your love as much you deserves to be felt special.

You always reassured him that they don't need to do that to proof something that you already see, but Reala tends to be a bit stubborn, insisting, until he promised to at least `tone it down`.

He never been a cranked up boomer, he also got some humour, and find himself pleased hearing you laughing at his salty attitude.

Their sarcasm is pretty clear, but if you aren't used to it, he would be surprised seeing how innocent you are to a point of not getting sarcasm most of the time. (Dw he'll teach u how to be salty)

His ideal partner always had been someone who are capable of controlling and helping the relationship grow, someone that takes it and compromise it deeply, not just a night stander or a simple girlfriend/boyfriend thing.

He loves when you kiss his face tenderly; this face that many people screamed and ran away of it, being held and kissed, praised on too, by their darling.

If you ask, Reala would let you sit on his lap while they are on the throne. Specially if you give him pats and bunch of affection. The sense of being praised like that makes his stomach tingle.

Dating Reala also means `watchdog` or `bodyguard` benefits, he will destroy anyone, the whole WORLD, if he sees you crying... Then they would compliment and keep you so close.

Ty very much for the request and the patience, hope ya like it!

#nights into dreams #nights #nid #sega #nightsposting #jod #nightmaren #nights journey of dreams #njod #reala #reala nid #reala jod #reala x reader #nights x reader #romantic headcanons

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acamaryseinteery · 9 months

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Httyd Modern AU

Ships: hicret/eretcup, former hicstrid

Sumary: first time meeting, number puns, new flatmate,...

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One thing Hiccup didn't expect to see so up close was a picture of some more furred deer with large antlers and body made of lines. Much less to bump into the picture on the box.

He was running late to meet up with his ex for a breakfast at their favorite cafe and already sure that he attached his peg leg wrong. Now he was on his back and trying to regain consciousness over seeing tribal furry deers fly above him. It took him a few minutes to notice someone was calling him.

"Hey! Are you okay?!" As if an alarm activated in his head Hiccup sat up and instantly held back of his head in pain.

The big box was dropped on the ground carefully as the one holding it rushed to help him.

"Hey, slowly okay? That was quite a fall." The man spoke softly and one big arm supported his back while other batted his hand away to feel any swelling.

After regaining some consciousness and his vision cleared up better(though every around the center was still blurry), he noticed a tattooed man with tribal tattoo on his chin watch him with deep worry.

His eyes were amber brown, his skin was tan and he had his mid long hair tied, but that didn't stop bangs to sneak past his ears. Wait, were those beads in them?

After looking down he noticed that he was wearing a worn out dark green sleeveless hoodie and grey sweatpants.

"Hold on, I'll bring you some water." He quickly left, but not for a very long time. Just now Hiccup noticed that the man put a folded blanket behind his head and put his legs in the air by putting them against the box he was holding.

At least he seemed to know what to do.

Hiccup on the other hand didn't know what to do at all. But guessing by the spinning feeling in his body he could only wait to get better before-Oh shit.

Astrid!

He should be going, else she's gonna be worried sick!

He tried to get up only to find his peg leg detach when he tried to take a step.

What would have surely been a splat on the ground was avoided by a strong arm hooking him from below around chest to stop his fall.

"Easy now I got ya. Holding on?" Asked the man and tried to help him balance on one leg and aim him down to sit.

Once they managed that Hiccup let go of his hold and accepted the handed sports bottle of water.

The man took the prothesis and placed it next to the leg it belonged to.

"Want me to call you an ambulance?"

"No no, I'm fine thanks. I was just in the hurry and didn't notice you in the hallway." He took one more chug of water and gave the man the bottle back for now.

"Thanks."

"No problem, sorry for causing your fall. I'm moving in and this was the only box I could take while my cousin is parking." He motioned the the huge box with the reindeer logo.

Hiccup chuckled and reattached his leg "Yeah, this hallway always seemed too narrow for my taste. Hopefully I won't see reindeers in my sleep now."

His joke got the man to snicker before he held out his hand to Hiccup.

"Eret Eretson, room S8." He said with a bit of an accent. Maybe British?

"Straight?"

"No sir, gay."

Hiccup burst into laughter after the number pun and grin Eret pulled on after saying that.

After minimizing the laughter to giggles he said "There's no room S 8. The landlord ordered wrong fond so the 5 looks like a S."

"Shoot, there goes my chances of an endless joke opportunities. But at least it's not A5. Because anyone I would anger would write an extra S there and my address name would be an Ass." Joked Eret, cracking Hiccup again before saying.

"That's your aim anyway, so it would give a straight up message."

Now that cracked Eret into laughter "Good one."

"Hiccup."

"Um, bless you?"

Hiccup then chuckled "No that's my name. Harry Hiccup Haddock. But everyone calls me Hiccup. My mom's idea when she was high on adderall and dad on antidepressants on stress. My room is 54."

Eret clearly fought another laughter as he grimaced and made stiffened giggles after shaking his hand and helping him up.

"That must be a great story for office parties."

"Eh, after a few years it gets old." Shrugged Hiccup and drank rest of the water.

"Anyway I should go else my ex is gonna think I stood her up on our breakfast plans."

"Trying to get back together?" Quizzed Eret curious but Hiccup shook his head "Nah, just a tradition from college years together. Anyway, see you around. Hopefully next time without any crash collisions." Eret let Hiccup walk past him before taking the box and taking it to his apartment.

"No promises. See ya!"

#httyd #how to train your dragon #eret #eretcup #hicret #hiccup haddock #eret son of eret #httyd modern au

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nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos · 1 year

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Below you will find the character profile for my One Piece OC (one of them, anyway. I have at least five, but I'll be working the most closely with this one for now).

So, here we go. Only been working on this shit for like...three days. Okay, technically over ten years since I used to write her ages ago when I was on fanfiction.net, but I've redone a lot of things.

I'm already in the process of working on a novel-length Mihawk x AFAB!OC fanfic, so here's the overly extensive character sheet for my OC because I always put way too much effort into character development.

The character history practically devolves into a mini fanfic itself around the middle by total accident, but whatever.

The fanfic(s) will toe the line between Live Action and Manga canon. We'll just call it AU and leave it at that.

Karimi Lionne

Associated fanfics: Hearing Problems (coming soon to an Unknowable Horror near you) and Any Way The Wind Blows (eventually, bear with me)

Age: 24

Occupation: Pirate; Mercenary

Abilities:

Kiku Kiku no Mi: A Paramecia type devil fruit that grants the user the ability to hear...well, everything, all the time. Within a certain range she, can hear the thoughts of people around her. The range varies with her focus; standard, it's anyone within a range of about fifty feet in any direction. She can close that circle down to either listen to one person's thoughts, or expand it to search a city or town for a particular person. Activated (which she hasn't yet), it allows the user the ability to plant thoughts in others' heads, and potentially control their thoughts.

She considers the ability more of a curse than a blessing since she has never managed to hone it quite well enough to shut it off entirely, and can often be found sitting at a dock or on a beach with her feet in the salt water, just to get some peace and quiet in her own head.

Blades: Karimi carries a pair of daggers with ornately carved ivory handles, the head of a lioness carved into the top of each hilt, in sheaths at either side of her belt. They belonged to her grandmother, who raised her from age four to age fourteen, and also taught her most of what she knows in combat. She also keeps a handful of throwing knives in a holster belted to her right calf, a couple inches below her knee.

Her fighting style relies primarily on agility, evasion, and accuracy rather than raw strength due to her relatively small stature of 5'2".

Haki: Not a master by any means at all. Learned from Red-Haired Shanks during her brief stint working with his crew, used largely to assist in suppressing her devil fruit abilities and making them more manageable. Not really proficient enough to use it for any other application.

Music: Karimi was taught to play guitar, fiddle, and piano by her grandmother, but she hasn't touched an instrument since her grandmother died, so she doesn't know how much of the ability she has retained. Karimi also learned several sea shanties from her, and often hums or quietly sings them to herself while out to sea.

Appearance:

Faceclaim: Jane Fonda c. 1960s, facial structure, skin and hair edited via Faceapp

Long, dark green hair, in wild curls that she can't do much of anything with except tie back in a bun or stuff under a hat. Sharp emerald green eyes. Fair-skinned with a handful of freckles.

The Resting Bitch Face is strong with this one.

Slender, petite, 5'2" tall.

Tends toward wearing long-sleeved shirts/dresses to cover the scars on her arms. Almost always wears her grandmother's hat, an old and tattered brown leather tricorne with a patch on the front left brim and a few more in the back.

Personality:

Confident, toeing the line of outright arrogance at times. Humor that ranges from dryly sarcastic to quite silly, depending on who she's around. Guarded. Brooding. Cynical. Empathetic. Gentle. Uses sarcasm as a coping mechanism. Not easily offended. Prominent issues with self-harm and PTSD.

Backstory (prior to beginning of fic)

Karimi has next to no knowledge of her origins. She knows her mother died shortly after giving birth to her, that she was born on her father's ship, and that she got her hands on a devil fruit the crew had found and ate it when she was three or four years old, not knowing what it was. Shortly thereafter she was taken to live with her grandmother on a remote island village called Conch Cove, somewhere on the Grand Line.

Her grandmother, Helena Lionne, had been a pirate captain shortly before Gol D. Roger came around and into his earlyyears of piracy, but Karimi didn't know much about her history. Helena was a powerful haki user, and was able to use the power to dampen Karimi's devil fruit abilities, largely for the sake of the girl's own comfort and sanity. Helena trained her to fight in order to defend herself in the event that she ever left the island, as well as survivalist training. She wasn't shy about telling Karimi that the world could be a dangerous place, particularly for a woman on her own, amd wanted to ensure that her granddaughter had everything she needed to safely make her way in the world.

Karimi found out more about her grandmother a week after her fourteenth birthday.

She discovered that her grandmother had been captain of the Siren Pirates. She discovered her grandmother possessed the abilities of the Mizu Mizu no Mi (logia type, water). She discovered that her bounty was in the billions...and still very much active.

The Marine Admiral who showed up to the island, Admiral Jackson "Volcano" Vesper, brought a large crew with him, with no intention of taking Helena alive. His moniker stemmed not only from his explosive temper, but also from his own devil fruit abilities—the predecessor to Fire Fist Ace, he possessed the power of the Mera Mera no Mi (logia type, fire). He also possessed an intense desire for revenge on the woman that had killed his father.

He didn't bother revealing how he managed to track her down—he simply went in guns blazing. The battle between him and Helena, between his crew and what remained of hers, waged for nearly two entire days, leaving several Marines and villagers dead and the town in total ruin. Karimi stayed hidden the entire time as her grandmother had asked her to, but with Helena's haki focused on defending herself and her allies, Karimi could hear everything with her devil fruit abilities.

She could hear the moment when Admiral Vesper's first mate got the drop on her grandmother, pinned her to the ground with the butt of his rifle, which he had coated in a layer of sea stone, instantly sapping her strength and her devil fruit powers.

Karimi could hear Vesper's thoughts, his intentions to humiliate her, kill her, and return to Marineford with her head.

And Karimi emerged from hiding and managed to toss a throwing a knife into the back of his leg.

She was captured almost immediately. Her physical resemblance to her grandmother in the woman's younger years was noted immediately by Vesper, and he knew in that instant that he had won.

And Karimi knew it too, with the man's bowie knife to her throat.

He agreed to let Karimi go in exchange for Helena's life, and Helena gave in without a second thought when she saw the bowie knife start to cut into her granddaughters neck.

He took the remainder of Helena's old crew as prisoners—the only four other villagers on the island left alive, but not before slitting Helena's throat and sawing her head from her neck with his bowie knife, while Karimi was held captive and forced to watch.

Then he and his men left her there on the remote island, in a ruined village with nothing but the corpses of friends and neighbors and the woman who raised her to keep her company.

She doesn't remember much of the following two weeks. She knows she was able to make a spear out of a throwing knife and a shovel handle to catch fish for food in the shallows around the island. That she had a fresh source of water in the form of a pond. She knows she was nearly through building a raft out of the rubble that was left of the town when another marine ship arrived at the island, captained this time by Vice Admiral Garp the Fist. She was understandably beyond wary of Marines, and she fought tooth and nail, kicking and screaming, when they took her back to their ship.

They took her throwing knives and her grandmother's daggers, and she was forced to stay in the brig because she made very clear that she would gladly gut any marine who came near her. She was still treated with kindness and provided full meals given her situation, and as she bided her time and got her strength back she formed a plan of escape.

She was able to use her devil fruit powers effectively in her escape—by listening around and finding the easiest target. This came in the form of a fifteen year old cadet who would check on her and talk to her during his downtime. He thought she was pretty and couldn't believe she had managed to keep herself alive for two and a half weeks after what she had been through, admired her sheer strength of will. It was incredibly easy to sweet-talk him into getting her weapons back to her, playing on his sympathies by telling him that they were all she had left of her grandmother.

She hid them once she had them, and did a little more sweet-talking...until he agreed to steal the keys and get her out of the cell. Once she was out, she wasted no time in knocking him out, stealing his uniform, stuffing her hair under the hat, and discreetly stealing enough rations to last herself a week and slipping away on a dinghy.

She had no idea where she was or how she was going to get anywhere, but she wasn't exactly of sound mind after the trauma she had endured. Her only thoughts at the time were that she wanted to put as much distance between herself and the Marines as possible.

She was picked up by a merchant vessel after a few days, and they took pity on her story and allowed her to remain on board the ship, assisting in cooking and cleaning in exchange for room and board and safe passage to their next stop. They were bound for Loguetown in the East Blue, and that suited her just fine.

Loguetown was a large city right outside the only passage onto the Grand Line, and it gave her plenty of options for work. She worked odd jobs that provided her with room and board, saving up money over the course of the following two years.

She was working in a tavern and staying at the attached inn when the Red-Hair pirates made port in Loguetown, and she knew she had her ticket back onto the seas, with only one goal in mind—to find her father, and tell him what had become of her grandmother.

Her memories of him were too vague for her to give any decent description, but she wasn't telling anyone her reasons anyway. She waited for her shift to end before approaching Shanks himself and asking, confidently, to join his crew.

That got a tremendous laugh out of the crew at large, but only a little bit of a chuckle from Shanks himself.

"And why would a little slip of a thing like yourself want sail around with a bunch of old men?"

"That's not really important." She sat down at the neighboring table at this. "But what I can provide your crew is."

"And what might that be, love?"

"I've trained with daggers and throwing knives since I was four years old. I also possess the abilities of the Kiku Kiku no Mi."

Yasopp, sitting between Shanks and his first mate Benn Beckman with bis feet propped up on the table, snorted at that, grinning. "So what, it improved your hearing?"

Karimi leveled her eyes with his. "Immensely," she daid. She gave a small smile...and began narrating his thoughts out loud. "'The hell is this girl's deal? Does she have any idea who she's even talking to right now? She can't even be much older than my—Wait. What the hell? What the hell is she—'" His feet slipped off the table, his mouth falling open as he registered what was happening. "'Holy shit, is she in my head? Is—'"

"Okay, you made your point, cut it out!" he half-shouted, staring at her in alarm.

No one was laughing anymore—and she knew she had their full attention now.

"That," Shanks said lightly, the amusement gone from his eyes and replaced with caution—but also intrigue, "is a very dangerous ability for someone as young as yourself to possess."

"I've had it since I was four. I've learned to manage it."

That was, of course, only half true—she could deal with it, yes, but she couldn't fully control it.

After a long, silent moment, in which members of his crew exchanged glances and Shanks quietly studied her, he leaned back in his chair, nodding to himself.

"Let's give you a real test," he said, leaning his arm over the back of his chair. "See how well you can put your abilities to use." Karimi lifted her eyebrows, waiting. "I want you to sneak into the Marine base here in Loguetown. Find where they keep the treasure and money they've confiscated from pirates and thieves they've arrested...and walk out with as much as you can carry." He lifted his bottle of rum from the table. "Undetected."

"Have you lost your goddamned mind?" Shanks glanced across the table at Benn when he spoke up.

"That's been gone for years, but go on."

Benn gave a growl of annoyance at his captain. "She's a kid. You're talking about sending a kid into a damned Marine base to steal from them. That's a suicide mission."

"The girl wants a chance to prove herself," he said simply, shrugging a shoulder. He looked back at her. "That's my offer, love. We're setting out no later than noon tomorrow. You bring your haul to the ship, you can come with us."

Karimi nodded, and stood from her chair. "Then I will see you all no later than noon tomorrow."

A few hours later, when the tavern closed for the night and the crew returned to the ship, they were met with the sight of Karimi, wearing a Marine uniform and sitting on a sizable burlap sack right in the middle of the deck. She stood from it and kicked it over, spilling gold bricks, jewels, and piles of Berry notes and coins across the deck.

Sneaking into the base had honestly been a piece of cake—she found a half-drunk Marine a couple years older than her at another tavern, did a little sweet-talking and got him back to her inn room. Suggested some rather kinky activities that would involve him stripping down and being tied to the bed and he jumped on it. Once he was securely tied, she gathered her few belongings, put on his uniform, put a do-not-disturb sign on the door, and slipped out the window.

It had taken longer to find and get into the rooms where they kept any seized contraband, but it had been as simple as keeping her head down and listening. Hiding and ducking down empty halls when she heard anyone drawing too close. The entire ordeal had taken just under three hours.

After a long stretch of silence, it was Benn Beckman that voiced what everyone was thinking.

"Holy shit."

Shanks grinned over at him. "Suicide mission, aye?"

She was officially welcomed aboard the ship at this, as promised, but there was some deal of commotion when she told them her name.

Particularly her surname.

She learned very quickly that both Shanks and his first mate were familiar with her father—and that Benn utterly despised him. To the point that he, however briefly, threatened to throw Karimi off the ship himself against his captain's will if necessary. The brief altercation ended in Benn storming off to the gun deck on his own, leaving Karimi wondering if she had made the right choice of crew.

Shanks was far more personable.

He told her about her father—Lyon D. Rollo.

He described her father as having been like "the annoying little brother he never wanted." Told her about their time spent as deckhands aboard the Oro Jackson. About his devil fruit abilities that had caused absolutely nothing but trouble for years because they were incredibly difficult to master without massive repercussions: the Kaze Kaze no Mi (logia type: wind).

Told her how they met Benn not long after Roger's execution after setting out on their own—Benn and his younger sister, Sedna, who he had looked after on his own since he was around sixteen and she was six, when their parents had been killed by raiding pirates.

Who Karimi's father had apparently fallen inmediately head over heels for. Said he refused to leave town without her, and did exactly as he set out to. Benn had refused to leave her side, and came with them despite his hatred of pirates at the time.

It was a year later that Shanks and her father had gone their separate ways. It had always been the plan, as they were both too stubborn to accept being anything but captains. Once they gathered enough of their own crew members and got their own ships, they parted as friends. Benn stayed with Shanks, and Sedna remained with Lyon.

It wasn't long after that they recieved word that Sedna had been killed during a firefight with the Marines.

"He never mentioned a child," said Shanks, shaking his head and looking at Karimi like he was looking at a ghost as he leaned forward against the railing around the bow. "I imagine he couldn't have been much older than seventeen." He shook his head a little, still in disbelief. "I don't think I need devil fruit abilities to know what you're doing here."

Karimi nodded shortly. "Do you know where—?"

"No, unfortunately."

No one knew where Lyon was—it had been five years since Shanks actually last saw him, and he and his entire crew seemed to have just vanished into thin air around a year ago, despite still holding active bounties.

Karimi didn't tell him anything else, not why she was looking for him—only that she was, and that she had no intention of remaining with the Red Hair crew for the long term. Just long enough to get a bit of money together and purchase her own ship, something small like a sloop that she could handle by herself.

She ended up sailing with the Red Hair Pirates for around two years, give or take few months. Shanks became something of a mentor to her over that period of time, taking time to train her in Busoshoku Haki, the same type of Haki that her grandmother had used to repress Karimi's Devil Fruit abilities, so Karimi could use it herself when she wished to. It wasn't fool-proof, but it at least helped lessen the mental load.

Once on her own, Karimi ultimately began working as a mercenary; taking on jobs with various pirate crews that required stealth or a subtle touch, avoiding Marines as much as possible, and attempting to gather any information she could about her father, but to no avail on the latter front—it really seemed like he and his crew had just vanished into thin air. His bounty was still active, along with those of his first mate and officers, but no one had heard hide nor hair of them in literaly years.

Nothing much changed for her until Karimi took a job from the Buggy Pirates a few years later, at twenty-four years old. Buggy was searching for a map of the Grand Line, and he needed someone to steal it for him, since he and his crew more or less stood out like sore thumbs and couldn't very discreetly sneak into the naval base in Shells Town where it was being kept. She was reluctant to accept—she usually avoided jobs that had anything at all to do with the Marines, but Buggy made an offer she couldn't refuse.

He claimed to have information about her father that he would gladly trade for the map.

She kept her ship anchored next to Buggy's overnight to set to preparing, planning to make way for Shells Town first thing the following morning...but news came down the grapevine that night that the map had been stolen during a break-in by another pirate crew into the Marine base.

In his rage that his plans were foiled after spending months gathering information, Buggy laid the blame on the hired hand—that she had left immediately, she could have beaten the other crew to the base and gotten the map first. He ultimately sunk her sloop, nearly with her on it before she managed to gather her most valuable items and get herself onto Buggy's ship, where he informed her she would be working for him until her debt at failing to get him the map was paid off—now she was going to have to steal it from the pirates that had taken it.

Karimi had little choice but to agree—being a devil fruit user, it would be far too risky for her to steal a dinghy and take her chances with thr open oceans.

They found the crew on a schooner and took them prisoner easily enough, given that there were only three of them. Karimi recognized one of them from a description Shanks had mentioned during her time with the Red Hair Pirates of the boy he had lost his arm to a sea monster saving (a story that she had honestly thought had to be an exaggeration), who claimed to be their captain and insisted he was going to be king of the pirates...while the other two claimed they weren't even a crew.

Whatever the case, Karimi knew they were her ticket out of servitude to the Buggy Pirates, and mutinied against them the second that the odds shifted in favor of Luffy, Zoro, and Nami.

Luffy was more than happy to welcome her aboard their tiny ship, especially on learning that she knew Shanks. She didn't tell them of her devil fruit abilities, still keeping them suppressed with Haki, a mistake she would regret in the next island they made port at due largely to their schooner springing a leak. They lucked out on landing in a town with a shipyard, but none of them really had a Berry to spare between them to actually purchase a new ship—the vast majority of the money that Karimi had saved herself had sunk to the bottom of the ocean with her own ship amd most of her worldly possessions.

On meeting and quickly befriending Usopp at the shipyard and learning the owner of the place was his "best friend," they had something of a plan, if a bit of a ridiculous one—Luffy was convinced that if he just talked to Kaya and explained their situation, she would just give him a ship and they could be off and on their way.

Both Karimi and Zoro recognized the butler Klahador, but couldn't quite put their finger on why. This was Karimi's mistake—she didn't think enough of it to release her haki and just listen in on his thoughts. It wasn't until everything later fell apart in Kaya's mansion that she did release her haki and quickly learn he was Captain Kuro, a cutthroat captain who had been believed dead for years, that he had been poisoning Kaya for years, and that he planned to murder Kaya and take over the estate himself that night.

She also learned while her abilities were active that Nami had every intention of stealing the Grand Line map and taking it to the pirate crew she was serving against her will. By this point Karimi had developed a soft spot for all three members of the Strawhat Crew (even if two of them still claimed not to be a crew), but she decided not to confront Nami about it—yet.

Kaya was more than happy to gift them a ship after they helped defeat Kuro and freed her from his suppression. She offered Karimi one as well, but she declined, stating that she would prefer to purchase one herself once she had the means to do so—but that she would happily return to Syrup Village and purchase one from Kaya's family's shipyard. In truth, she was honestly enjoying her time with the ragtag little crew, and wanted to stick around with them just a bit longer to see how far Luffy's ambitions could take them.

Usopp joined them at this point as the crew's sharpshooter. They were intercepted not far from Syrup Village by a Marine ship, and Karimi recognized Vice Admiral Garp almost immediately—as did Luffy, to her and the others' astonishment on finding our that Garp was his grandfather. Luffy was able to use his devil fruit abilities to deflect a cannonball thrown at their ship by Garp, and damage Garp's ship enough for them to slip away into a dense fog and lose their pursuers.

They happened by pure luck upon the restaurant ship Baratie, where our story begins in earnest, following Luffy's idiocy at trying to pass off a very expensive bill with an I.O.U. and getting stuck washing dishes in the kitchen to pay it off.

Relationships

Helena Lionne (OC): Grandmother, deceased. A powerful pirate captain in her heyday, Helena disappeared from the seas without a word one day and no one really knew where she had gone. Helena raised Karimi from age four to fourteen, when she was tragically murdered by a revenge-crazed marine admiral whose father Helena had killed years earlier when she was still pirating. Karimi looked up to her immensely and loved her to death, and thinking about her still hurts.

Lyon D. Rollo (OC): A active pirate captain on the grand line, though no one has heard hide nor hair of him or his crew (the Hurricane Pirates) in years. She's been trying to find him for the past ten years, to tell him what happened to her grandmother/his mother, since Karimi was the only witness left alive and no one else would be able to tell him exactly what happened. It doesn't help that she last saw him at four years old, and remembers next to nothing about him. He's actually the one who gave her the hat—he took it when he left home at thirteen to become a pirate himself, and left it with her when he took her to her grandmother. (A/N, if and when I ever get to working on Any Way The Wind Blows, it will be about his history.)

Red-Haired Shanks: Working with the Red-Hair pirates for two years led to her becoming fairly close with Shanks. He had known her father over two decades and became quite protective of her as a direct result, with her looking at him almost as a father figure as well as a mentor.

Benn Beckman: The first mate of Red-Haired Shanks, Karimi learned from Shanks that her mother had been Benn's younger sister, Sedna, and that Benn absolutely despised her father and blamed him for his younger sibling's untimely death. As a result, Benn spent a while both wary and untrusting of Karimi and treating her with indifference that bordered on hostility; but he eventually let it go, accepting that she was capable (and, in his own words, "a hell of a lot smarter than Lyon D. Dipshit"),

The Marines: Karimi positively despises Marines, with the sole exception of Garp since has come to recognize that she wouldn't be alive if not for him, though good luck getting her to admit it.

Luffy: For her short spell traveling with Luffy and his "crew," she bonded with Luffy pretty quickly, coming to see him like a goofy little brother. He absolutely reveled in hearing stories about her time on the ocean, especially any that involved her time on Shanks's crew. She's quick to scold him for his naivety and questionable decisions, but it's mostly out of care; his ambition is definitely infectious, and she wants to see him achieve everything he's set out to do.

Nami: As the only other girl on the Going Merry, Karimi did her best to get close to Nami, especially on learning about her tragic situation with the Arlong Pirates via her devil fruit abilities, but Nami makes herself intentionally distant.

Zoro: She butted heads a fair bit with Zoro, largely due to both of them being exceedingly sarcastic, but she doesn't hate him by any means. Quite the contrary, she admires his abilities as a fighter and passes time sparring with him on the deck. They're about evenly matched in fighting ability, as his style relies largely on strength and her own on evasion and agility.

Usopp: Usopp is always quick to pipe in with his own epic stories of his supposed adventures when Karimi mentions any of her own past ventures. Not unlike Luffy, she looks at him almost like a younger sibling, though honestly he annoys her a little more than Luffy.

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