#not entirely sure what to name this au yet

[luckydicekirby]

would love any director's commentary you may have on The Only True Thing if slightly older fics are on the table here bc lowkey it changed my brain chemistry forever. I read it on a whim like four years ago at 1 in the morning and ever since then I've been hooked on making all my fav pairings miserable for no reason. this sounds like sarcasm but I'm being completely sincere the schadenfreude is exquisite

okay first of all I’m SO glad to hear this because making your favs miserable is I think one of the most rewarding activities on this earth so I’m really glad I could help share that joy. thanks also to sylvain for just making it so easy. anyway, here’s some assorted thoughts, hopefully some of which are edifying!

(the only true thing for reference for anyone playing along at home.)

this fic affectionately named the darkling au due to this tweet which I feel like I should put in a hall of fame someday. anyway this entire thread showcases the origin of this fic which was me catie and lily bullying each other on twitter about sylvix, a pastime left behind in 2019 which i really miss.

the thing that really first made me Crazy Cuckoo about sylvain is his B support with Byleth--I'm obsessed with that moment where he very coldly threatens to kill you and then laughs it off, and that was pretty much the jumping off point for Sylvain's characterization in this au--what if he was like that all the time? answer: it would be bad, but also pretty sexy!

One thing I miss about writing for fe3h is the hero’s relics were sooo nice as like. shortcut symbolism. the lance of ruin comes preloaded for you! It’s familial cycles of violence! Easy! and there's a mechanic for it breaking ALSO preloaded into the game mechanics! I wrote like three versions of the ending and the lance getting busted moved around a bit--it originally happened a little earlier.

For a while when I was still femblempilled I was idly thinking about two sequels to this—a sylvain pov sequel about the war, which would have been fun but also Yikes, and then epistolary dorothea/ingrid ideological divorce fic. sorry to dorothea and ingrid who really get the short end of the stick in this universe.

oh there's a playlist. I can’t claim to have put a ton of thought into it it’s just all my fav bad ya boyfriend songs <3 actually dead girl walking reprise is like. yeah that's the fic.

ANYWAY. I feel like a lot of my commentary on this has been washed away by the sea (the passage of time) so a few extras. I apparently wrote like 400 words of sylvain POV of the training yard scene also? Last edited September 26th 2019, here you go:

Felix has always been smaller him, ever since they were kids. Still is these days, to Sylvain’s delight. He wondered about it plenty, these past two years--maybe Felix had a growth spurt. Maybe he caught up to Dimitri. Maybe Sylvain would meet him at the monastery and they’d see eye to eye. Of course they don’t. Felix is a head shorter than him, and he’ll never see things the way Sylvain does. Still. Sylvain thought about it. He’s had a lot of time to think about Felix since the last time he saw him, since Felix ran away. Still a crybaby at heart, no matter how sure he was he’d grown out of it. Not much has changed, Sylvain figures. Felix might have everyone else fooled with that delightfully sharp-edged exterior of his--a pretty decent feint, Sylvian should know--but Felix can’t hide from him. Sylvain sees him down to the bone. The two of them are a matched set: liars at heart.  Like right now. Felix is trying so hard not to cry, his back to the wall of the training yard, his grip tight around the wood of his training sword like he’s actually going to use it. Sylvain hopes he will. He hasn’t gotten to see Felix fight yet, really fight. He bets he’s gotten better. He bets he’s elegant and controlled—maybe less so with Sylvain, and wouldn’t that be nice? That’s how it goes sometimes, when Sylvain dreams about their last day together. Felix’s sword at his throat, biting and cold, ending all this before it began. It would have saved everyone a lot of trouble. Sylvain wouldn’t have had to spend such an awfully long time missing him.  He bets Felix could make him hurt. Nothing seems to do that anymore, except for thoughts of Felix, the ones he can never stop worrying at like a bruise.  Sylvain doesn’t want much these days, and maybe that’s why it’s so hard: he wants Felix in a way that aches, delirious and unstoppable. It doesn’t matter so much how. Felix is welcome to cut him open or kiss him quiet or anything in between. As long as he never stops looking at Sylvain like he is now, hateful and just on the edge of tears, so clearly focused on nothing else. As long as Sylvain can have that, the rest doesn’t matter.  That’s love, Sylvain figures; the cheerful facade he gives the girls is nothing. He forgets about a new one every week. But Felix? He’ll be dead someday, and Felix will still have a grip on his heart, as tight as he’s holding his sword and just as dangerous.

and what exists of the sylvain POV sequel I never wrote:

Felix looks like shit. Of course he’s also beautiful. He’s radiant, for all that his hair’s a mess and his face is drawn and he’s got the kind of dark circles that only come from weeks and weeks of exhaustion. He’s Felix, right? He can’t be anything else. “You look like shit,” Sylvain tells him, because honesty is what Felix thinks he wants from him. He hasn’t seen Felix in six moons, but that probably hasn’t changed. “What are you doing here?” Felix asks. His horse stamps her feet and shakes her head, moving uneasily under him. Felix has never been a good rider. It’s clear he doesn’t appreciate his mare, and she doesn’t appreciate him. Sylvain wonders how long Felix has been making his way across Faerghus like this. He wonders if he stole the horse. It’s awful not to know. “Looking for you,” Sylvain says. “They say you’re searching for the king.” Felix never could stop himself from chasing ghosts. Sylvain hates that about him. It’s just as unfair as everything else: it’s the only reason Sylvain is still here, after all.  “I am. And you should be defending Gautier territory.” “Got a message from your father,” Sylvain lies. He slides off his horse, patting her flank. Felix, clumsily, does the same. “He wants you to come home.” That part’s probably true.  Felix scoffs. “My old man can send all the messages he wants. I’m going to find the boar.” He means it. Sylvain can see that he means it, in the flinty look in his eyes, the fold of his arms, the jut of his chin as he looks up at Sylvain. It’s the saddest thing Sylvain’s ever seen, and he’s seen a lot of shit. “Felix,” he says. He reaches out. He can never help it, not when Felix is like this, not when he believes. Felix doesn’t flinch from Sylvain’s hand on his cheek anymore. “Sweetheart. You know he’s dead.” “Don’t call me that,” Felix says. But when he swings himself back in the saddle and Sylvain does the same, he doesn’t tell Sylvain not to follow. That’s more than good enough. 

[cattyanon]

In lieu of me posting art or a fic, I am here to present a new AU that's been sitting around in my head for awhile.

The premise is that Sonic, nearing the end of a fight, loses his footing (or smth like that) and tumbles down a small cliff/hill. But before he can get up a huge boulder lands on his feet and renders him immobile. And due to the fighting earlier, his communicator is broken. A few days go by with Sonic in lots of pain and his Chaos Energy starts to build up. Usually he'd get rid of it by running but uh. Can't exactly do that since he's stuck. So what happens with the buildup of Chaos Energy? Well it starts leaking and taking the form of uncontrollable plant powers.

Meanwhile with the other characters, Sonic has been gone for a concerning amount of time but there's also been strange reports of wild plant growth and people being attacked. To make it worse, the plants are in the general area of Sonic's last known location. Over time it gets progressively worse and eventually Angel Island becomes their home base as it's one of the few places untouchable by the plants. After lots of investigating and coordination, Tails, Amy, Knuckle, and Team Dark locate what they believe to be the source of the overgrowth (an abnormal chaos energy reading) and mount a mission to hopefully put a stop to the plants once and for all.

They tear down and kill all the plants in their path and start to hear screaming. Was there somebody else out here? But why and how? Not only that, but the yelling is coming from the direction of the suspected source. Eventually they reach a clearing and find... Sonic?!

Sonic's legs have been crushed by a boulder, he's covered in plants (the most notable being a giant flower on his back), his body is shaking, seems to be letting out screams in sync with them hurting the plants, whimpering, and has a bit of a blank look on his face.

Oddly, the plants that had just been attacking them began to stop. But it was like an outside source was just barely stopping them from doing so.

As for Sonic, this is the first time he's seen people in what feels like forever and he really didn't want them getting hurt. Because of this he's just barely able and unknowingly stopping the plants from attacking them. The feeling of wanting them to stop attacking was especially amplified upon seeing Tails, although his memory is a bit fuzzy due to the circumstances.

They manage to untrap Sonic and the plants seem pretty docile now and not out of control like before. Of course, they do plan how they untrap Sonic so he's less likely to bleed out or whatever. In the process they discover that the giant flower on his back is attached to him- and is eventually theorized to be part of the reason Sonic lived so long by giving him the ability to photosynthesize.

That's about all I got story wise but here's a little more information on this Sonic:

-Clingy towards Tails.

-Touch starved.

-Completely mute for awhile. Eventually becomes selectively mute and, when he does talk, he speaks in short sentences and not very loudly.

-Has prosthetic legs built by Tails.

-Slowly learns to control his plant powers.

-The reason his plant powers began attacking people was in response to Sonic's own fear over his situation.

-Doesn't need to eat or drink as long as he's got regular access to the sun on account of photosynthesis. Sleeping isn't required either but it has benefits.

-Has a hard time stomaching any food. Not only has he gone so long without it but his body had adapted to living without it soooo...

-He's also gonna have other plant-like qualities that I still need to think about. Like how his anatomy has changed like I mentioned above.

[wat-zu]

Dysfunctional family au— showdown aftermath, one week later

[incorrect-fnaf-quotes]

So, that AU where Glamrock Freddy & the others forget Glamrock Bonnie, and vise versa? Well, I do have a couple of other things about it that I wanna say.

For Glamrock Bonnie, they don’t forget right away. It’s not much of a quick thing. As he’s stuck there, damaged, he starts realizing over time that they are forgetting as his condition in there gets worse.

He’s worrying, worrying so much, and then... one day, he does forget. Glam. Bon forgets everything due to the excessive damage—Glam. Fred and everything else. He’s still online for a little while longer after this.

Then, with Glamrock Freddy and the others... everything of the bunny has practically been stripped away that possibly can—not just all of their memories that happened to actually involve him.

One of the only things related to him that’s still around is Bonnie Bowl—that can’t really be gotten rid of. It sticks around, but so much else goes.

Like, Glamrock Bonnie plushies and everything else are gotten rid of you. You know Glam. Bon’s area in Ruin? That’s still technically there—but everything that was in it is gone.

Glamrock Freddy—or any of the others—could potentially have a tiny feeling of “Is something missing?” but they’d never know why—they’d never know what—who was truly missing.

Any of them may walk past Bonnie Bowl or something, but Glamrock Freddy doesn’t feel sad or anything... after all, he’s never known a Bonnie as far as he’s aware.

As for when the AU actually takes place, it’s set after Ruin... sort of a happy-ish ending? Cassie leaves the Pizza Plex with Roxy, Glamrock Chica, and Eclipse—and Glamrock Bonnie.

When she does manage to meet with Glam Fred, Vanessa, and Gregory, Glamrock Freddy is happy to see most of his friends—and excited to be supposedly meeting someone new.

So, while all staying with Vanessa, and most likely trying to help the others get fixed, the two are pretty quick to start hanging out.

[hoshigray]

Hellooo, I have a requesttt. Bully!Geto & bully!gojo x reader please!!

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: didn't know how to tackle this, but I think I got it >:3

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Geto + Gojo x afab/fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! college setting; satosugu + you are juniors - sex in shared space; college dorm - fingering (f! receiving) - breast fondling + nipple play - oral (m! receiving) - facials - clitoral play (pinching and swiping) - Eiffel Tower/spit-roasting position - slight degradation - pet names (baby, crybaby, cutie, good girl, plaything, pretty girl, sweetheart) - unprotected sex (doesn't shoot inside, tho) - mention of tears and drool.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.4k

“—Gaaahh!! N-Noo, shtop! No more, no mo—Oooh!”

“Aww, don’t go cryin’ on us yet; let’s see how much this pussy can cum!”

“Satoru, keep playing with their nipples; they keep gripping my fingers like crazy…”

Being bullied seems to be an everyday thing for a wimp like you—especially in the hands of Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto.

What kind of person lets two of the hottest guys in the school bully them? You’re practically nearly a full-ass grown adult; you shouldn’t be letting people push you around like it’s middle school! And yet, you can’t seem to bring yourself to stand for yourself, too meek and reserved to step up the ladder of confrontation, even if it’s from people who’ve tormented you most of your life.

Gojo and Geto have been your bullies for nearly your entire academic life, starting from first grade. To say that your life was hell on Earth was just the surface, coming home in tears and wishing to disappear every single day. The emotional toil was too much to bear, so much so that you did everything in your power to make sure you didn’t end up in the same high school as the two, a task that you’re proud to act on as making friends and getting through the final four years of your primary education became easier to accomplish. 

However, this fulfillment was thrown out the window when you walked on campus grounds and discovered that after two years, your bullies had transferred to the same college as you! Not only in the same place but in the same dorm section and sharing the same class—had the world gone mad?! Just when you have accepted this new chapter in your life to start anew and fresh, these two spin back and the pool of anxiety swallows you back up and pulverizes your heart. There was no way for this situation to be envisaged.

“Ohaaa!! Shtooop, t’ooo fasst!!”  

And now, they have new methods to diminish your dignity.

Against your comfort, you and the two were assigned a spreadsheet to work on and have it done by Thursday, so you three were supposed to be working in the living room of their dorm apartment. Nevertheless, you don’t think lying on the couch with your back to Gojo and Geto between your legs has anything to do with the assignment…

You were squirming, Gojo’s slender hands cupping and fondling your chest, tips of his fingers tweaking your nipples roughly so that you whine helplessly. Legs spread open for your panties and bare cunt to be exposed when you were stripped from your leggings, and Geto toys your private part with his fingers. The sensation of his middle digit inside you was hard to believe, like the howl from curling onto the upper wall of your vagina.

“Uuuwww, ohmyGoooood…!” You throw your head back to the shoulder of the white-haired one whose forefingers circle the buds of your mounds. “W-We can’t be—hic—doing this…”

“Ehhh, c’mon, baby,” hearing Gojo talk to your ear so close has to be something out of a dream or nightmare. “Who says we can’t play with our favorite person, huh?”

You gulp at the lick of your earlobe. “Because…we have work to d—Aaahh!”

“Don’t think about that assignment when I’m busy shoving my fingers in you,” Geto reminds you, the pace of his digit increasing and the scrape of his fingertip having your toes curl. “Doesn’t the pretty girl wanna play us like old times?”

A hand grabs his wrist, yet that does little to hinder the raven-haired one’s diligence within your leaking chasm. “B-But…We can’t!” Jesus, it’s tough to think adequately the more Geto pushes and pulls his finger, brushing it up against your texture. Tears welled up in your eyes, your body sore from their constant touches.

“God, still cryin’ from being teased, huh, crybaby?” Gojo chuckles while cupping your cheeks. “Still a cutie, though…”

No way, there’s absolutely no way! You had to be dreaming because there is no way you’re awake to see the day Gojo is kissing you! Biting your bottom lip and shoving his tongue inside, your brain practically explodes as you moan in his mouth, and your slit contracts the rub of Geto’s finger. Did you just cum from a kiss?!

“Oh wow, they’re spasming like crazy,” Geto chortles at the sight of your legs trembling and your genitalia fluttering around the digit. “Cumming from a kiss, huh? Heh, so easy to mess with.”

Your response was deterred to that of imperceptible wails, crying into Gojo’s pillowy lips as he sucked on your tongues to hear you sob more. This was so unfair; this situation was not in your favor once you were dragged into their apartment.

Not even in the next phase of this meet-up.

Your clothes are discarded from your body to the living room floor, mounting on the couch on all fours, Geto to your front and Gojo to your back. The three of you are too far gone to think about the damn assignment—your frame too occupied by their cocks to evade them so.

Soapy lips suck on the dick of the dark-haired other, puffy cheeks making room for the limb burrowing inside your mouth. He fucks you orally with vigor, snapping his hips to your lips as your head pounds with every jab to the back of your throat. You’re not left with a second to breathe calmly, his girth overwhelming.

“Fuuuhhck, Jesus Christ,” he curses, grinding his pelvis and moaning at the feel of your tight throat. “Such a good girl, sucking me so well; got the mouth of a great cumslut.”

“Has the pussy of one, too!”

The words burn your ears, coming from behind as the guy with snowy hair plunges his length into your vagina. His hands are situated on your waist to keep you on him, the curve of his cock scratching your sweet spots too accurately that you’re forced to scream on the other’s shaft.

Gojo throws his head back with a sigh, “Fuckin’ shiiiit, this pussy…clamping on me so hard, you wanna milk me dry?” He bends down to your ear, “Want my load so bad like a little whore?” Squeezing on him was inevitable, making him hiss. “Fuck! Don’t do that…”

“Damn this throat, man,” you peer up to Geto. Your eyes have already released the tears stricken down your face, the lower part of your face all hot from the frequent hits. He chortles, “You look so good all messy like that, sweetheart…Holy shit, you looked so fucked out.” 

Of course you were; they’ve been toying with your body for ten minutes with no rest! Your frame was aching so bad, sobbing because of the cock busying your throat and the dick grazing your G-spot. It was too much to catch up with, especially when Gojo sneaks a hand to your clit to rub and swipe. Your eyes roll to the ceiling, and a scream is muffled, your figure submitting to the pinches on your sensitive pearl.

“Wanna cum?” Silver brows trench together at the clamp of your walls. “Do it, cum on my dick, you nasty crybaby.” 

More tweaks to your clitoris coincide with the erratic pistons of Gojo’s thighs, and you have no choice but to climax once more. Your cunt tightens around his cock with every hit of your orgasm, and he makes sure to get his raw cock out of you to ejaculate his milky fluid onto your back, painting your skin with his load.

The same goes for Geto as well, who grabs your head and roughly pulls himself off to paint your face with his essence. You whimper with every quiver and addition of his sperm, spurting to your forehead and decorating your cheeks to slide down your chin. You never felt so dirty in your life, your tongue accidentally tasting it from licking your lips. “Good girl,” he compliments with a teasing pinch to your cheek.

Gojo rubs his length on the cusp of your butt. “Man, cutie, you keep driving me crazy.” His fingers aimlessly play with your clit. “Now I really can’t leave you alone…”

Dread weighs your bones at his words, and you can only question how you can survive these upcoming semesters with these harassers. And now that they’re hooked on you, this fresh new start has become much more suffocating…

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header edit done by me + dividers by @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[lokissweater]

Hi!!! Hope your doing wonderfully 🫶I absolutely adore your work! And this is the first time in asking anything, but if you haven't yet can you do a shy guys x popular reader with a lil spice but no smut! I'd appreciate it 🥹 have a lovely day or night 🩷

YUUUMMYYY oh my goodness i spiced but i think i spiced too much and if i did i am SO SORRY IM JUST A FREAK!!! but i hope you enjoy this piece and thank you so much for sending in a request!! MWAHH <33

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∘˙○˚.• DON’T BE SHY ∘˙○˚.•

{pairings (separate): shy satoru gojo, megumi fushiguro, & yuji itadori x popular f!reader}

summary: how the boys are pathetically down bad for favorable you <3

warnings: college!au, mentions of drinking, HELLAAA sexual mentions and theming mdni, no smut but girl damn near it, pining af, cursing, aged up characters, afab!reader, pet names, they want you BAD in each of their stories HEHEHE, mentions of alcohol.

word count: 5.3k

authors note: WHO WANTS MLB!MEGUMI BC I SURE FUCKING DO!! HES COMING NEXT MY LOVES but here’s a little something to keep you fed in the meantime <33 I HOPE YOU GUYS LOVE IT! ILY!

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∘˙○˚. SATORU GOJO ∘˙○˚.

satoru wasn’t by any means a loner in college.

he had his own cute little group of friends and his own cute little outings and his own cute little interactions with his classmates, his rank on the popularity scale running somewhere around the middle (something he can thank his gorgeous eyes and gorgeous face for), but never even coming close to where you were at, a place many tried to reach but never had the qualities that you did— your place being at the top.

but satoru was too shy for his own good. too timid as he watched your breathtaking magnificent self walk down the halls and right by him in between classes— surrounded by people, you barely even noticing him, but him already memorizing the exact scent of your perfume you chose to wear that day, watching with love struck eyes and sweaty palms as his sickingly sweet obsession over you only grew by the years.

you were an absolute goddess in his eyes. you could never hurt him or be mean to him even if you tried, and it was a little pathetic how much he liked you— his little boyish crush that only shrunk him down to the mere size of a lady bug, his increased bashfulness when you’re around only doing him more harm than good as it started to affect his studies and sleep schedule.

but that wasn’t your fault, oh absolutely not.

it was his. all his. he wanted to take the blame for everything. he doesn’t care what.

even when you accidentally bumped into him at a party one night because you were a little tipsy, him stumbling over and you apologizing profusely as his heart stopped upon realizing it was you. and even when you accidentally dropped your red solo cup on his favorite blue washed jeans later on, your alcoholic beverage leaving a patch of wet on his thigh that made you apologize profusely to him again, satoru shaking his head and telling you repeatedly that it was his fault. he was in your way. he should be sorry.

you could dump an entire twenty five ounce bottle of smirnoff on his head and he’d still tell you he was to blame. that’s how much he liked you.

so as you gently took his hand and tugged him to stand up, you leading him through the crowd, your fingers interlaced with his? satoru went into a fucking frenzy.

his cheeks burned as you led him up the stairs and to the nearest bathroom, your lovely skin tight dress squeezing and hugging you in every right way in front of him that he internally panicked as he felt his dick stretch against his jeans, him wanting to end it all as he hoped you didn’t notice it and think he was a pervert.

“oh my god i’m so sorry—” you pulled him in and shut the door behind you, silencing what seemed like twenty different people calling out to you, for your attention, satoru swooning over the way you paid them no mind in return and focused entirely on him.

he felt so lucky.

he awkwardly sat himself at the edge of the tub as you crouched down and rummaged through the cupboard below the sink, your lips in a cute pout.

“i always get so stupid when i’m buzzed and i totally didn’t see you when i was walking…”

your tone was whiny and apologetic, and satoru’s heart physically could not take it.

“it’s— it’s okay..” he mumbled shyly, cheeks pink. “it was me i—” he averted his gaze once you turned to look at him. “i wasn’t paying attention…”

“but are you okay though?” your voice was immensely sweet and doting, it almost sounding like you were babying him as you walked over to him with a damp hand towel.

and he was all fucking over it.

he stiffly nodded and looked down at his lap, throat closing.

“i put a stain remover on this so i at least don’t leave a red mark on your jeans!” you smiled, an enchanting one at that as your clear lip gloss glistened under the dim light. “and i’m really sorry again! i hope i didn’t ruin the party for you…”

his eyes shot up and he shook his head frantically. “n—no! you didn’t it’s okay!” he tugged at the collar of his button up, feeling a little hot. “y—you did nothing wrong...”

you gleamed, and as satoru reached a trembling hand up for the towel to clean himself off, you pulled it back with a cute shake of your head.

“i’m doing it, silly! i’m the one who spilled it.”

“but!—”

you got down on your knees in front of him and his hands literally slapped over the edges of the tub as he gripped it tightly, his knuckles turning pure white as you calmly spread his legs and inserted yourself in between, your face fucking hovering over his dick and his cheeks turning even pinker as lewd thoughts dashed across his sick mind.

you noticed the look on his face and laughed.

“are you nervous? don’t be! i’m just gonna clean you up and ill be out of your way love.”

satoru didn’t want you out of his way, not ever. and the way you called him love had him already picturing you in a pretty white dress with a veil walking down the aisle to him.

he swallowed.

you had your arms resting over his thighs for support as you rubbed a circular tugging motion over the spot on his jeans, your eyebrows pinched in concentration as you tried to get the red stain out, your soft hair slipping from your shoulders and landing over his lap with satoru’s fingers itching to touch it.

“at the last party i threw, i also spilled a drink on a guy.” you giggled.

he felt a twinge of bubbling jealousy.

“did you—” he nervously looked at you. “did you also… help him?”

you smiled cutely. “nope! because he was making out with someone in the middle of my kitchen and he was in my way.”

thank god.

you huffed and leaned back to sit on your calves. “like— have some decency. i get you want to have a little kiss but if you’re doing it right where the vodka mix is? blocking it? i’m not helping you. your girl can help you.”

satoru giggled a little, and you folded the towel neatly and settled it beside you, proud of your work at removing the stain from his pants as you set your hands on your hips.

“and what about you?”

“me?” he mumbled.

“mhm!” you raised a silly brow and leaned closer to him, satoru inching backwards nervously at the proximity. “have you ever made out with someone like that?”

“well— well—”

satoru’s never kissed anyone.

“well what?”

he ran a slow embarrassed hand through his fluffy white hair and grimaced.

satoru is timid, shy, friendly, and a dork. but one thing he isn’t? is a liar. especially if it was you— even though all he wanted to do in life was impress you and have you not think he was a fucking loser.

“i’ve never uh—” he struggled. “kissed… someone.”

his words were so quiet and mumbly, completely ashamed of himself as his cheeks continued to glow pink.

but your eyes widened.

“what? you’ve never kissed anyone?”

he shook his head, eyes to his lap.

“but you’re so hot?”

satoru shot up. “h—huh?”

“yeah!” you grinned. “you are! have you ever had a girlfriend?”

he shook his head again.

“what?! how?!”

you placed a shocked hand over your mouth, your voice soft and astonished. “what a crime…”

he smiled shyly at your compliments, reduced to absolute putty in your hands at the moment as he couldn’t believe you thought he was even remotely attractive.

you confidently swung your arms up and threw them around his neck, and he froze.

your eyes were really suggestive, your gorgeous face looking up at him and his wide eyes looking down at you, your fingers gently running across the back of his neck and hair as he almost whimpered at what you were doing.

“wanna kiss me?”

“y-you?” he choked out, and you giggled softly.

“uh huh! o—only if you’re okay with it—” you pulled away a little, shoulders deflating. “i just figured—”

satoru noticed the way you started to lean back, your arms slipping from around his shoulders and his hands shot out then— grabbing your wrists as he pulled you back in and settled them around him.

was this real? actually? or was he just really drunk?

“yes!” he settled down a bit, sheepish. “yes i—i’m okay with it.”

you took in his eager bashful expression, and grinned.

“okay!”

you leaned and kissed his soft lips, pulling satoru in as his fingers shakily snaked over your waist and around you, not believing for a second that he was actually kissing you.

and you moved your lips slowly and delicately over his, trying to pry his mouth open more with your tongue and guide him on how to kiss you back, him diverting all of his focus to that as he tried to mimic your movements.

it started with innocent pecks at first, you trying to ease him into it and not make it overwhelming for him as you carefully amped up the difficulty little by little.

and he got the hang of it, fast, and you squeaked a noise of surprise when he suddenly shoved his long tongue in your mouth and slid his hands further down to your ass, squeezing as if he had every right to, completely forgetting that he technically didn’t.

what a greedy little thing… but you loved it.

he instantly pulled back.

“sorry i’m sorry!” he sputtered, pulling his hands to his chest like he’d just touched something scalding hot. “i don’t know why i—”

you giggled. “it’s okay! i liked it.”

“y—you did?”

“uh huh!” you nodded, leaning in seductively. “maybe you should do it again… and maybe underneath my dress, to get a better feel y’know?”

satoru couldn’t even respond as you latched your lips back on his, and he kissed you back desperately, wanting to impress you and do good for you so he could properly earn the right to feel you up like you had requested.

but he got greedier, and his hands were back on your ass squeezing and palming the fat of it, breathing heavily through his nose as he started to tug your dress up a little to feel your skin, the lace of your panties grazing his fingertips and making him fucking light headed.

his body was literally numb as you pulled apart suddenly, both of your lips swollen and red.

“wanna go to my room?”

∘˙○˚. MEGUMI FUSHIGURO ∘˙○˚.

“if i can’t do it i’m turning the car around.”

“megs you cannot do that when we get there though!”

megumi shook his head. “and why not?”

“because you’ll scare every one away! what the hell is ‘with this treasure i summon—‘“

“yeah so that way everyone will think i’m a freak and leave me the fuck alone!”

you and megumi have been best friends since middle school, carbon copies of tweedle dee and tweedle dum as your personalities matched with each other’s so identically yet so differently at the same time, that you both bickered every waking second you were together.

which was all of the time.

though you had a better reputation than megumi did. you were popular, beautiful, and everyone wanted to get to know you as your unique personality struck joyous chords with anyone that was lucky enough to come across and get to know you.

all things megumi would never admit out loud to your face.

and he was just regular— popularity and social statuses something he didn’t give a shit about as he kept to himself and didn’t speak to a single soul unless it was yours.

“but i thought you said you wanted to come with me!” you whined.

megumi huffed and made a sharp turn as he drove. “you dragged me i told you no i don’t like parties and you started crying—”

“okay and?” you grumbled. “what so now i can’t cry in front of you? i can’t show my emotions and use my right of freedom of speech?—”

“oh my god.” he dragged an exasperated hand down his cheek. “you’re putting words into my mouth—”

“and you’re putting knives into my heart with how much you hate me.”

he parked on the side of the street and turned off the ignition, hooking his keys on one of his belt loops before he gave you an annoyed look.

“am i not in the car.”

“you are.”

“and am i not here at this party with you.”

“you are.”

“so what more do you want.”

“a kiss.”

“fuck off—” megumi pressed his hand flat on the side of your head and nudged you away before stepping out of the car with pink cheeks, your laughter ringing through the air as you shut the door and ran to catch up with him.

“just be nice please. my friends sometimes wanna talk to you and you look like you’re plotting.”

“maybe it’s because i don’t wanna talk to them.” he mumbled.

through his hard exterior, you knew megumi was just shy, and often times had difficulty talking to people or expressing himself— you really being the only exception in his life.

that’s why in every social situation that you dragged him to, he clung to you like sticky stubborn gum and never left your side— you of course not minding at all and it actually making you feel better to have him always there, your thing being interlocked pinkies as you navigated.

“no it’s because you’re shy and that’s okay!—”

megumi scoffed and kept walking, but the minute you both walked across the lawn and up the steps of the porch, he turned around and let you in front of him— his pinky out like usual.

you smiled softly to yourself and looped yours with his, pinkies closing like a lock before you pulled him inside.

it was dark and humid as fuck already, and you tried your best to politely push through the crowd of hammered and sweaty people in search for the kitchen, you not realizing how megumi literally pushed and shoved people behind you so they wouldn’t topple you over, them too inebriated to care.

“y/n!”

“hi guys!” you gushed, your crowd of friends beaming at the sight of you and handing you drinks without you even having to ask, you passing one back to megumi smoothly.

you both mostly spent the night mingling and drinking with your friends, playing little games and giggling quietly whenever someone would ask megumi a question and he would just stammer in response, blushing and grumpy at your teasing once he got the interaction over with.

and at some point, half of your friends had gone to the main area to dance, and you turned to him.

“megs.”

“yes.”

“do you wanna dance with me?”

“fuck no.”

“whyyyy!” you whined, dropping your forehead on his shoulder.

“because i don’t like dancing.”

“no one’s gonna notice anyways! it’s dark over there like completely.” you looked at him. “just come with me please.”

“no.”

“i’ll give you a kissy.”

megumi gave you a deadpanned look. “what is it with you wanting to give me a kiss?”

you ignored his comment. “i’ll do anything.”

“nope.”

“fine.” you stood up and tugged your dress down. “i’m just gonna ask some other guy and maybe when i tell him he’ll get a kiss out of it he’ll do it—”

megumi quickly grabbed your wrist, eyes narrowed.

“are you actually?”

“yes.”

his heart dropped.

“you’re gonna pimp yourself out for a dance?”

“yes! you know i love to dance—”

megumi stood and grabbed your hand, dragging you to the dance floor as you cheered and happily skipped behind him.

upon arriving, he remained stiff, bored, and fucking nervous with flushed cheeks and crossed arms while you danced, gently swaying and moving to the beat as bright neon laser lights occasionally drifted across the crowd— illuminating red cheeks and sweaty bodies.

it really was incredibly dark, and megumi could barely even see you standing in front of him as the bass of the music drummed through his body.

he let you when you reached up and uncrossed his arms— instead wrapping them around your waist as you threw your arms around his neck, him swallowing thickly.

“dance megs.” you spoke gently in his ear. “like this just sway—”

you moved your hips a little more, and though he didn’t exactly copy you, he stiffly just kind of swayed with you.

“i hate dancing.”

you laughed. “do you hate me?”

“no.”

far from it actually.

“then this should be fuunnn! just let loose a little.”

“i am letting loose.” he grumbled.

“you feel like a little stick though.”

“a stick?!”

you giggled loudly, throwing your head back as you did, the sight making megumi melt.

“yes! i’m gonna start break dancing if you don’t.”

he gave you an incredulous look. “huh? you’re not serious.”

“that i am.”

“y/n i’m moving with you i’m dancing—”

“but your arms are just around my waist! you’re not even moving with me what are you talking about?!”

“what are you talking about?!”

you huffed and stopped moving. “i’m gonna dance with someone else—”

you let go of him and turned but megumi only pulled you back.

“no you’re not and you’re not kissing them either so don’t even think about it—”

“you can’t tell me what to do—”

you pushed at his chest with both of your hands, trying to get him to let go of your waist— his strong grip not letting you.

“why are you being such a brat?!” he exclaimed.

you broke free and started walking.

“a brat that’s gonna dance with someone else!—”

megumi flew and grabbed your shoulders, spinning you back around before literally smashing his lips to yours, your eyes widening in complete shock.

there was your kiss.

he pulled away. “s—sorry i—”

you shook your head and grabbed his cheeks, bringing his lips back in to yours as they moved sloppily and fast, almost matching with the music as his arms engulfed around your waist and pulled you in.

you swiped your tongue over his and whimpered, you figuring he couldn’t hear it over the music but being dead wrong as he felt the blood rush to his dick the minute he heard it.

you pulled away. “what are— what are we doing?”

his chest heaved as he looked at you, cheeks pinky like always and eyes blown wide. “i don’t— i don’t know—”

you wiped your wet mouth with the back of your hand. “do you wanna— stop? i—”

you didn’t know why you were asking, knowing damn well you didn’t want to stop.

“fuck no.”

“okay—”

and his mouth was back on yours, kissing you and running his hands up and down over your body in absolute need, you doing the same as you ran your hands over his chest and down, down, down…

“can i—” you spoke in between kisses. “i’m gonna—”

megumi did it for you and pressed your hand flat against his groin, you palming him slowly as he took in a sharp inhale and broke from your lips, his arms coming up to wrap around your shoulders with his cheek mushed up against the side of your head, eyes screwed shut at how good it felt.

you continued to palm him through his jeans, going a little firmer when you felt his breath literally tremble in your ear as he shook.

“shit—” his arms tightened around you. “wait—” pant “i’m gonna cum in my pants if you keep—”

“do it.”

“no!” he choked and his hips pressed into your palm, wanting more. “let’s go— to the car. the car please—”

you nodded and pulled back, but stopped.

“megs if we do this we can’t go back, okay?” your chest heaved, a little fidgety. “we can’t— we can’t go back to being just friends i don’t wanna be just friends—”

he shook his head and looped his pinky with yours, leading you through the crowd and speaking over his shoulder.

“we won’t.” he started.

“i don’t wanna be just friends anymore either.”

∘˙○˚. YUJI ITADORI ∘˙○˚.

being good at math had its perks.

yuji was able to get by in every math related class, never had an issue with studying, and even tutored some of his friends and classmates as a side job to pay for his college classes and tuition.

but the minute you approached him one day— you, one of the most popular girls on campus, president of your sorority, life long crush and the most gorgeous girl he had ever seen, asking if he was able to tutor you on wednesdays?

being good at math became a blessing and a curse.

yuji thought he was well off at math… but if he was to tutor you, he wanted to be fucking albert einstein at it so he didn’t look like a fucking idiot if he happened to come across a topic he didn’t know how to teach.

and as he sat on his desk chair in his dorm, textbooks and materials laid out and ready to go as he wiped his clammy hands on his pants for the thousandth fucking time, he heard you softly knock on his door.

oh fuck.

“hi yuji!” you greeted sweetly, him smiling back at you as he stepped to the side to let you in.

“hey! were you able to find my building okay?”

you both walked over to his desk and sat down, you right next to him on an extra chair— your perfume engulfing his senses and your pretty hair over your shoulders neatly.

“oh no i was fine!” you got your little notebook out with your pencil case. “one of my friends is dorming in this building too so i knew where it was.”

he nodded happily and politely, shitting it inside but doing a damn fucking good job at not showing it— though the reddening of his cheeks was something he couldn’t control no matter how hard he tried.

since you could only see him once a week, the duration of the tutoring sessions was a lot longer than the rest of his clients, and though yuji literally offered to tutor you for free whenever you wanted, you profusely denied and mentally decided to pay him double for his kindness.

you nervously fiddled with your fingers as he opened the textbook and flipped through the chapters you needed help with, and upon noticing, he frowned.

“sorry is it hot in here? i could open—”

“no! it’s okay!” you shook your head. “sorry i just— i’m really bad at math so i’m sorry if you can’t get anything through my head…”

you giggled nervously, and yuji just about cried.

“oh! don’t worry about that! that’s why i’m here to help.”

he beamed, his smile so big and bright that you found yourself copying his exact expression.

he was so nice.

“right!”

and he did help. yuji was exceptional at teaching, and concepts you had found hard to grasp before during class by your own professor was easy peasy with him, his bubbly and animated way of teaching you something that pulled you in and kept you engaged.

after two hours of tutoring, yuji sat back on his desk chair and exhaled.

“phew, let’s take a break! is that fine?”

“mhm!” you chirped, putting your pencil down and smiling. “you’re really good at teaching yuji, like really good.”

“oh thanks!” he blushed, giving you a cute little smile. “i— i like math so i just, teach y’know..”

you nodded. “what’s your major? is it something to do with that?”

“oh no—” he shook his head. “i’m majoring in finance so i get a lot of math classes.”

“huh?!” you gasped, completely astonished. “i thought your major had something to do with teaching i’ve— i’ve never understood math before until you… you’re brilliant!”

he gulped, your praises washing over him and making him feel tingly all over.

yuji gave you a wobbly shy smile. “t—thank you y/n!”

you grinned kindly, your pretty face making him want to word vomit how gorgeous he thought you were and maybe even sort of ask you to be his wife.

“do you um— are you thirsty? i have—”

he shot up clumsily and walked over to his mini fridge. “i have water? here—”

he didn’t even let you respond as he took a bottle of cool water and handed it to you, you taking it gratefully.

“i— i also have these!”

he reached in again and gave you a little glazed donut pastry, wrapped neatly in a clear bag that had the bakery’s logo on the front.

“oh no yuji it’s okay!” your eyebrows pinched together in worry. “i don’t wanna take what’s yours just the water is fine!”

he shook his head and closed the fridge, sitting back down on the chair next to you. “it’s all good! it’s your reward for hanging on for two hours of tutoring.”

his smile was so kind and sweet, and you bit your bottom lip as you softly thanked him.

“how’s um— how’s your sorority going?” yuji asked.

“my sorority?” you tilted your head to the side. “how’d you know i’m in a sorority?”

“oh! well—” he went completely fucking pink. “s—sorry you’re kind of popular so i just heard..”

you hummed and quickly nodded. “no it’s okay! i didn’t know people were talking about me like that.”

you laughed a little, and yuji thought you were so humble.

“it’s going great! it’s really kind of you to ask.” you crossed your legs and leaned an elbow on your knee, your chin coming down to rest on the palm of your hand. “it’s a little stressful to manage but i love my girls so, they definitely make it easier.”

yuji lit up. “that’s great! i’m glad it’s going well… i— i know i don’t know much about sororities and things like that but i have no doubt in my mind that you’re the most qualified and deserving of a position like that…”

your eyes softened, and your heart literally ached in the best way over his compliment.

“thank you yuji… seriously. you’re so nice!”

you giggled, and it made him gnaw at the inside of his cheek.

the tutoring session continued after that, and just when you had reached your final hour, you slumped over his desk and groaned softly.

“i’m sorry yuji… my motivation is running out.”

he laughed softly. “it’s okay! it happens. if you want we can stop here—”

“no!” you shot up. “i have to get through it i’ll be so mad at myself if i don’t.”

he looked at you, his eyes gentle. “you’re doing really great so far y/n.”

you blushed, “thank you…”

you stood suddenly and reached over to flip through the pages of the textbook, completely unaware of the way your boobs were practically shoved up his face as his breath hitched, hands tightening on the arms of his desk chair.

you really hadn’t noticed, you innocently wanting to just look and see how many chapters you had left to cover, but when you sat back down and quirked an eyebrow over yuji’s flushed face and blown out pupils… it clicked.

was he interested in you like you were with him?

maybe…

“i need motivation.” you sighed.

he cleared his throat and tried to regain his composure. “i can— i can give you another donut at the end?”

you giggled. “it’s okay! i have an idea.”

he tilted his head, curious. “what is it?”

“maybe we can do like a reward system!”

“a reward system?”

“yeah!” you nodded eagerly. “for every page we cover, i get a reward!”

he sat up and smiled, “oh right! i’ll give you a donut after each page then!”

but you shook your head, and he deflated. “no?”

“do you know about hickeys?”

he choked, eyes widening dramatically. “a—about— well, yeah, i do.”

“maybe that could be my reward! a hickey for every page.”

you smiled at him so fucking cutely, as if you didn’t just ask him for something so raunchy, and his throat literally dried up at your request.

holy fucking shit.

“you want—” he wiped his hands on his pants. “you want a hickey from— from me? really?”

“yeah! only if you’re okay with it, definitely not if you’re not.”

“no i—” his eyes darted from your neck to your face. “i am…”

holy. fucking. shit.

your tutoring session resumed, and yuji literally could not teach you a single damn thing anymore, knowing that by the end of this page he was going to do something that only took place in his dreams.

after a bit, he turned the page and shifted his body to face you, nervous and clammy.

you smiled sweetly and took his hands, yours soft and heavenly as you placed his on your shoulders.

“only if you’re okay with it.” you murmured again softly, tone nurturing as your pretty eyes looked into his.

“i— i am.”

“okay! whenever you’re ready.”

yuji breathed in shakily and out, gulping before coming closer to your gorgeous neck and planting his lips on it.

your hands came to rest on his thighs as he sucked— slowly and carefully, not wanting to suck too hard and accidentally hurt you as his tongue flicked over the spot, the pressure of his mouth making you shudder as he continued to suck and create a pretty purple bruise.

he pulled away when he was finished with a wet smack, his breathing heavy as he searched your face for any indication that he did well.

and you glowed, looking at your reflection on the little mirror that sat on his desk. “it’s so pretty! i love it!”

a hesitant smile spread across his face. “r—really? you can be honest i—”

you looked at him. “no it was amazing! it felt really good!”

his dick twitched.

“okay let’s keep going now!”

well the motivation definitely worked, and funnily enough, you both got through the next page a lot quicker than before, yuji almost immediately turning to face you after turning the page.

this time, he placed his hands on your waist as he sucked. and he sucked, harder and wetter than before as his fingers pressed into you— his tongue running over your new hickey and dragging over the previous one too before reluctantly pulling back, his dick a literal bolder at this point as you squeezed your thighs together, both of your chests panting.

you had barely reached a quarter of the next page when yuji set his pencil down and turned, his cheeks flushed and eyes wide.

“can i please just give you another one?”

you nodded quickly, eagerly, as you both stood and he latched back onto your neck, his arms around your entire body desperately, grazing his teeth against your sensitive flesh and full on making out with it as he messily sucked and ran his lips all over your neck this time, a moan slipping from you as he did that it made you slap a hand over your mouth in embarrassment.

“s—sorry—”

“don’t be don’t be—” he breathed quickly, walking backwards until the back of his legs hit the bed and he sat, pulling you with him and grabbing at your thighs for you to sit on his lap.

you listened, your neck littered with yuji’s hickeys as you subconsciously and softly grinded on his crotch, him groaning into your neck and biting down harder as your breath hitched.

yuji lost it at this point, all forms of moral out the fucking window as he dragged his long wet tongue from the side of your neck and up to your cheek, kissing and licking deviously at it as his hands squeezed hungrily over your plushy thighs.

he pulled back, eyes half lidded.

“can i—” pant “can i give you hickeys on your tits?”

————————————————————————

taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

@cupcaketeddybehr @soobiary @roachfun @waterfal-ling @saebaey @hiraethwa

[saetoru]

imagine rich boy gojo finding out your name for him in his phone is just “satoru” or something 💀 and then from the side geto is like “mine’s got an emoji!”

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。NO HEART — GOJO SATORU. (rich boy! au)

rich boy! gojo, college au, fluff, established relationships, dramatic gojo which is consistent in every version of him no matter the au

studying with gojo satoru is the worst idea you could ever allow to happen—and yet, every time he asks, you let it happen.

“baby, aren’t you getting my texts?” gojo pouts. it earns him an unimpressed glare from you as you look up from your textbook, a glare that makes him wilt while geto snickers from the corner.

“satoru, if you don’t stop bothering me while we’re supposed to be studying, so help me—”

“but it’s funny, look,” he whines. and before you can stop him, he picks up the untouched phone beside you, tapping the screen to unlock it. except, he doesn’t make it that far.

suddenly the world stills. it stops spinning on its axis. and suddenly, gojo satoru’s face is the dictionary definition of devastation.

“satoru, what’s wrong,” you furrow your brows.

“satoru. satoru? satoru?” he repeats, each time in more disbelief than the last.

“that’s….your name, yes?” you raise a brow. and then realization strikes your features—or so he thinks. he’s soon to find out he’s mistaken. “oh, sorry,” you snort, “toru, is that better? toru, get to studying—”

“my name in your phone is just satoru?” he asks, cutting you off like you’ve genuinely wounded him—the betrayal on his face and the shock in his voice are all too real.

you blink for a moment before you realize the source of his tantrum seems to be the contact name you have for him in your phone. only gojo satoru would find a way to make a big deal out of his own name, you think.

“well, yeah,” you shrug, “it’s your name. plus i had it set when i first got your number from that project. i hated you back then.”

“you called me gojo back then,” he squints accusingly.

“yeah that’s because it was gojo satoru at first,” you nod. from the side, you hear geto snicker again about the full government name to himself—which earns him a pillow thrown at his direction by gojo. “i deleted the gojo part when we started dating,” you add.

“oh so you can delete my surname once we started dating but you couldn’t even add a heart?” he asks, jaw dropped and eyebrows furrowed in that dramatic way he does. it’s a bit cute, the way he’s worked up over something so small—but it’s also entirely theatric, making you roll your eyes.

“would a heart make you feel better, satoru?” you purse your lips.

“no! not if you don’t add it because you want to,” he huffs, “you might as well just say you don’t love me!”

“satoru,” you sigh in exasperation. maybe if you didn’t have physics 1302 problems to work through—a whole six of them due before midnight, in fact—you would humor him in his elaborately dramatized attempt at getting your attention. but you have classes to pass and gpa’s to maintain, so you purse your lips instead. “it’s just a contact name. what’s mine?”

“it’s baby <3. with a heart. see?” sure enough, when his phone is turned to face you, it’s baby <3. with a heart.

“i have an emoji in my contact,” geto adds from the side, ever the instigator, “maybe it’s because i’m cuter—”

“you gave suguru’s an emoji?” he asks in distress, staring at you like you’ve told him you’ve cheated. you think you might hurt his feelings less if you did, with the way his lips are curled in a genuine frown.

“suguru set his own contact,” you defend, shooting the nuisance in the corner a sharp glare. geto only offers you a sly wink in return. “i didn’t realize you cared that much about contact names,” you shrug, “i can change it—”

“no need,” gojo huffs, holding up a hand to silence you as he turns away and sticks his nose in the air in defiance. “i’ll just change yours to your full government name. see how you like it.”

“satoru—”

“and you’re not getting a heart either,” he glares, deleting the <3 slowly just for show, making eye contact with you so you know the severity of your actions.

you roll your eyes, snatching your phone back as you shake your head. “if i make your contact baby <3 with a heart because you’re my baby, will that cheer you up,” you sigh.

he ponders it for a moment, as if debating the offer. and then his arms cross in defiance once more. “no. make it baby boy 💋 with a kiss emoji.”

“gross,” geto twists his face in disgust.

gojo turns to him, face blank and serious as he shoots, “single people should not speak when it’s not their turn,” before turning back to you. “i’ll consider forgiving you if you make it baby boy 💋 with a kiss.”

“okay,” you sigh, “baby boy it is.”

“with a kiss!” he glares.

“with a kiss,” you assure, rolling your eyes.

“can i also get a kiss?” he asks hopefully, eyes wide and bright and earnest enough to warm your heart.

you smile, chuckling at the way he looks so cute, at the way he melts your heart and makes you forget you have physics homework for a moment—but only for a moment because then you mumble, “no. now do your homework.”

PLS THIS PROMPT KILLED ME

[pearlymel]

"The Masks We Wear"

Summary: as a journalist, you are itching to find the identity of this mysterious hero. But could it be that the hero is closer to you than you think?

Wc: 7.3k eat up

Warnings: Wriothesley x afab!reader, gn! reader, modern au, hero and villian au (one of each), reader is a journalist/cameraman, fluff, making out, crack (i laughed a lot writing this), angst (oops), one small sex scene, slightly under the influence, cursing, it's pretty unrealistic, petnames used: sunshine, love, and sweetheart.

Notes: i poured my heart and soul into this, i think it's my best piece so far ^^ give it a chance, maybe you'll love it. (Pleasepleasepleaseplease) Rbs are greatly appreciated!

Credits: banner art by the great @/danijaci

Click!

The city is absolutely beautiful today. No, no. It’s not because of the lights that makes the place brighter and a bit more magical, how it seems livelier with a group of teenagers laughing together while buying street foods together, or the old couple that seem still very much in love, the gentleman kneeling down and tying her shoes just to make sure she wouldn’t trip this time.

Humans can be cute, you think.

But of course, among those innocent ‘humans’ are those who desire destruction.

This time, you think you might have caught something in the shadows, and you stare intently at your camera, zooming it in to see the faintest color blending in with the darkness. Hair? A part of clothes? You don’t know, but you got it.

you have this obsession of finding out who the hero of this city was, or even the villian. Although, you would be technically be walking into death if you try finding out who the villian is.

Where did this hero come from? No one knows. Sure the crime rate has lowered, but it felt like the world became even more messed up.

It all started a couple of years ago when you were in your college days, one day almost dying from a falling building, and you thought you saw the scythe waiting to take your soul at that very moment but, no.

The mysterious hero of the city that you never thought you would never encounter carried the building with his super strength power, apparently.

He who has no name, took your hand and lead you into a safer area with the police.

cliché story, right. But that’s what got you into journalism and media now.

And let’s say… you’re too far into the deep black hole to back down now.

The almost blinding light made you come back to your senses, the sounds of engine roaring in the air as the bike approached you, and your shoulders were already slumped.

“How did you find me?” You raise your voice due to the loud engine running, covering parts of your vision from the light.

“Lucky guess.” Wriothesley replied gruffly, pulling his helmet off and shaking his head slightly to fix up his messy strands.

“Care to explain what on earth are you doing here in this shady alleyway? At nine thirty where the moon is out and wolves could be coming for you?” He starts scolding you, quirking an eyebrow when you give him the bored expression, and he immediately mimics it back.

“Taking pictures.”

“Of the rats?”

“Wriothesley.” You shoot him a look and he raises his hands in the air. “I understand your… obsession. But it could hurt you in the process, mentally and physically.”

You know he’s saying all this because he cares so much about you. Loves you too much that it would break his soul piece by piece if one day what you’re doing will hurt you.

“Hop in, sweetheart.” He hands you the extra helmet, and you take it with a sigh. Securing it around your head before taking your place behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist as he revved the engine.

The whole ride back was silent, yet traffic, which entirely ruined the whole mood. With the constant car horns ringing in your ear.

You tap at his thigh to grab his attention, “Why’s it traffic?” You grumble, rising yourself from the seat to look at the row of cars trying to get through.

“Not any holidays or events i can think of,” he responds back to you.

Red mixed with orange fills your vision, suddenly the car at the very front explodes. The car parts flying in the air and landing at the other vehicles which makes you frozen in shock.

Wriothesley’s clenches his hands tightly as he turns the bike around, speeding his way far away from the scene. “Hold onto me tight, and don’t look back, you hear?” He yells enough to grab your attention, and your arms tightens around him, but you have your head turned around to see the people yelling and dashing out of the vehicles. You want to capture the moment with your phone so you could submit it in for the news, but you know more than to ignore Wriothesley right now.

It’s not rare to see destruction happen in your city, it’s just… terrifying every time anybody witnesses it.

Maybe it wasn’t an accident, maybe it was planned.

“You’re not allowed to go out after seven.” Wriothesley makes it clear to you with his firm tone as you both step inside your shared apartment, locking the apartment with a click. He then tosses his keys into a bowl on a small table, before turning to look at you.

“Are you seriously setting a curfew for me? Please. what happened was not new—”

Your face is now being cradled by his rough hands, but the way he swipes a thumb under your eyebags really makes you melt. And you forget what you were going to say when his lips curl the slightest.

“I don't want anything happening to you. Ever.” He takes you in his arms, holding you like you were the most precious thing he ever held. “I didn't mean to pressure you like that. I'd hate it if you were in the position of those injured people.”

You pat his back to reassure him that hopefully nothing like that will happen. “And, if, hypothetically, something like that happened; What would y—”

“I'll kill everyone.” he doesn't even let you continue before he answers, though the chuckle against your hair followed after makes your tense shoulders relax.

“maybe not to that extent,” he lifts your head up to lean in and press a tender kiss on your forehead.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“what is it?”

“… something or someone.”

Your boss gives you a nonchalant sharp look when you eagerly showed him the bits you managed to capture last night before you were interrupted by your great boyfriend.

His eyes squints at the more of a blurred photo that sits on the display of your camera, taking the glasses that hanged from his collar.

The sigh afterwards makes you feel discouraged when he hands you back your camera.

“i see it.” He starts and you perk up immediately.

“it looks like a blurred image of a fucking bird taking a shit on the electrical cords.” You press your lips into a thin line at his description. Too detailed of a description,

what a bastard.

It.. certainly didn't look like that.

You clear your throat, pinching the bridge of your nose to compose yourself.

“You're lucky i like your determination or you would've been fired,” he utters out in a lax tone, resting his glasses on his big bald head that you want to spill with ketchup.

“Keep looking, i need the hero's face, details, anything. Just think of the money you and i could both earn.” He seems too enthusiastic about it, showing you determination with his fists pressing together and his wide ear to ear smile.

You leave work early that day, starting your daily walk of looking around for at least two hours or—one hour?

No, Wriothesley would be too worried if you came back after… nine. Your words not his.

You need to rearrange a schedule in your head.

Step one: somehow convince your boss that you need to leave early everyday.

Step two: search every nook and cranny of the city, ask every shady person if they get to talk to the hero in person or got a glimpse of his name.

Step three: go to the dark web— is that car flying infront of you right now?!

Shit. Just why does everything have to go down wherever path you go?

The people around you panics, and you equally panic with them because you're no fucking hero to tell them to get away from that flying car.

You take your camera out hurriedly from its case that slung around your shoulder, pressing record while frantically looking around. The ground shakes, it shakes so much that it feels like an earthquake almost.

“it's him! The villian!” Someone shouts from the distance, and just like that the screams that follows are in sync.

You know why the ground shook, the street has become a battlefield for the hero and villain fighting together with all their strengths, the air is filled with tension as they both clash in an epic confrontation. The ground trembles beneath your feet again as they traded blows, sending shockwaves through the battlefield. The once tranquil street has now been transformed into a chaotic arena of power and destruction. As the battle rages on. The hero and villain continue their fight, each strike more powerful than the last, their movements a blur of speed and precision.

You try capturing anything with your camera, but your hand shakes that it was impossible. When the villian lands a powerful punch on the hero’s shoulder, sending him way back, it makes you think it's time to leave.

You run with the rest without stubbornness this time. You should've listened to Wriothesley, why did you always have to be so curious about everything?

This curiousity will kill you next after the cat.

“Taxi!” You shout, waving your hand at the yellow vehicle, but every taxi seems to ignore the people's pleas, determined to save themselves instead.

Guess it's time to burn calories and run back home.

You were a panting mess once you reached back to your comfort space, eyes zeroing at the running television in the living room. Watching the newscaster talk about today's battle and how it affected the shops and buildings.

It seems like the battle lasted twenty minutes before the villian gave up and fled away.

Your head snaps to the bathroom once you hear the sink water drip, you didn't even think if he would be here this early.

“Wriothesley,” you say breathlessly when you swing the door open, arms squeezing his side as you take a deep breath in.

“woah, easy there. What happened?” He takes you in, hand rubbing at your arm.

“i was…” nevermind. Maybe you shouldn't tell him what you have witnessed, he'll know once he checks the news.

You only realise that he was chest bared at the moment, and you furrow your eyebrows once you see a bruise on his shoulder.

“What happened?” It was your turn to ask, talking a gentle finger and running it over the bruise, earning a hiss from him.

“was changing the car oil at the repair shop.” He mumbles, gaze turning to the mirror, “then accidentally hit my shoulder once i got up.” he turns his arm, swinging it slowly.

“but you don't work at a car repair shop?”

“it's a side hustle, sunshine.”

“why didn't you tell me?” You press on, and he hangs his head low, both of his hands gripping the sink bowl.

Okay, maybe you have annoyed him a little too much now. Upon sensing your incoming apology, Wriothesley smiles at you.

“don't worry your pretty little head too much. The bruise will fade.”

“i can massage you later?” You offer, and he lets out a breathy chuckle. “You're the best.” He gives you a chaste kiss on your lips on his way out, which makes you feel a little fuzzy.

The evening gave way to the night sky, and you found yourself lying on the bed, replaying the video captured on your camera. The footage was far from perfect, shaky and lacking in clarity, but it still managed to capture fragments of the intense confrontation between the hero and the villain. You couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement as you watched the brief glimpses of the clash that had taken place earlier.

How the villian managed to blow a punch on the hero’s shoulder, sending him way back. Must've hurted.

It's almost like the same spot Wriothesley got his bruise on.

…

Wait, the same spot?  You sit up on the mattress, replaying the video on repeat of their fight.

The hero was about the same height as him, the same physique, same cake—

You shake your head, focus. Wriothesley can't be the hero, no that's impossible. He was a busy man, doing… side jobs and whatnot.

Sure he was kind, always helping everyone, even walking the neighbors dog because they got sick one day.

But then again… you never saw Wriothesley and the hero at the same time,

Or was it merely a coincidence, a random alignment of physical features?

“Sunshine?” You gasp when you snap your head up to find Wriothesley leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed.

“y-yes?” You set the camera aside on top of the drawer. He moves closer, seating himself on the edge of the bed, his eyes fixated on you then glancing at he camera.

“dinner's ready.”

You nod, silence fills the room after. You know he's waiting for you tell him more, on why you were so shocked.

“was looking at the hero's pictures.”

“not mine? I'm wounded.”

You roll your eyes, a slow smile creeping up your face, and he loves it. He takes it as an invitation to lean closer, suddenly pinning you down on the bed to capture your lips with his.

It's slow, and gentle. It makes you hum softly, taking his face in your hands to kiss him back, moving your lips together until you were gasping for air.

You forget you were even suspicious of him a second ago.

Your fingers lightly trace his jawline and you feel the pricks of his growing facial hair. A small smile plays on your lips as you inform him in a soft tone, "You need to shave." Wriothesley chuckles softly, the sound warm and low. He reaches up to your hand, gently taking hold of it and bringing it to his lips, pressing a kiss on your palm. "Is that why you stopped kissing me?" He says, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "No! I find you more.. attractive. Plus it.. yeah, it feels like little needles on my face.” you admit quietly.

Wriothesley presses his face into your neck, his lips tracing soft kisses along your skin. His hands begin roving your body, each touch sending a gentle shiver across your flesh. He whispers quietly next to your ear, his voice low and smooth as he responds, "I'll shave after dinner." The sensations of his lips against your neck and his hands exploring your body mix together, creating a heady combination that heightens your senses and ignites a slow fire within you.

“I'll.. help.” You whisper, bringing both of your arms to wrap them around his back. “What a sweetheart.” he uttered out, voice muffled from trying to mold into your skin.

Your mind stops working for a second when he presses his knee gently between your legs to pull them apart, “Wriothesley, what about dinner?” You frantically ask him, tugging his hair up so both of your gazes could meet. And the almost drunken expression he has on makes you let out a shaky breath.

“later,” he drawls, his fingers tracing lazily along your sides.

Hero? Pftt, what hero? This is just your wriothesley, it's quite impossible for him to be the hero.

You snap out of your daydream when your colleague hands you a cup of coffee, he raises an eyebrow at you and you smile back awkwardly.

A sip of the coffee to get a bit of energy, but only just a bit, since too much caffeine makes you nervous.

“You filmed the crazy battle yesterday?” Your colleague sneaks from behind you, watching the video replay again on your camera.

“they do movies about them now, insane huh?”

“well atleast the hero knows he's popular.” You reply bluntly, taking anothsr sip from your hot beverage.

“flash news, someone heard that his name starts with the letter ‘W’ or som—”

You spit out your coffee all over your white attire. You both exchange surprised looks, but you quickly wipe your mouth using the back of your hand.

“where exactly did you hear that?” You get straight to the point, gesturing them to sit next to you.

“from my father's friend’s cousin sister.”

His reply makes your eyes twitch, from who and who?

“Okay…” you whisper, turning around and thinking of the utter nonsense they spouted.

“you don't believe me.” he sighed, “I've been telling this to everyone in the building but no one is believing me! Just tryna’ do my job here.”

Let's say maybe you believe him. But the dots are connecting too fast that you want to refuse from believing it.

Was your target closer to you than you had expected?

“I'm clocking out, can you cover for me today?” You inform your colleague, and he crosses his arms while eyeing you up and down.

Your roll your eyes, “I'll be the cameraman for next week. So you could get three days off.” You force a smile and they smile back enthusiastically.

Wriothesley is definitely home. Earlier than the usual time he'd be back.

Oh, he's asleep on the couch. Leaning back tiredly with an almost stern expression on, but his body seems relaxed.

Now is the time to do anything. Investigate? Go through his things without his permission? That sounded all awful… surely he's not hiding any—

“go search his things.” You furrow your eyebrows when the devil on your left shoulder speaks, it makes you rub your face in annoyance.

Then a sudden white little angel poofs on your right shoulder with a disappointed face, “no, don't do it. He's a little scary when he gets mad. But he'd never betray you!” you feel reassured at it's words and you nod in agreement.

“don't listen to it. He could hurt you if you keep it a secret.” The red devil whispers again and it makes you shiver a bit.

“he would never hurt you.” The angel frowns.

“yes he would, he's a man.”

“a good man.”

“yeah? You're no better than me, you just want that—”

“okay shut up both of you. Shoo.” You brush both of your shoulders off before taking a deep breath to brace yourself.

You'll just search his.. clothes.

You feel guilty once you pocket his jackets and pants in his side of the wardrobe, checking every hidden pocket thoroughly while glancing at the door once in a while to make sure he doesn't wake up.

As your fingers brush against his jacket, you notice an unusual sensation – a cool, metal feeling hidden underneath the fabric. Your eyes widen in surprise as you recognize it to be the form of a gun's handle. A mixture of curiosity and concern floods through you, freezing you in place.

It really is a gun. You study it carefully, turning it around and feeling it's heaviness in your palm.

But you feel your heart run out of your ribcage when two pairs of arms wrap tightly around you, his chin resting on your shoulder.

Shit.

“hi,” he whispers next to your ear, but you're too nervous to even look back at him.

“nice thing you got there.” He muses, and you feel like you're losing oxygen once he tightens his grip around you even more.

“… i just found it.” You mutter, mostly to yourself. Your head hanging too low to avoid his eyes.

“Could've just asked me, no?” He clicks his tongue, almost in disappointment.

“i have it on me because—”

“because you use it for the good, right? Because you're the hero?” Your voice is shaky when you ask, the gun in your hand shaking with you, and you're afraid to drop it.

“hero?” Wriothesley repeats, shaking you gently awake and you gasp harshly, taking in big breaths, your boyfriend immediately trying to soothe you.

it was a dream.

“you were mumbling something about a hero in your sleep. Are you okay?” He asks in concern, brushing a strand off your face. You were sweating too much for your liking.

“when did i get here?” You look around, taking your palms to rub the sleepiness off. “Right when you got off work. You slept on the bed without changing your clothes.”

Oh… so you never checked his clothes. Deciding to just sleep instead.

Your head turns back to the wardrobe, staring at it intently. Could the jacket be in the same arrangement as you found it in your dream? Or will the gun also be there?

“you're going to poke a hole through it if you keep staring.” He stifles a laugh, and you couldn't help but try to smile as well. “Drink up. Slow sips.” He offers you a glass of water, and you hold the glass firmly in your hand.

“so… what was your dream about? Even this hero appears in your dreams? Can't say I'm not jealous.”

“You'll have grey hairs too early from overthinking.” You tease, sitting upright in bed, “oh no, you already do, old man.” you frown, tracing the grey strands along with his black hair. He watches in amusement.

Wriothesley lets out a deep sigh, “give your old man a break. They're a badge of wisdom and experience,” he rests his head on your lap, nuzzling close as you massage his scalp.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Breaking news: the ‘’lola” flower shop sets on fire just three hours ago. Our dear hero saves the day yet again, protecting the old lady just in time before her shop explodes. The cause of the fire is still unknown…”

Destruction out of nowhere again. Accidents out of nowhere again.

The voice of the newscaster on the television fades away in this little diner you're in. You drive your attention away from it, instead focusing now on the Polaroid pictures laid out infront of you.

The hero always wore a mask to cover his identity, obviously. But even after watching the countless of interviews he had, the deep tone slightly matches Wriothesley’s voice, or maybe he's changing his tone on purpose. You can see it by zooming in on the video, how he's catching his breath everytime he speaks when he's just sitting down.

Asthma? Nah.

You tap your fingers impatiently on the table, this is not helping at all, and the slightest itch in your brain worsens as the time goes by.

You think about giving up on this, but the possibility of finding the answer on how or why did all of this happen is probably closer to you than you think.

“Bad guys never end with their schemes. Bunch of attention seekers.” The hero speaks on the television, and you hum curiously as the hero salutes the camera playfully before disappearing from the crowd.

Is it possible that there are multiple heros? Working all together in some basement and taking turns to go out and do a better job than the police?

Possibly, and you write down your new theories down on your little notepad.

You check your phone next, Wriothesley still hasn't answered you back from your most recent text to him.

It's nothing to worry about, but the thought that he's busy saving the city is gnawing at you.

Batman?

You shake your head again, gathering your things to stand up from your seat. You should be blunt asking him about it tonight.

It's cold. Colder than usual. Was the air conditioning on? No. But the windows are sure wide open. You look around the living room before closing the windows and curtains from the outside world, as you draw the curtains, the outside world becomes obscured, leaving the room in a soft semi-darkness.

“Wriothesley, honey?” You call out softly, peeking through the bathroom, not there. The bedroom? Nope.

That leaves the kitchen, you slowly peek your head in he kitchen, and sure enough, he was there.

Wriothesley was rubbing his face in exhaustion while mumbling words under his breath that you can't quite hear. Having one singular glass of some drink in his hand.

“hero this.. hero that..” you finally listen to his mumbles, which makes you furrow your eyebrows together.

"Wrio...?" You call out softly, flipping the switch to turn on the light. His sharp eyes immediately dart up to look at you, and you can't help but shiver under his intense stare. You let out a small gasp of surprise as he suddenly stands up, the glass in his hand slipping from his grip and shattering on the ground along with its contents.

Taken aback by his sudden movement, you instinctively take a step back as he approaches you. But before you can even register what's happening, he crashes his lips against yours in a hasty, rushed kiss. Caught off guard, you cling tightly to him, desperately seeking support to prevent yourself from toppling over.

“You love me,” Wriothesley's voice breaks through the heated kiss, his words coming out in a low, guttural groan. He grips the back of your thighs, hoisting you up against the wall and wrapping your legs around his waist. “right?” His voice holds a hint of vulnerability and desperation, as if seeking reassurance and affirmation of your feelings for him.

And when you don't answer him right away, he takes your lower lip between his teeth, nipping at it gently, “answer me.” He almost growls.

“love, what are you taking about? Are you drunk?” You ask breathlessly in concern, your lips feeling swollen.

His jaw clenches, “Why can't you say it?” he inhales your perfume, your scent filling him that it makes him groan, his mouth lavishing your neck and collarbone, leaving kisses and littering marks then soothing the area with his tongue that it makes your pant softly, pressing your face into his hair while your fingers weaving through his black-greyish strands.

“i love you,” you utter quietly, and it suddenly makes him start grinding his hardened length against you. “I'm sorry in advance, sweetheart.”

One minute you're confused about his words, and then the next he's pounding so hard into you like there was no tomorrow.

Strings of “don't leave me,” and “i love you’s,” are echoed in the air. Wriothesley's mouth moves against yours with a sense of urgency and haste, his tongue gliding and tangling with yours in a fervent dance. The bed creaks so loud underneath you that you think it might break anytime, the embarrassment of the headboard banging against the wall immediately gone once he hits your sweet spot rapidly.

Poor neighbors

"Wrio... Wriothesley?” you slowly flutter your eyes open, still in the hazy realm between sleep and wakefulness. The sunlight streams through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room, and you blink a few times as you take in your surroundings. A quiet sense of contentment washes over you as you remember the events of the night before, the memories of Wriothesley's body against yours and his lips on yours still fresh in your mind.

You prop yourself up using your elbows, only to look down at the sight of your sleeping lover with his head pressed up on your chest. You collapse back on the bed with a tired sigh.

You still couldn't understand the reasoning behind his.. desperate actions last night. He seemed so pent up and stressed, you'll forgive him this time.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• It's the day where you're covering for your colleague, being the cameraman for tonight's news. Yes, tonight.

Wriothesley would kill you if he knew you were working so late at night, but only because he cares about your safety. Good thing he's out of the city for a day.

Or he claims to be out of the city for some important work.

You press the button on your video camera, adjusting the lens to focus on the newscaster standing in front of the camera, holding the microphone with a serious expression. The news van is parked in front of a desolate, run-down neighborhood known for its high crime rate and dangerous reputation. The newscaster speaks into the camera, her eyes boring into the lens as she reports on the neighborhood.

“We are now standing in the heart of one of the most dangerous areas in the city. This neighborhood is notorious for its high crime rate and volatile atmosphere.”

Your senses are heightened at this rate and you really try to focus but the moment you hear the faint crunch of leaves, you lose composure just a bit.

Okay you're a bit scared, but as long as your workmates are he—

a group of armed gang members suddenly appear from the alleyways between the buildings, surrounding the news van and the camera crew. The newscaster, taken off guard, gasps and steps back.

The gang members brandish their weapons, circling the news crew menacingly. One of them shouts at the newscaster, waving his gun in the air. “Hold it right there, pretty lady. This is our turf! You ain’t gonna be broadcasting nothing about us!”

You're about to shit your pants for real this time.

“Drop your cameras and get outta here, or things are gonna get real ugly real fast,” he growls, and one of them points the gun right on your camera.

“I'm talkin’ to you too.”

Yeah, you're not going to fight anyone and act all big. You simply drop the camera on the ground to raise your hands in the air.

As the gang members close in on the news crew, the atmosphere is suddenly shattered by the sound of footsteps pounding against the pavement. Everyone turns to see a tall, muscular figure approaching from the distance.

It's the hero.

You watch in awe as the hero strides towards the group of armed gang members, his movements fluid and precise. With a swift swing of his fist, he lands a powerful punch on the leader's face, sending him stumbling backwards. The other gang members are taken aback by his sudden appearance and the display of force, their eyes widening in surprise and fear. They exchange nervous looks, realizing they're facing a much stronger opponent than they anticipated.

“Hey, let's go!” Your workmate calls for your name. Her hand waving at you so you could all retreat back to the van.

And before you could follow, the van explodes.

The sudden explosion catches you off guard, jolting you out of your stupor. Shouting in surprise, you recoil from the loud blast, ducking instinctively as debris and fragments fly through the air. Your colleague, sitting next to you in the van, lets out a terrified yell as the force of the explosion propels the driver backward. The van shudders and lurches from the impact, the windows shattering and various objects sent flying.

“in the building! Let's go!” All three of you dash to protect yourselves inside this tall company building.

“I will call the police,”

“but the hero is here!” the driver of the van speaks, almost yelling in frustration.

“the hero is also a human. Just a strong one. We can't rely on him—” but before you could continue, you all cover your ears once you hear gunshots come from outside.

Ohmygosh. It’s—it could possibly be Wriothesley who's getting hurt right now. What are even the chances?!

“Fine! Just call the fucking police!” The driver gives up, leaning back against the wall while breathing heavily.

You want to go out there. You want to see. It's your chance to see who the hero is if he got hurt. Just to get the crumbs of news in exchange for your life apparently.

When it grows quiet, you peek outside, “it's clear, I'll take a look—”

“No, you're not.” her hand is firm as she grips your wrist, “just let them go.” He, on the other hand, scowls.

“Be safe!” She shouts at you as you make a run for it, running down the alleyway while looking left and right.

Someone's in the area.

You dart behind the nearby dumpster, heart pounding in your chest as adrenaline courses through your veins. Hiding as best you can, you press yourself against the rough metal, trying to keep your breathing steady and quiet. Peeking out from behind the dumpster, you cautiously scan the surroundings, trying to catch a glimpse of someone nearby. For now, the area seems to be clear, but you can't shake the feeling that someone is in the vicinity, lurking in the shadows.

“Where ya at, lil’ birdie?” You cover your mouth when you hear someone speak, it sends a chill down your spine and you can feel your heart drumming in your ears.

Your sharp eyes turn to your side to find a metal rod, you don't hesitate to grab it before smacking the shit out of the guy.

No that did not happen, but you wish it did.

Instead, the minute you see his feet pass the dumpster, with a swift movement, you grab hold of both of his ankles, using your weight and leverage to pull them out from under him. He lets out a pained shriek as he suddenly loses his balance and topples to the ground, his body hitting the pavement with a thud.

Alright, you can be cool sometimes.

Stepping at his hands to hear him cry again, you run put of the place, making turns and finally spotting the hero sitting down against the building wall while panting, seemingly exhausted.

“…” you take slow steps once you approach him, looking down at him with your eyes already glistening.

This is it, you just have to confirm it.

Your hand pulls at his mask, “Wrio—”

Huh?

This…

Is not

Wriothesley.

“Ah, what the fuck?” He grunts, the blonde grabbing the mask from your hands and you take a step back.

“Elias?!” You yell out in confusion, it's your colleague that you're covering for supposedly today's shoot.

“You're the hero??”

“not a word. Scram, you freak.” he mutters, eyes diverting away from you and staring up at the roof. “The roof,” he whispers to himself, making the effort to stand back at his knees.

Is this bitch serious? He's the last person you expected to be the hero. With his stupidly arrogant and lax attitude.

You give him an almost death stare, studying his features again before making your way out.

You need to check the other people that were with you.

But when you arrive back at the building, they were gone.

Did the police arrive? You don't hear any sirens. Could they have possibly went up on one of the floors to hide?

You find yourself in the elevator next, watching as the doors close with your hands clasped infront of you nervously.

You take deep breaths, trying to calm your racing heart and steady your nerves. Hey, at least there's nice elevator music.

As the elevator comes to a halt, the doors slide open with a soft ding, revealing the rooftop and the figure standing in the open space.

There's a figure standing at the edge of the building, you can see the person's silhouette clearly now, but you can't make out their features just yet.

Your steps are hesitant as you slowly approach the figure, the wind gently billowing around you. The city lights twinkle below, but your attention is entirely focused on the person standing at the edge of the roof. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever may come, and call out tentatively, "Hello?”

Your voice rings in the air, that the person's shoulders tense.

When they look around, you're met by the same blue eyes you've known for three years now.

“Wriothesley.” You whisper, in shock, breathlessly under your breath.

He's holding.. a gun? The same gun you remember seeing in your dream.

Something in his mind snaps when you turn around, in fear. Like it was a mistake to ever see him in the first place.

Wriothesley doesn’t even give himself time to think before his body suddenly reacts, suddenly reaching out and circling his hand around your wrist to forcibly tug you back.

He yanks hard enough that you lose your balance and fall against him, his other arm coming up to wrap around your shoulders, preventing you from going anywhere.

“W-wrio—”

“think it's time we talk, sunshine.” He speak into your ear.

When you try to move the slightest from his hold, he grips you around him tighter. You figure it's best to stay still for now.

“what? Are you going to kidnap me now?” You manage to chuckle out, nervously though, your voice coming out more shaky than you intended to.

“Is that going to satisfy your little fantasy? What, I should play into it and shove you into a corner, keep you under my thumb until you’re begging me to set you free? Or no… you want to be saved by the hero.”

"You know you're not helping with your case, right? You really sound like the bad guy now.”

You’ve definitely found his breaking point because that comment makes him snap.

Wriothesley suddenly whirls you around so you’re facing him before he’s pinning you against the nearest wall, his body practically covering your own.

“Well…” He whisper, raising an eyebrow calmly in the way you look being at his mercy. “Aren’t I?”

Your jaw practically hangs at his words. Is he... Playing the bad guy now?

Or was he really… not the opposite of the hero?

He sees the shiver you try so hard to suppress and smirks at that, clearly satisfied with your reaction, “What’s wrong, sunshine? Finally realize that the man you’ve been dating isn’t the hero you've obsessing over?” He chuckles.

“i… i knew it—”

“You didn’t,” he says, his tone suddenly becoming cool and firm.

Wriothesley leans forward, pressing into you so that you’re smashed between him and the wall. His hand suddenly comes up, cupping your jaw so that he tilts your chin up to look directly into his eyes.

“If you’d known, you’d never have come within twenty feet of me. You’d never have been alone with me or spent a single night in our bed.”

He's right. And you hate it. You feel betrayed, lied to, even.

It makes you rethink your life choices.

You've gotten too comfortable with him that you didn't even think about him being the villian. You've gotten too close while you were being a complete idiot.

“you hid it.”

Wriothesley laughs, the sound almost sounding cold, “of course I hid it, sunshine. I wasn’t going to just come strutting in wearing a big, red sign saying ‘look at me, I’m a bad guy!’ was I?”

You clench your fists together, “you tricked me.”

“Tricked? No.” He shakes his head slightly. “I simply… left out key details.”

“Why?”

“ah, there it is.” He steps back, giving you space to breath, to recollect your thoughts.

“why? Because the hero isn't a hero. He started all of this destruction. Why? To get fame, recognition, power, and to be seen, to look like he's doing something when he's not.” He lets out all in one breath, and you lips part again.

“four years ago when the building almost fell on you? He did that, on purpose. then saved you to make it look like he's the one that everyone needs.”

What the hell?

“Wriothesley, we were strangers to each other four years ago. How did you know?” You don't hesitate to step closer to get more answers out of him, but he only stares at you.

You swallow thickly when he draws infront of you once again, “i did this all for you, love. I-i will do everything in my power to stop him, i will kill him so you wouldn't get hurt—”

“Okay, fucker. Out of my way,” Elias, the ’hero’, suddenly barks, and without warning, a gunshot rings out. The bullet pierces through Wriothesley's shoulder, causing him to flinch and stagger backwards.

Your eyes widen in horror as you watch the scene unfold. "Wriothesley!" you cry out, watching as he turns around despite the injury and charges towards Elias.

Despite the pain he must be in, Wriothesley doesn't relent. Ignoring the gunshot wound, he barrels towards Elias with unmatched determination, closing the distance between them.

"Bastard," Wriothesley manages to grit out as he collides with Elias, knocking him off his feet and sending them both crashing to the ground.

You don't hesitate to rush forward, with adrenaline fueling your actions, you move quickly towards them as they roll dangerously close to the edge of the roof.

"Stop!" you shout, your voice filled with desperation. "You'll fall!”

And surely enough, Your two hand clamps down on Wriothesley's, desperately grasping onto anything you can to prevent him from plunging off the edge.

Meanwhile, Elias grips Wriothesley's leg, using his strength to anchor him in place. The three of you hang there, suspended over the city, Wriothesley's body along with Elias’s dangling in the air.

“Sweetheart—”

“shut the fuck up I'm not letting go.” They're both too heavy, the feel of his fingers slipping away from yours increases everytime you try to pull them up.

Elias is purposely pulling Wriothesley's leg down to drop them both, your lips quiver, crying when two of his fingers slip now.

“hey,” his voice is soothing when he calls for you.

“at least… i protected you till the very end, right?” He tries smiling but it only makes the lump in your throat grow.

“i love you.”

“Wriothesley!”

…

“Wriothesley—!” You gasp harshly when you open your eyes so wide, finding that your hand was already reaching out for nothing.

You rest your hand on your chest before leaning back on your seat.

“are you okay?” The newscaster, the friend you made, offers you her handkerchief so you could swipe the sweat off your face.

“i think… continuesly searching about this, is making you stressed.” She points out, looking at the papers and drawings splayed out on your desk.

More theories of the disappearances of the hero and villian. Not their death. Their bodies were never found.

“it's been a year.”

The realization is like a punch to the gut as you bring a sweaty palm to rub at your temples.

“This is not over.” You whisper, more to yourself than to her. “We got no more trouble. No more heroic or bad guy news. The world is back to normal, almost like they never existed huh?”

Never existed.

She then suddenly gasps, which catches you off gaurd, “are engaged??” She eyes at the gem resting on your left ring finger.

The ring you found in one of his jacket pockets when you sorted his things out.

“yeah…” you decide to drawl out before sitting upright on your seat.

“now, if you'll excuse me, i got work to do.”

You're never going to stop searching, to find another answer of the question; 'why?'

Even if it will mean risking your life this time.

[nezuscribe]

𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖎𝖘 𝖘𝖚𝖓𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙

summary: being gojo's wife was better than you could have imagined, too good perhaps. when you have doubts about being with him, gojo must simply show you that they're wrong

pairing: gojo x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, mdni, mild angst, heavy smut, fingering (female receiving), oral (female receiving), vaginal penetration, heavy making out, gojo is a little possessive (but that's okay!)

note: this could be a historical au if you squint but i was too tired to go in-depth. also sorry for any typos, i might fix it later

word count: 3.3k

jjk masterlist

gojo saturo was a man who was always sure of himself. 

he didn’t need anybody to tell him of his strength. the word of his agility spread across the aegean sea, and his strength rivaled no other man. his stark beauty that only came with having a goddess as a mother, and his snide remarks that came with being fed with a silver spoon his entire life. 

and yet you had never seen gojo so angry. never seen his eyes turn such a shade of gray, his hair framing his face messily as he breathed as though each inhale cost him the regular amount three would take. 

his (your) sleeping quarters usually a comforting place for you to be, but it all felt cold now. you could barely look at him without feeling the bile rise in your throat, wondering if you finally ruined the lick of happiness you were blessed with these past few months.

who would have thought your words would have such an effect on him? 

"what do you mean let you leave?" he spat your earlier statement as if it burned his tongue, seared his flesh as he if the prospect was enough to set even the holiest man aflame.

"i," you paused, your back pressing up against the wall as tears treacherously stabbed at your waterline, “i just think that you could have somebody…worthier.” you used the heel of your palm to wipe at your cheeks, hoping that the darkness would hide your weakness.

he took in another labored breath as if hearing you say it again was the confirmation he needed to make sure he heard you correctly the first time. 

“you could have anybody, gojo,” his lips curled at the use of his last name, getting comfortable with hearing ‘toru fall off your soft lips, “i don’t want you to be bound to me because you wanted to spite-” 

“spite?” he throws it out, cutting you off, scoffing in disbelief as you nod slowly. 

“you don’t have to take me for a fool,” you say through a sniffle, the moon carding through the window as it bounces off of his beautiful face, “i don’t have much to give, but i’m not dense. i know that there wouldn’t be many reasons after spite to take me as your wife.”

he doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, looking at you and then at the tears that stained your soft cheeks. he wanted to reach out and wipe them, to kiss the salt away, and to give you words that held his heart in each syllable but you would only deem them as moments to fill the silence and to please the gods.

“then you are dense if you think that’s why i picked you as my wife,” he tells you finally, the words cutting you through your nightgown and through your chest. you were aware he wielded the sword better than any grecian warrior, but you never would have guessed that his words could be just as powerful. 

“your mother wants-” 

“damn what she wants!” he cracked, shaking in anger as your lips wobbled at the flash that crossed his face, he rubbed his hands over his tired eyes, looking away, trying to calm himself down as his hair fell into his eyes, “have you ever stopped to think about what about what i want?”

you didn’t know what he wanted. you had always thought that the gojo satoru would pick somebody spectacular to be his equal, somebody whose name was just as prominent as his. you thought that his wife would have been a child of a god as well, somebody who could match him on his every level. 

but now you weren’t sure, your past judgment slipping away as you took in his disheveled state.

“i,” he sighed, looking at you as he shook his head, “i want you so much that hearing you say you want to leave damn near tore my heart out. i want you so much that my every waking moment is spent thinking, dreaming, wanting you. you are the only person that i care for.” he choked out, his voice raw as he pushed the strands away so he could see you.

you couldn’t find anything to say as your lips trembled as you tried to conceal your cries. if only he knew your petty tears came from years of these words being muttered in the back of your head, from the people around you, and only tonight did they finally spill. you were strong, and you could control your emotions better than most, but seeing him tonight with the woman blatantly trying to win his attention proved the fragility in your mask. you knew that accepting his hand in marriage meant having to have skin thicker than before, but after months of hearing the crude rumors of why he picked you out of anybody else chipped away at you before this was all that was left. 

“i didn’t want you to be my wife out of spite,” he takes a tentative step forward, hoping that you don’t cower away because of it, “i wanted you to be my wife because i loved you too much for you to be anything but.” he walks again, his long legs reaching you in a matter of milliseconds as he’s now closer than he was before, his striking eyes taking you in better as you look at him from above your lashes, not wanting him to see you this way.

“you are so smart yet sometimes you can’t see beyond what people tell you,” he murmurs, pulling you into his chest as you let him, this warmth something you knew you could no longer live without, “i will not let you leave.”

“but-” 

“listen to me,” he murmurs firmly, his fingers grasping your jaw as he lifts it up so you can see him. 

“i will not let you leave…unless you want to,” his thumb swipes away at the corner of your eyes, searching for answers, “do you want to?”

no, you don’t.

you want to stay. you want to wake up to his kisses and his gentle touch, the honeyed words he’d tell you as he held you close to his naked body. you wanted to stay and experience what it’s like having the strongest soldier as your husband, to know that he wouldn’t let a fly land on your head. you want him.

“no,” you look away, your cheeks heating up under his heavy gaze, “but-” 

“then don’t leave.” he cut you off again, shushing your doubts as he shook his head. his fingers trailed across your shoulders, long as you felt them travel down the cloth that covered your back, holding your waist as he ran them across the expanse of your body. 

he knew the things you told yourself sometimes, he’d comforted you those nights when the darkness sheltered your tears and all he could do was tell you that you were wrong and hold you close to his thumping heart. 

this was the furthest it had ever been. his heart was thumping erratically and he was sure it would jump out of his throat if you actually left.

“‘toru, i really think that….” you trailed off as he dropped his head down, his lips finding your neck as he littered wet kisses on your skin, mouth curling into a smile as he heard your breathing hitch. 

he gripped your hips tightly, undoing the knot that met in the middle of your collarbones, watching as your robe fell to show off your supple skin to him. you wanted to hide, never getting used to that hungry look that would take over his face as he eyed your breaths, his cheeks glowing pink as he nudged his thigh in between your two legs. 

“do you really think i could live without these?” he asked, his hands cupping your tits as he flicked his thumb over your pert nipples, your lips catching between your teeth to hide your whines, “without you?” his hands ran down your stomach, his nose rubbing against your cheek as he teased his lips over yours, a cruel grin threatening to make its way onto his stunning face as you tried to meet him where he was. 

“now you’re eager?” he taunted, getting drunk off of your helpless whines, enjoying knowing the fact that neither of you would be able to survive without the other, that he needed to breathe your air in order to live. he could taunt and tease you as much as he’d want, but in the end, he’d always oblige. 

he kissed you like a man starved, his lips crashing against yours as you let out a small gasp. he took the air from your lungs, your teeth clashing against each other as he held you to him, your nipples rubbing against his chest as he moaned into your mouth, wanting more. 

“want you, always want you,” you murmur against him, your fingers curling at the stray hairs at his nape, pulling him closer to you as you press up to kiss him again.

“then don’t ever say anything like that again,” he whispered, and for the first time that night you heard the vulnerability in his words, “i want you so bad that i can barely think straight without you.”

you wanted to apologize but he stopped you, already knowing the words that were going to come out of your mouth. He nipped at your lips, stealing your apology away silently, not wanting to see your pretty tears anymore, the sight hurting him more than any wound he’s attained in all his years as a warrior. 

dropping down to his knees as he breathed in your scent, his eyes rolling back as you tried to look away in embarrassment. He’d press kissed to your inner thighs, stopping just where you needed and wanted him most, taking your knee as he guided it upwards to rest on his shoulders, looking up at you as he rolled and smirked. 

“you think anybody else will love you like i do? treat you like this?” you shook your head, your fingers curling into his white hair as your head thumped against the wall, his hot breath fanning over your fluttering entrance as you whined out for him. 

“mmh, fuck,” he loved seeing you like this, beautifully naked, sweat dotting on your skin as you wrapped your leg around his back, “hurry up ‘toru,” you were impatient and he loved that about you. 

“anything for my wife,” he said, his mouth finally finding your clit as you let out a pleased cry, his fingers prodding at your dripping entrance as your eyes squeezed shut. this is where he loved to be most, the saccharine taste of you on his tongue, washing over his body as he grew taunt against his stomach. 

he sucked, his two fingers reaching deep in you as he curled them, switching them with his mouth occasionally as your grip on his hair grew tighter, guiding him up and down as he slurped your juices away, the sound echoing across the chamber. 

“just like that!” you moaned when he reached your spongy spot, your walls clenching around his fingers, your essence staining his chin as he looked up at you with a dopey look in his eyes, “fuuuck ‘toru,” your words were the sin that he longed for, tainting his existence with the presence of your love. 

he could feel you getting closer, his movements getting faster as he held one against your ass, cupping it as he brought you even impossibly closer to him, eating you out as he had never eaten a meal as good as this, and you did try to stop the noises that fell out of your mouth as you squeezed against him, creaming on his fingers as he brought you to your high, crying out his name as you tried to dig yourself against the wall.

your heavy breathing filled the room, your grip on his hair loosening up as he kissed your inner thigh one last time before disconnecting himself from your spasming pussy, grinning like a fool as he balanced himself on his haunches. 

“good?” 

“oh, shut up,” you muttered, still trying to catch your breath as he chuckled, standing up as he brought you to his chest once again. you would never get tired of him like this, your juices on his lips and chin as he looked at you like you were his god. 

he would argue that you most definitely were. 

he pressed his lips to yours once again, letting you taste yourself on him as you whimpered against his rapid movements, grasping onto his arms for support as you hooked a leg around his waist, your lashes fluttering against your cheeks.

you could feel him hard against your stomach, and you looked down, his robes not doing much to hide his length. 

“see what you do to me?” he said against the shell of your ear, your fingers running up and down his clothed cock, his eyes fluttering shut at the feeling as you continued your motions, enjoying the way he dropped his head in the crook of your neck, “you’re mine.” 

“you flatter me,” you teased, your eyes still a little puffy but you cracked a smile, feeling him puff out a laugh as he shook his head, grasping onto your waist as though that was the only thing that could keep him standing. 

if only his enemies could see him like this; reduced to a mere mess all from your fleeting touch. 

“i’m being honest.” he sucks onto your neck, his nose nudging your jaw as you tug onto his clothing, your fingers grasping onto the sturdy fabric as you push it down, your eyes taking in his physique as he stands naked before you, the two of you finally even. 

“you’re so pretty,” you say, the words tumbling out of your mouth as your eyes rake over his abs, the faint scars that litter his torso, the white hair that leads down to his angry cock that leaks pre all over his stomach.

he snorts, rolling his eyes as he wraps your legs around his hips once again, hoisting your upwards like you weigh nothing as he rested his dick in between your puffy folds, cocking his head as he looked at you through his long lashes. 

“me?” he asks as you giggle softly, nodding as his heart flutters at the sound, “i wish. look at your eyes,” he presses a kiss against your lids, “and your nose,” he kisses the tip of your nose as you try not to laugh even louder, the giddy sound something he hopes the gods could hear so that would envy him and the woman he has in his hands, “and your lips,” he pecks them, “and your smart, smart head,” he presses another kiss against your hairline, balancing your body in his arms, “my beautiful wife.” he finishes, looking back at your flustered figure, proud of his work.

“stop,” you whine, not making any motion to actually stop him, bathing in the endless attention as he tapped his cock head against your clit, your laughs seizing as you look down, forgetting where you were, “you’re such a tease ‘toru.” 

“only because i love you so much,” he said, thrusting up into you as your mouth dropped open into a wanton moan, your head falling back as he took in a sharp breath between his teeth, never getting used to the way you clenched so tightly around him, making it hard to not come in just a matter of seconds. 

“f-fuck,” he moaned, his hot breath hitting your breasts as he dropped his head down to see where the two of you connected, slowly moving his hips as he moved in and out of you, his mushroom tip catching in your fluttering walls as your nails dug into his back, dragging red lines down as he began to rhythmically pound into you, “you’re so fucking tight,”

“mmmh!” you could only whine out, your words slurring in your mouth as you squeezed your eyes shut, the feeling of his dick thumping against you was better than any other feeling in the world, you could barely try to raise your hips up to meet him, but he took care of it for you, his strength never failing to amaze you, “l-love you so much ‘toru, m’sorry for w-what i said!” 

even if he was still caught up over it, he fucked you as if to make you forget about it. 

“my wife,” he’d mutter over and over again, searing the words into fate as he fucked you with so much love that it seeped out of his pores. Sweat caught on his brow and his cupids bow and you ducked down to kiss it away, the salty taste on your lips welcoming back as he feverishly kissed you back, “my wife.”

you loved the way his veins dragged up and down your walls, the rings of your essence and creams that frothed around the base of his cock, the way his thighs clenched as his fingers dug into your ass. 

this was something you knew you could never find anywhere else. gojo satoru was something you could never find anywhere else. 

“say your mine, f-fuck, say it,” he muttered against your skin, “need to hear you say it.” 

“m’yours!” your fingers tugged at his hair, your nails scratching his scalp as he welcomed the sting, “i’m only yours!” 

His eyes rolled back as you continued to flutter against him, his high coming faster than it usually would, but he knew that he couldn’t control it with the way you kept crying out his name in that honeyed tone of yours. 

“shit, i’m ‘gonna cum, cum with me, need to feel you cum around me…” he rambled on, your pussy made him crazy. And you were nodding your head, not knowing how to speak anymore as his hips shuddered, your releases spraying each other as he cummed deep into you, white trickling out from where he had you plugged out as you cried out from the pleasure that washed over your body. 

“you’re so perfect,” he whispered after a couple of seconds passed, and you were still trying to recover from your second orgasm of the night, his words warming your soul as he kissed your cheeks.

you looked up at him, suddenly bashful despite what happened, and he had the audacity to cackle at the sight. 

you were stunning always, but he loved this look the most. the sleepy but pleased look in your eyes as you clung to him, your arms draping from his shoulders as he walked with you connected to him, just as you should be. he loved the little smile that would always litter your lips after sex, knowing that if he were to die now he’d die a happy man.

“come on,” he kept you wrapped around his waist as he kept one hand under your ass and one tightly around his waist, “i’ll let you rest, but i need to get some things to clean you up.” his eyes trailed to the mess he made, trying not to let his cock harden at the white that painted your thighs and seeped out from your pussy, knowing you were too tired for another round. 

“i love you,” you muttered into his neck, pressing a kiss where your lips were and he shuddered. 

he squeezed you tightly to him, not knowing what he’d do if you were to leave. he was a man far gone, you had too much control over him to ever submit to any other king again. you were the only being who could tell him what to do, what to feel, and what to love. 

“love you most, my beautiful wife.”

[sinner-as-saint]

stuck with you

Bucky x Reader au

Run-through: Alone, cold, and stranded in the middle of a small town on top of a mountain. Not the most ideal situation to be in when the weather starts getting bad. No motels or inns have room for you so the locals suggest you reach out to a man named Bucky Barnes for shelter. Apparently, Bucky is known to always help stranded people, or lost hikers. No matter how weird it feels to drive up to a stranger’s house and ask for help, you have on other choice but to do just that. The plan was simple: stay with the strange, kind man for a couple of days until the snowstorm passes. But then you meet him and you find yourself unable to stick to the plan. 

Themes: age gap (reader is in her twenties, Bucky is in his early forties), strangers-to-lovers ish, smut, slight degrading kink, fluff

It felt like the start of a horror movie. 

Unknown town, unknown people. You cursed yourself as you walked out of yet another motel who had no room left for you. 

What the hell were you thinking? After uni, you thought travelling the world on your own would help you with learning the right lessons, having the right experiences, and all that before you joined the family business and began working with your parents for the rest of your life. 

Instead of having fun though, here you were. Stuck on top of an icy mountain, in a small town, and nowhere to sleep for the night. With the snowstorm approaching, you had to find shelter quickly. But none of these motels or inns were free. Every hiker, skier, and tourist had already booked ahead of you apparently. 

“Uh, miss?” A voice called from behind you right as you were about to step outside into the cold evening. 

You turned to look and it was the owner of the motel. The same man who had just turned you down because he had no space left to accommodate you. He looked apologetic as he approached you. 

“Hi.” You said, then patted your pockets quickly, “Did I forget anything on the counter?” 

“No.” The man smiled and shook his head. “Look, I’m sorry you can’t stay. But snowstorms in this area can be dangerous and deadly, and you wouldn’t survive the night if you slept in your car.” He pointed at the rented jeep you had parked right outside the motel. “But there’s a man who can help. His name’s Bucky. Bucky Barnes. He often helps out stranded hikers and stuff, and I already called him and asked if he had room and he said yes.” 

The motel owner proceeded to give you details about Bucky and how to get to his house. From what you’d just learnt, Bucky Barnes was a business mogul who preferred seclusion. He was wealthy, and lived alone in his luxurious cabin that, rumour has it, he built himself. He was in his early forties and had people running his businesses for him all over the world. He moved to this small town after living in lavish cities his entire life. He owned acres upon acres of land, so he was also the local lumberjack and spent his time manually taking down trees whenever anyone needed wood. 

“Don’t worry, miss,” The motel owner reassured you, with a kind smile. “Mr. Barnes is a nice guy. Everyone around here knows him. Just follow the directions I gave you and you’ll find his house not too far from here. It’s a wooden behemoth right on the edge of the forest.” 

When you got back in your car, the first thing you did was google the man really quickly. And the headlines, as you scrolled and read them, made your eyes widen a little each time. They were all basically just about what the motel owner already told you. But you needed to make sure it was all real. 

It was. Bucky Barnes was indeed a filthy rich business mogul who chose to come live all the way up here to get away from busy cities and journalists who always followed him around for quotes to put into their articles. 

And then, you began searching for pictures of this man. Your heart skipped a beat upon finding them. Pictures of him at fancy dinner parties, galas, charity events. Pictures of him shaking hands and clinking glasses with famous faces. Pictures of him on business magazine covers.

Pretty blue eyes, handsome face, and a kind smile. You noted the crinkles by his eyes whenever he smiled or laughed in pictures. Whenever he was photographed with a group of people, everyone seemed charmed by him. He seemed tall too. Oh well, safe to say the man was drop dead gorgeous. 

What if he was a serial killer and the people in this town directed victims to his house like he was some kind of twisted leader of this town?

You cringed at the exaggerated thought, shaking your head. 

Usually you weren’t one to trust strangers quickly but it was getting darker, the wind was beginning to howl and the cold was making you shiver even beneath all the layers you were wearing. The snowstorm was expected to last at least three days, so it was either trust a stranger for a few days or die. 

— 

You stopped your car in front of what the motel owner called a ‘wooden behemoth right on the edge of the forest’. And he was right. 

The luxurious log home was situated higher up on the mountain, looking over the small town. Surrounded by towering trees, mainly pine, and the area around the house was foggier than the rest of the town. It would’ve seemed eerie if it weren’t for the warm, golden lights coming from inside the house. 

The house was indeed massive, with intricate carvings on the huge front doors. The roof was covered with dark, polished slate, and what gave the home a more contemporary touch were the large, floor-to-ceiling windows. It looked like the perfect place for someone who sought seclusion and comfort. 

Or a murderer, your brain added. You hissed at the thought, shoving it away as you got out of your jeep. It was beginning to drizzle, the wind howling louder than earlier. You walked up the front porch and knocked on the large doors. 

Before you could check out the porch, you heard loud footsteps approaching. Then, the front door opened. And on the other side stood a handsome man, slightly different from how he looked in the photographs you’d found online, but just as gorgeous. Well, the photographs were all taken from years ago so it made sense that he looked different. Bucky Barnes hadn’t been photographed ever since he moved here, according to the articles, and it was a shame because he was truly a work of art. 

“Hey,” He said with a deep, confident voice. “You must be the girl I just received a call about from the motel.” He opened the door wider. And for a couple of seconds, you didn’t move. 

You were frozen in place. He was… too pretty. That same handsome face as in the photographs, except he had more facial hair now. And longer hair. So long in fact that he had to put it all up in a messy bun on top of his head. A few strands escaped the bun and fell on either side of his face, making him look beautiful in a rugged way. 

You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander for just a second. He was just as tall as you imagine, but slightly more muscular than he seemed in the pictures. The white t-shirt he was wearing clung to him like a second skin, the jeans clung to his thighs in a way that should be illegal. 

You quickly looked up and cleared your throat before you got caught ogling. “Um, hi Mr. Barnes. I’m sorry for–,” 

He cut you off politely, “There’s no need to apologise,” He signalled for you to come in. And as you walked into his home he said, “And please, call me Bucky.” 

You smiled at him as you stood near the entrance, waiting for him to shut the door. When he turned to you, he asked for your name and asked what you were doing here. While you answered, he led you further into the magnificent house. 

If you thought it was beautiful from the outside, the interior was absolutely breathtaking. Spacious, with high ceilings. Most things inside were wooden, except for the rugs and the plush sofas. It was an open concept, and you could see the more farm-style kitchen from the living room area and it was just as pretty as the rest of the house. The more you looked around, the more you fell in love with the interior. Elegant curved staircase which led upstairs, massive fireplace, accents of stone and metals everywhere. It looked like a lot of thought went into building this home. 

“This looks like a dream.” You commented, standing in the middle of the living room and taking it all in. The owner looks like a dream too. You sighed at the sound of your inner thoughts. It was true. 

Bucky smiled, looking proud. “It took some years to build but…” He sighed, “It’s worth it.” 

You smiled at him, noticing the crinkles by his eyes as he smiled. Fuck, this man was beautiful. 

“Give me your keys, I’ll bring your bags in, then I can show you to your room.” He extended his hand out, waiting for you to drop your keys into his palm. 

“Oh.” Your face got all hot when you realised you’d just walked into his home empty handed. You’d forgotten your bags in the jeep. “I can go get it, it’s–,” 

“No, I’ll get it,” He cut you off again, stepped closer and took the keys from your hand. “It’s getting bad out there.” Then he walked away. 

And you shamelessly watched him leave. His back muscles moved and shifted under the tight shirt as he walked and you felt a shiver travel down your spine. Think about how those warm, hard muscles would feel under your fingertips… 

Shit. This man was being kind to you and here you were being a pervert. 

–

Bucky brought your bags in, all four of them. Carried them through the front door like they weren’t heavy at all. Well, he cuts down trees for fun so maybe he’s used to carrying heavier things. 

He showed you to one of the many guest bedrooms he had. And the room was just as beautiful and perfect as the rest of the home. King-sized bed, large chest drawer, private bathroom which was fully stocked with toiletries. Large windows, and a small balcony which overlooked the dense forest outside. 

“Well then, I’ll leave you to unpack and make yourself comfortable. Dinner will be ready in an hour or so. See you downstairs.” He left with yet another smile which made your heart skip a beat. 

–

You found yourself making your way downstairs after a long, warm shower. You wanted to unpack after your shower but then the smell of dinner cooking forced you out of the room. You followed the delicious scent of what seemed like pasta sauce, sniffing the air quietly until you made your way into the gorgeous kitchen. With an even more gorgeous man in it. 

“There you are,” Bucky smiled at you as you approached the large kitchen island which was also the dining table. “Everything okay with your room?” He asked, stirring some kind of sauce in a pan before resuming chopping some other thing. He looked so comfortable in his kitchen, it was endearing. 

“Yeah, everything’s good.” You answered, lingering by the kitchen counter awkwardly, “You need help with something?” 

“Sure, if you want.” Bucky nodded and pointed at the other side of the kitchen with his knife, and said, “Can you be a doll and grab us a red wine from the cellar?” 

You froze for a quick second at the sound of ‘doll’. It was sweet, but the way it sounded from his deep, smooth voice… you cleared your throat again before your thoughts got inappropriate, turning around and heading for the cellar because of course he had a wine cellar. 

After grabbing what you hoped was a nice wine, you made your way back to the kitchen and found Bucky plating pasta into two plates. He had a slight frown on his face as he focused on the plates. If there was anything you had noticed about Bucky it was that he was very detail oriented. 

Bucky’s frown disappeared the moment he looked up from the plates and saw you standing there. “Hope you like pasta and cheese.” He winked with a maddeningly handsome smile. 

“I do.” You smiled back, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach as you handed him the wax sealed bottle of wine. For a brief moment, his hand brushed against yours and you could’ve sworn it felt like you’d been electrocuted. 

A strange shiver danced down your spine as you took a seat at the table and watched Bucky break the seal, uncork the bottle and pour it into two glasses before pouring the rest into a large decanter. 

All that wood chopping did him good. The man was muscular in all the right places. But his hands… oh his hands. Large, veiny. Imagine those hands all over– 

“So, tell me about yourself.” He said, taking a seat across from you. “And what are you doing on this icy mountain?” 

The conversation flowed perfectly. You told Bucky about how you were travelling to all the places you wanted to see before you moved back home, and he told you all about his life here. He said he liked the peace and quiet. Even the snowstorms, he grew to love them. 

By the time your plates and the decanter were empty, the two of you were laughing and exchanging life stories like you were old friends catching up. 

“So wait,” You chuckled, “You built this entire place out of spite?” 

Bucky nodded, laughing as well. “Well, I guess. My friend Sam came to visit when I told him I bought some land out here and he said ‘Well what are you gonna do here, Buck? You can’t just build a house in the middle of nowhere and become a lumberjack providing wood to the locals.’ and I thought, ‘Wait, that’s not a bad idea’, then I did exactly what Sam said.” 

You laughed, the wine made everything funnier. Bucky’s cheeks were now pink, his lips stained due to the wine and you couldn’t look away from him. Fuck, he really was gorgeous. He must have changed before dinner because he was no longer wearing that tight white shirt. He was wearing loose, beige coloured loungewear and looked just as mouth-watering. His hair was just as messy, but made him look effortlessly handsome. 

You eye-fucked him so more before realising that he was checking you out too, and neither of you had said a word for the past minute or two. But it wasn’t awkward. His blue eyes stared into yours and you were suddenly too aware of the thick tension in the air. 

The way he licked his lips, the way he toyed with the stem of his wine glass, the way his hand–

Bucky cleared his throat and looked away first. You tried to blink away the tension too but it remained. Then Bucky asked, “So, you have a boyfriend or something waiting for you at home?” He gave you a playful smirk. 

Oh? 

You shook your head, “Nope. What about you? You came all the way here to live in seclusion, are you running from an ex or something?” 

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. “No, nothing like that.” 

That tension came back again, filling the air like smoke. You couldn’t ignore it. Neither could he, given how he fidgeted in his seat. 

This is wrong. Isn’t it? 

He was being kind enough to offer you shelter and you were being inappropriate. So before you did something you might regret, you said, “It’s late. I should head to bed. I drove all day and…” You trailed off, looking away and avoiding his eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah of course.” He said quickly, getting up from his seat. He went to reach for your plate but you grabbed it first. 

“Oh I’ll load up the dishwasher, don’t worry.” You moved before he could stop you, grabbing your plate and then his. Then the wine glasses and everything else. 

You could feel Bucky’s eyes on you as you carefully arranged everything in the rack before turning it on. You washed your hands, and wiped it on a tea towel while turning to leave but Bucky’s heated stare stopped you. 

There he was, leaning against the kitchen island and looking even more yummy than the dinner he made. You were glad you had the tea towel in your hands otherwise you wouldn’t know what to do. 

Luckily Bucky spoke up first, “If I had known you were coming I would’ve made dessert.” 

Such a simple sentence yet it sounded like he’d whispered some dirty, filthy secret in your ear the way your body came alive. You refrained from clenching your thighs together. His voice was lower, deeper but just as smooth and it was driving you crazy just imagining how this man must sound in bed. 

And now you were jealous of all the people who had had the chance of hearing what he sounded like, moaning and grunting, whispering out of breath… fuck. 

“Uh…” You struggled to find your words, now that the image of him naked in bed wouldn’t leave your head, “That’s alright. I don’t have much of a sweet tooth anyway.” 

You didn’t know when you moved, but you found yourself standing closer to Bucky now. He turned to face you completely and there were mere inches between your bodies. You felt… hot. Maybe it was the wine, but you were almost certain it was because of the way Bucky looked at you. Like he’d devour you if he could. You had sensed tension between you and other people before, but it had never been this strong. 

“Shame,” He muttered under his breath, his hand coming up to gently touch your face. “I happen to like something sweet before bed.” His voice dropped to a whisper. 

All you could focus on was the way he was touching your face. Gently, like you were made of glass. His hand was warm, but rough. You let out a shaky breath as you wondered how his rough hands would feel all over you– 

“Go to bed.” He said in a voice that made you tingle all over. He didn’t let go of your face. His thumb caressing your cheek, and his eyes staring into your soul. 

You blinked, wondering if you misheard. “What?” You asked softly, leaning into his touch subtly, obviously not wanting to move. 

“Go to bed, doll.” He repeated, still not letting go of your face. 

You frowned slightly, “But–,” 

He cut you off by placing a gentle finger over your lips. His eyes couldn’t look away from where his finger touched your mouth. He leaned in a little, then said, “We shouldn’t.” 

“Why not?” You asked, lips brushing against his finger as you spoke. 

He gave you a soft smile and said, “I should be a good host, not seduce you.” 

You shrugged, “Well I’m nice and seduced, now what do we do?” 

He chuckled, leaning in until his nose brushed against the side of your neck. His simple touches were driving you crazy. 

“You know what happens when there’s a snowstorm in this town, doll? It lasts for days,” He whispered, lazily kissing your neck. “And by the time that’s over, the roads are completely blocked. And this is a small town so it takes a while before the roads are functional again.” 

Your heart fluttered, your body felt too hot and yet you shivered. You gently pulled away to look at him. “So you’re saying I’m stuck with you here for days?” You couldn’t help the smirk on your face. 

He caught the hopeful tone in your voice. Bucky nodded. “And if I touch you right now,” He whispered, cupping your face in his large, rough hands, “I’m not sure I’ll let you leave my bed at all for the next coming days.” 

It was risky because as beautiful as he was, you didn’t know Bucky. But you had never wanted someone this much before. This felt like a new kind of longing and need. You didn’t care what was right, ethical, or risky. “Then don’t.” 

That did it. 

Bucky stopped thinking why he shouldn’t and instead pressed his lips to yours, kissing you like he was tasting his favourite dessert. His tongue easing your own as he tasted you leisurely. “We’re sure about this?” He asked, breathlessly. 

“Yes,” You whispered against his mouth, gasping as his hands trailed up and down your body, sliding under your sweater and fondling your breasts. “We are.” 

Bucky smiled into the kiss, then spoke again. “Aren’t I too old for you, doll?” 

You chuckled, your own hands wandering and sliding up and down his muscular back. You wanted nothing more than to just take off that comfy hoodie he was wearing. “Oh, what’s a decade or two?” You murmured. 

Bucky’s hands dropped down to your waist, caressing your skin, fingers threatening to slip past the waistband of your sweatpants. You had to bite your lip to keep yourself from moaning too loudly. The storm was picking up outside and it would surely drown out all your cries, not that there were any neighbours to hear to begin with. 

“Will you be good for me?” He whispered, kissing down your face as his fingers slowly dipped into your sweatpants. One hand held you at the waist while the other inched dangerously close to where you craved him the most. 

His touch, his words, it was all too much. “I’ll be good,” You replied, your hands sliding under his hoodie to finally touch him, exploring and curious. His body was incredible to the touch, hard muscles and warm skin. 

He finally slipped his hand into your underwear, hissing as he found you dripping wet. He chuckled against your skin as he kissed and licked your throat, “How long have you been this wet, doll?” He asked, sounding cocky. 

You gasped when you felt him sliding a finger inside you, gently. “Since you opened the front door.” You answered honestly. 

Bucky laughed, his warm breath tickling your ear. “That long, huh? I’m sorry.” He cooed, “Let me take care of it for you.” 

You couldn’t help the moan that escaped your mouth when you felt him slide another finger inside you, fucking you slowly with both now. Bucky kissed your neck, your face, your mouth. Licking and biting your skin as he pleased while he finger-fucked you until you were right on the edge. 

“Get up here.” He murmured, pulling his fingers and hand away and pointed at the kitchen island. 

You didn’t move immediately. Probably because your brain was all foggy from his kisses and his touch that it took a second for you to register and process his words. 

Bucky smirked and repeated. “Come on. Take your clothes off and get up here.” 

You did as he asked. Taking off your sweater and sweatpants, followed by your underwear and revealing your bare body. Bucky took a second, letting his fingers trail up and down your stomach and chest before he pointed at the island again. 

“Up.” 

You hopped on the edge with a giggle, hissing upon feeling the cold surface against your warm skin. Once sat on the edge, you wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer. Bucky smiled as he placed his hands on you again, your arms wrapping around his neck as you stared into his ocean blue eyes. 

“Such a pretty doll,” He whispered, placing his hands on your thighs and spreading them further apart. He looked down at your wet folds, mindlessly dragging a finger up and down your slit, making you shiver all over again. “Now, lie down.” He said. 

You wasted no time. You unwrapped your arms from around him and carefully laid down flat on your back, hissing at the cold again. 

Bucky’s eyes trailed up and down your body, his hands caressing your skin. From your thighs, to your hips, to your breasts where he pinched your nipples, making you cry out again. 

“Can I taste you, doll?” He asked, pulling your legs up to the edge and spreading your thighs as far apart as they would go. The island was high enough where he only had to bend down for his mouth to touch your heated skin. Lips brushing against your lower abdomen, he asked again, “Can I?” 

Your brain was a mess. Yet you managed to mumble a firm, “Yes…” 

With his mouth mere inches away from your throbbing clit, he said, “Keep your legs up just like that for me, okay?”

You nodded, looking down in between your legs as he leaned in and pressed his mouth against your wetness. He looked up immediately, holding your stare as he slid his tongue against, the roughness of his beard against your softness was driving you insane. 

You held yourself up on your elbows as you watched him eat you out. The warmth of his mouth, the slow caress of his hands against your inner thighs, the intense look in his eyes as he tasted you. It made you feel like you were floating. 

It was too much, it was not enough. You wanted him, you wanted more. 

“You taste sweeter than any dessert, doll.” He whispered, kissing around your wet clit before sucking on it hard enough to make you come, your back arched off the surface, riding his face as you cried out in pleasure. “But it’s not enough.” He admitted, pulling away and kissing his way up your body. “Is it?” 

You barely caught your breath, your heart racing as you laid there in front of him. 

“Get down, and bend over for me.” He spoke in that enchanting voice of his which put you under his spell so easily. 

You moved immediately this time. He was still fully dressed and you didn’t have a single article of clothing on and somehow that made you feel hotter. 

You bent over the island in front of him, your front pressed against the edge. You placed your hands down and turned to look at him over your shoulder. You watched how he grabbed your hips and spread your legs, leaning closer to kiss up your spine. 

“So beautiful,” He whispered against the back of your neck. “Now, are you gonna let me fuck you? Hmm? Are you gonna let me put both of us out of our misery, doll?” 

“Yes.” 

“Good.” 

He pulled his hands away from you for a moment, lowering his trousers enough to free his cock. You wished you could see it properly. You wished you could kneel down in front of him and take him into your mouth and– 

You gasped out loud when you felt the tip of his hard, warm cock pressing against you. Nothing mattered in that moment, not when he was gently rubbing his cock up and down your wet slit, parting your folds. 

You squirmed against the hard surface under you, pushing back into him in need. “Please…” You whispered, desperate for him. You had never been this needy for a man before. 

You braced yourself for his thrust, knowing it was coming. 

Slowly, Bucky slid inside you, filling you up and stretching you out as he did. He let out a sigh of pleasure once he was seated deep inside you, gripping on your hips tightly as he gave you both a moment to get used to it. 

You felt so full, like you’ve never been before. So full, you could barely form a coherent thought. All you knew was you wanted more. 

You let out a quiet moan as he started fucking you gently. 

“You feel so fucking good,” He hissed, “So warm and tight for me.” Bucky whispered, fucking into you with a pace that made you want to scream and shout because it felt so good. 

Each time he filled you up, the tip of his cock brushed against your most sensitive spot and you moaned as your walls clenched around him. 

“Poor little doll,” He cooed, “This will be your new routine for the next few days now. Just getting fucked, and caressed all the time while the storm rages on outside.” 

His thrusts got harder. Your moans got louder. His words made you clench around him even more. 

“Look at you,” He growled. “Pretty girl letting a older man she barely knows fuck her like she’s a needy little whore.” His voice was deeper, and as menacing as his words were his touch was just as soft and careful. His fingers circled your clit gently while he pounded into you from behind. “Would you bend over for any man, doll? Hmm? Whoever offered you shelter from the storm, is this how you’d repay him? By letting him fuck your needy little cunt?” 

You couldn’t help but cry out, moaning in pleasure as his words took you higher. You did have a little bit of a degrading kink, who didn’t? But never had anyone ever hit the spot like Bucky did. And given how your wetness dripped down his fingers, he could tell. 

Bucky chuckled darkly. “Does that turn you on, doll? Knowing that I can selfishly take from you now that you’re stuck here with me?” His other hand came up to grab you by the back of your neck as he whispered into your ear, fucking into you hard enough that your body slammed into the kitchen island with each thrust. “Does it turn you on knowing you’ll have to be my little slut for the next few days? That you’ll have to spread those legs for me and let me fuck you whenever I want to?” 

“Yes…” You whimpered as he pounded deeper into you. You didn’t want him to stop. Ever. 

He hissed into your ear, “Is that what you are now? My little slut?” He chuckled, rolling his hips in a way that had you whimpering and squirming in pleasure beneath him. “Well, what a perfect way of repaying me for my kindness, hmm?” 

“Please, Bucky…” You whimpered. 

Bucky hummed, kissing your warm skin, “I know, pretty girl. I know, it feels good, doesn’t it?” 

His words made you feel feverish, and wild. Lust-drunk more than ever. You moaned as he sped up again, a familiar warmth taking over you, and a pressure building in between your hips. 

You whined, “I’m gonna come.” You cried, and you were pretty sure you had tears streaming down your face. 

“Come for me, then. Come all over my cock, doll.” 

Your brain was a foggy mess after that. You came hard though, clenching around him violently as you did. 

“Fuck… look at you,” He whispered, his cock pounding harder into you until he came as well, spilling all over your lower back as he panted in exhaustion. “You okay, doll?” 

You nodded slowly, pressing your forehead down against the cool surface and catching your breath. 

“Come on,” His voice was softer now as he pulled you up and held you against him. Your back to his chest as he wrapped his arms around you, nuzzling your neck and leaving soft kisses all over your neck and the side of your face. “Let’s get you in bed, yeah?” 

You asked in a shaky voice, “And then can we fuck again?” 

Bucky chuckled, hugging you tightly before saying, “Yes we can, pretty girl.”

[neowinestainedress]

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

© neowinestaindress ; all rights reserved. do NOT repost, modify, or translate any work from this blog on any other platform and claim it as yours. 

[saerins]

°୨୧ INEVICABLY, UNDENIABLY

+ gojo satoru x f!reader | wc 3.3k | content: fluff, modern au, friends to roommates to lovers, timeskip thing; from high school -> adulthood, alcohol, implied sex, children, marriage, gojo is mostly clingy and annoying and we love him for it, the years and age correspond to his actual birthdate, take this as my birthday fic for him <3

summary: despite seemingly having it all, gojo satoru’s goal has always been the same all these years you’ve known him—all he wants in life is you, and only you. during his birthday this year, gojo counts his blessings.

2006; seventeen.

the day you agreed to be satoru’s partner in homeroom class is the day you signed away your sanity. not because satoru’s hard to get along with or that he’s rude or slacks off, but because it’s hard not to fall for a boy with such pretty eyes and even prettier lips who likes to say the most beautiful things.

getting to know satoru is like taking a deep in the clearest, coldest ocean after an entire lifetime of being dipped in molten lava. he’s annoying, refreshing and eye-opening all in one.

satoru shows promise in the first lesson, doing fairly well at cooking and sowing, although afterwards he just falls off because you end up having to teach him how to properly use alcohol in his cooking so he doesn’t burn himself or that you’d end up patching his fingers up since he accidentally pokes himself a lot more than the average human would.

still, it’s not his fault he isn’t naturally talented in the home economics department. he is in sports, you find out, after a few months of being in the same class as him.

“hey, y/n.” he’s leaning back on his chair, depending on its hind two legs for support. it’s become his habit during class to bother you whenever the teachers aren’t in.

you were assigned the seat diagonally behind him, and it’s become a habit for you to ignore him—mostly because most of the time, it’s nonsense that falls out of those lips, especially after you’d gotten close. it’s his sign of affection, you realise.

“hey y/n, i’m being serious this time, i need to talk to you,” satoru whines, pouting and sighing in that over dramatic way that only he can.

that’s also not the first time he’s tricked you into acknowledging him so all you do is look at him, a smile appearing that you failed to suppress, and bring a finger to your lips, signalling for him to hush.

unperturbed, satoru smirks and gets to scribbling on a piece of paper, folding it (annoyingly and quickly) into a swan before handing it to you. he winks at you, and you’re immediately driven not to give him satisfaction by reading it. instead, you bow slightly and stuff it in your pencil case, making satoru pout again and giving yourself the sweet taste of victory.

the rest of your sophomore year in high school, you find yourself growing closer to satoru, an unfamiliar feeling growing inside of you. you find that you like knowing what makes him tick, and even the way he says your name, or even watching him ace every kind of sport and then having him blow a teasing kiss to you after each win.

“y/n, i’m so jealous of you, how’d you manage to get gojo satoru of all people?” one of your classmates whine, swooning endlessly over him.

you only laugh it off, deigning to think too much of it.

it’s weird; he’s most of the schoolgirls’ crushes, but you’ve never considered him to be yours. maybe it’s just a fleeting feeling that will go away with the test of time.

yeah, that should be all that is.

2007; eighteen.

“why not? we’re practically going to the same college.”

with time, you thought that maybe satoru would become a little more sane. like how growing into adults, you slowly shed the ridiculous dreams you had as a child. but he’s not, if not—he’s even more insane.

“we haven’t got the results yet, satoru.”

“i’m pretty sure we’ll get in though.”

“and what’s your basis for that?”

“i’m never wrong about these.”

as always, satoru lives in his own little bubble and you can’t help but to sigh. in his head, both of you will get into that same college you applied for and he has it all planned out: “we get into college, sign up for whatever classes, and then rent an apartment together—genius right?”

that was satoru just moments ago, elbows leaned over the grocery cart as he grins at you, beaming like a dog waiting for their owner’s approval. now he’s still doing the same, except you’ve flicked him on the forehead before turning your attention to the aisles because apparently, he says he hates the food at home and would rather have what you’re cooking.

he’s made it his life mission to invade your meals over the weekend, squeezing himself into your family, bonding with your sibling and your parents and only then did you realise what you forgot in the first place: satoru is one of the most charming people to ever walk the earth. your siblings constantly ask about the next time he’s coming over, and your parents are just waiting for you to announce that he’s your boyfriend—which he’s not, but he sure likes to make it seem that way.

another thing you notice about satoru thanks to your now-weekly grocery runs: he likes to wander around way too much, and complains afterwards when he finds you after losing you.

“y/n!”

it’s like routine by now; the way satoru rushes over to you, putting his arm around your shoulder and sticking his cheek against yours, telling you how he almost died because he thought he lost you—like the drama queen he is. by now, all you can offer him is a ruffle of his hair before you carry on like normal, as though your heart isn’t beating right out of your chest from that simple proximity.

because satoru, despite his generally icy look, is always warm; his body heat, his cheeks, the way he looks into your eyes all the time, even his fingertips when they brush against you.

you think he’s especially warm when he falls asleep beside you after watching a late night movie, his head nuzzled in your neck, hands somehow rested over your own. your favourite thing about the friendship, though, try as you might to deny it, is how satoru’s hands always find yours when he walks you home, fingers lacing around your own as if it’s second nature.

ever since then, these routines have become a staple, and perhaps even does your growing feelings. the inexplicable one.

2008; nineteen.

satoru was right.

both of you did get into the same university, and the same course, with different minors so at least there’s some differences. so of course, satoru did not let the shared apartment idea go. though, of course, thanks to your initial hesitance on the matter, the only available apartment is a 4-bedroom, entirely too big and hence you’d convinced satoru to just rent the other bedrooms out for extra change.

and no, satoru does not need extra change because his family’s loaded (which you realised you didn’t even know before this) but at least this would allow you to not dwell on whatever you’re feeling too much. university is going to be stressful enough without the added consideration of your possible feelings towards satoru.

then enters geto suguru—your new roommate who, thankfully, steals enough of satoru’s attention so you have some breathing room. turns out, they’re like two peas in a pod. but while you and satoru major in business, suguru majors in psych. so that still means satoru’s around just you most of the time.

some routines change; like how movie nights are shared amongst the three of you in the living room instead of just you and satoru in your room. or how during grocery runs satoru still runs up to you when he finds you again except this time, an exasperated suguru is beside you sighing at him, always a “how do you stand this guy?” rolling off his tongue. the most surprising one for you might be how meals include suguru now and satoru’s the one who does the cooking now, and funnily enough, he’s absolutely great at it. no ounce of hesitation as he flips the pancakes, or stirs the fried rice—no whining about how it’s too hard because he’ll get burns on his fingertips and has to ask you to tend to his wounds.

but some change in a different way. they leave no room for someone else, like how satoru always finds your hands to hold on to, keeping you within a reach too close to pass as just friends but both of you refusing to label it anything else anyways. it leaves no room for other people to butt in and whisk either of you away.

and for now, at least, both of you are okay with just that.

2009; twenty.

participating in different activities and clubs inevitably mean that you and satoru wouldn’t be attached at the hip most of the time. and of course, while that leads to satoru becoming even clingier when you’re both home (not that you’re complaining when it’s nice to feel wanted from the very guy you’re completely not having a crush on), both of you are in separate social circles.

satoru occasionally has his friends over, the ones you don’t really know that well. the one where you can only remember names like haibara because he’s extra friendly and yuki because she’s one of the prettiest people you’d ever seen and nori because she’s a mix of the two. you’re nice, and cordial to all of them, although you can’t really say the same for satoru.

occasionally you and suguru invite your friends over, because nicely enough, you both have the same interests. it’s mostly shoko and nanami, a med student and law student respectively, but both of which satoru loves to annoy to no end. lucky for you, shoko is strangely naturally tolerant of his antics and nanami shrugs it off as white noise.

“y/n, surely you’d rather spend time with me rather than that blondie?” satoru always asks, pouting as he looks at you over his shoulder during breakfast—a constant whenever you have plans that involve nanami.

it’s kind of cute.

“mmm, that’s a secret,” you’d always tell him, knowing that satoru’s pouts won’t last all day anyway. it’ll relegate to an excited grin whenever you’re back after that.

you’d never really had to face your feelings, then, until all of you gather one night, before the holidays officially start. you should’ve known that something would be different this time, especially when there’s alcohol involved. naturally, in the circle you sit in, satoru asks people to scoot over, purposely sitting beside you, as close as he can, close enough that your arms and knees practically brush.

it’s just for a simple game of truth or dare, and it’s innocent enough until someone asks nanami and he says truth, and his truth is that out of everyone he knows, he’d most likely date you. beside you, while everyone else is whooping at the declaration, satoru clicks his tongue in annoyance, though he says nothing about it. and you’re not really emphatic about it until someone dares nori to kiss the guy she wants to date the most and she kisses satoru, deep and slow, in front of you, haibara letting slip that she’s had a crush on satoru for a while now.

satoru’s five shots in and tipsy and he was imagining that was you and maybe that’s why it lasted for five seconds before he pulls away.

and when it comes to satoru?

as though noticing his dilemma, suguru gives an amused smile as he states his dare, “kiss the girl you most wanna marry.”

he doesn’t waste a single second in pulling you close and kissing you, his alcohol-tainted lips pressing against yours, daring tongue teasingly prying open your lips, chuckling as he feels you kiss him back.

“not most,” satoru corrects right as the both of you pull away, his forehead still pressed against yours and both of your half-lidded pair of eyes still staring at each other.

“what?” you’re almost breathless, forgetting that everyone else is watching.

“the only girl i wanna marry.” and you think he’s never looked more handsome, genuine smile plastered on his face and pretty blue eyes threatening to pull you in.

while everyone moves on, satoru doesn’t—he keeps you there with him, telling you for the first time in four years since he’s known you, “i love you.”

the next week, after you get home for the holidays, the first time being away from satoru in a while, you manage to find your old pencil case, the folded paper swan satoru folded for you all those years ago still inside, somehow forgotten.

curious, you finally open it, finding his message enclosed inside, bringing a smile to your face.

i’m gonna marry you one day.

2010; twenty-one.

dating satoru is like finding a new hobby that you’re effortlessly good at.

despite living under the same roof, instead of finding out the ugly, you find the good in each other. even with suguru in the mix, you all live harmoniously like you have been since the start. except now, satoru likes to sleep in your room, both of you fooling around and occasionally forcing suguru to tell you to pipe down.

satoru is still full of surprises, sometimes pulling up with his car as though both of you don’t sleep under the same roof, telling you that he planned a date and to dress nice. he buys you flowers even if you’re not particularly fancy of them and surprises you by buying things that simply reminded him of you.

dating satoru is like finding out that the right person for you will always think of you and your feelings, no matter the circumstance. the way he makes sure to tell you if he has to hang around nori, or the way he asks if you need anything when he passes by the grocery store alone, or going so far as to memorise your cycle so he knows exactly what to show up back home with.

by the time it’s your one-year anniversary and his birthday comes and you ask him what he wants, all he can answer is “you” and for the first time, you can tell he isn’t trying to be annoying or cheeky or flirty—satoru is surprisingly simple and his answer always has been and somehow always will be just you.

2013; twenty-four.

you still remember the day satoru got down on one knee, his handsome smile even more radiant under the golden hour glow, those still-beautiful blue eyes gleaming even from beneath his bangs.

just an intimate proposal with your closest friends, both shoko and suguru helping to distract you in order to create a successful surprise, while nanami and haibara helped with the decorations and photography.

thanks to them, you’re laughing now, at your wedding reception, looking at all the ways you nearly found them out that day, exactly one year ago, in the form of pictures. and thanks to the best man’s toast, you find out that suguru’s always known about satoru’s feelings, and just how deep his emotions for you ran.

“i won’t forget how much he whined about y/n getting close to nanami. that was probably the one time his whining got so out of control that i wanted to stuff a pillow over his face,” suguru divulges, garnering laughs around the hall, including from you, as your new husband pouts and squeezes your hand.

thanks to that, nanami finds the need to disclose during his speech, “i have never intended to date nor had such thoughts about y/n. my truth during that game of truth or dare was simply the result of a process of elimination—” and haibara cuts him off to give a more fitting speech, fits of laughter all across the room.

that day, you steal glances at satoru, wondering how you got so lucky to be with someone who loves you so much and continuously proves so with every passing day.

“satoru?” you call to him softly that night, as you both find yourselves completely bare in the bedroom of your new apartment, one to yourselves.

his piercing blue eyes flick up to meet yours, relishing how it feels like inside of you, every time as though it’s the first. “yeah?” it’s breathy, because he’s about to lose himself.

“i love you, satoru, and only you, forever and ever,” you tell him, finally knowing that in this life, it will always be gojo satoru for you, and that it’s the same for him too.

he only chuckles, pulling you close, “forever me and you, baby, only us.”

2023; present day.

“wow, more than ten years, i think i need to give you a trophy for that, y/n.”

satoru groans, rolling his eyes. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

beside him, suguru laughs at shoko’s comment. this time, the six of you find yourselves at a round table in a seafood restaurant during satoru’s birthday, talking about how it’s you and satoru’s tenth year together too.

“i’m not too much, am i?” satoru teasingly asks you, although you only shrug in amusement before drinking your glass of water as an excuse not to answer.

you’ve always been like that, but it’s part of what satoru likes about you. scratch that, he’s loved every part of you since he met you. it’s like it was meant to be; or so he likes to think. there’s an undeniable pull that always lulls him back to you. to satoru, there’s never been question that you’re the only one for him, maybe that’s why it’s so clear-cut.

“you’re just so head over heels for me, huh?” you ask him, a smug grin on your face, the conversational context something he’s missing since he’s been zoning out in his thoughts.

since the first time he saw you, he’s been drawn to you every second of every day. maybe that’s why he did all those stupid stuff like pretending not to be able to cook and ‘accidentally’ burning himself to get you to tend to him, or purposely pricking himself with the needle and asking you to put a plaster over it just to feel you close. even those times at the supermarket when he purposely loses you so he can find you again and see your helpless smile and feel the way you rub his head affectionately afterwards.

maybe it’s stupid too, how he had to silently admit he knows how to cook all too well because he didn’t want suguru to taste your cooking when he first moved in. it was something satoru felt he wanted to himself, something he wanted to keep between him and his future wife. or how a wordless stare between him and suguru during that game of truth or dare was all suguru needed to know that satoru wanted to make you his at that very second, afraid that kiss between him and nori would make you hesitant.

he shouldn’t have underestimated you though, because you know him better than most people do. there were never any pointless arguments or unrecoverable friction.

as they sing happy birthday annoyingly loud like best friends do, chanting for him to make a wish—his hands find yours again as they always did, he can honestly say that there’s no other way he’d rather live his life. you’re made for him and he has you and the little mini yous at home so really, there’s nothing that he has to wish for.

except, maybe, one thing, if he could be selfish.

in this life, and every other life, he’ll want to be with you and only you, forever.

[envy-of-the-apple]

How about apocalypse!au with yan gojo and a foreigner reader who is going on a vacation/business trip when the outbreak happen?

kinda sick of apocalypse aus soooo yakuza!au instead so basically i changed this entire request im rlly sorry

Yandere!Gojo Satoru x reader

Stop Crying

(Warnings: Yandere, kidnapping, dark content, noncon touching, human trafficking)

You promised yourself you'd stay safe during your trip to Japan.

You took all the precautions. You traveled with friends you trusted. You kept your phone on. You didn't accept any drinks from anyone you didn't know. You checked in with your folks back home every night.

And yet, nothing stopped it.

It was clearly a basement. No windows. Dark, with the exception of the flickering light on the ceiling. The thin cot and scrap of a blanket did nothing to protect you from the cold.

Your phone was gone. So was your bag. Except for the clothes on your back, they took everything. You can still remember the fear you felt when those men grabbed you, hauling you into the back of a truck. No matter how hard you screamed and kicked and hollered, they didn't let go. You remembered you bit one of them. He just swore in Japanese before backhanding you. It throbbed for hours before you eventually just passed out.

And now you were here. In a basement.

You were probably going to die. You heard the underground was rampant in Japan. They were going to cut you up, sell off your organs for thousands. If they were merciful, maybe the most your body would face would just be getting thrown overseas. If you were lucky, your rotting corpse would be found. If you were one of God's favorites, you'd be recognizable enough to notify your family. At least then, they'd have something to grieve over. The pieces that was left.

The door creaks. You jump, curled in the musty corner. You hear voices. Two. Maybe three. All male, speaking in fast Japanese. They all descend the steps, and your heartbeat picks up faster than before.

One was a stout man with a nervous sort of prattle. From his tone, you could tell he was trying to appease the other two. The other two were tall, heads nearly brushing the ceiling. One was wearing traditional clothing. Long black hair, graceful movements.

The other wore circular sunglasses. He was too young to have natural white hair. He must dye it. While the other two linger behind, he's the one who strides towards you.

You panic, pressing yourself into the wall, hoping to just disappear, melt into the background. Your fear doesn't deter him. He grabs your chin turning your face one way, and then the other. His hold tightens, even when you try to escape. He seems to be fixated on one side of your face. The slap must have left a bruise.

That seems to anger him. He snaps something over to the other two. The man in traditional garments doesn't look very impressed, while the other hurriedly titters. Maybe they were planning on selling you, that's why seeing you blemish-free would be such a deterrent to their plans.

Eventually, the man directs his attention back to you. You think he'd speaking to you. You aren't sure. You don't know where you are. You don't know who these people are. You don't know what they want to do to you.

You're scared. You're so so scared.

When you start to cry, the man gets even more aggravated. He lets you go with a scoff, before walking back to his group. They squabble a bit more, before the shorter of the three reluctantly makes his way over to you.

"The Six Eyes wants to know your name," he says, accent thick.

You stare at him. Helpless and confused.

"The Six Eyes...?" You repeat and then your eyes flick over to the white-haired man. Standing tall and still, like a beautiful statue.

You don't know what's in it to lie. They have your wallet, your ID, your passport probably. You mumble out your name in defeat. The Six Eyes hums in approval.

"I have money." You blurt out. "A lot of it. If-if you let me go. I'll give you whatever you want. My-my family will pay any price."

He translates. When he's done, the other two laugh. It's loud and scratches the inside your chest. You duck away, feeling the tears again.

"The Six Eyes said he's paid too much for you to entertain that possibility." The translator says. Your heart drops.

"Paid for me.." You repeat. No no no no. "What does that even mean?"

The man stares at you with sympathy. You don't want it, you want to throw it back on his face, but you can barely move from your spot.

"He will take good care of you." he tries to console. "I heard the Six Eyes treats his things very well."

You don't want to hear it. You fall into hysterics. You want to go home. You want to go back to your country. You want to go home.

A long hand grabs your chin, instantly quieting you. Unlike his firm grip earlier, this one is nearly painful. You're certain he'd crush your bones if he wanted to. You quiet anyway. That seems to satisfy him now. He mutters something to the translator.

"The Six Eyes is telling you not to scream anymore. He finds it aggravating." The translator says.

The Six Eyes turns to the translator knowingly. The man shuffles with his feet, before reluctantly clearing his throat.

"You...belong to the Six Eyes now."

The Six Eyes grins, filled with white glistening teeth.

"Don't disappoint him. "

[optimisticmosquito]

heavenly demon SY au, with a teaspoon of familial cumplane and a pinch of shenliushen.

Some decade before the tianxi era TLJ has a one night stand with a male demon who gets pregnant. Surprise! it's airplane who wanted a taste of that doomed heavenly pillar. He's older than MBJ in this au and hasn't had the chance to meet young MBJ yet. MBJ has enough on his plate without some random older demon howering around him. SQH is many things a creep he is not, thank you very much.

So instead he gets pregnant by TLJ, has a cry session, wonders if he's going to birth the protagonist, cries some more over all the death flags he has raised for himself, and then just accepts his fate. TLJ doesn't care much about this little surprise, it was just a one night stand after all. However, his advisors have been nagging him about getting hitched and producing heirs, so he sees his chance to finally getting rid of one problem by throwing the other one at it. Very clever indeed!

SQH becomes TLJs first concubine. SQH does not become empress, but until TLJ marries further, he's as good as one. So SQH (with babybump proudly on display) starts fixing up TLJs court, all administrative tasks, and generally making it run smoother than it has for generations. TLJ is happy as can be, finally he can leave his empire for months on end to follow his true calling, reading and watching every human romance story that has ever been produced!

SQH gives birth to a healthy baby boy. But before he can think of naming him LBH, the System interrupts and has him name it SY instead (weird cause neither him nor TLJ is named Shen). SQH figures this is either another transmigrator or the system has plans involving this child. Which, dude, hands off his spawn! Not cool.

SY grows up as the apparent heir to the entire demon realm. Which is awesome! He can pretty much do anything he wants whenever he wants. But also, what about LBH? He isn't meant to be the demon emperor, that's his future didis job! Fuck, he is going to have to fight LBH for the throne isn't he? He's so dead.

It doesn't help that his mother (second father? He's not going to think too long on the logistics behind his birth) is strange even for demonic standards. For a demon he is increadibly skittish, always avoiding conflict like the plague. And he constantly walks around muttering to himself, stoping the moment anyone comes within hearing distance. Although, SY has to admit he's a pretty good parent all things considered. He always makes sure SY has everything he needs and puts away at least one day a week just for the two of them.

SY does find out who SQH is when he one day hears him mumble about the plot and LBH. SY interrogates him and finds out he's another transmigrator. That explains a lot! SQH is happy to learn his child is another transmigrator and not a puppet for the system to push its agenda. So happy in fact he spills he's actually the author of this world, which sends SY through the five stages of grief before circling back to anger. What do you mean that lousy hack author is his mother!?!? Someone end his misery, this should count as child abuse!

He has half of the mind to run away and never be seen again but SQH begs him to stay. He's only in this position bc SY exists and if SY runs away he might get kicked out or pressured into having another child. SY despite it all still on some level sees SQH as his parent and reluctantly agrees to stay and continue on his path as heir. He hasn't met TLJ that often and he knows TLJ wouldn't do anything to stop the rest of his court if they decided to kick SQH out.

So life continues until news arrive about TLJ being burried under a mountain. SQH tells SY that SXY is LBHs mother and probably imprisoned in HHP at that moment. They decide the best course of action would be to kidnap SXY and bring her to the demon realm. SQH should have enough control over the empire even with TLJ gone. Especially with SYs help as the de facto heir and a heavenly demon in his own right.

SY for his part is also fully on board with this plan. He can help raise the protagonist and give him the childhood he deserves? Count him in! It would also help to be on good terms with LBH if he ever decides to take over the demon realm. SY would gladly help him take the throne!

However, before they can set any plan in motion the system assigns them a mission to keep the demon realm from falling into chaos. Moments later the court splinters as factions start fighting each other over power, and the empire dives into unrest and civil war. At the end SY comes out on top and is crowned as the new emperor.

They are too late to do anything as the coldest day of the year has already passed. When they try and send people out to find the newborn LBH they are met by HHP cultivators searching for SXY and end up in multiple skirmishes. In the end SY pulls the demons back over the border when the sects, thinking SY is out to revenge his father, starts threatening with another war.

SY is beyond himself, now how will he escape the protagonists wrath!? SQH deals with the setback the only way he knows, by burying himself in the administrative work. The following years SY spends stabilizing the realm with SQHs help (it's mostly SQH), and starts travelling around to see what the world has to offer. He soon gets a reputation of taking after his father.

SQH all the while continues to run the realm by himself again (nothing new there) and meets the future king of the Northern desert, Mobei-jun. Mobei-jun of course immediately takes interest in the MILF of the demon realm. Half the time he acts like a frightened rodent, the other half he rules the demons with an iron fist, what demon wouldn't be besotted! (SY is well aware most of the realm seems to have the hots for his mother. He tries not to think about it.)

MBJ starts trying to court SQH in typical demonic fashion. H e tries to fight SQH, sends gifts in the form of treasures and kills, and gives over power of the northern desert to SQH. SQH is used to this type of treatment. Most demons seems to want to hit him for some reason? He just writes off the gifts as taxes. And isn't it only natural for demons to push all the work on those that are weaker. MBJ has his work cut out for him.

Meanwhile SY starts travelling the human realm in search of his lost little brother. He's hoping to at least find him before LBH joins CQM. He should be able to at least stop that much of the abuse LBH is meant to experience. And he does find him! At the steps of CQM 10 years after his disappearance. Shit.

SY doesn't dare get too close yet. His disguise isn't good enough to test the scrutiny of cultivators, so going up to LBH right now would be suicide. He decides to come back later, after getting an artifact that would let him hide every trace of his demonic presence. He has no plan on ending up like TLJ. Poor Binghe will just have to survive the tea scene and the first weeek on QJP. SY will make it up to you later! Promise!

SY only shortly returns to the palace to see MBJ is still trying his best to woo mother airplane (without success!). He goes back to the sect and walks directly up to QJP to find LBH, and is instead directed to the bamboo hut. There he's questioned about his intentions, and decides to speak the truth (well most of it). His little brother went missing years ago and now SY believes him to be on this very peak! He has returned to bring LBH back home.

SJ of course hates LBH for the similarities he has to himself, but who would have guessed he also was abandoned by his older brother? Fate is truly laughing him in the face! This won't make SJ hate LBH less, but he has no plan on just giving him over to this stranger who took too long to return for his didi (just like qi-ge). So SJ claims he isn't willing to give up a disciple just like that. Hoping SY will show his true colors and abandon the little beast once and for all. When SY instead doubles down on wanting to take LBH with him, SJ decide to test how far this determination will take him (prove you are not like qi-ge).

Which leaves SY to stay on QJP as a guest while being continuously tested by SJ. And with time they slowly befriend each other and spend time just to share a cup of tea and talk literature (if SJ slowly starts trusting SY with things he's never told anyone else then that's his business).

At some point SY successfully catches a moment with LBH where he introduces himself as LBHs elder brother from their father's side. He offers to take LBH with him and leave that moment, but after LBH has digesting these new revelations (he has a brother!), declines. His adoptive mother wanted him to be a righteous cultivator, so a cultivator he'll become!

SY, already unable to deny this little bun anything, just has to accept he'll have to spend some time on QJP. Maybe he'll be able to persuade LBH to join him once SJ decides he has passed all tests. It's not too bad, SY has complete access to the library and oh boy is there a lot of things he never learned about the human realm before.

At the same time he meets the rarely seen bai zhan peak lord. LQG immediately thinks something is fishy with this QJP guest, but he's not sure what exactly (his war god senses are tingling). So to SJs great annoyance he starts showing up more often, trying to figure SY out. He even invites SY on a few monster hunts to see if he slips up, but to no avail (there are a few close calls). The more time they spend together the more he finds he enjoys talking about beasts with SY (he'll take it to the grave how his stomach flutters when SY teases him). SY even succeeds in getting LQG to teach LBH some swordforms once in a while.

When SYs identity as the demon emperor is finally revealed, it's a surprise to all three of them.

(Once SY is finally able to return to the demon realm for a visit it's to MBJ introducing himself as SYs new stepdad)

[laligraves]

chp.2 - poolside

morning run series

joel miller x fem!reader

[18+] | wc: ~2.7k summary: Your nap is interrupted by Joel. masterlist | AO3

warnings: HBO Joel, TLOU AU, dubious consent (i'm so serious, don't read if it makes you uncomfortable), NSFW, pre/no outbreak, some proofreading (not enough so sorry for mistakes), Joel is a tall and very strong man, older man/college-aged reader, no use of y/n or too many details on reader's appearance, alcohol consumption, pet names, some degradation, breeding kink (yeah), fingering, squirting, unprotected sex, creampie

a/n: i'm still here <3! just busy with real life :( i don't have a huge plan for this series except to make little one shots here and there since i have a lot of fun with these two characters lol. other stuff on the way i promise <3

You left two days after that encounter with Joel Miller. Your head was still spinning and your pussy still sore, but the semester started and you needed to be back on campus. 

The first night back in your dorm, you debated throwing out the roses that now sat on your desk. You lasted 10 minutes just looking at them before you were touching yourself to the memory of him. You could still feel the scratch of his beard on your neck and remember the smell of his cologne. 

He’d put his phone number in your contact list and you debated calling him. But what would you even say? 

You should be mad at Joel for what he did. Yet somehow, he managed to reach into the deepest corners of your mind and fulfill one of your darkest fantasies. 

Now, back in town, you can’t help but feel a little excited to see him again. Even if the more sane part of your brain is trying to convince you to slap him across the face if he comes near.  

“Hey, lazy girl,” your sister calls out. 

“Hey,” you respond softly, not moving from your spot on the lounge chair. 

“I’m leaving. Are you sure you’ll be okay?” 

“Yeah,” you reply, knowing you’ll probably spend the entire week swimming and sunbathing by the pool. 

“I left money on the counter and the keys to my car in case you need it.” 

“Okay, mom,” you say sarcastically. 

She throws a pool noodle at you and leaves with her friend after that, promising to text you when she reaches her destination. Any other time you’d be disappointed that your sister was leaving for a full week just as you arrived for summer vacation, but she’s been working so much that she deserves a trip. 

The stress from the semester leaves your body with each lap around the crisp pool and the warm sun. You go back into the house to make yourself a tequila soda and make your way back out to the chairs underneath the canopy. 

A sudden thought pops into your head as you look around the empty backyard. The fences are tall enough and the gate leading to the backyard is locked. Your sister doesn’t have cameras that face this side of the house yet, so there’s really no reason for you to be so nervous. 

You’ve never sunbathed in the nude, there’s just never been an opportunity for it. But now, with the house empty and the tequila coursing through your veins, it would be the perfect time to do so. 

Before the courage leaves you, you slip off the strings of the bikini and spread out on the lounge chair.

“Absolutely nothing to worry about,” you whisper. 

You eventually doze off, moving around until you’re once again face down. A text message from your sister lights up your screen, but at this point you’ve fallen asleep and don’t pay any mind to it. 

I forgot to tell you that Joel Miller from down the block is stopping by. He’s going to plant the roses Susan wants, but needs to take a look first. Help him with whatever he needs. Tell him thank you! 

You start to dream of Joel massaging sunscreen on your back, trailing his hands over your sides until they land on the soft, plump flesh of your ass. 

His hands massage and spread your cheeks open, presenting your asshole and pussy for his eyes. Joel lands a glob of spit right on your little winking star and you flinch slightly. 

“It’s okay, babydoll,” he coos. 

The tip of his finger circles your asshole just a bit, enough for you to shiver from the sensation. 

His fingers trail down to your pussy where he slowly teases a finger up and down your slit, gathering the wetness. 

“Joel,” you whimper. 

You push back on his hand, overcome with need.

Joel laughs at your desperate attempts to fuck yourself on his hand and moves your thigh to the side, giving him the perfect view of your cunt. 

Before you have a chance to complain, he spreads you open and runs his tongue through your folds. Your hands grip the towel and you almost scream in surprise. 

At the scrape of his teeth on your inner thigh and the scratch of his beard on your skin, you begin to wake. This isn’t a dream.  

“What–” 

“‘bout time you woke up,” Joel growls. “Dreamin’ about me, babydoll?” 

You lift your head, slightly delirious, still grinding back on his face. 

“Joel, whatthefuck–” you whisper, words slurred from sleep. 

He tongues your entrance and swipes a finger over your clit, a movement that has you almost seeing stars. Joel ignores your pleas for him to wait, choosing instead to push two large fingers into your pussy. You choke down on your words at the stretch, still confused. 

“Can barely fit my fingers in this sweet cunt,” Joel says.  

“Wait–” you whimper, “fuck, wait.” 

With his fingers still in your pussy, he moves up to lie partially on top of you. He bites your shoulder, neck, runs the tip of his tongue over the shell of your ear. 

“No waiting, babydoll. Gotta stretch this tiny hole,”  

Vulgar. He’s so nasty with his words, still, your pussy beats with its own heartbeat. 

“Joel–” 

“All this time waitin’ for you to call me,” Joel hums into your ear, “just used me for my cock, didn’t you? Little slut.” 

“No, I didn’t. I–” 

“I knock you up?” 

You give a tiny, jerky shake of your head, no, unable to form words. 

“Guess we’ll have to try again, yeah?” he murmurs in your ear. “Gonna’ fill up this pussy.”

“No—“

You mean to say it with conviction. But your voice wavers, and you cum right into the palm of his hand, soaking him.

You grind down on his hand and bite into the towel to muffle your screams. 

“Good girl,” Joel groans, “just love makin’ a mess, don’t cha’?”   

Your hands slowly let go of the towel and your body becomes limp. Joel stands from the chair and you hear the clatter of his belt and the soft rustle of his clothes landing on the ground. 

Your nap being interrupted by Joel is not something you were expecting. In fact, what is he doing here?

“Joel, what are you–” 

His hands reach for your hips and he’s flipping you over on your back, making room for himself between your thighs.

“Needa look at your pretty face and pretty tits while I fuck ‘ya.” 

“We can’t–” 

Joel’s calloused fingers pinch your hard-tipped nipples and as if your body is already conditioned for him, you push up right into his hands.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” Joel groans. 

Before you know what’s happening, Joel leans down to drag his tongue over each peak. He bites, leaving only a hint of pain and shushing your needy whines. 

He grinds down between your open thighs, covering his cock in your slick. You moan and writhe on the lounge chair, twisting your hips with each bump of his mushroom head right on your swollen button. 

 “Joel, please,” you beg. 

But you’re not quite sure what you’re begging for. The sane part of your brain tells you to put an end to this, to send Joel far away from you. But then he sucks your nipple into his mouth and your mind goes blank.

Joel keeps biting, sucking, lapping at your tits until you feel the familiar sensation in your lower belly. As if sensing another orgasm, either from your moans or the way you're grinding up on his cock, Joel stops, placing a soft kiss on each nipple before leaning back. 

“I needed to taste those tits before I fuck ya’,” Joel rasps. 

You tremble beneath him, laying there in a sweaty heap. Joel’s face is slightly flushed and his chest rises with each ragged breath he takes. 

Fuck, he’s handsome. Salt and pepper hair, creases around his eyes, a hooked nose and a huge cock make him the most attractive man you’ve ever seen. 

The second he releases your hands, you drag your fingers down his hairy chest and over his soft belly. He’s hard and soft, muscular from working outside but with a belly that you want to lay your head on. 

He moves your hand away, linking his fingers through one of yours and uses his other hand to bump the tip of his length at your entrance. You try, in a small voice that’s just about surrendered to the lust swirling in your head, to stop Joel, suddenly remembering that this is not your house, but your sister’s. 

“Joel, my sister is inside–” 

He tsks in disappointment. “She’s gone for the week,” he interrupts, swirling the tip of his cock on your clit, “don’t lie to me, babydoll.”

Your mouth opens to ask how exactly he knows that, but Joel takes that moment to slide right in. A high-pitched squeal claws its way out of your mouth at the stretch of his cock. 

Joel groans, sounding almost pained. His eyes shut and his mouth drops open while you fight to push him off of you. You forgot just how large he was, and even if your cunt is slick and this isn’t the first time, it’s still a little painful. 

Joel places your hand above your head, still keeping his fingers linked, and uses his other hand to push up your thigh. His nose brushes yours and he gives you a soft kiss.  

He rocks his hips slowly, pushing his tongue into your mouth and matching the pace. You don’t kiss him back, too preoccupied with the cock spearing inside of you and the loss of air in your lungs. 

“Too much–”, you mumble, “too much!” 

Joel moves his lips down your chin, the tip of his tongue dragging a hot path down your neck. Goosebumps erupt on your skin as you try to catch your breath. Each thrust of his hips make you lightheaded. 

“No,” Joel murmurs into your neck, “you can take it, babydoll. Take it like a good girl.”  

With your free hand you try to push at his hips, for him to just give you a moment to breathe. Joel quickly takes your other hand and places it above your head, locking both of your wrists in his grasp. 

Your tits are in Joel’s face, pushed up by the arch of your back. Joel takes full advantage and runs his tongue over your swollen nipples. 

You’re not speaking coherently anymore. Between your pleas for him to slow down, please you whine with each hard thrust into your pussy. 

“Fuckin’ greedy,” Joel groans, “pussy keeps suckin’ me right back in.” 

“You’re so fucking nasty,” you mumble in half-hearted anger. 

But he’s right. Your pussy flutters with each slide of his cock and your thighs bracket his hips, keeping him as close as possible.

The thick head of his cock bumps your womb and you’re almost certain he’s growing bigger inside of you. You can smell him, his cologne and sweat, the scent of a man who spends his time working outside with his hands. 

If Joel were any other man, you’d hate the smell. But with him, it’s intoxicating. 

The first time together was quick, in his front yard where you were forced to stay quiet and take whatever he gave you. Now, your whimpers are loud and he’s in no rush to finish quickly. 

“Gonna breed this little cunt,” Joel slurs, “gonna make you a mommy.”

His hips move faster and tears begin to fall from the corner of your eyes. Joel invades your space and kisses every inch of skin he can reach. Imprints of his teeth and his saliva are left on your neck, tits, and mouth. 

“You want that babydoll? Wanna make me a daddy?” 

Any other man, especially one who is practically a stranger would make you cringe. But Joel’s breeding kink doesn’t phase you. You fall into the fantasy of him cumming inside of you and giving you a baby. 

He pushes his tongue almost down your throat while he fucks you. You kiss him back and suck his tongue on instinct. He whimpers, a sound that makes your pussy tighten in response.  

“Jesus–,” Joel groans. 

“Joel, please,” you whimper, “m–more, please!” 

The chair shakes with each of his thrusts, just about able to hold your combined weight. Joel lets go of your hands and leans back to watch his cock slide into you, seemingly mesmerized at the sight. 

Your hands reach for his sweaty chest, arms, caressing his heated skin. Joel pushes your thighs open and you hear every sticky, wet slide of his cock.

He’s suddenly sliding a hand underneath your neck. 

“Look, babydoll,” Joel gasps. 

You don’t pay him much attention, your eyes barely able to focus on his face.   

“C’mon–fuck.” 

You lean up on your elbows with the little energy you have left and watch his length, veiny and large, covered in your slick, piston in and out of you. 

If it didn’t feel so good, it would be almost scary to look at. Joel, so much larger and stronger than you, somehow able to fit so perfectly inside of you. 

You fall back on the lounge chair and Joel places your ankle on his shoulder. He turns his head to nip your soft skin, leaving another imprint of his teeth on your body. 

He pushes his thumb inside of your mouth and doesn’t even flinch as you bite down. 

“I almost drove down to that college of yours,” he moans, “wanted to drag you outta the dorm and fuck you in the hallway.” 

You moan around his thumb, lost in the fantasy of big, broad Joel dragging you by the hair and fucking you out in the open, in front of everyone to see. 

His words are slurred at this point. But he's so drunk on pure lust that he can’t help himself but keep talking. 

“Wanted to show everyone who owns this slut pussy.”  

The way he speaks to you should make you angry, but you pussy only flutters and squeezes as he calls you his little slut.

He removes his thumb from your mouth and gently slaps your cheek before swiping his spit-covered thumb over your clit. 

He swipes over your swollen bud, once, twice, using your spit and slick that now covers both of your lower bodies.

Your orgasm tears through you, washing over you in warm waves of bliss. 

Joel keeps fucking you, moving faster until his hips piston and you're being used as a toy while your orgasm courses through your body. 

He lays on top of you, keeping your thrashing and whimpering body bracketed onto the chair. Joel’s moans grow loud in your ear and you know he’s close. 

“Not inside–” you whimper, “don’t cum–” your words not having any real meaning behind them except to add to your fantasy. 

“Fuckin’ mine, my little cunt,” Joel snaps, “gonna cum in my babydoll–” 

He swells impossibly larger inside of you and then you feel it, the hot splash of cum. Ropes and ropes fill your cunt and he grinds his cock into you, buries his head in your neck and groans your name over and over again. 

Your body, still recovering from your orgasm from only a few moments ago, trembles once more. The warmth of his cum painting your womb shakes another one out of you. 

You’re not sure how long it lasts. Joel continues to whisper in your ear about how fuckin’ sweet you are and how you have the tiniest cunt ever, babydoll while his cock fills you with cum. 

Joel continues to lay on top of you and while he’s larger in every sense of the way, his weight is comforting. The setting sun is blocked by the canopy which you're grateful for because you don’t want him to move. 

“How are ya’ feeling?” Joel asks. 

You’ve almost fallen asleep at this point. 

“Full… and sore,” you whisper. 

“Maybe this time I’ll actually knock you up,” Joel whispers, placing a kiss on your forehead. 

You roll your eyes and push him off of you. 

“Not going to happen, old man. I’m on birth control. And we just met!"

“Shame,” he sighs dramatically. “How about I grill us some steaks?” 

[masuchu]

“𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒” [GENSHIN MEN]

what happens when you gift your boyfriend a rather … provocative photo? ‧₊˚

genre. smut, sending nudes but in teyvat so it’s a polaroid, dragon mentions in neuvillette’s, manhandling, praise, mentions of creampies (wriothesley), degradation in his also, bondage in ayato’s, reader is accused (teasingly) of cheating (kinda) in ayato’s

characters. neuvillette, wriothesley, ayato, al haitham, kaveh

love, masu. guys i need these men so badly . you do not understand i am in disarray . tried so hard to colour my text, this app hates me . also the ‘picture’ is a polaroid cause i hate modern au’s </3

那维莱特 ✦ 𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄: A subtly erotic photo; your naked body laying in the bath. The water bubbly and crystalline, showing clearly the outline of your waist and the tone of your body. The soapy water hugged your tits so perfectly, hiding your nipples from view but allowing parts of the plump flesh to be seen.

You had only thought that the picture was pretty, but your lover proved that all things can have varied interpretations.

𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: Well, you certainly know how to rile up the Hydro Dragon, don’t you? As soon as his eyes gazed upon your nude body laying so elegantly in the bathtub, his firm resolve cracked. Only minutely, but it cracked nonetheless. The image was tossed aside somewhere on his desk—he didn’t care where—and soft yet demanding hands fell onto your body.

“You temptress,” Neuvillette muttered, eyes travelling over every inch of your body, “what were you hoping for when you took such an image, hm?”

A giggle left your lips, and you lifted a hand up to his jaw. “I think you know, my dearest Iudex.”

A grunt echoed from him, hands gripping tighter around their current places on your form. At once, you were pulled into his firm chest, and you noticed immediately that it seemed larger than usual. A glance upwards told you that it was not just your imagination.

“Surely, you are smart enough to know not to prod a dragon? If you are not, I would be happy to show you the consequences.”

莱欧斯利 ✦ 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄: Countless strewn sheets of paperwork behind you, your half naked body laying on top. A black set of lingerie hugged you perfectly underneath your regular day shirt, which had clearly been unbuttoned with fervency. Your lipstick has a feature at the top of the polaroid, smeared and messy. An entirely rushed photo, but one that was guaranteed to push your hunky boyfriends buttons.

𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: “Wow. When you came for our regular tea break today, I was not expecting to receive such a sexy gift.”

You sipped your tea tauntingly, and hummed in response. You knew he would love it.

“I bet you had fun wrecking my desk, huh? Thought one of the Melusines had done it. Nope, just my slut of a girlfriend.”

The name made you tremble. The teacup in your hand began to shake as a result of your newfound lack of resolve, so you placed it down as gently as you were able onto the tray.

“W—who do you think you are speaking to?! You have no right to c—call me that—!”

His lips abruptly smashed onto yours, leaving you with no time to finish your scolding, nor catch your breath. Hands gripped you firmly and picked you up with ease; the kiss did not break once as he strolled over to his desk.

Only when your bottom was placed onto the wood, did he let up. He grinned at your heaving and desperate attempts to gain more oxygen. His resolve infuriated you, how was he not dying right now?!

“Mm, I’m thinking I should fuck you on here now. Try and make another mess. That way I can watch when you clean it all up, bent over with my cum leaking out of you. Looks real pretty in my head…”

Another burst of brattiness stormed through your veins like a tornado, pressing you to fight back against his crude tongue. Your mouth opened in attempt to retaliate, but he only pressed a finger against your lips and teased:

“Ah-ah. No more of that feistiness! You’re much cuter when your a good girl. I can tell you want me, so you’re going to beg for me. I won’t give in until it’s up to my standards, which are high. Feel free to begin, missy~”

神里绫人 ✦ 𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐓𝐎

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄: Baby blue ribbons adorned your silky skin. Skin poured out from over the top of the fabric, pulled taut and carefully tied. The pattern was nothing too extravagant, your thighs tied to one another, your wrists tied in a bow, and a final ribbon around your waist. The photo cut off just before your cute, little pussy—a purposeful tease on your part, a tease that invoked a different reaction than what you had imagined.

𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: “My, my. What is this, my dear.”

You stood extremely awkwardly in front of your lovers work desk, hands clasped in one another behind your back. The plan seemed so perfect in your head, but now that it was in action— well, the embarrassment was certainly creeping its way up your body.

“D—do you you like it, love?”

A deep, ravenous chuckle reverberated from his throat. His eyes were lidded, hungry, and they took a horribly arousing journey over your body. Top to bottom, no place missed.

“Like it? Mm, I love it. Though, I am wondering how you managed to get yourself into such a pretty pose? Did you get Thoma to help you with the ribbon, hm?”

The accusation was false, but the shock of it caused an eruption of red to fill your face, hands waving up and down in denial.

“W—what? Why would I—?! I assure you he did not!”

Ayato’s sultry gaze morphed into that of hurt and betrayal; unnecessary guilt struck you in your chest.

“You look perfectly guilty to me, my dear. Before you plead innocence, I am willing to make you a deal. If you allow me to tie you up once more and have my way with you, I will forget about your betrayal. Sounds fair, hm?”

You gulped; it was hopeless. “Of course, Sir.”

艾尔海森 ✦ 𝐀𝐋 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐌

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄: A perfectly choreographed photo; from a fleeting glance, it would appear to be a regular picture with an open book draped over your form. However, you knew Al Haitham was much more attentive than that. Your dripping pussy made a imperceptible appearance at the bottom of the polaroid, only just being cut off by the frame. The book was tilted deliberately so that a large amount of one breast was showing, the other remaining hidden by the leather-bound cover. It was a good effort to shock him, though, perhaps shock isn’t the correct word to use.

𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: Al Haitham’s eyes squinted—so imperceptibly that the average person would never notice, but you did. You always did. A few seconds passed with his eyes analysing the picture, before firmly placing it facing down on his desk.

“What is this?” he asked sternly. His countenance seemed to remain composed if you blurred your sight, but slight twitches of his skin and furrowing of his brows gave him away. He was irked and aroused, a dangerous combination.

“It’s a gift! You don’t like it?” The faux innocence radiated off of you with ease; it was your favourite thing to do. Riling up your boyfriend might as well be your job title at this point.

“Hm. No, I don’t like it,” he rolled his eyes at the pout that materialised on your lips, “in fact, I hate it. It is extremely distracting. Attempting to whisk me away from my important work is an offence to the Akademiya, you know?”

Al Haitham’s eyes did one slow, suggestive rake over your body, and the air suddenly felt a lot thicker when they met your own pair of wide eyes.

“I did not mean to distract you….”

“Well, you have. Are you going to finish what you started, or would you prefer a week without cumming? The choice is yours, sweet girl.”

卡维 ✦ 𝐊𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐇

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄: Arguably the least extravagant out of all these images; it is simply just a photo of you laying gracefully on your shared bed, sheet wrangled and ruffled. You are not nude—no, you wear one of Kaveh’s silky button up shirts. It is far too large, and rides up much too high. Your cunt is on show for the Kamera, and your nipples are hard behind the fabric.

It was taken with no malicious intent, but even you can see how it took a promiscuous turn when you gifted it to your lover.

𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: Kaveh let out a shaky breath, eyes wide and flickering between both you and the photo in his hands.

“Fuck, baby. You are so gorgeous…”

You coyly shuffled from one foot to the other, a subtle heat traversing to your cheek. The arousal of the situation was really hitting you, and clearly, your boyfriend too.

“I took it just after you left this morning… I didn’t mean for it— it wasn’t meant to be so.. lewd, I swear!”

Kaveh took a deep breath of fresh air—a substance which appeared to suddenly be extremely scarce— and pulled you by your hips against him.

“I don’t care, I’m actually grateful. Archons, I’m gonna take this with me on long trips now, you know? I’ll be cumming for you all across Teyvat.”

A tiny yelp left your lips as your needy lover began to nibble your neck, hands lingering around your ass, much too close to your soaking hole.

“K—Kaveh…!”

It had only been a minute or less, but he had already turned you into a panting mess. He removed his head from the crevice of your neck for a moment, and admired the work of purple art he had created along your skin. For no apparent reason, he grinned. He met your eyes with a clear radiation of mischief, before asking shamelessly:

“Wanna recreate the photo? Though, my cum should make an appearance this time. Want the one you gave me, and a dirtier one. What do you say, hm?”