#though I haven't heard too many other things that seem to do it to quite the same extent or effect? ;_;)

[jk97]

Unprofessional Attraction | ONE

♡ pairing - yunho x afab!reader ♡ word count - 13K ♡ series synopsis - There's no such thing as a coincidence, right? CollegeSenior!Reader (22) and linguistics teacher Yunho Jeong (27) indulge in an entanglement of inappropriate gravitation. It's risky and it's wrong, but listening to one's better judgment never leads to anything as intoxicating. When someone threatens this secret relationship with blackmail to expose the truth, things take a turn for the worse. Graduation can't seem to come fast enough. ♡ warnings for this chapter - fluff and explicit content (mdni), slight age gap, teacher/student relationship, other members are featured, pining, some obsessive behavior and manipulation (mainly from reader), drinking alcohol, inebriated driving (big no no frens!) perverted!yunho, bigdick!yunho, sprinkles of praise, fingering, cunnilingus, unprotected sex (mention of bc pill tho), porn with plot  ♡ A/N - part one is kinda tame, the next two parts will have more explicit scenes. I hope you enjoy, and please look forward to the rest! I haven't posted a fic on tumblr in many years so pls be kind ♡

Part 1 | Part 2 | ?

Yeosang is too attentive, especially when it comes to his best friend.

That’s why he knows you well enough to call you out when he whispers, “You’re staring again.”

“I’m staring at the whiteboard, pretty sure that’s what you’re supposed to do in class,” you argue, not bothering to even glance at him. It’s quite obvious that your eyes are too busy soaking in things that don’t have to do with phonology.

Your linguistics teacher, Yunho Jeong, is dressed particularly charmingly today. Something about the tight-fitting white polo shirt and chocolate brown slacks he has on this class is too distracting. It doesn’t help that his hair is a little more messy than usual, you wonder if he was running late this morning. Linguistics has nothing to do with your major, however, for your final semester in college, you simply needed a filler class for your last few credits. Yeosang suggested joining him in this class so you could both support each other, but he never factored in the fact that you’d be too distracted by the teacher to do anything of use for him. There weren’t many younger teachers such as Yunho at your university; in fact, you were pretty sure this was only his second semester teaching in general. He was generally a mild-mannered and easygoing teacher, but he was also able to command a room when necessary.

A minute later, Yunho offers everyone a 10-minute break since the last section of his lecture lasted a little longer than he anticipated, and the class immediately breaks out into chatter.

“He’s single, you know,” Yeosang turns towards you and props up his head on his palm, “Or so I’ve heard.”

“Don’t tell me things like that, you’ll make me delusional.”

He doesn’t miss the goofy smile tugging at your lips as you stretch your tired limbs from too much sitting. The lectures for this class were two hours long, but they were only twice a week on Wednesdays and Fridays, so you couldn’t complain too much.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“That I might have a chance with him,” you nudge him playfully.

“I’m not sure he’d want to date someone barely passing his own class,” Yeosang quips quickly, subsequently squeezing his eyes shut when you flick his forehead in response.

“Watch your mouth, I am not ‘barely passing’!” You return your eyes to the subject of your conversation, slowly taking in his form, “For the record, I could definitely pull him if I tried to. You think he likes younger women?”

“That is a terrible idea,” your best friend immediately shakes his head. “Absolutely not.”

“Surely I would be guaranteed to pass then though, no?” you offer instead, half-joking.

“You haven’t gotten laid in the last month and this is the first person that comes to your mind to fix that?” Yeosang scoffs incredulously.

“I wouldn’t just be in it for the sex,” you clarify. Your keen eyes watch his every move, from the way that his large hands flex as he thumbs at his phone to the way he purses his lips in curiosity at whatever he’s looking up. Like a lion stalking a gazelle before pouncing. “He’s quite literally perfect. Tall, smart, handsome, financially stable… the whole package. I deserve a man like that, right Yeo?”

You meet Yeosang’s eyes curiously, and he reminds you, “I think you’re forgetting he’s our teacher .”

“We graduate soon,” you whine, “Act now, worry later. I could graduate with a boyfriend already lined up the minute I get handed my degree.”

“You’re playing with fire, ____,” he holds his hands up in surrender. As your best friend, he knows you’re not joking, despite how much you might play it off later. He knows that once you set your mind on something, you generally don’t stop until it’s achieved, “Let’s see you try, though. It’ll be entertaining.”

When class resumes, you listen to the rest of his lecture with renewed cravings and an unusually optimistic disposition Yeosang has never seen you hold for this subject.

From that moment forward, every instance you “stumbled” across your teacher was planned. You figured out which parking lot he parked his car on during the day and bought a proper parking pass for that lot, now alternating between taking the shuttle and your car to the university. Your schedules crossed occasionally on your driving days, and you’d simply offer warm greetings or cheerful send-offs depending on the time of day. Yunho was a man of habit who visited the same campus restaurant nearly every day he worked during lunchtime in between his midday classes. It didn’t take much energy to stop by a couple of days a week and run into Yunho, giving you the ability to strike up a conversation or two when asking for recommendations on what you should order. These instances were simply to put you more on his radar, instead of just being a face in the sea of students in his class.

He seems to be good friends with two other teachers who are also around his age, teachers Seonghwa Park and San Choi. You wonder if getting in their good graces would somehow transfer to your teacher, by word of mouth. Luckily, you have a friend who has Mr. Park for a history seminar. On a Sunday night, you shoot a text to set the stage.

  [Y/N: Jongho!!!! It’s been so long since we’ve hung out :(( Can I swing by your class tomorrow and pick you up? Let’s get lunch!]

When 2 PM rolls around on Monday, you make the mistake of trusting the shuttle to come on time. It’s nearly 3 PM when you get to the necessary building, and you’re sure Jongho’s class ended close to half an hour ago. The plan to run across Mr. Park is thrown completely out of the window, you are only worried about Jongho being upset with you. You know he’d never, but still. Being late to something planned ahead of time always upsets you to no end. You curse at yourself over and over every stride down the hall, and it’s good that the hallways are virtually empty or else you’d probably look crazy. Eventually, you make it to your destination.

You’re just about to blindly call out an apology to Jongho but end up stopping dead in your tracks as soon as you enter the door; not only is Mr. Park in the room seated at his desk, but he’s also accompanied by Mr. Choi and Mr. Jeong. They’re huddled together, Yunho leaning against the whiteboard leisurely with a cup of coffee in his hand while intently listening to Seonghwa complain about the registrar’s office fucking up another one of his student’s enrollment for his class.

“There she is,” Jongho sighs this aloud as if his prayers have been answered.

He didn’t know if you were going to still make it and he’s dying of hunger from skipping breakfast. Immediately, all three men’s eyes turn towards the entrance. You pray to God that your face isn’t flushed with how hot you feel being the fixation of so many eyes. Or maybe it’s more so how handsome the men are that those eyes are coming from. This surely isn’t the time to have such a weakness for a strapping man in a button-up and crisp slacks.

“Hello, ____,” Yunho is the first of the three to speak. Subsequently, San amiably nods toward you in acknowledgment.

“Good afternoon all,” you greet everyone, bashfully adding, “I’m so sorry for interrupting.”

“Not interrupting at all,” Seonghwa waves his hands, dispelling those fears, “We were curious why Jongho was sticking back so late. He assured us a friend was coming to get him and we just chose not to leave him.”

Well, this is embarrassing. You nod hastily and glance toward Jongho, who is practically skipping down the lecture hall’s steps. Yunho wants to crack a joke about seeing you everywhere, about how you both must be magnets or something else silly, but he decides to keep that to himself. He doesn’t want it to seem like he’s keeping track of course, even if he is.

Instead, he affirms to the other men, “This is a student of mine.”

Admittedly, your ears had tuned every other word out except “mine”, and you nodded a little too enthusiastically. You haven’t been this discomposed in a long time, too bashful to look any of them in the eyes, and you pray it’s not showing too much elsewhere. Jongho’s friendly hand landing on your shoulder grounds you.

“You ready?”

“Absolutely,” you puff out.

“Don’t cause too much trouble for her, Jongho,” Seonghwa pokes a bit of fun at one of his top students, who replies by waving him away and scoffing. They seem to be relaxed with each other— this is something you desire to achieve with Yunho soon. You snatch up your friend’s hand and finally move to leave for lunch, if it could even be considered that now with how late it is.

“See you Wednesday, Mr. Jeong,” you look back and shoot him a wave, accompanied by a charming smile. He nods back, offering you his own as well.

Unbeknownst to you, San’s eyes follow you out the door with Jongho, especially surveying the plush of your thighs rubbing together as you walk. Such as yourself, skirts are surely a weakness of his.

“She’s a senior, right?” he murmurs, half-jokingly.

“Stop it,” Yunho promptly elbows San in the arm, earning a stifled laugh from Seonghwa.

Yunho has heard stories about San’s slight affinity with the pretty college women when he goes out to bars on the weekends. Nobody from his own classes, of course. Needless to say, Yunho would not let him even think about you that way. No way in hell.

“I was just asking, Jesus.”

Seonghwa stretches his limbs from his chair, “It’s never ‘just asking’ with you.”

“You buy a table of women drinks one time and your friends never let you hear the end of it,” he groans with a roll of his eyes, “God you guys are the worst.”

“Yeah, sure, that’s what it is,” Seonghwa concedes sarcastically.

“Just don’t make any unannounced visits to my classroom anytime soon, you buffoon,” Yunho chastises him while pressing his cup to his lips, “And I’m serious.”

“You got that,” San yields, “Wouldn’t wanna be a cock-block.”

Yunho nearly spits his coffee, “I beg your pardon?”

San nearly doubles over in laughter and, to Yunho’s surprise, Seonghwa has joined in. He doesn’t particularly enjoy the look they’re sharing and it makes the back of his neck burn with heat. Yunho doesn’t know why he’s so embarrassed but he steers the conversation away from discussing you any further. He ignores the feeling of indignation and possessiveness pooling in the pit of his stomach.

It doesn’t take long for you to decide you’ve done what needed to be done outside of the classroom; the cherry on top now was simply to get him alone more privately.

You didn’t have to try very hard for this to happen; your work on your paper outline was already sub-par at best. You did fairly well on the quizzes and packets he passed out once a week, but that final paper preparation was surely going to be a challenge. When you find enough courage in yourself to email him about seeing him during his office hours for extra academic help on formatting your paper and choosing a more concise topic, he replies quickly and enthusiastically. According to your syllabus, the topic should relate to what you’re studying for your degree, but the real meat and potatoes of the paper should incorporate an aspect of linguistics in relation to your career path. Yunho understands how something like this can be difficult to tackle, so he assures you not to worry and that you both will work on perfecting it in no time.

“Mr. Jeong, do you mind if I text you instead? It’s more convenient for me than to email,” you end up asking him at the end of class on a Friday.

Yunho doesn’t mind this and he says so; he's put his phone number on the syllabus for situations like this. Moreover, he doesn’t think anything of it when he receives a text from you the morning of your first session telling him good morning and saying that you’re excited to finally get some guidance. You follow up by asking how he likes his coffee, and if he prefers muffins or donuts. Even after this indicator, he’s still surprised that you show up at his office right on time at 10 AM on Monday with two fresh cups of coffee and a couple of things from the campus bakery.

His office is fairly small, but not enough to feel uncomfortable. He’s decorated it to his liking though to make it feel a little more homely on the days he has to stay late for one reason or another. He watches you marvel at his space before you set down everything in your hands and relieve yourself of your backpack.

“Good morning!”

“Good morning ____, welcome in,” Yunho smiles. “You’re very punctual.”

“Of course, I meant what I said about being excited,” you tell him honestly, settling into the seat in front of his desk, “The right one is yours, by the way.”

Yunho timidly thanks you before sliding it closer to himself. He’s never had a student do something for him like this, then again he hasn’t been teaching that long to begin with. Regardless, he appreciates it and the gesture goes straight to his heart. He takes a sip to emphasize this.

“I’m all ready when you are,” you proclaim, clasping your hands together.

With that, he begins to look through his folders for your class number and finds the topic idea and outlines you’ve submitted previously. He doesn’t even have to look for your name specifically, you always tend to write his name and your class section in a particular way on the top of your work that is very appealing and oddly unique.

“You have really pretty handwriting,” Yunho murmurs out absentmindedly when he finds it. When he lifts his head to see your intrigued eyes gazing back at him, he clears his throat and adds, “Mine looks like chicken scratch so I’m always fascinated by others.”

“As long as it’s legible, that’s all that matters,” you hum with a smile, “And I can read yours just fine, so you’re fine.”

Yunho’s not sure why that mild compliment, something that should probably be insignificant, steals his words from him for a moment. Instead, he offers a hum in place of thanks while quickly taking another sip of his coffee. He glances at his notes before speaking again.

“Okay, so when I reviewed your work, it seems like you generally have a solid topic,” he begins, “It’s definitely something that can be a bit more concise, but it’s fine. The problem is that you’re trying to incorporate too much into the paper as a whole.”

You nod in understanding, so he takes a sip of coffee and continues.

“That’s good and bad, for a couple of reasons. It’s good that you’re being ambitious and trying to give lots of information. This shows me that you’re planning on doing a lot of research and you’re going to be very knowledgeable about your topic,” Yunho cocks his head, “If you set yourself up like this, though, your paper will end up being over twenty pages easily. And we both don’t want that, right?”

He gives you a knowing look, and you can’t help the candid snort you let out at his frankness, “Definitely not, oh God. I’m so sorry.”

“Precisely. So, let’s work on cutting some of these sections out and conjoining some of these bullet points in others. Sound good?” He holds out his hand with a grin as if to make it a deal, and you grant him a firm shake.

After a considerable amount of time figuring out which parts of your paper to chop without losing the vision, Yunho feels his limbs tighten from sitting too long. He’s been in this chair since 9 AM, so he asks, “Can we take a quick break? I need to stretch a bit.”

“Of course!”

When he stands to full height and stretches his arms, your eyes inconspicuously survey the way the edge of the desk lines up right with his pelvis. Perfect height for extracurricular activities… You wonder if he’s the type of guy to be open to something like that, fucking his lover in his office. Surely this thing is sturdy enough to withstand it, you muse. The thought of him bending you over the desk just to prove how sturdy it is makes you rub your thighs together. You decide to chug the rest of your now-cold coffee to get your brain back on track. Yunho collapses back into his office chair gently and lets you know he’s ready to resume. The rest of the time is spent setting up a list of some things you could tweak when you go home on your own and prepare for him to view in a couple of days.

On Wednesday, for your second meeting, you both convene at his office directly after your class with him in the afternoon. You smell especially good today, a mix of jasmine, vanilla, and something else he can’t put his tongue on… but it’s got Yunho’s head a bit foggy. Still, the meeting is engaging and brimming with useful help just as the last. Leaning back in his chair, he takes a brief moment to review a printout of what you’ve implemented into your outline from your last meeting discussions. It’s definitely already an improvement, but there are still a few things that could be tweaked in terms of sectioning. He grabs his favorite pen and lays your papers out in front of you, leaning forward to mark things you should be mindful of. A circle here, a quick jotted note there—his soothing voice explains each eagerly, and you can tell just how much he loves this subject by his enthusiasm. You reply to all of his criticism and suggestions with just as much enthusiasm. Yunho finds himself leaning in a little closer than might be suitable for the circumstances, but his brain is still ensnared by your perfume. He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing, truthfully, but it doesn’t bother you a bit. In fact, you’re a little too enamored with watching his large hands grip his pen and flex while writing to notice he’s calling your name.

“____?” he calls for a second time, to which you finally meet his gaze while blinking bashfully. “You okay?”

“I’m sorry, I think I spaced out for a second,” you answer honestly. He is absolutely too close to you right now and the way you can see the details in his eyes is making your brain short-circuit. He finally sits back in his chair and chuckles warmly.

“We have been working for quite a while today, I’m sure it’s a lot of information. Maybe we should wrap up for the day and meet again next week? I’m a bit tied up on Friday,” he ponders. You can’t help the hint of disappointment that makes its way onto your face, and he notices. There’s this unusual feeling in his chest right now; why does he feel regret for his stupid schedule? He leans forward on his elbows and cocks his head, “You’re doing very well, you know that? We’ve made a lot of progress after only a couple of meetings. I’m very excited to see how this comes together at the end of the semester.”

“I’m very self-conscious about my writing, so I appreciate that, Mr. Jeong,” you confess with a sheepish smile.

“You have nothing to be stressed about, I love what I’ve seen so far,” he continues his praise, “And I’m very happy you’re in my class, ____.”

The smile he gives you after such a statement manifests dozens of butterflies in your stomach, and you can’t help but match it. These one-on-one sessions go on 2-3 days a week for about two more weeks, loosening him up to you. He successfully becomes much more casual and unfiltered in your presence before you decide to up the ante. The following Tuesday of the next week, you remain on campus fairly late after classes end for the day, seated on a bench near the parking lot you both share. It’s warm outside even with the sun gradually setting, and you spend the time mentally rehearsing exactly what you planned on saying when he arrives to leave for home. He should be here any minute now–

“_____?”

You spin around at the familiar voice calling out your name. It’s him, of course, coming from the staff meeting you found out was being held this evening. Finally , you think. He stops just short of where you’re perched on the bench.

“Oh, hello Mr. Jeong.”

“What are you doing out here so late?” He inquires quickly, and there’s a tinge of concern laced in his voice. However, he realizes that asking this might be out of the realm of things he should know, you’re a grown woman after all. So, he follows up with an excuse, “It’s getting pretty dark out.”

“It’s a bit embarrassing,” you mutter, glancing away from his gaze.

Yunho can’t deny, he’s a bit mesmerized by the way you look tonight. He’s never seen you with your make-up done up like this, or your hair styled so charmingly. When you glance back at him again with those long, fluttering lashes of yours, he feels the back of his neck turn hot.

“You can tell me anything, you already know,” he reminds you, “I won’t judge and I’m always available to listen.”

“Well… I have a reservation for dinner with someone at six… but it seems they stood me up,” you reveal while mindlessly fiddling with a frayed string on the skirt of your dress. Yunho glances down at his watch: it’s 5:48 PM. “They were supposed to pick me up a while ago. I was trying to hold out some hope, but… I’m just being stupid.”

Yunho furrows his brows; why would someone stand a girl like you up? You’re beautiful and exceptionally smart (despite any kind of trouble you may have had with your paper). You’re also one of the sweetest people he’s ever crossed paths with in life. Many of those paths having been crossed within the last month, of course. Still, he can’t fathom it.

“I’m so sorry to hear that, ____,” he tells you truthfully. Then, he thinks about how your car isn’t here, and how the shuttle won’t be around until 6:30 PM. He’s slightly apprehensive before offering, “Do you want a ride home?”

You give him a winsome smile that pierces into his heart with an invisible arrow, “You don’t have to do that. I appreciate the offer though.”

“No, really, I don’t mind at all,” he says with more confidence. The idea of him being your knight in shining armor, buried deep in the back of his head, is shouting at him. That’s when you decide it’s time to take your shot, for better or worse.

“Well, in that case, would you like to accompany me to the restaurant instead?” you inquire, glancing up at him curiously. “I already paid for the spot, so I wouldn’t want the reservation to go to waste.”

Normally, you’d follow up a statement like that with a: “But it’s okay if not.”  

Not tonight.

You didn’t want to give him an out to this proposal willingly. You can see the mild indecisiveness in his face anyway, all the way down to how Yunho’s hand tightens around the handle of his briefcase. You did get all dolled up for whoever you were supposed to be spending the evening with, and he’ll feel awfully bad letting you go back home to take it all off for no reason. It’s just a dinner, he tells himself.

“Sure,” Yunho finally says in an exhale, “Let me pull around my car.”

While he walks off into the parking lot towards his car, you bite down hard on your bottom lip to stop the dishonest smile that’s threatening to spread across your face. Was it all a bald-faced lie? Of course it was! But, sometimes it takes some white lies to get to what you want, and what you wanted was no longer that far out of reach if tonight was anything to go by.

When he finally pulls around to pick you up, you allow yourself to slip into the mode you usually go to on dates. It doesn’t hurt to pretend tonight, it’s like manifesting your reality. You thrum your fingers against your bare thighs, to no particular beat, while staring out of the car window at other passing cars during your brief trip on the highway.

“Is this a restaurant you’ve been to before? It looked really nice online,” Yunho eventually says into the silence, trying to make small talk. He had briefly skimmed the reviews while plugging the address in on his phone.

“I haven’t, actually,” you divulge, going further, “I’m a bit of a foodie, you know? I like to try new places occasionally.”

That conversation flows smoothly for the rest of the drive, and even smoother when you both are seated and eating dinner in a booth towards the back of the restaurant. It’s nice to see him in a more relaxed setting.

“Thank you for joining me tonight, Mr. Jeong.” You offer him some well-deserved gratitude as you wipe your mouth, signaling the end of your eating. “Makes things a lot less embarrassing tonight for sure.”

“No need to thank me, I enjoyed your company,” he smiles. He doesn’t even hesitate this time before adding, “That bastard doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.”

The bubbly laugh and adorable smile you grant him the experience of witnessing enraptures him, the tips of his ears burning at the thought of how he wants to be able to produce that from you again and again. Yunho hasn’t been on a date in a while, so he’s sure this feeling is just because he’s attention-deprived. Still, it’s something he notes mentally. And, even though some might consider it inappropriate, you and your teacher both began having dinner occasionally, just like that. Platonically, of course.

  “We can go over my questions for my paper topic here rather than in that cramped office of yours, you know?”  

Surprisingly when you proposed this, he showed little resistance to the idea. Yunho enjoyed getting out of the house for the evenings he usually spent alone with a few beers and a Netflix series. He enjoyed having a pretty girl keep him company even more. He reminds himself every time he picks you up, though, that this is simply work and nothing more. Just some overtime—helping a student who enjoyed his class get better at the material. It’s not meant to be enjoyable.

But after the first few times of these “informational paper related” meetings, conversations involving anything to do with linguistics slowly molded into Yunho placing a nimble finger to his lips to say a silent shhh, followed by, “Let’s not talk about schoolwork tonight, okay?”

That moment, when you noticed that slight shift in Yunho’s energy, the atmosphere from there turned more informal. You become more conscious of those important invisible lines between student and teacher— or even more teacher and friend— that have begun to blur significantly. “Good evening Mr. Jeong,” became, “Le’me taste your food, Yunho?”

To which he never declines, naturally.

Tonight, on the 5th dinner, the climate between you both plows further into the downward spiral of informality, warm and fairly flirtatious. At least, that’s what you surmise by the way he keeps openly teasing you this evening. It’s all innocuous banter, but that doesn’t quell the adoration you hold for him in the pit of your stomach. It’s enough to make your thighs clench together underneath the table. You finally decide to shamelessly reciprocate, teasing him about the way his hair is going every which way tonight. You emphasize how the style is still very handsome despite him looking like he’s been through hell and back.

“I was having a pretty bad day today until I remembered where I was going tonight actually,” Yunho divulges, pushing the wrinkly sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows. He truly has been through hell and back today, between snooty older teachers and idiot freshmen both treating him like he’s a student just because of his age, “These kinds of nights with you always make my day, so it’s been saved.”

A playful smile tugs at your lips as you cock your head, “Is it the food or is it the company?”

He leans forward on his forearms with a prepossessing smile, one that makes your heart thump loudly in your ears.

“Both, of course,” he teases again, “I suppose the food is just a bonus, though.”

He takes notice of the way your cheeks are dusted in pink as you shyly avert your eyes and locks that innocent image into a deep chamber of his mind along with all the others. He practically has a photo album saved mentally. It’s not too long until the food comes, and things become all about eating. A fair amount of time into your dinner, you decide to add a new element to your dynamic.

“Do you mind if I drink a little tonight?” you inquire quietly while your eyes skim the wine menu briefly. Not like you were going to care about his answer, but it was simply fun to ask. He chuckles.

“You’re an adult,” he points out instead. You smile to yourself before meeting his eyes from behind the menu. There’s something especially curious tonight behind those dark irises of his. The unfamiliar stare he gives you from behind his bangs is accompanied by a subtle smirk that makes your stomach tie into tight knots.

You turn away your eyes until you’re able to catch the attention of your waiter once more. In the process of requesting a glass of some Cabernet Sauvignon, you hesitate before saying the name of which brand because of the price tag for one glass, but most risks are pricey and tonight you felt like splurging for the reward in return: releasing your inhibitions. The waiter turns towards Yunho to confirm if he’d like to add anything before he leaves.

“Bring a bottle of that instead, please. We’ll share,” he requests alternatively. It takes all of your strength not to look at him like he’s crazy as the waiter nods and heads off to fetch it.

“It’s on me tonight,” Yunho beats you to the punch on declaring anything about his decisions.

“You don’t even know the price of it.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he quips back with a chuckle, “Are you suggesting I can’t afford it?”

“Yunho…”

“Don’t even give me that, ____.”

The way he blithely says your first name with a different warmth now always causes your heart to swell in your chest. All formality is truly gone between you two. You both share matching smiles in place of any further words about the matter.

When the waiter returns briefly with a freshly opened bottle of wine and two glasses, you both offer him words of gratitude before he slips away once more. Yunho wastes no time pouring you both a proper amount, sighing contently when finished. You lift your glass towards him and grin once more, “Cheers?”

“Cheers.”

Yunho surely got his money’s worth, because the bottle is gone between you both quickly, signaling the end of your dinner as well. You don’t feel the few glasses fully set in until Yunho is helping you out of the booth, your legs feeling akin to a newborn baby deer as you bashfully stumble into his arms. You suppose your food wasn’t as carb-heavy as usual tonight. You’re not drunk, but surely you’re not sober either. He doesn’t mind holding you steady on the way out of the restaurant, a guiding hand timidly pressed to the small of your back.

As much as you despise the thought of driving under the influence, it’s pouring an insane amount of rain upon exit of the restaurant and Yunho insists he’s fine enough to drive. The dilemma that arises is how your place is further than he has confidence in making it to in this storm while inebriated. You know just as well as he does that there’s no way he’s driving you home tonight.

“I have a spare bedroom,” he begins, and glances over at you, hoping you understand what he means because he’s not sober enough to come up with the words to ask you otherwise. The pouring water is making it hard for him to keep his eyes open but he doesn’t miss the feigning look of indecision in your eyes. He tries to ignore the way the rain has soaked through your dress enough to make it plaster your body. It accentuates every contour of your figure, from the rounds of your breasts down to your supple thighs. When the boom of thunder somewhere far off fills the silence after his proposal faster than you do, he panics slightly.

“I can get you an Uber if—”

“You already paid for an expensive bottle tonight, don’t waste more money on an Uber,” you grasp onto his arm fondly, sopping breasts squished into his bicep. Your lips curl into a soft smile at his attempt at chivalry though, “I’ll be fine. Let’s hurry though, okay? I’m cold.”

That statement is followed by a sharp shiver running down your back, and that’s enough for him to drag you along with him to his car with quick, but careful, steps.

Surprisingly, Yunho lives in a townhouse. You’re very thankful not to have to walk up the stairs of a condo. He thanks God there’s an empty parking space in front of his house, he hates when the tiny lot fills up before he gets home. You both prepare yourselves before rushing out of the car and to his front door.

Your hazy eyes train themselves on his pretty, slender fingers fiddling with the doorknob before he finally gets it open. Those same fingers grab your hand and pull you through his front door with him mindlessly. Another chill immediately runs down your spine at the cool AC blasting through his home, which he immediately runs off to turn down.

“Both bedrooms have bathrooms with showers,” Yunho sputters while quickly heading off to find you a towel and some spare clothes for which you could sleep in.

While you’re still peeling your drenched shoes and socks off, he settles on a fresh t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants since it’s still a bit chilly in the house. You try not to track too much water through his home while you journey through his living room and meet him halfway.

“I’ll shower in the guest room,” you tell him, taking the items.

He runs an anxious hand through the wet hair sticking to his forehead, “I can also dry your clothes if you leave them on the bed.”

“Fuck, that’s great,” you sigh with a smile, stepping past him but cocking your head back to add, “Wait about five minutes before you come grab them, I should be in the shower by then.”

Just as you requested, Yunho comes into the room a little over five minutes later when he hears the shower running. His eyes confirm that the bathroom door is closed for your privacy before grabbing your wet clothes and retreating to his laundry room down the hall. He chucks them all in his dryer and runs it on medium heat and maximum dryness. While that’s running, he busies himself with running to his bedroom and speedrunning his shower to ensure he’s out before you. He’s a man on a mission, pulling on clothes and towel-drying his hair before rushing to the laundry room to get your clothes.

Yunho pulls your garments from the dryer one by one, making sure there’s nothing left wet. He stops when he pulls something out that catches his eyes. Your underwear. He’s quite enticed by them, even if they were pastel pink with turtles... Hot, he thinks sarcastically. Yunho eyes the crotch curiously and remembers that technically he didn’t wash your clothes at all. It’s been a while since he’s had a girl over his home and that, on top of the thought of even holding your underwear, is taking a small toll on him. He gives in and puts them to his nose, breathing in deeply.

Oh God … Even after they've been soaked in rain, your scent is still heavy on the fabric. He groans, why did you have to smell so fucking good? He remembers that you are quite literally right down the hall while he's here sniffing your underwear like a pervert. It’s your fault, right? Yeah, it’s your fault for trusting him with such a sensitive piece of clothing by himself. It’s your fault for smelling so good and looking so pretty and—

He gives up on rationalizing it and presses the clothing fully onto his face again, inhaling heavily and feeling himself grow harder and harder by the second. His arousal grows worse and worse, precum dampening his underwear with every deep inhale and fluttering thought of what you probably taste like… He finds his hand mindlessly palming himself, and luckily his groans are muffled by the underwear bunched up in his face. That’s when he hears the water shut off.

Yunho whispers a handful of obscenities as he hurries to the room to place your dried clothes on the bed while you’re still in the bathroom, closing the door behind him softly. He’s long gone by the time you step out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel.

Normally, you’d stay in the shower until your fingertips are pruney, but you suppose being a good guest includes not using up all of his hot water. There were more pressing things to attend to anyway, like the tall attractive man patiently awaiting your presence outside of this room. So, when you tug on your now dry panties and his previously provided clothing, you quickly make your way out of the room and to the living room. You’re not exactly sure what you expected upon seeing him, but he’s indeed still exceptionally handsome freshly out of the shower. Those same curious eyes gaze at you behind his shaggy bangs, still in the process of drying. Clad in a simple white t-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts, his biceps and strong thighs are fully on display as he lounges on the couch. The way his long legs are man-spread now that he’s comfortable in his own abode makes you swallow a little harder than usual. Still, you meander over and sit on the other side of the couch, not too far away.

“Your place is very nice,” you state absentmindedly, glancing around at the walls of his home. “Very fit for a bachelor.”

Without you noticing, Yunho’s eyes skillfully study the way you’re so casually in his clothing. You’re too busy glancing around at unnecessary things anyway; he wonders if you’re rambling about his decor because you’re nervous. He’s nervous too, but not for the right reasons. Regardless, seeing you in his clothing is taking an additional toll on his mental health. How did you both end up in this situation together… This is wrong, he thinks. He shakes his head to try and clear those corrupted thoughts from his mind. It isn’t until you realize he hasn’t replied to anything in a couple of minutes of you jabbering that you finally peer over at him. His eyes are trained on the short distance between the both of you, mindlessly chewing on the nail of his thumb.

“You okay?” you ask, finally catching his attention.

He nods hastily, “Definitely. Sorry, it’s been a long day. Mind is on empty.”

“You’re fine, no worries.”

It’s uncomfortably quiet for a moment as you both exchange stares. You’re seconds away from breaking the silence before Yunho steals the chance.

“I’m sure you’re tired, so we can head to bed,” he suddenly exhales, hands clasping his thighs, “The guest room is all yours for as long as you need it.”

You take the chance and lean forward toward him on your palms at this statement, slightly sinking into the couch while you gaze at him, “Is that what you really want, Yunho?”

There’s now an even longer moment of silence where you both stare each other in the eyes again and the room is unbearably quiet. Yunho finally breaks it after his Adam’s apple bobs uneasily.

“Of course,” he awkwardly chuckles with furrowed brows, “What do you mean, ____?”

Your heart deflates. For a second, you wonder if maybe you’ve been reading his body language incorrectly the entire night. There’s a flare of embarrassment that ignites on your cheeks as you immediately retract yourself.

“I suck at making jokes,” you match his chuckle nervously, “Don’t mind me.” He cocks his head at you curiously and you stand to your feet before he can catch the way your face is lighting on fire with every passing second. You avoid looking at him as you begin striding back to the guest room, “Goodnight Yunho, see you in the morning!”

Yunho is left alone to his own devices once he hears the sound of the door to the guest room closing down the hall. Sitting alone on a large bed in your teacher’s home feels surreal, and all too disappointing the same. You press your palms to your eyes to try and settle the embarrassment that keeps washing over you every time you think back to your impromptu attempt at making an advance toward him. God this fucking sucks…

After a few minutes of setting up some alarms on your phone for the next morning, you decide you need to go get some water and wash away tonight from your mind forever. Yunho Jeong doesn’t like you more than a friend, it’s time to accept your fate and that you failed at attracting him. To be fair, it all was a shot in the dark to begin with. You try not to be too hard on yourself and hope that he’s already in his room by now.

But, if that’s all truly the case, then why is Yunho standing in front of the guest room door when you open it? His arm is positioned as if he was about to knock. Yunho had been standing there for quite some minutes, debating his next actions in his head, overthinking as usual. Though, could it be considered overthinking if the consequences of his actions could lead to delinquency? Had you not opened the door to go get water, albeit unknowingly, he probably would’ve psyched himself out.

“Oh– Did you need something?” you mumble and look up inquisitively at him. His mouth lingers open for a few seconds before he learns how to speak again.

“Can we talk?”

“Of course.” You can’t help the hint of confusion gracing your face as you step aside and allow him inside the room, “Is everything okay?”

When you close the door and face him, he looks distraught. Everything was indeed not okay.

“Are you still drunk?” He asks first.

“I don’t really think I was ever drunk,” you tell him, “But no.”

“Neither am I.”

At first, it doesn’t click about why he’s confirming this. You also don’t notice the way he gradually takes tentative steps forward—or the way you’re equally taking steps back—until your back hits the bedroom door. He’s so close that you can smell the minty mouthwash still fresh on his breath unfurling over your face. Still, he looks hesitant about his actions.

“I’m sorry, I was just… nervous before,” he swallows. He watches your face shift from confusion to realization; he’s referring to his response when you shot your shot. You relax against the door.

“About?” Is all you can ask in a soft voice, left hand daringly reaching up and cupping his cheek.

“About drunken words,” he continues, his voice just above a whisper. You can see the stutter of his heart against his chest. “And my feelings.”

Your thumb brushes his bottom lip, “What are you feeling, Yunho?”

In a moment of fleeting courage, he gently grabs your right hand and leads it to settle below his groin, pressing it against him a bit for good measure.

“What does it feel like I’m feeling to you?”

Your cheeks heat up at the feeling of him in your palm; you didn’t expect him to be so forward about it out of nowhere. The overall anticipation of the situation is killing you, even though everything feels like it’s moving too slowly and too fast all at the same time. All of your effort was leading to this point and yet, somehow, you still don’t feel nearly as prepared as you thought you were to finally fuck him, to finally fuck your teacher. That doesn’t stop your cunt from clenching around nothing at all at his words alone, because this is definitely what you’ve wanted so badly for weeks.

You try to swallow even though your throat feels parched, mindlessly whispering, “Oh my God…”

Then, you give him an experimental squeeze which has his eyelids fluttering closed, and a deep grunt leaving his flared nostrils.

“Fuck …” he groans. It’s too natural, the way you subconsciously run your hand up and down the bulge, feeling it harden even further. Yunho is at his wit's end. “I need you to tell me exactly what you want ____,” he reminds you.

You get it, he’s covering his bases because of his relation to you outside of this bedroom. Consent is sexy regardless, so you grant that to him.

“I really, really want you to fuck me Yunho,” you purr as your hands creep up his chest until you can wrap your arms around his neck, “And I think you want the same, right?”

Yunho’s hands sneak under the t-shirt on you and he massages the flesh of your sides, fingertips ghosting up your skin until they reach your breasts. His thumbs brushing against your hard nipples involuntarily make you whimper his name, and this is all Yunho needs to hear to proceed without such caution. The moment he leans down and smashes his lips to yours, time stops.

It’s nasty, the way your tongues are dragging against each other, spreading trails of saliva everywhere.

It’s nasty, the way he can’t help but drag that same tongue down your neck, sullying your freshly washed skin with spit.

It’s even nastier, the way he moans out your name, shamelessly grinding his clothed boner into your crotch, searching for friction because he’s touch-starved.

“A-Ah—wait! Bed, please,” you let out a broken moan at the way he sucks and bites on your neck. Yunho grunts in agreement, spinning you around and forcefully guiding you back until you both reach the bed. You can’t help but giggle when you fall back on the mattress— he’s so hungry for it, for you. And you’re more than ready to give it to him.

“Can I take them off?” He still asks like a gentleman, though his fingers are impatiently already tugging at the bottom of your sweatpants. You nod with fervor.

The moment he tosses them away, the situation begins to feel a bit more real to you both. Maybe it’s because you’re sopping wet and semi-exposed, and he’s not, so you become bashful and self-conscious.

“Take yours off too?”

Yunho doesn’t hesitate to oblige you. He peels off his shirt and shoves his shorts away easily. There’s a brief second where he hesitates before also pulling his boxer briefs down and finally fully exposing himself to you in all his nude glory. Yunho hasn’t slept with a woman in a while, but he’s never had complaints about anything, and especially not his size. He can tell by how your eyes are drinking him in, that you won’t have any either.

“You’re so handsome, you know that?” you murmur, eyes hazy as they rake over him from his broad chest to his defined abs, then his defined hips to his heavy cock. There’s a cute hue of pink dusting his cheeks at the compliment.

Yunho doesn’t give you a chance to stare at him very much longer before he’s finally ridding you of your shirt, lips meeting yours again the moment it’s tossed. It’s not long before that naughty mouth of his indulges in your breasts, licking and sucking on your hardened nipples like they’re the only thing that will keep him grounded to earth. You’re a moaning mess underneath of him, hands carding through his tresses and lips struggling with telling him how much you love his mouth. He could suck on your beautiful breasts all day but there are more pressing matters at this time.

His eyes never leave yours as he kisses all the way down the expanse of your stomach to the waistband of your panties. Only then does he close his eyes to bury his face in your clothed cunt and take a deep breath, filling his lungs until they feel like they're about to burst. He’s so content that now he can do it knowing the real thing is right underneath. It gets him hard all the same as the laundry room. You watch him grind himself into the mattress for some relief just at the smell of you.

“I’ve never done something like this before,” he divulges, pressing heated kisses into the skin of your sensitive thighs.

“What, eating pussy?” you tease to ease his nerves. He stares pointedly at you from behind your mound.

“You know what I mean.”

Your hand reaches down to find a comforting purchase in his hair, “Neither have I, Yu.”

Yunho can feel himself falling apart faster and faster, and the nickname is not helping him keep it together at all. He hooks his fingers in your panties and gently tugs them down your legs, joining the rest of the discarded clothing on the floor. Your cheeks tingle with heat when his hands spread your legs wider, eyes seemingly mesmerized.

“Such a pretty pussy…” he whispers, marveling at the way your sticky lips tremble when you clench around nothing.

He solves that by pushing in two of those pretty fingers of his, all the way down to the last knuckles. The desperate moan that flies from your lips sends him into a depraved headspace. He immediately latches his mouth onto your throbbing clit and sets to work, thrusting into your squelching squeezing heat and sucking to his heart’s content. Yunho loves eating pussy, truly. There’s something truly cathartic to him about holding a woman’s legs down while she twitches and grinds against his face as he’s slurping up every bit of essence that seeps from her greedy hole. He even removes his fingers and opts for lapping at your heat like a starved man instead. Up and down, left and right… His tongue leaves no inch of your heat untouched. He loves the feeling of your slick coating his face when he pushes his tongue as deep as he can into your hole. He feels your hands yank him by his hair before he can even get to the fun part. He gazes up at you in confusion, mouth messy and eyes indubitably pussy-drunk.

“Please,” you beg, chest heaving, “I want you inside.”

Yunho licks his lips clean before crawling back up your body to fulfill your request. You’re right honestly, there’s only so much grinding he can do into the mattress to ease the ache of his hard cock. He leans over to grab a condom from the nightstand but you pull him back over, mumbling about how you’re on the pill and that it’s fine.

He’s so big, the way he’s engulfing your whole body with you caged between his arms like this. Gazing into your eyes, he drags the blunt tip of his cock back and forth through your dripping folds, occasionally pressing it hard against that clit that he’s taken such a liking to sucking on.

“Hey,” you mumble against his lips, catching the full attention of his blown-out irises. “I can tell you’re nervous. Just relax and lose control, for me. Okay?”

Yunho’s last rope of restraint snaps.

The moment you feel his tip finally breach your entrance, you squeeze your eyes shut and mewl at the feeling of his thick cock sliding into its rightful place. Yes, obviously he’s meant just for your cunt, because you fit like a glove when you're swallowing him in so badly the deeper he pushes. He doesn’t stop until he’s buried to the hilt, despite your squirming and twitching underneath him at the feeling of being so full.  

“I’m about to move,” he pants, adjusting to the feeling of your warm walls squeezing his cock, “Holy fuck.”

When you nod, he finally lets go of his inhibitions. He begins to roll his hips at a nice steady pace, large hands clasped to the backs of your thighs as he pushes them towards your torso. His mouth hangs open in ecstasy and his eyelids lower lazily at the way your walls suck in his cock so tightly and squeeze it like they’re begging to be filled to the brim. You reach up and latch onto his arms to ground yourself, head dizzy and overwhelmed at the feeling of him starting to snap his hips just a little faster now that you’re stretched out a bit more to accommodate him.

“Yunho, fuck, you’re so big,” you whimper, nails digging into his shoulders. Yunho grinds his pelvis into you at this remark, rubbing against your clit with his happy trail.

“And you’re taking me so well,” Yunho praises with a lopsided grin, “Feels good?”

“So fucking good.”

Yunho pushes your legs back even further as he leans in to capture your lips in a sloppy kiss. You’re so pretty with those glassy eyes and those flushed cheeks of yours, but there’s something about that that quivering bottom lip that makes him want to suck every sound from you himself. He finds himself bucking faster and faster, unable to maintain any kind of self-control.

He breaks away to catch his breath, eyes lazy as he groans, “Let me hear you. This is what you wanted, yeah?”

“Mhm, yes, yes,” you whine desperately, “I wanted it so bad. Wanted you so bad.”

You grant him a flurry of shameless bitten-off moans, egging him on further and further. Yunho buries his face into the crook of your neck, making your skin damp between his own warm gasps and grunting obscenities. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this aroused before; yes, he’s so painfully hard at the fleeting thoughts of how inappropriate everything is. He’s your linguistics teacher—he’s not supposed to be teaching your cunt how to mold to the shape of his cock. He’s not supposed to be massaging your clit and babbling nonsense about how he’s going to lick your pussy clean when you cum. How can he say that to a student? However, his eyes roll back at that thought.

“I’m going crazy,” he groans into your skin, mindlessly speaking his thoughts aloud. “I’m so close.”

You’d say the same if you could, but your mouth can’t form proper words with the way his long fingers are rubbing quick messy circles around your clit. Instead, you put your mouth on the shell of his ear and say his name in a filthy mewl. Your legs tense up and your toes curl; Yunho can feel you cum around his cock a beat later, encouraging your convulsing and whimpering. He can only manage to give you a few more rough thrusts before he pulls himself out and allows himself to empty his balls in quick spurts all over your torso, a mix of “fuck” and “____” leaking from his mouth at how filthy the action is, dirtying you like this. He’s a man of his word though, quickly hefting himself back down to your sopping cunt and diving face first to taste everything he missed tasting earlier. The groan of pure bliss he lets out into your sensitive cunt has you squirming away, much to his dismay. But he finds himself chuckling anyway—he got to taste your cum and, even if it was for only a few seconds, he’s satisfied.

Cleaning up and cuddling after is far from awkward, Yunho feels comfortable with his arms wrapped around you and head on your chest. You find yourself mindlessly scratching his scalp and playing with his messy hair, while his large hands massage the muscles of your thighs. It’s immensely intimate, and this scares Yunho deep inside. Unbeknownst to his stress, you’re settling into a mental state of bliss; you can’t wait to see where this night leads you after, even if it might be a little awkward back in the classroom at first. He tries not to dwell on such thoughts for too long, eventually falling asleep under your touch.

Yunho wakes up to a cold, empty bed. Glancing over at the clock on his nightstand, he catches some time he can’t be bothered with reading fully, nine-something-in-the-morning. He groans internally at the bittersweet arrival of the morning. After a few seconds of just lying there, bleary eyes staring at anything and everything, he remembers that he’s not supposed to be alone right now. The grimace that crosses his face is heavy.

He lugs himself up and out of bed to find his phone, which he’s left God knows where. After a bit of searching, he’s even more upset to see a lack of text from you about leaving. Leaving with no word after sex… Yunho has been in this position before and it makes him feel like shit. It feels even worse considering that this is not just some random woman, you are his student. He’s a chronic overthinker, he knows he is. Yet, he can’t stop his mind from filling with a plethora of miserable thoughts about what this could mean.

Did you simply want to fuck him and nothing more?

Did you regret sleeping with him and want to leave without confrontation?

Did you sleep with him to then leave and tell someone, maybe to humiliate him?

All of these thoughts scream at Yunho until he finds himself clenching his jaw, and tears are pricking at his eyes. He hates this feeling every time it happens; it makes him feel like he’s not good enough. In a moment of brief irrationality, Yunho debates if he should outright block you.

He’s impulsive like that when he’s worked up. However, after a few minutes of begging himself to calm down, he tossed his phone away and went on to make a cup of tea to ease his agitation. He knew this was a mistake from the start and he still did it.

He doesn’t get a text from you until after 11 AM.

  [Y/N: sorry for leaving without saying anything!! I forgot I had prior commitments this morning, didn’t wanna text you until I was sure you’d be up. hope you slept well :)]

Yunho doesn’t know what to think. Prior commitments? Surely this would’ve been something you would’ve mentioned before he drove you to his home last night. It is Saturday though, so it’s plausible. He opens the message and leaves you on read instead.

Earlier this morning, you were certain Yunho must have completely tired himself out after sleeping with you because he failed to wake up when your alarms went off. You make a mental note that it only takes him cumming once to make him go comatose (and maybe a little wine to boot). You had left his place with no ill intentions, and your message was truthful. So, when you get left on read by him, it ignites a small flame of insecurity in you. You’re never one to double-text a man, but considering this is something you put a great amount of effort into getting to happen, you put your pride aside when you don't get a reply by the next day.

  [Y/N: Wondering if you want to try a new restaurant after work tomorrow… Let me know if you’re interested!]

To your surprise, Yunho replies that he’s too busy. He doesn’t offer to reschedule for a better day, which isn’t like him. Instead of taking it too seriously and replying something disheartened, you let him know that you understand and to let you know if anything changes. He opens this message and doesn’t reply. You try again on Tuesday. This time, your inquiry is more succinct, no fluff.

  [Y/N: Are you free Wednesday?]

He answers this similarly to the last attempt, maintaining that he’s too busy to see you that day as well. However, this text is more curt than the last. When you cave in and ask him which days he’s not busy, he leaves you on read, again.

  [Y/N: Do you have a free moment to talk then?]

Yunho doesn’t open this text altogether, and the disgruntlement this stirs within you lingers in your system all day, even when you decide to go out with your friends to clear your mind.

Throughout his class with you the following day, you endure Yunho’s eyes practically boring into you at various points in time. It’s like an itch that can’t be scratched, nagging at your scalp while you keep your head downcast towards your laptop. Thoroughly, as distractions do, it keeps you on edge and unfocused throughout the whole lecture. It doesn’t help that Yeosang is out today, so you feel alone even surrounded by so many people.

At some point, during a quiet moment of everyone completing an individual assignment he had handed out, you glance up over the screen of your laptop and catch his attentive eyes gazing back. He gnaws on the nail of this thumb as he usually does when his brain is on overdrive, his eyes calmly lingering on the fixation of all his thoughts. Eventually, he turns them away and decides to focus on something else irrelevant involving his phone. Anything to take you off of his mind.

You quietly snicker to yourself and roll your eyes. So, he can play on his phone just fine during class but can’t find the time to text you and talk? Men will be men… If he just wanted to sleep with you and leave at that, he could at least tell you, you brood. You try not to let it get to you, but it’s hard to focus on anything for the last half hour of class. You don’t bother sticking around after and instead, preoccupy yourself by striking up a conversation with another acquaintance on the way out of the doors. Yunho notices the way you act like he doesn’t exist while leaving and it makes him a bit bitter. He knows it’s irrational, but you’ve really done a number on him, so he can’t help it.

On Thursday, you’re sick of the games altogether. Being the super sleuth you were at the beginning of this mess, you knew when Yunho typically went to his office in between classes to get grading done that he couldn’t do throughout the day. So, when you finish your mathematics class, you pack up your things quickly, knowing he should be roaming this same hall in very little time. There’s one thing–or person, you suppose–that you didn’t account for in this plan.

“You’re terrible at covering hickeys, you know,” Hongjoong chides, eyeing your messy job at applying makeup to your neck.

To be fair to yourself, you hadn’t realized Yunho had sucked one onto your skin the night you both slept together, and the dark blotch was too annoying to deal with every single day. You bruise too easily and they don’t go away fast enough. Admittedly, you had slacked off on the cover-up today. You chalk it up to secretly being in Fight Club, which you remind him, the number rule is to never talk about Fight Club! That, of course, was not a good enough reason for Hongjoong, and you regret that you didn’t acknowledge beforehand he would surely grill you endlessly about your recreational pastimes.

“Okay seriously, I just wore my choker too tight yesterday and it pinched my neck, that's all,” you explain as he quickly follows you out of the classroom. He squints at you with skeptical eyes, as if he is not believing any of the piping hot shit you’re serving him on a platter. Phase two was to gaze at him with winsome eyes, ones he was definitely familiar with. They always worked on Yeosang, but Hongjoong was harder to subdue.

“Don’t.”

“Joong, I’m telling you, there’s nothing more for me to answer here.”

You employ a small pout to boot.

“And you think I believe that?”

“I think you should believe it.”

He rolls his eyes in annoyance. Meanwhile, your eyes inconspicuously search for Yunho in the sea of classmates flooding the hallway; there was a very important conversation you had hyped yourself up to finally have with him. One that surely would not be done if it didn’t get done today, at this very moment. That would obviously fail to happen if Hongjoong kept pestering you with his concerns. Suddenly, your eyes spot the tail end of Yunho’s styled hair turning the corner and leaving the hallway. Goddammit!

“Joong, I really gotta go,” you say frantically and secure your backpack onto your back. His lips open slightly in puzzlement, but there’s nothing he can say before you’re already shoving people out of the way to make it through the hallway to follow him to his office.

You take the stairs while he takes the elevator to waste some time; hopefully, he'll be set up and comfortable by the time you get to his floor. When you make it to his office, he’s indeed already seated and filtering through sheets of work from students during the last class. You don’t bother knocking before entering; he hadn’t afforded you the comfort of manners lately, so neither would you.

Honestly, had anyone else burst into his office so unannounced like this, he might've cussed them out by accident. But before he can get any words out, you can see the physical shift from annoyance to puzzlement wash over his face as he realizes it’s you, then, genuine dread graces his face before downcasting his gaze.

“I need to talk to you,” you insist, “Now.”

He’s having a hard time even meeting your eyes when you’re speaking and it’s pissing you off tremendously.

“I’m a bit busy right now,” he sighs, now in the process of looking through his desk for a pen that works. “It’ll have to wait for another time.”

You ignore him entirely, “Why are you avoiding me, Yunho?”

“I’m not avoiding you,” Yunho quickly objects. “I’m just–”

“You’ve blown me off twice this week already,” you counter. “Now I can’t even come see you at your office?”

Yunho puts his head in his hands and tries to collect his thoughts. He’s too sensitive to handle this conversation with no preparation beforehand. Then again, the longer he keeps isolating, the longer he’s going to keep feeling like shit. He can hear the undertone of hurt in your words, but he’s only doing what’s best for you, right?

“The least you could do is give me a real reason,” you continue. He finally lifts his head and meets your frustrated eyes. “Just give me a real reason to and I’ll fuck-off all you want.”

“____, that night was a mistake,” he tells you simply. The look in his eyes says otherwise. You know he’s lying but it still feels like a punch in the gut.

“A mistake?”

“It’s something that shouldn’t have happened, and it was inappropriate of me to do that with you. Let’s just forget about it and move on, please.”

You furrow your brows in agitation, “You really feel that way?”

“I do,” he murmurs, eyes falling back to the papers in front of him. He visibly hesitates for the briefest moment before picking up his pen and resuming his grading. This feeling of rejection hurts a little more than usual. Why do you feel like a failure? Why do you feel like a fuck-up? Maybe it’s because of the effort you put into this man, unlike many others. You stand there in his doorway uncomfortably silent until you find it in yourself to offer some final words.

“We’re both adults, Yunho,” you remind him in a voice that airs on the more serious side of yourself. He’s never heard you sound such a way with him. “No one has to know what two grown adults do in their free time. And you don’t owe anyone any explanations.”

When he doesn’t look up from his paperwork anymore, you finally leave and gently close the door behind you.

Nearly a week after that day, your phone begins to ring while you’re out at a bar with friends. Yeosang’s nosy eyes catch the name on the screen and he gives you an incredulous look. His name still has a heart beside it and you haven’t updated him on anything regarding Yunho since telling him that you both were texting each other outside of class.

“What is he doing calling you at 9 PM, miss?” he teases as you move your phone to your lap, “Booty call?”

“Would you like to ask him yourself?” you snort.

“Boo, why can I never know anything–”

“Oh but when I mention the obvious hickey, I’m imagining things, huh?” Hongjoong interjects with narrowed eyes when he overhears you both bickering. “Who’s the mystery man?”

“It’s nobody,” both you and Yeosang say in unison.

Hongjoong quirks a brow at how you both are gazing at him with matching smiles, suspiciously. He lets it go quickly and instead butts into Mingi and his girlfriend’s conversation. By the time you glance at your phone, Yunho’s call has already gone fully unanswered. Subsequently, you chose not to return the call later when you’re done and home. You didn’t necessarily want to talk to someone who called such an intimate moment with you a mistake. And especially not intoxicated. If he wants to talk to me that bad, he’d just send whatever he needs to say in a text, you tell yourself. But, of course, those texts don’t come. Yunho doesn’t know how to express himself like that over message. However, after getting wasted, it takes everything within you not to text him first in a fit of overwhelming horniness. What’s the worst that could come from letting him know that you’re craving the feeling of that thick cock of his splitting you open, or how maybe this time you should test out your gag reflex? Yeosang knows you well enough to take your phone from you after a certain amount of shots, so you don’t get that opportunity anyway. God bless your best friend.

A couple of days later, you still find yourself unable to let things go. How can you when Yeosang brings it up any time you speak alone? For someone so sure you were making a huge mistake, he sure is desperate for the tea. It’s like he’s your frontline cheerleader (which he usually is anyway). If he found out you both fucked, surely he’d lose his mind.

“You can’t keep me in the dark, I’m still dying to know how much progress you’re making with Mr. Jeong after seeing him call you that night,” Yeosang pleads, “Have you both met up in private off of campus yet?”

“That’s classified info,” you state and try to stifle your subsequent laughter when you hear him grumble. You still hadn’t found it within yourself yet to tell him that your plan had failed. “You’ll know by if I pass this class or not.”

“Just a little hint, please? I’m on my knees.”

“Progress is being made, Yeo,” you disclose in a sing-song voice. Surely a little white lie wouldn’t hurt in the meantime, “He’s a very good conversationalist, you know. With that deep voice of his, and especially late at night.”

Yeosang groans in annoyance, “You’re killing me ____, I’m too curious! You didn’t entertain a single man at the bar, something juicy has to be happening.”

You debate on at least telling him about the extra study sessions you and Yunho had been having before things were soiled, the innocent stuff that he could gush and tease you over. But, just as you’re about to say something, he cuts you off unknowingly.

“Shit, Mingi’s calling. Le’me call you back,” Yeosang groans, and you offer a hum of affirmation before the line clicks. Maybe it’s for the best that you had been interrupted before you put your foot in your mouth.

You quickly fill the silence by shuffling one of your ‘Doing Chores’ playlists and focusing your mind on cooking the remainder of your dinner. A couple of minutes later, the chime of your phone interrupts your music. You continue to focus on stirring while your other hand carelessly presses the answer option.

“That was quick,” you giggle.

“Felt like forever to me,” a familiar, deep voice replies. You freeze and glance over to see Yunho’s name on the screen of your phone in place of your best friend’s.

  Fuck.

“Good evening, Mr. Jeong,” you reply instead. “I thought you were someone else, my apologies.”

“Have we really already reverted back to the formalities?” he sighs and his voice already sounds a bit defeated.

You roll your eyes, “I’m a bit preoccupied right now. So unless you’d like to discuss my class work, I don’t have time to entertain this.”

“Just give me five minutes, please.”

You turn off the stove and snatch up your phone before ambling to your bedroom.

“Spit it out already, Yunho.”

“I can’t stop thinking about you ____,” he admits.

Hearing you say his first name makes him feel a smidge better, even if it’s in irritation. He wonders if you can feel his heart pounding through the speaker or the way it makes his fingers tremble while holding the phone. “I was just scared, you have to understand that at least. I told you I’ve never done that kind of thing before, ever.”

“Thought it was a mistake–”

“I only said that because you left without saying anything. I thought you regretted it!”

“I literally told you why I did that, you decided to not believe me apparently,” you counter, voice laced with the slightest bit of frustration as you sit on your bed. Then you add in a mutter, “Instead of talking with me like an adult.”

There’s a long moment of silence. He doesn’t hang up though, so neither do you. You stare at the timer under his name, continuing to count up seconds full of emptiness.

“I’m really sorry,” Yunho finally sighs. “I said a lot of things I didn’t mean. I was just scared.” You remain silent and it eats at his confidence slowly. He’s desperate and doesn’t really care if it shows at this point, so he goes on to fill the silence again, “You were right, we’re adults. It’s not anybody else’s business what happens outside of campus. That’s why I’m trying to fix things now. Please.”

You sigh heavily while stroking your temples. This conversation is not something you had prepared yourself for, but the desperation in his voice is hitting you right in the gut. You know he’s being sincere, but it’s just hard to make yourself that vulnerable as well. You both know the truth is that it’s not okay, none of this is. It’s all extremely inappropriate. What you are doing with each other could ruin both of your lives if found out before you graduate. It’s risky; and yet, you still find yourself saying a sentence you definitely shouldn’t be saying:

“Listen, I genuinely like you Yunho.”

“And I genuinely like you too, ____. So let me take you on a proper date,” he says a little too hastily, but he can’t stop himself from the excitement that bubbles inside of him, stemming solely from you even reciprocating his feelings, “And not just a dinner like usual, I mean something thoughtful.”

“Something thoughtful…” you repeat after him, accidentally punctuating it with a giggle at how foolish the whole situation seems. “Are you serious about that?”

“Absolutely,” he assures you, “Only if you want to, of course.”

You sigh and smile to yourself at how heartfelt he sounds. Sure, there are millions of ways this could go extremely wrong, but you decide to ignore those thoughts and take him up on his offer. If you were one to listen to the better part of your judgment, you wouldn’t have gotten yourself into this situation in the first place. It would be a shame to let that work you put in go to waste just because of a little hiccup in the road. Besides, Yunho was surely the best fuck you had received in quite some time. There was plenty of time through the rest of the semester to explore that side of him again as well. The conversation ends with you both agreeing to meet with each other in a few days, Yunho promising to make it enjoyable even though it’ll be discrete.

♡ taglist for those who replied to my interest post: @yeos-bunny @sharksandminhos @sannieluvrr

[mayfieldss]

Oblivious - Hazel Callahan

summary; Hazel is head over heels for you (literally) , but she doesn't think you feel the same.

AN: that's the gay shit I love.

It burned. Hazel could feel it, the sharp sting in her gut as she watched you across the classroom laughing at something Josie had said. It burned particularly now, because Hazel had come to the realization that she thought you were perfect. Hazel thought that despite your flaws, and all the things you didn't like about yourself, you were perfect for her.

She loved the way you would smile at her when you caught her staring, the way you would wave. She loved the way you would pull on your earlobe when having a conversation, as if it helped you think of your next sentence.

You weren't straight—you'd hinted that to Hazel enough times for her to finally catch your drift—but still Hazel didn't think you could like her in any way other than platonic. She was clumsy and terrible with social cues, and she had a large expanse of button up shirts that looked as though she'd stolen them from her uncle in his forties. But the way you smiled at her, and complimented her mid-life-crisis themed fashion sense, the more Hazel fell for you. That's where the clumsiness came in.

Hazel swore every time she saw you, her legs would give out. Her ankles would twist at unnatural angles, her hand would lose its grip on whatever she was holding. She would fall, stumble or drop something, no matter how many times she tried to stay upright. And each time, you would reach out to help her. That could have been because helping was a natural response in such a situation, but Hazel interpreted it differently. It was just another thing to add to her list.

You were perfect for her.

But she wasn't perfect for you.

"I was just wondering if you wanted to sit together? like in class?" Hazel doesn't know what she's saying, but she's just stopped you in the hallway, Josie by your side. Whether it was jealousy or general Hazel interest, she didn't know, but somehow she was talking and couldn't quite stop. "Because we haven't ever sat together before, and I thought maybe you'd want to. Sit with me, I mean."

You're smiling at her, mouth slightly agape, and Hazel's heart starts its routine of bouncing along the walls of her ribcage. "You don't have to, obviously but—"

"I'd love to sit with you Hazel." You put a stop to her rambling with the answer, and for a moment Hazel doesn't know what to do. She's grinning like an idiot, eyes locked to yours, just long enough to make it weird.

"See you in class, Hazel." you go to move past her, Josie still beside you, and Hazel allows herself an awkward wave.

"Okay, yeah, see you." she's nodding profusely and continues to wave even when your back is turned. She can't stop. You're like a dream she always wants to have. Tomorrow in class, she'll see you again, hopefully sitting closer this time, and maybe she'll never have to wake up.

"Heyyyyy" Hazel hates the way she greets you, the way she says one simple word. She hates the strange flip of her stomach when you sit down beside her. She hates the way her chair squeaks when she discreetly tries to inch closer. The one thing Hazel doesn't hate, is you.

"Hey," you reply, all warm smiles and gentle eyes. You look happy to see her, at least from what Hazel can interpret, which must be a good sign.

"How are you?" Your shoulder brushes Hazel's as she asks, and her whole body seems to rewire itself around the touch. You don't react to the sensation at all, but turn to look at her. Hazel can feel her face shifting colors, cheeks flushed pink as if she's just run a marathon.

"I'm okay, I bumped into Jeff earlier though. He's makes my skin crawl, I swear." you fake a shiver for dramatic effect, "How about you?"

Hazel responds too fast, unblinking and in a panic. "Oh yeah, I swear too."

All you do is laugh, a soft sound that relieves the tension hidden within Hazel's shoulders. "I know you swear Hazel, I've heard you. I meant how are you?" You place one hand on top of Hazel's on the desk, a sweet gesture. A kind one. You're not judging her, or making fun. Not like everyone else.

"Oh, yeah I'm good." Hazel's eyes drift to your hand atop her own. She's trying to memorize the feeling without making it obvious. "I'm really good, totally great."

"That's good." You're still looking at her, but you pull your hand away when you notice Hazel's lack of eye contact. Instead, you go to grab your books, pulling them out one by one from your bag. Hazel has never wanted to be a history textbook more in her life.

"Did you want me to beat him up?" the words come out before Hazel can stop them, your movements pausing as you register the sentence.

"What?" there's a confused chuckle within the word as you turn back to Hazel, frown deepening.

"Jeff, You said he was bothering you. Did you want me to beat him up?" Hazel is serious, or at least she thinks she is when she says it. She would most definitely fight someone for you. You just had to say the word.

As Hazel watches, a grin begins to creep onto your face again. She likes the look on you, and tries to mimic the expression in return, though she doubts she looks as ethereal. "You're funny, you know that?"

Hazel wants to say something in response, she has the words on her lips "You're pretty, you know that?" but she doesn't get to say them. Before she can, she's interrupted, the teacher more than irritated with the continuing conversation. He shushes the both of you, a finger to his lips, before going back to writing on the blackboard. Hazel thinks of saying something anyway, but when she turns back your way, you're already hard at work, nose in your books.

Hazel will try again tomorrow, and maybe she'll get it right when she does.

The first thing Hazel sees are the tears. The gentle swell of water in your eyes, and the lines it traces as it falls down your cheeks. She's never seen you cry, and honestly it makes her far sadder than it should for someone who is just supposed to be your friendly acquaintance. But seeing you in this different light, one that reflects off your tearstained cheeks, doesn't make her love you less.

In seconds, she's jogging your way, jumping in front of you as she calls your name. You almost bump into her as you come to a sudden stop, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand.

"Are you okay? Why are you crying?" Hazel doesn't know if she should reach out to touch you or not, and watches as you sink the ground in the courtyard. It's almost empty save for the two of you, everyone else on their way to class. Hazel follows suit, and crouches down into a spiderman like position.

"I'm okay," You try for a smile, but it falls short, taking a slice of Hazel's heart with it as it hits the floor. "I've just had a rough day."

"Is there anything I can do? I can run and get you those little cookies you like from the store just down the road if you want." Hazel is swaying a little in her odd position, as if she could blow over with a gust of wind, and you look just a little calmer somehow. You shake your head no, and this time a smile comes easier, though it's not as bright as usual.

"Thanks Hazel, but it's okay, really."

You don't look as distressed as before but Hazel still wants to go and buy you expensive cookies to mend the possible hole in your heart. Even whilst sniffling away your sadness, she can't take her eyes off of you, but somehow she still doesn't see it coming.

It took Hazel more than a moment to register what was happening when you shuffled toward her, and her brain began to short circuit more than usual when your lips got a lot closer to hers than they had ever been before. She fell over of course, forward rolling headfirst thanks to her awkward position and extreme panic, avoiding the kiss in a way never seen before.

Instantly, you jolt back, red flush consuming your neck and cheeks at an alarming rate. "I am so sorry Hazel, I thought there was something—I thought there was like a thing... I don't know what I thought." You stand abruptly, stumbling backward as Hazel makes her own way to her feet. She's got dust on her jeans as she rises, and an audacious smile snaking its way onto her expression.

"Did you just try to kiss me?"

Hazel watches as you shift on your feet, looking near tears again after all that had happened. "I'm sorry," you say again, a hand coming up to cover your mouth in shame, muffling your next words. "I thought you liked me too, I don't know what came over me."

There's a loud ringing in Hazel's ears from then on, a buzzing that blocks out everything except for you as her brain processes it all, working to take step after step in your direction. She reaches up, when close enough, and pulls your hand away from your lips, holding it in her own.

"Can I kiss you?" Her voice is quiet, but her smile is more than present as she waits for your response. A response she's been wanting for months, to a question she'd always been too afraid to ask.

GENERAL TAGLIST: @heliads @candywh0r3 @caplanreadss @hiya-itsamber @s00buwu

BOTTOMS TAGLIST: empty

AN: not my best work but it's gay enough

reblogs are appreciated!

[chrollohearttags]

escape to paradise • e. jaeger: part one

spoiling your husband for his special day turns into a surprise, he’ll soon never forget

themes + things: musician x influencer au, slight angst at the beginning, mentions of illness and death, lots of humor and fluff, eren being a grouch about his birthday, soft but disgusting smut, equal parts porn and plot, alcohol and drug use, aphrodisiacs, consensual groping, handjob, oral sex (m. receiving), riding/reverse cowgirl, many other things

word count: 5.9K

I’m a few days late on this but honestly, it really does not matter. I’m not going to abandon another wip bc I ‘didn’t make it on time’. Besides, this site is lacking serious depth in its fics and I’m just so proud of this one. It’s going to be two parts just bc keep reading lines + anything that’s not a one liner post with ten men's names attached seems to scare the girls. Also, I feel as though I haven't written anything this lengthy or for my fav ship in a very long time so forgive me if the quality is not as great as others, I’m getting my bearings back and I hope that y’all enjoy this story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

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Birthdays. A momentous occasion for many..often dubbed as ‘another trip around the sun’, they find themselves grateful to be growing old in a world where it’s not guaranteed you’ll see the next day. Some choose to celebrate with extravagant parties and lavish gifts, others prefer a casual kickback with loved ones and a grocery store cake. It doesn’t matter as long as you do something to mark the occasion…however, for others …

“Yeah, just come by later. I can take a look at it after I finish up this other job—yeah yeah, for sure, dude. I got you—“

it was another day on the calendar! That sentiment rang true for the man who had been spending his past seven years holed up inside of a studio on his special day. EJ The Don, just as infamous for his anti-social, despondent behavior as he was for his amazing music, harbored absolutely no desire to be in some crowded club or party, surrounded by people who couldn’t give a shit less about him or his well-being the other three hundred sixty four days of the year. He was adamant on doing one thing and that was being left the hell alone. But even for his wife, (y/n) (l/n), who often mirrored his beliefs in terms of dealing with the public, was determined to make his day one to remember, whether anyone else was involved or not. However, the only person standing in the way of Eren’s relaxation and free time…was Eren himself! You were currently on your way to bring him some dinner you had made, in an effort to not only allow him a sabbatical but to ease the impending conversation that had been plaguing your mind onto him. You had finished up filming and editing some content in your own office not too long ago and was ready to call it a night. Sadly, the concept of rest didn’t quite register with your husband. He was a workaholic, through and through..hence why you were about to offer him a proposal and hoped that he didn’t refuse. Shifting the warm plate of homemade mashed potatoes, steak and lots of steamed broccoli into your opposite hand, you’d leave two faint knocks against the door.

“Can I come in?…”

the question seemed to startle the musician a bit as you heard him shuffling around and trying to lower the volume on his phone. He’d stutter a bit and ask that you give him just a minute. The whole thing seemed rather suspicious and make no mistake, you trusted your husband wholeheartedly but he was by the far, the most horrible liar you’ve ever met! A majority of women would jump to the conclusion of infidelity if placed into this exact scenario. They’d see it as a blatant phone call to a mistress or something related…that he had something to hide. But you? That was the furthest thing from your mind. It honestly was never even a worry of yours. He constantly reminded you of the fact that he was blessed enough to even bag you, he damn sure wasn’t going to test his luck and lose you by stepping outside of marriage and for someone like him, cheating took entirely too much work! Instead, you knew exactly what was going on and although, the severity was nowhere near that of another woman on his line, you were still angry nonetheless…finally, he’d give you permission to enter and once he did, you were met with that very toothy, shit-eating grin that he loved to feed you, along with a nervous cackle when he was doing something wrong. You could read his ass like a book!..

“H-hey princess. Don’t you look beautiful tonight—“

standing before him in an oversized t-shirt with a pair of shorts and a silk bonnet atop your head, (y/n) placed a hand on your hip whilst brandishing his food in the other. He could immediately sense the trouble he was in and decided to face you fully; spinning his chair around. He had no other option that to face the scolding that awaited him.

“Don’t ‘hey, princess’ me, Eren Michael. You know good and damn well you shouldn’t be up here this late. It’s almost midnight, you haven’t eaten anything since this morning and I heard your lil’ phone call. You just accepted another job, didn’t you..didn't you?!”

the reaction may have seemed a bit drastic and maybe you were being dramatic about the whole situation but for valid reason! Truth be told, he had no reason to be working so late into the night…his major projects and songs were completed for the time being so he could afford a break. Secondly, he shouldn’t have even been accepting outside work…especially considering what had transpired less than three weeks ago. He didn’t have a leg to stand on, that much was apparent and the last thing he wanted to do was go tit for tat with you at the moment. That was unless he wanted a tongue lashing out of this world and to be sleeping in the guest room for the next month. He wasn’t going to risk it but in true Eren fashion, he had to make an argument somehow..

“So what if I did? Babe, it’s just a small favor..it’ll take me less than an hour to do this and then I’m seated for the rest of the weekend. I can’t just not work..shit, still got bills to pay.”

nonchalantly declaring as he turned back to his computer, clicking away at the keys. Meanwhile, you’d take a seat next to him and place his food down also. Your intention was to never halt Eren from making his money or working. The two of you agreed that neither of you would ever stand in the way of one another’s careers or financial opportunities. They were something each of you had agreed upon that would remain sacred. However, when said ‘financial opportunities’ had caused quite a commotion in the household and it wasn’t just some minor incident, it was one that quite literally nearly turned your world upside down. All in a matter of minutes…

“...and what’s more important? Work or your own health?..because you seem to value it a lot more.. ” as you spoke the words into the air, you’d begin to choke up also. It was then that you’d replay the events from earlier in the month that made you nearly lose all control and every shred of your sanity..

flashback: two weeks ago…

“..911, what’s your emergency?”

“Yes! My name is (y/n) (l/n)..address is 9432 South Pointe…”

it was a call that you never hoped to have to have to make in your life. All too well had you known the horrors of having to cart a loved one off to the hospital via an ambulance after a terrible health scare and you never wanted to experience that again. But alas, here you were… frantically pacing the kitchen floor of your three story home, clutching your phone as you spoke with operators to dish out the reason for your call. (Y/N) had just returned from your routine morning run with you and Eren’s two dogs. It was something you’d do every single day as part of your workout regime. Not to mention, it gave you quality time with your fur babies. It was also a ritual that Eren would join you in and you guys would circle the spacey area; being as if you had no neighbors, with leashes in one hand as you jogged alongside one another. For one reason or another, Eren decided to hang back, saying that he was going to pass on the run. But would instead, have breakfast ready for you two once you got back. You didn’t think much into it, considering the fact that he had been working late into the night and more than likely needed some extra rest. However, you couldn’t shake the nagging suspicion gnawing away at your conscience.

‘I’m fine, princess. You go ahead, just be careful, okay?’

you guys agreed it’d be best to shorten your route whilst you were alone. Although, any would be assailants, hoping for an easy target would not only be met with the bloodthirsty wrath of two very protective pit bulls, that would tear them from limb to limb…but a woman who loved to fight and could do so very well. Not to mention, you never left home without some form of protection on your persons. Needless to say, you didn’t have any reservations about going out with your lonesome. Little did you know though…the true threat was waiting back home. Because it wasn’t a full ten minutes into your run did both Chino and Chanel begin alerting back to the house..they refused to go any further and instead, tugged at their leashes to go back. You were confused but your babies never led you astray.

“What’s wrong y’all? Do y’all wanna eat—“

That’s when you made the discovery…an unconscious Eren, lying on the kitchen floor! He was out cold, no signs of a break in, struggle or even a crime at all. It was odd. He was clutching his phone and when you turned it over, it was set to call you. You had not the slightest idea what had happened but the only thing you were concerned with was getting him the proper help. After answering a series of questions to the best of your knowledge, the kind and very helpful dispatcher informed you that an ambulance was on its way along with a police car, just in case. They arrived in only minutes and although that was something you certainly wasn’t used to in your early life, you were thankful. When they got there, they checked him over and by the grace of the heavens alone, he still had a very strong pulse but he was out cold. Unresponsive by sound but would faintly squeeze fingers..it was one of the better scenarios but still frightening nonetheless. The cops asked if anything suspicious happened and you told them that you’d only gone for a walk when your dogs kept pulling you back and that’s when you saw your husband. They determined that there was nothing criminal taking place and soon, left without incident. Only sending well wishes to Eren.

but now, you were tasked with trying to figure out what had happened to Eren! Once they loaded him up; still dressed in his sweats and no shirt, house slippers on and his hair down, you’d be right by his side in the back of the rescue. Clutching his hand, you clung to him as they checked all the necessary things and started IV’s. His vitals were a little concerning to say the least. An elevated heart rate, a spike in body temperature and what seemed to be cold sweats. They asked about any drug use, drinking…anything of the sort. You had only known Eren to smoke weed and have the occasional drink but nothing crazy. But it wasn’t until you arrived at the hospital, got checked in and a plethora of tests were conducted, would you truly know the extent of his condition and what you heard shocked you…

“Vaso…what?” “Vasovagal syncope..in other words, he’s collapsed from severe exhaustion and stress and is currently comatose. The good news is, he’s still mentally responsive. Right now, he’s just in a deep slumber. This is one of the more severe cases so he may be out for a few days. But as long as there’s no significant drop in vitals or brain activity, he should be fine.”

the doctor overseeing Eren’s care was rather helpful but seemed so nonchalant about something that had rattled you to your core. Your sweet, beloved husband was lying here unconscious and there wasn’t a damn thing you could do about it! You’d alert his mom, friends and you guys’ bosses. Needless to say, it wasn’t long before gifts and well wishes, along with media attention began to pour in. It was overwhelming to say the least…you rarely left his side for those three days. Barely even long enough to eat, shower and grab a change of clothes. When he finally came to, that breath that had remained hitched in your throat had finally released. You were terrified of what the alternative could have been so you were thanking God that he was okay. “Eren! Oh my God..” immediately bursting into tears as you flung your arms around him and sobbed. You were so relieved but so damn scared…how could he scare you like that?!

“Aw, princess. I’m sorry..I didn’t mean to worry you, baby. I’m fine..”

“Well you sure have a hell of a way of showing it. I’m so mad at you..don’t you ever do that stupid shit ever again!…”

Which was a very understandable reaction but your tears overshadowed that. The reality was that he was not close to being anything of the sort. His condition was a lot more urgent than before. As this wasn’t the first time he’d collapsed from exhaustion. Long nights in a studio to wild performances and dangerous habits to boot. So many moving elements went into being the rap sensation that everyone knew and loved but they only got the finished product and not the hard, strenuous work it took to get there. This industry was a machine and each artist, creative or talent that entered was a mere cog on the wheel. It was brutal, disgusting and once it was done with you, it all but possessed the power to spit you out when it was done. So naturally, you weren’t so apt to let him follow the same path once he recovered. The pain you felt whilst seated next to him, hearing machines beep as they monitored his unconscious body and fed him necessary sustenance…it was overwhelming. So you made a vow right then and there, that you wouldn’t allow him to work himself into an early grave. A promise to both him and yourself that you’d take more time to enjoy the fruits of your labor..before it was too late.

end flashback

“Look, I’m not tryna’ tell you what to do but I’m just worried. You scared the hell out of me, Eren..I don’t want to come in here and find you like that again. What if next time it’s too late?…”

he could sense the imminent fear in your eyes and the sadness spread across your face. In truth, Eren had never had to think about the consequences of his actions and another person’s feelings towards them. It would explain his very careless actions and reckless behavior. He’d stay in this room for hours and no one would check in on him, other than housekeeping. He could drink until his liver corroded and no one batted an eyelash. He was free to do as he pleased but now, he had you..and there wasn’t a chance in hell you’d let him continue down this destructive path. You loved him far too much for that..by this time, he had thanked you and snatched up his dinner. He always loved your cooking far more than any private chef or restaurant. The fact that you took time out of your own busy schedule to make sure he was eating and taken care of was something that he’d always be appreciative of. Setting it down, Eren would swallow his bite and wipe his mouth before rolling his chair towards you.

“..there won’t be a next time, I promise. Listen, I’m sorry, princess. I know I’ve been moving a lil’ careless lately. But I won’t keep putting you or myself through that. After this, I’m taking a break. No more projects, no more studio sessions…just me and you.”

which was the perfect segway into why you’d come in here to begin with. See, he wasn’t the only one who had been grinding to get what he wanted. Not only was Eren a workaholic, he’d always made it his mission to spoil you rotten. In his eyes, he was the provider so he had to make sure you were kept in every aspect of your life. He didn’t want you spending your money on anything other than leisure. As long as the two of you remained together, he was going to protect you. However, you were adamant on sharing the responsibility. Not so much in the sense of splitting expenses fifty fifty or taking on a ton of bills. But rather..you wanted to take care of him for once. Spoil your husband and make sure he knows just how much you loved him. And not a moment too soon because a rather special occasion was nearing the corner.

“Your birthday is in a few days and I was thinking…what if you and I left the country for a bit?”

the statement catching him off guard but you’d be quick to explain. “No distractions, no parties, no work. Just complete relaxation. Just like you wanted. It’s perfect timing. Do you remember what you told me in the hospital?” Flashing him a warm grin as you giggled and held his hand. That’s when the conversation replayed in his mind. Once he had awoken, Eren’s outlook had shifted. When the doctor informed him that his condition was due to stress and exhaustion, he was truly frightened as well. Realizing that his careless actions could land him in a coma or much worse if he didn’t start taking care of himself. That’s when he began to think more so along the lines of recuperation. What could he do or where could he go to truly decompress for once? That’s when he made a great suggestion in his medically induced state of mind, rambling as morphine and narcotics coursed through his veins. With tears building at his waterline and his eyes barely opening..

“I just wanna go lay up on an island somewhere…kick my feet up with your ass in my hands and watch the water. I’m so tired of all of this…deadlines and shit. I’m so tired of working for this machine, man..I just wanna escape.”

you hadn’t forgotten those words and you’d make certain that his dream came to fruition. So without his knowledge, you’d footed the bill for a very special, illustrious getaway to the islands. A week-long stay in a secluded island suite in Fiji..surrounded by beautiful blue waters, palm trees and flowers, and the best part? No other guests. You’d have an entire portion of that area to yourselves. He’d bring in his birthday just the way he had hoped for! “Yeah, but you know I can’t do that. I was just talking—“ “Well be careful what you wish for because you just might get it.” Retrieving your phone from your pocket, you’d show him the confirmation for the private flight and trip you had already so kindly taken the liberty to do. There was truthfully no excuse for him not to take a leave. It wasn’t as if the two of you had children yet or some other overwhelming responsibility to care for. You were in the primes of your lives and careers. You deserved to live as such. So before he even had the chance to attest or change your mind, you’d show him that he too deserved to be pampered.

“..so, when are we leaving?”

Immediately sending him into a toothy smirk. There was no arguing with you when you became set in your ways. You were stubborn but your heart and intentions were always pure. And for that, he truly was thankful and blessed to be able to call you his wife!

“You’re a piece of work, you know that?”

“Yeah..I know. But that’s exactly why you married me.” You’d chuckle as you stood to your feet, retrieving his plate and leaning over to kiss his cheek. “Now go pack. I’m not playing with you, sir.” “You know I like it when you tell me what to do..gets me excited.” Alluding to something a little more salacious than your previous discussion, prompting you to smack your lips and playfully slap at him. “Bye! And bring your ass to bed, please.”

This trip was certainly going to be one to remember!

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(biiiig long time skip bc I am not writing all of that and this fic is so long already!)

Matangi Private Islands, Fiji: two days later, March 29th…

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It was just barely sunrise when the two of you made landfall on the coasts of the secluded islands. All courtesy of a first class, private flight from the comfort of his jet. It was just one of the many amenities that were afforded with this lifestyle. Something that he’d have to take part in more often. Crystalline blue waters waved across the shoreline, palm trees and colorful flowers flowing in the breeze and birds chirped in the far off distance. Currently, you were getting checked into your suite and what awaited you guys was an oasis like neither of you had ever seen… “Isn’t it beautiful?! Babe, look at this..it’s so big.” Sunshine beamed over the pathway, headed to the designated suite. A huge hut-style home from the exterior, equipped with three rooms, two baths and tons of amenities on the inside. Three wooden bridges connected to you to all sides of the island, allowing you access to the waters, the pool and the front gate. There was a very spacious living area and kitchen, accompanied by a private chef who’d prepare you all whatever you desired. The most picturesque bathrooms you’ve ever seen and sleek, modern decorations. But perhaps, by far the most impressive perk was the fact that there was no one on this island for at least three miles except the staff. You were in complete solitude, just as he wanted. It was a gift that had come not a moment too soon. Seeing as how the whole reason for this little adventure was less than twenty four hours away..

“Princess, this is really nice. I mean..really nice. But was this necessary? I mean, how much did this cost?”

Scraping slowly behind you in his Balenciaga slides, black sweats from the same brand and a tank top..Eren seemed rather fussy for someone who was supposed to be on vacation. You had all but expected this..it was no surprise that he was going to put up a fight about not being able to be tied to that damn desk, but you paying his way for this ordeal! However, you weren’t much in the mood to hear him complaining because his stubbornness was no match for your own and when you wanted your way, best believe that’s what damn well was going to happen. Turning to him, sporting your skin tight sundress..a fluorescent lime green that complimented your dark complexion perfectly..and had him rather happy, you’d immediately turn to face him and place his cheeks between your palms, squishing his face. Standing on your tiptoes to meet his gaze.

“That, my sweet love..is not important. What is important is that you have a good time...and as long as that happens. Nothing else matters to me.” Which was about the most ideal answer he was going to get. Releasing a heavy sigh, it took him no time at all to soften..he couldn’t argue when he saw that smile on your pretty face. What was the harm in allowing you to take the reins for once and he followed? Most importantly, what could it hurt to be the one who was getting spoiled this time around? Besides, he had full faith that you’d make this trip..one he’d soon never forget! “Alright. Fine, angel. I trust you and I love you…thank you for this. I really appreciate it.” “Of course…” bending down to cup your own cheeks and plant a gentle yet deep kiss on your lips. Giving a rather warm and suggestive glare into your eyes. One that neither of you wanted to pull away from. It had been a while since you guys had been able to have quality alone time like this. It felt good to not be interrupted by texts of practice or meetings. Or someone knocking on the door, saying that a guest had arrived. It was blissful and there wasn’t anyone around to stop whatever was about to transpire. For right now, you’d allow your bodies to do the talking. Soon, those strong hands of his that once rested on your cheeks readjusted and moved to the back of your head to fully entrap you into a more sensual peck. Releasing deep breaths, you’d both smack and whimper against one another’s lips as you began to make out. Eventually, those hands found home around your throat and yours trailed up his chest. You hadn’t noticed much until now but your man had been working out quite a bit. Since his hospital scare, he’d made somewhat of an effort at better living. His newly chiseled physique wasn’t lost on you..nor was the way he seemed to be craving intimacy. A lack of physical touch and alone time had made him quite needy for you..in more ways than one.

“I know it’s a lil’ early and all but…I think I wanna unwrap my gift right now.”

“Mmm..is that right?”

giggling against his lips as your faces met with only a hair breadth of distance between you. The tension was looming and rather thick. A single look at all of you and it wouldn’t be hard to tell just how badly you needed to release some stress. Tugging at his bottom lip between your teeth, you’d continue making out as you shuffled towards the kitchen counter, where he’d waste no time, setting you on top of it. Eren had you all to himself without a single soul around to intervene in your affairs. So best believe, he was going to enjoy himself! Moving his lips from your jawline to your throat, your husband marked the skin with very soft kisses and gentle suckles that would leave faint hickies. Meanwhile, his hands gilded delicately down your body. Even making a couple stops to smack and squeeze on that plump ass. Until they found home on your breasts..where he’d very carefully grope. Massaging those perky tits and stroking your nipples on his thumb pads. “…so fucking pretty..” He loved your reactions. The way you moaned for him. Whimpering each time he made a move and all but begged him for more.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna wait until after breakfast, babe?” Which earned the exact response you were expecting from him. Who had a ravenous appetite of his own but not for any good.

“I got something to eat right here..fuck all that..” muttering against one another’s lips as you both broke into soft giggles. He was adamant in enjoying every moment of this away time. And more so specifically, making up for all the time lost between you two, due to his busy schedule. You’d been married for the better part of a couple years and although you were madly in love with each other, it hadn’t been easy. Long nights, work events, tour dates and all the other external factors that prevented you guys from being alone…made it difficult to enjoy yourselves. It was times that you craved each other so desperately that distance or exhaustion kept you away. That your bodies practically yearned and cried out. However, they were mere afterthoughts at the moment. You could enjoy your man with no interruption and vice versa. And best believe, Eren was going to get more than his fill of you.

“Here, put your legs up and lean back for me..” his instructions followed by his hands cupping your cheek once more and marking you with more gentle pecks. Naturally, you’d do so and part your thighs wide open. Giving him quite the nice surprise in return..chewing at your lower lip and index finger, you’d watch the reaction on his face…along with the one in his shorts!

“Oh shit…ain’t even wearing any panties. You knew what you wanted, huh?” Pegging you immediately because he knew that each of you were on the same type of time. Inching closer, Eren’s fingers gradually dredged up that exposed slit. “Can you blame me? I missed you..” giving him that irresistible pout and doe eyes that always drive him insane. Whilst one hand worked you over; grinding yourself against his digits, his other kept gently caressing your face and eventually, you’d pop his thumb into your mouth and suckle on the tip. It was enough to make him put you through this damn marble top right now! “Yeah?..I missed you more, princess. Missed all of this..” subtly grunting in the deep tone of his as he slipped a finger inside of you and heard the pop that followed. “This shit’s so fucking tight, princess..and wet. This all me?” “Of course..been thinking about you all week. How bad I needed you..” confessing to him in a whiny tone whilst rubbing his chiseled chest. Among other things, including how you were going to spend the entire week fucking on him..how you spent your time away on tour, playing with yourself to his voice messages and own salacious videos he’d sent. Jerking himself off behind the camera as he professed his love and desire for you. Ending in a splatter of warm semen all over his screen as he cried out your name. And him causing you to flood your hotel sheets after plunging yourself on those dainty fingers. It was too much to bear..he had to make a move before he came in his boxers right there!

“Fuck…I need you. Need this pussy so bad, baby.” Practically desperate for you. By this time, you had begun working to free his hard cock from its confines and once you did so, he’d immediately spring into your closed palm. He’d ever so slightly fuck your fist and moan out as he continued working you over. Meanwhile, you were still vehemently making out with one another. You’d all but beg him to put it inside of you and it wasn’t a full minute later before his tip was prodding through your entrance and you both came undone. Releasing simultaneous expletives as he split you open and filled you halfway.

“Oh my gosh!… ‘s so fucking big..”

“That’s not even all of it. You can take it f’r me, can’t you?”

smirking as he wasted no time in bucking his hips forward and feeding you deep strokes. They were a little slow at first but you could feel each one. Every bump, every curve and inch of that lengthy shaft. The way it curved up into you and pressed that spot on impact..you were losing it. Placing a hand around the back of your neck to keep your head straight and your leg atop his shoulder, Eren would increase his pace and really give you what you needed! “You can take this dick for daddy, can’t you, baby?” Grunting against your lips. Smacking sounds erupting across the suite from your skin as your lower halves collided. It didn’t take long before a silky sheath of your juices were formed and coating your flesh. The two of you would last no time from all the pent up sexual frustration and emotions.

“Yes! Yes! Give it to me…right there..”

increasing his pace and you’d follow suit by stroking your clit. He was unhinged..unable to contain himself inside of you. Eren clutched your ankle and laced your calf with sweet, tender kisses as he pounded your pussy into oblivion. “Shit..you gonna come for me already, baby..you’re squeezing me so tight.” Taunting you with that high lilt in his voice, not breaking eye contact once. To say you were a trembling mess at this point was an absolute understatement..cream dripping all down his shaft and onto the countertop as your clit pulsates with each thrust. You couldn’t take another moment and the day had only begun. Less known the entire week!…but you loved it. You loved pleasing your man and giving him everything his heart and body desired. And despite how intense it felt at the moment, you craved this just as badly. You both needed this release.

“Mmmph! You fucking me so good, daddy…’s just too much..”

“Don’t tease me now…you were talking all that shit on the plane, saying you needed this dick every day…you sure you can handle it?…‘cause I’mma stretch this shit out. Tryna’ get you pregnant, baby.” The sheer thought of him breeding you gets you aroused all over again. Even if it was an empty promise in the throes of mid-lust excitement. Regardless, he’d keep pounding at a steady pace until he felt you twitching and clutching once more until you were about to come undone. That’s when he’d speed up, angling himself until that tip was poking directly at your overstimulated core. “So tell me I can have it. You know I’m selfish, princess…I always get my way.” Mocking you once more with his tongue wagging, chuckling and with a thumb on your clit. Rubbing slow circles until you were gripping the counter top. Tits swaying with the fierce bouncing of your frames. Even the tears streaming down your face couldn’t sate his desire to make you climax right now. He knew you were feeling equally as overstimulated and was ready to push you over the edge. Suddenly, your husband would lean forward and curl his face into the crook of your neck.

“Come in me, daddy!..nnngh..”

“Oh God, baby. Can I please? Can I put a baby in it?..”

panting as he bared his weight onto the countertop. His pace reached its peak and before long, you both reached the finish that you had sought after.

“ ‘rennnnn! Fuck…please..” your nails clawed deep into his back, holding him close to your chest as he pumped every last ounce of his seed into that inviting womb. Just one of many on this island excursion. He didn’t let up until he was certain that you were good and stuffed but whimpered and cried to your name the entire time. It was absolute bliss, a sensation and feeling like none other and he couldn’t wait to experience more like it.

“Kiss me…” cupping your face into his palms, Eren let your tongues clash in a heated haze…moaning and whispering ‘I love you’s’ the entire time. Never had he dreamed of starting his mornings like this. Warm weather with a chill breeze sweeping through the open windows, ocean waves crashing against the tan shorelines, palm trees swaying in a calmed motion and most importantly…giving into his desires with the love of his life . The type of view that made you never want to go back to reality!…but for right now, you’d enjoy this world, this haven…

“Oh my God, that was perfect.”

“Yes…I needed that so badly. Thank you, princess..”

“Mmm, no..thank you. So…you ready to start your vacation now?”

“I can do anything after that..got me feeling the best I have in a long time…”

and no matter where you were in the world, as long as you were together, it was paradise!

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

hi!! can i request a miguel x jealous reader? this has been stuck in my head for quite some time now..

it is no question that spiderman 2099 was hot, even if the people of nueva york haven't seen his face.. his huge frame and voice will of course gain him some fans. one day, reader overhears a group of young highschoolers, fangirling about spiderman 2099 and how hot he was. even showing off some pictures and videos to each other.

of course, reader feels proud since spiderman 2099 is their husband. but also can't help but feel jealous knowing that others also want miguel. they push it down though since getting jealous over a bunch of highschoolers was silly.

however, reader is more bothered about it than they thought and miguel eventually notices their sour mood. after some denying and coaxing, miguel finally gets them to spill the beans. he is extremely amused, and even finds it a little funny. however, he's still going to reassure reader that he is only theirs like the great husband he is.. 🥰 ending can be smutty or fluffy, up to you!!! ❤️

hii!! sorry for the hold up for this. this is cute I love it!! thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

—

SUBTLE ENVY

miguel o’hara x f!reader

word count. 644

There was no doubt that Spider-Man 2099 was the talk of the town - his towering, masculine physique often the main focal point. When you'd overhear strangers on the street conversing about the masked menace, your husband, you'd be overgrown with pride - listening in on their encounters of being saved by him.

Many things made you feel proud to know Spider-Man so personally - to know the real man under the suit and mask. Though, some things about the title of the wife aren't as easy to stomach.

Daily, you'd see hundreds of comments online about how handsome your husband is - see fan-made videos and edits with questionable captions. For the most part, you enjoyed them. You loved to watch clips and compilations of the man you love, loved to see how liked and appreciated he is by the people of Nueva York. 

However, sometimes the comments would get the best of you. You'd see teenage girls swooning over him online - talking about how they wish to replace his wife. At first, they were small, inconsequential remarks, but over time, they changed how you saw yourself. They made you question if you were good enough for Miguel. You kept your issue to yourself - deciding your husband had enough on his plate and didn't need you complaining about something you could easily ignore.

You kept your problem hidden until one afternoon at your local coffee shop; you overheard a group of high school girls talk about what they would do if they had a minute alone with Spider-Man 2099. What they said should've easily rolled off your back, should've been something that you laugh off, something you silently agreed with, but no. They caught you in a vulnerable mood where you were sensitive to their infatuation, already feeling insecure, and all you could do was leave the queue and head home.

You return to your apartment and change into something comfy, slumping onto the sofa with a blanket wrapped around you. You put on your show and cosy up.

"Cariño?" Miguel calls out from his office doorway. "I thought I heard you," his tone warm and comforting as he kisses your cheek from behind. "How was your day?"

"Good," you absentmindedly reply, keeping your gaze on the tv ahead.

"Is that all? Querida? Are you okay?"

"Mh-hm." 

"Pms?" he asks, joining you on the couch.

"No," you chuckle, cutely shaking your head. "Don't think so anyway."

"You seem sad."

You smile sincerely. "It's nothing— it's silly, really." 

Miguel's head cocks to the side, sweetly looking at you with softened eyes. His large hand reaching for yours. "Nothing's too silly," he shakes his head, trying to emphasise his statement. "Tell me what's on your mind."

"Miguel, it's stupid," you warn, suddenly embarrassed. "Like, really stupid."

"I don't care."

You exhale, turning to face him. "I was getting coffee and heard a bunch of girls swooning over you," you confess, your words quietening.

"Baby..." he hesitates, an amused smile lining his lips.

"I know it's childish, but it just bugs me sometimes—it's not funny."

"Of course not," he reassures, his posture stiffening from your soft scolding. "But you have to see the humour in it, no?"

"How so?"

"Cariño," he sweetly coos. "I'm here... with you. No one else gets to see me like this. Only you see me without the mask," his smile widens, looking at you in endearment. "You're the only one I want. I don't care about the girls on the internet or in coffee shops, just you."

Your smile mirrors his as you lean into him, nestling into his comfort. "Thank you," you say, your words muffle into the buff of his side. "I appreciate it. A lot."

"Of course," he chuckles, draping a blanket over himself - getting comfortable. He kisses the crown of your head. "Always."

— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —

[agi-ppangx]

💭rivals to lovers (100 followers special)

chan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin

"i thought you wouldn't come to my exhibit," you heard hyunjin as he approached you. you didn't look at him, too stared into one of his paintings. you attended yet another of hyunjin's exhibitions in your local art gallery in the span of six months. he was thriving, it was almost as if the inspiration hadn't left him for once. you felt bittersweet about it. on the one hand you were truly amazed by his artworks. hyunjin's attention to detail always made you speechless and as an artist yourself, you examined his works and tried to incorporate the same details into your paintings. on the other hand however, you were jealous, so incredibly jealous - you wished your paintings were better, you wished for more exhibits, you wanted to amaze people as much as he did or even more. and even though you were appreciated by local art critics and media, you'd always felt as if your art was lacking something. that's why you and hyunjin were waging a silent battle among yourselves for the favour of critics and art lovers. after all, you also used to have exhibitions in this gallery in the past. 

"it's always nice to know what i'm up against," you murmured, studying the canvas in front of you. "i always assumed you didn't like my art," he then said, taking one step closer to you and pointing at the painting. "i've never said i didn't like it," "then what do you think about it?" you took a moment to gather your thoughts. "it intrigues me, i appreciate it. you always know when to stop, it's like there are so many untold feelings and emotions within you, waiting to be set free," you answered his question. it was genuine - you've always thought hyunjin's art was exceptional. "you should write poetry, yn" he giggled under his nose. you missed the slight blush that appeared on his cheeks. "is it your attempt to make fun of my art?" "no, i'm just saying that you're really good with words," "and i'm even better with a brush," you replied confidently, finally turning to him and looking him in the eyes. you examined his look - he was grinning and you noticed his hair was way longer than the last time you saw each other. you wondered if they were as soft as you imagined. "how've you been lately?" hyunjin's voice helped you to come back to reality. "i've been quite good, thanks for asking," you replied simply, not wanting to get into details. he smiled, but something in it felt off. "that's great. did you paint anything? i haven't seen your works in a while," hyunjin then asked, it seemed as if he wanted to get into details. you shrugged your shoulders and once again turned to face the painting. you haven't seen your works in a while too. "i'm taking things slow for now," you mumbled, not wanting to admit to him how unmotivated you'd been in the last couple of months. hyunjin hummed at your words, a faint "mhm" left his mouth. you expected him to leave you for now, but instead you heard him speak after a while. "hey, why don't we go to dinner together?" you froze in your spot. a dinner with hyunjin? "my treat," he added, you could quite literally hear him smirk. you looked at him, but not as confidently as before. you studied his expression, his soft smile and friendly gaze made you oddly calm. after a moment you cleared your throat and spoke. "okay, let's go."

hyunjin drove you to one of the restaurants downtown. it wasn't anything extremely fancy, but it looked like a nice place. you sat across from each other, hyunjin's piercing gaze never leaving you. it felt weird, to say the least. you'd never really spent time with him outside of the gallery. quite frankly, hyunjin intimidated you. he was well known for many people in the city, mostly for his artwork, but also for his personal charm, which seemed to do the work. you always observed him from afar, too scared to get close to him. what you didn't know is that from the first time you met, hyunjin couldn't stop thinking about you and he would always make sure to approach you when he noticed you in a crowd. "now tell me, how've you really been lately?" hyunjin broke the silence between you two. you raised your eyebrows and scoffed. was he really curious or did he only want you to admit that you were struggling? "i told you i'm doing just fine," you mumbled in response. "oh, come on, you really think i'm gonna believe you? when was the last time you painted something then?" he proceeded to ask, sounding defeated. it made you dumbfounded, you'd never heard this tone from him before. "if you invited me here just to make fun of me then save it for yourself," you scoffed, but the tears were already weiling in your eyes. you looked down, too embarrassed to meet his gaze. hyunjin exhaled shakily, shocked by your words. he never wanted to make fun of you. sure, he was happy his paintings were appreciated by people and this whole rivalry thing was fun when you actually tried to make a better exhibit than him. and since you hadn't had any in months, he started to get worried for real. "you just seem… very off lately. as if your body is present but you aren't. and it hurts me to see such a talented person lose their spark," hyunjin whispered. "why do you even care?" you scoffed, wiping a single tear that fell down your cheek. god, that was humiliating. yet your heart was beating faster and your cheeks were getting hotter at the thought that hyunjin may genuinely care for you. he was staring at you, his smile long forgotten. you exhaled loudly. "it feels as if everything i do is pointless. i don't know why i feel this way, but it can't seem to stop. and when i sit in front of clean canvas i'm scared i'll ruin them," you uttered, more tears spilling from your eyes. hyunjin didn't waste any time, he gave you a few napkins from a dispenser and then took your hand in his. it startled you, but you didn't back off. "you've never ruined any canvas, yn. i heard people talk about your art, i read articles about it. art can be scary - but you can use your fear as your weapon and create something extraordinary with that. it's just so heartbreaking to see you like this. yn, please don't give up" you looked him in the eyes, completely astonished by his words, and squeezed his hand. "damn, hwang, you're so sappy," you giggled, wiping the last tears from your rosy cheeks. hyunjin laughed at that, feeling relieved. "hey, um… there's also something i wanted to talk to you about," he muttered suddenly, getting shy. 

two months later you were standing in front of a painting in your local art gallery. two people sitting across each other, both of them in front of canvas. in the bottom left corner was your signature. it was your exhibit. 

someone approached you and even though you didn't take your eyes off the painting, you knew exactly who was standing by your side. "i thought you wouldn't come to my exhibit," you recalled hyunjin's words and he softly laughed at that. "oh, i'm just looking for my rival's weaknesses.” you stole a glance at him, taking his hand in yours. “we both know that you’re my only weakness, hwang.”

feedback and reblogs highly appreciated🫶🏽

[ambrosiagoldfish]

First time requesting anything sooo let me know if I get anything wrong but,,, could I request some dragon!reader x Venti (Genshin Impact) fluff ? Dragon in like... The way that Zhongli is with a dragon and a humanoid form. let me know if I should send another ask with anything additional,,

Draconic Inquiries

Venti x Dragon! Reader

Safe for all Audiences!

Warnings: None! Just pure fluff and Gn! Reader!

Request Box: Open

Word count: 1634

A/N: Hi, thank you for the request! I’m sorry it took so long! There was a lot of hiccups that came up this past week, but I’m happy to finally have had gotten to finishing this!

I wasn’t sure if you wanted a Fluff Fic or head-canons so I did both! I would have asked you but I was already upset that it took this long to write, so I decided not to! I also wrote it to be romantic! I hope this is ok! If not, just shoot me another request and I’ll make you a new one!!

Proofread but of course I could have missed something.

He was first introduced to you via The Traveler, and right away he could tell something about you reminded him a lot of that "old block-head" as Venti so eloquently puts it. Of course, you weren’t anything like Zhongli, but there were some very similar aspects between the two of you at a more biological level.

It didn't take him long to figure it out though, despite his carefree and lovable nature, he is quite perceptive. He could tell from the power imitating from you, that you weren't some regular run of the mill Allogene. The power that you gave off wasn't exactly like his or even most of the other archons it was more… Pure? Something more undisturbed than most elemental beings.

Whatever you were, he wasn't sure if you were open about it, Him, being an Archon, would make him relate to you regarding hiding the truth about yourself, if that is the case. So he decided to ask you about it alone. You were a bit hesitant at first to outright admit it, especially to a person who seemed so interested. Being an Elemental beast, were able to sense an alarming amount of Anemo Energy coming from this short drunkard bard, way too much to just be some regular mortal.

When you finally reveal yourself to be a dragon, he's honestly pretty excited. He's only ever met 4 dragons in his 2600+ year life span, Zhongli, who was just annoyed by any questions he would ask, Dvalin, who, despite being one of his closest friends, is also annoyed by many of his drunken inquiries. Durin and Ursa the Drake tried destroying Mondstadt so they were definitely not an option... So he's been dying to ask a vishap some questions.

And Immediately they started

"Dragon's have hoards, right? Surely there has to be a teensy bit of fine wine there? No? Darn it..."

"Can you breathe fire?!"

"Is it true that dragon's are scared of mice? Eh... Wait! no! That's Elephants. Nevermind!"

It was quite a lot to process and answer them all in time before he went on to the next question. Eventually he seemed to run out of them, that or he saw how distressed you were trying to keep up.

"That's enough questions for today, Ehe! Next time we should have our conversation over a nice cold glass of cider!"

"Next time?"

Venti then, from that day forward, had the two of you meeting up more and more, He would bring the drinks, both Alcoholic and Non-Alcoholic, depending on if you drink or not. and every time, Venti would somehow come up with more and more questions about your heritage, nonstop rambling of questions that would go from dusk till dawn. He seemed to never run out of them. But eventually he would start asking questions that weren't about your Draconic lifestyle. Things like,

"So Y/n, have you ever dated anyone before?"

"Hey Yn! Have you heard that the Windblume Festival is coming soon? Ehe, What do you think the original windblume was? Cecilia? Great choice!"

"Have you ever been to Windrise? It's the place with the huge tree! Huh? eh, You haven't? I'll make sure to show you sometime"

The Windblume festival finally comes around, the whole of Mondstadt was in a fury of unending joy, there were games, foods and deserts, the entire of the city’s buildings were all decorated in many different flowers and ribbons. Dandelions soared through the air, each one carrying the wish of a soul in Mondstadt.

The Day was fantastic, but it seems Venti had more energy to spend after the day's festivities, Venti drags you by the hand through the decorated city streets, past the vendor's shops, and over the bridge, all while you were blindfolded. Of course, you were a little scared being led through all these places without even knowing where exactly you were, but your elemental sense was top notch, not to mention your regular senses at that. So you knew you weren't in any real danger.

"Venti, this is a bit dramatic, even for you"

"Eh he… very funny Y/n, but we're almost there! Just a few more steps and... There!"

The pulling of your hand suddenly stops and Venti’s hand lets go of yours, with one quick motion the blindfold obscuring your eyes was snatched clean off. It took a second for your eyes to adjust, the sun beginning to set but even then being blindfolded caused even the slightest of light to sting your eyes.

Looking up, a big tree hung over you both, lying under the tree, just by the roots, was a checkered red and white blanket layed across the viridescent grass, a seemingly warnout picnic basket layed atop it. From where you stood you could make out a plethora of food and drinks, Pie, Dandelion wine, Apples. You certainly knew there was more, you could tell just from your sense of smell.

But the most notable feature about the fairytale esq scene in front of you was Venti, holding something, a bouquet of Ceclia’s

"These are what you believe to be the original Windblume right? I picked them myself so, rest assured! They’re guaranteed to be the best of quality, ehe!"

"Y/n, the time we’ve spent together these past few months have meant the world to me... Since the moment you arrived in Mondstadt, you’ve been tangled up in every thought of my mind, you've become all I can think about, my one and only worry, my muse, my... everything... What I'm trying to say is, Y/n, I love you and if you feel the same, could you continue being my muse?" His arms stretch slightly to you, offering you the bouquet in his hand.

Everything about this, the scenery, the way he asked, down to the golden hour from the sun, it was all so unforgettable. Your hands slowly move to grasp the Cecilia’s, bringing them up to your face and smelling them.

“Nothing would make me happier, Venti”

Venti’s eyes lit up, blush washed his face as a soft breeze quickly caried him over to you as he practically tackled you into his embrace, the sudden forces causes you both to spin in each others arms, all while Venti’s heartfelt laugh drowns out all other sounds.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” His voice grew louder with the repetition as a gleeful smile plastered on his face. He reaches back from his embrace, quickly grabbing his lyre and giving it a few test strums.

“The day isn’t over yet! Allow me to serenade you with a song I’ve made especially for you, my muse.”

And with that, you both continued to laugh and sing throughout the night. The sounds of the feverish festivities of you both echoed through Windrise, your love that would last for eons to come, dancing across the wind.

You both truly, couldn’t be happier.

HEADCANONS

Venti always makes sure that he’s always there for you when you aren’t your best mentally or physically. He cudddles you when your sad, listens to you when you’re upset. Overall he may be a loud bard but he’s also a great listener!

And speaking of cuddles he LOVES them. Since youre a dragon, your body temperature is a lot higher than humans, so he loves the warmth close to him. And if you ever decide to cuddle while IN dragon form then he wouldn’t let you leave for a while. (I also headcanon that since he’s a wind spirit, his body temperature isn’t that high so he’s often a little cold, so an S/o with a high body temperature would be perfect for him)

Regardless of if you can fly or not in dragon form, he loves to go on walks with you, and by “walks” I mean YOU do the walking and he just sits on your back. If you CAN fly than he’d be less of a koala and actually fly with you.

(You may have scared a few of the locals but love is love)

If there’s ever a time that you have to fight, either to protect him, yourself or something else, he will always have your back. Of course, him being a Wind Spirit and an Archon he has at least some power but after losing his Gnosis and him being demoted to the least powerful archon, he’s not incredibly strong. But you being a dragon seems to make up for his lack of power. The times you’ve saved him from some lowly fatuus trying to ambush him, he really couldn’t be more thankful.

He’s really into PDA (no surprise there) so kisses, handholding, etc are all commonplace. He's also always bringing you gifts like food. He’s not much of a baker, but he’d try to make anything for you that you’d want. (Just uh… don’t expect it to be anything spectacular)

Gifts he likes are Cider (obvi) and of course, Apples! You’d get him the finest of wines, (that’s totally not from your dragon hoard, because you are TOTALLY not that kind of dragon •-•^) and he would love them more each time.

He would eventually introduce you to Dvailn (it’s his best bud so it’s a given you’d meet him eventually) and Zhongli who he thought you two might have something in common with.

Overall, having a dragon S/o is one of the best things to happen to him (Tied only with that time Diluc accidentally left his wine cellar unlocked) He’s always wanting to learn more about you and loves spending time with you!

[trina864]

Try | J.JK

Summery: The infamous playboy tries to ask you, the good girl, on a date. Paring: Playboy! Jungkook x GoodGirl! Reader Genre: Fanfiction, Romance | Fluff, Angst? Word Count: 1 k Warnings: kissing, mentions of loneliness, Jungkook is a mild playboy. But seriously this one is pretty soft.

"No thank you." You said, your head buried in the book which sat comfortably in your hands.

"Come on, good girl, one date." Jungkook asked again, with the same cocky smile as he was bound to keep, the nickname he was fixed on calling you by, only further annoyed you.

"Not interested." You said again with the same voice still not looking at Jungkook. This annoyed him further, he wasn't used to this, being turned down wasn't in his vocabulary. Yet you seemed to be dedicated to exactly that.

When in anger Jungkook could hardly control himself, maybe that was the explanation to why he took the book from your hands and threw it to the floor successfully ripping a few pages out - not a very good explanation though.

Jungkook didn't mean anything with it, he only wanted your attention - funny enough, when thinking about how you two were like north and south. But when he saw the look on your face as you looked down at your favorite book torn in the old and worn pages, he knew he had fucked up.

How many times haven't you turned these pages with the most careful fingers and a mug of tea placed besides you? The answer was many times.

You had to take a deep breath to compose yourself before you looked up at Jungkook. "As you yourself called me I'm a 'good girl' right? Let's say I went out with you, I had sex with you, and then you became uninterested in me and found someone else as you always do, and I, the good girl, would still be thinking about you while you wouldn't spare me a second thought. Do you really think I want that? That I want to fall in love with you only to be thrown away?" You said.

It scared Jungkook how you kept composed in front of him like this when he saw angry tears in your eyes just two seconds ago - not a twist on your eyebrows or a break in your voice, just you who calmly explained your thoughts to him.

"And what makes you think you would fall in love with me?" Jungkook asked in the quietest of voices you had ever heard from him.

"Everyone can fall in love with anyone, if you try hard enough Jeon." You said and gathered the destroyed book from the floor together with the rest of your things. "I always try my hardest, Jeon." You said before you walked away.

"I can't." Jungkook whispered behind you thinking you wouldn't hear. You stopped with your back still facing Jungkook.

"Yes you can, you're just too scared to try." You whispered back and walked away.

The next couple of days you didn't see Jeon. Somewhere inside you it disappointed you that he actually gave up, especially because he had once promised you he wouldn't ever give up.

He had been going around you for quite some time keeping you company and even reading with you. You thought he was serious with you, but apparently you were wrong.

Jungkook had always been a tough nut to crack, he kept his emotions to himself and shared his talents with the world. But with the observant eyes you had, you had him all figured out.

He always had to be center for attention, a new girl on his arm every other day, and a reputation everyone knew, yet when no one looked Jungkook often had gloom in his eyes, a lonely blank stare, he would often watch over his latest girl for a day or two to see how she was holding up.

Jungkook was simply lonely.

After school you walked to the bus station with your backpack heavy from the dripping rain. Before you reached even halfway though, you heard the familiar sound of a bike behind you.

When you turned you saw Jungkook step off his motorbike and run towards you with a helmet holding it out to you.

"Just take it Y/N, the bus is coming in thirty minutes and with no shelter you'll catch a cold, at least let me get you home before you catch a cold." He said and gave you the helmet which you accepted after some consideration.

On the ride you could feel Jungkook breathe heavily with your hands wrapped around his torso. This wasn't the first ride you have had on his bike, but it felt just as good as it did the first time.

When you were home and about to walk into the house for cover Jungkook grabbed your wrist and turned you around. He held eye-contact with you before handing over a blue tote bag, "I'm sorry I destroyed your old one, I- I really didn't mean to do that Y/N. I've spent the last couple days searching for this, it's a first edition with a signature from the author, I found out my dad was friends with them." He explained.

Both of you were drenched in the unforgivable weather yet no one moved to a dry place. You gulped looking down at the bag in your hands. You knew it was the book he had destroyed. No one had ever cared this much, not as much as Jungkook.

No one you knew off would ever take the time to get a first edition of a book if it wasn't for love.

"Y'know, You said you can't fall in love because you don't try hard enough... but I think you're doing pretty amazing with the tries." You said looking into his ebony colored eyes.

Jungkook couldn't help his hand wandering up to your cheek filled with sticking hair and raindrops. How could you always find the perfect words?

"I wanna try, for you." He said and pulled you down to him in a sweet kiss which you accepted. His hands held your jaw to angle you right, yours were grabbing into his wet hair. Lips dancing against each other you smiled forgetting all about the book, the rain and your parents who were probably watching from the kitchen window.

There by Jungkooks motorbike it was only you and him frozen in a moment where everything was perfect.

Breaking the kiss with a giggle you whispered against his lips, "You don't have to try anymore, Jungkook."

[mitraoki]

daze. (chuuya x reader)

note; @akutagawasbitch love u thank u for giving me inspo to write for bsd again TEEHEE🥺🤍 was obsessed with the idea of jealous chuuya so hopefully this fic did him justice AAAAAA-

cw; not really proofread, reader is a little more feminine (they wear a dress), reader is also not in any of the organizations, suggestive, drunk chuuya!!!

masterlist.

when they said it was supposed to be a party like always, chuuya definitely didn't expect to be met with hundreds of other faces he'd never seen.

he certainly did not expect for you to want to tag along, too. it wasn't like you haven't already - sometimes curiosity gets the best of you, and you couldn't resist your ravishing looking man in one of his best suits.

a suit that you'd picked out for him during one of your dates. wine red - just the way he likes it - traces amongst the silky black fabric. it was tough choosing between a bowtie or just a tie, but he preferred the tie; tucked underneath the vest that hugged his build perfectly. buttons glimmering gold under the chandeliers and a rose that he'd picked to match the one clipped on your hairdo.

you seemed to give chuuya motivation to go when he saw your outfit for the night. a dress that complimented his color palette, with the set of jewelry he'd bought for you one fine day. you felt really proud of how well you dressed (just for him, mostly.), so there you were, strutting down the steps of your shared home, an elegant twirl in the end to show him your completed look.

if you looked closely, you could've caught him drooling. he walked towards you, gloved hand loosely wrapped around your waist.

"i'm so in love with you."

"oh, you. i cannot take my eyes off of you either."

it felt so surreal that his boss decided to have a party out of nowhere, but you soon learnt the sole purpose being gaining new intel from a neighboring organization. this was just his way of thanking them. quite extravagant, but thrilling nonetheless.

"old man has so much time on his hands," chuuya grumbled, his arm entwined with yours. "or maybe it's because he wants us members to make up with 'em."

"hey," you slapped his shoulder playfully. "you gotta let it loose once in a while. i bet he even prepared your favorite drink tonight."

"for real?"

"mhm."

he sighed. "i'm only doing this because i love you. oh - and i also wanted you to see me wear this," he raised his head, adjusting his fedora triumphantly.

***

it didn't take long for chuuya to be dragged away by one of his colleagues. the so called ice-breaking session was currently underway and he promised to be back with you the moment he was done. you giggled as you heard him curse under his breath, followed by a toothy smile when he was greeted by a new face.

you found a seat nearby to wait when you met higuchi, a familiar face you've come across every time you tagged along for small matters (at this point he might as well recruit you here, but you'll leave that decision to him).

"higuchi, right? gorgeous as ever. where's um...," you wiggled your finger around, trying to remember the pale-skinned man you always saw her with.

"y/n! you look lovely yourself," you watched her rosy cheeks turn red within seconds as she fanned them off before continuing. "you mean akutagawa senpai? i was told to wait for him here. he seemed to be in an okay mood tonight, so i didn't want to be the first to ruin it," she concluded, straightening the fabric of her dress.

the two of you continued chatting. you followed her around, being introduced to other members of the port mafia. many of them were familiar faces, so it was nice to call them acquaintances now.

it wasn't until you noticed the back of the hall serving a variety of drinks. your ears picked up that it was first come first served, so why would you miss the chance?

though, there's always one thing you always forgot when you attended parties.

the watchful eyes around you.

you and higuchi lost each other in the slowly growing crowd in the drinks corner, so your first mistake was to assume she was the one snaking an arm around your waist.

your second mistake was thinking that it was chuuya trying to pull you away from the crowd.

chills ran down your spine as you peeled yourself away from the foreign arm around you, eyes glaring up at the bigger figure.

"do i know you?"

his words were only drowning along with the background noise, which only infuriated you more.

how long has it been since i last saw chuuya, by the way? you thought to yourself. he promised he would be back soon-

you watched as a gloved fist landed its first hit on the man's face.

did it all happen in a flash? was it in slow motion? you didn't know, you couldn't tell - he continued jabbing more punches around his face, adding a few more to his chin, his jaw.

you finally realized it was your boyfriend when a wine bottle flew past your face. it was gravity he was manipulating - it was nakahara chuuya.

"chuuya! stop it!"

he froze. his once droopy eyes darted towards the now broken wine bottle, back to you, and the man now laying on the floor.

he let out a frustrated grunt, tossing the bottle to the side.

"hear that? yeah. 's my name she's calling," he drawled, squatting to get a better look at the man. with the position he was in, it was like he wasn't ready to show himself till chuuya left his sight.

"touch her again and you would see your grave next."

restless, you grabbed a hold of his arm, hoisting him up only to end up stumbling from his weight.

he's either going to regret this, or brag about it to me, you thought, you inner self shaking their head in defeat.

"we'll get this mess cleaned up; he's drunk. why don't you bring him home, my dear?"

***

you walked in, with him abruptly freeing himself from your hold.

"honey, you're gonna fall. come on."

being drunk was no biggie for chuuya's strength. despite the different world he was in, he seemed to have heard you loud and clear.

it didn't even take five seconds and he had you pinned against the wall, arms slamming against each side of the hard surface.

"what are you-,"

"i'm sorry."

"wha-,"

"i'm sorry, baby," he finally looked into your eyes, the same droopy look you saw in the event earlier. only this time, it was mixed with rage, confusion and regret.

"okay," you whispered, placing a hand on his cheek. "chuuya, let's see if you're hurt anywhere, okay? then we'll talk-,"

he practically crash landed into your lips, causing his fedora to slip off of his hair, landing with a soft thud against the floorboard. you didn't realize until this very moment that it had been quite a while since you felt this sensation with him.

he forcefully pulled himself away from you, worried you might do so first.

"i.... i just... i need to kiss you."

his words were firm. his eyes flickered down to your lips before looking back into your eyes once more, and you could tell they were pleading, begging for you to say yes.

you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling his figure in close to yours. doing the honors, you closed the final bit of gap between the two of you, earning a satisfied grunt from his throat.

he pushed you back further against the wall, keeping you trapped within his embrace. his hands now gripped each side of your waist, fingers digging themselves into your fabric like they were trying to find your skin. he tasted like wine - you figured he actually found his favorite on display. his teeth was sinking into your bottom lip. it didn't hurt, but you could tell he was tugging at them.

chuuya let go but left long, luscious pecks on your lips, allowing you to catch your breaths in every interval. his breath was now hot and heavy, his tongue successfully finding its way through, and exploring your mouth like he had been craving for it all night.

that's how he'd always kissed you. he craved for them. and if it were a meal, he would take his time with it, relish it even.

but he also does this when he's jealous. obviously you could tell what he was feeling right now.

you could feel him smirking through the kiss as he heard a soft moan escape you. with that, he moved you away from the wall, gracefully landing you with a plop! onto the sofa.

"you're drunk," you whined breathlessly, finally pulling away. all he did was silently chuckle in response, removing the first two layers of his clothing. the tie made a loud whip sound when he loosened it, as if reminding you to get a grip of what he was about to do to you.

rolling your eyes in amusement, you helped him remove each button of his shirt, sitting up a little to help him slide it off of his body.

he wasn't done with you though. he leaned in closer to you, causing you to lay back down. his lips continued their journey towards your exposed collarbones, reaching at one of the straps of your delicate dress as he pushed it further down your shoulder.

"....i'm sorry i wasn't there when he touched you."

"god, chuuya. i don't think he's gonna dream of it after this," you giggled, fingers tracing his exposed skin. he breathed in sharply as he held your wrist tenderly, kissing it.

"i'm sorry for being so rough with you."

"you did not hurt me at all, chuuya. i promise."

you reached for the back of your dress, but your action was soon cut off by his hands once again.

"let me take care of you, baby. please."

all created content belongs to mitraoki. reposts/remakes are not allowed.

[cupids-chamber]

❝ 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 .ᐟ ❞ We've heard love triangle's between one of the Tweels and Azul, however... what happens if two brothers, fall for the same person?

GENDER NEUTRAL READER 2.1k Special A/N: This has consumed my mind for quite a bit of time, so lets put it to work!!

Y/n was going about they're regular routine, just like usual, finishing their daily tasks for Crowley, when FLOYD caught them. They didn't think much of it, and before they knew it, an hour had passed. As they talked to Floyd, about many different things.

A couple hours later, Y/n had to take their leave, as they had many tasks left to complete. And as they left Floyd had a strike of realization, this was one of the first times he had sat down in one place, and talked... for hours on end, without getting bored.

The realization left him star-struck, and that was only the beginning, Floyd began to seek out Y/n more and more, until he finally realized that he may have had feelings for the magicless perfect.

Y/n made their way down the halls, when they heard they're name, causing them to lose balance for a split second. Which caused them to fall face first on the floor.

A nearby eel witnessed this incident, and though JADE was close enough to catch the falling perfect, he didn't bother. Nor did he care for them. It was only until he realized how fast they composed themselves, did he gain the slightest interest in talking to them.

The pair engaged in small talk for a while before they had to leave for their respective classrooms.

Ever since that day Jade and Y/n, always somehow encountered each other, many would call it fate. He even began to grow intrigued at they're clumsy nature. And before the eel knew it.. he was in love.

FLOYD LETS HIS LOVE BE KNOWN BY: Floyd casually hands you a bracelet, it seemed handmade. A beautiful blue toned seashell bracelet. "I made it for ya' lil shrimpy" he said, bearing a grin. The gesture seemed unlike him, yet was adorable too. Y/n was so taken aback, that they failed to notice the blush the eel adorned. JADE LETS HIS LOVE BE KNOWN BY: A terrarium, was displayed on your desk with a letter displayed, clearly stating it was for you, there were no signature or name written on the card, simply "To: Y/N L/N", yet you managed to notice that the plants inside was your favorite's, and only a certain Octavinelle student was aware of your favorite plants.

SMALL THINGS FLOYD DOES: Checking up on you, though it doesn't sound like he cares, he would try his best to make sure you're ok, sneakingly passing you, one of his favorite snacks, if he knows you haven't eaten. "I heard ya' didn't eat?" The man searches through his uniform, until he finds something and hands it to you "Well here lil' shrimpy" before you could thank Floyd, he already ran off, staring at your hands, you realize it was your favorite chocolate bar. SMALL THINGS JADE DOES: Making sure you're healthy, analyzing your behaviors, giving you a plant that helps with sleep, herbal tea recipes, hell on his free days the man invites you for tea. Jade had asked if you wanted to come over to Octavinelle for some tea, of course the invitation was surprising, and you were more than surprised at the beginning. But you agreed nonetheless. "I'm glad you came, perfect." The eel grinned, it would have seemed frightening if you hadn't grown so used to it by now.

JADE and FLOYD were both completely unaware of how they were wooing the same person, until one day, they were confronted by Y/n themselves.

The oblivious perfect was unaware of the mistake they had made, completely unaware of how much both brothers loved them, oblivious as they were, at that moment even an idiot would know what was going on...

WHO WOULD THEY CHOOSE?

© cupids-chamber, do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work without prior permission and or confirmation from me.

[felice-jaganshi]

His Pet

Alastor X OC

Chapter 9

They started to walk home, her hand in the crook of his arm, looking like a proper old timey couple. Zariah started zoning out again though, having too many thoughts running through her head from all the sights and sounds and everything that just happened. So many new story ideas! New dark romances she could write!

Alastor noticed her eyes glaze over and chuckled, “ah darling~ you're lucky I have a hold on you. Who knows where you'd wander without my arm to guide you home.”

They passed by the Vee's tower, and Vox rushed out, blocking their path. “Alastor! Out and about after such a humiliating defeat to Adam?! And with a little paid whore on your arm too?! Hah! I would have thought you were above something like that, but I guess not.” He was grinning like mad, excited to slander Alastor publicly at every turn.

Zariah spoke up for him next, “Hey, Alastor is a true gentleman and doesn't need to pay anyone to want to be around him!” She smirked, “Even you ran to come see him, didn't you?”  Vox cracked with electric fury, and Alastor patted her head,

Alastor laughed as well, however, “Ahahaha.. Voxy boy, you should know by now that I do not go out with just anyone. They must be quite special for me to show interest, and my dear pet here definitely fits the bill.” 

“Now dear, let me handle this. Box is just jealous that I'd rather spend time with you than him.”

Suddenly a blast of electricity shot towards Zariah's face, only to be blocked by Alastor's cane. “We'll see if you still want her on your arm after I rip her stupid tails off!” She squeaked and moved to stand behind Alastor, freeing his arm to do as he needed to fight vox.

(I can't actually write fight scenes to save my life~~ so we'll skip that~~)

Vox's screen was cracked and he took several steps back towards his tower. “Fortunately for you, I have an important meeting, so I'll have to kick your ass another day!” He turned into electricity and jumped into a security camera. Alastor chuckled softly and turned to Zariah, offering her his arm again. She gladly accepted, and though he didn't look injured at all, she used some subtle healing magic on him just in case. 

“It seems our little Voxie can only handle so much before he has to bow down and retreat. You did quite well today my dear. I'm proud of you.” 

She purred at his words, “really? I'm glad!” 

He smiled fondly at her, “Remember when I said I'd take our bond seriously? Well, I realize I haven't been keeping good on that promise lately. I've been questioning your intentions and brought shame upon myself. I am… not the best at trusting others. But I will make more of an effort with you. Because you've earned it.”

She blushed and looked at him, her heart fluttering and butterflies in her gut. This was the most romantic thing he'd ever said!

Alastor felt a little weird about the way she looked at him, but decided not to comment on it as they made their way back to the hotel. They entered and Angel Dust was immediately pulling her off of Alastor's arm.

“Z! Hey, you okay?!” He held her shoulders and looked her over. Charlie had told him about Alastor yelling at her when he got back from work.

“Yeah, I'm fine Dusty. Why wouldn't I be? Oh, did you hear about the Vox fight already?” She asked with a head tilt, that was fast if so…

“What? No, I heard about…” He looked over at Alastor, then threw an arm casually around her shoulders and acted casual, “Listen, tomorrow night I'm going out clubbing with some friends, I want ya to come with me okay? I just know you're gonna love it!” He was trying to play it cool. If her situation was like his and Valentino's… he wanted to help you, but knew he'd have to be careful about it or he might make it worse…

She smiled and hugged Angel, “Sure! I've never been to a club!” She turned to Alastor, “Al, I'm gonna go out with Dusty tomorrow, okay?” She wasn't asking permission, just stating a fact.

His eyes half closed, considering telling her no… then thought better of it, “hm, alright. But I'm sending Husker with you.” He then left them alone.

Angel's face lit up, and he called out to Husker, “alright! Yo Whiskers! You're getting tomorrow off!”

Zariah smiled, “oh, you had work today right? Want me to massage out any sore spots while ya bitch about it?” 

Angel sighed and leaned his weight into her, “yes, puh-lease! Your hands are magic! Literally!” He laughed at his own joke.

Lucifer watched them from a doorway, speaking to Charlie in the other room. “She seems alright… you said she sometimes goes hazy eyed and spaces out? That I think might just be trauma from getting kicked out of heaven… that kinda thing really messes you up. I would know.”

Charlie sighed, “she also locks herself in her room for hours on end some days and won't tell any of us what she's doing in there. I'm trying to respect her right to privacy and hoping she'll tell me when she's ready, but I'm still worried.”

He nodded, “hm, I think I can get in. If we can get her to open up to everyone, rather than shutting herself away, we'll be able to see easier if he does try anything with her.”

“You're right… but, maybe she'll unlock his softer side. If she can touch his heart, she may be the key to his redemption.”

“Heh, you're an even bigger dreamer than me. I don't know if I can be that optimistic.” 

Content warning: there be Valentino shenanigans from next chapter onwards. It will all be less than what's in episode 4. But, proceed with caution anyways if you are sensitive like me.

[happynowyo]

Reflection, part 4

Fandom: Six of Crows

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Shadow summoner!OC

Warnings: Kaz Brekker and everything that goes with him

Word count: 2,1k

Tag list: @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @valkyrie05x, @parabatai-winchester, @footydais, @valeridarkness, @igakc , @winstonthecow22

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Her first week in the Slat was so quiet and nice that Jess had the deceptive impression that she had been living here for many months already. She managed to fit into the routine quite easily, though she kept a certain distance from everyone around her because of Kaz's unspoken request. To him, it was just a job. One of many others, though special enough. So he kept Jess out of any of the Club's activities, but generously allowed her to be there as an observer every night.

She was similar to Matthias in that role, and he was basically the first one who Jess encountered most often, in the deserted kitchen or the living room in the quiet afternoons, while the rest of the Crows and Dregs ran countless errands for Brekker. The day before, Nina had locked herself in the bedroom with Jess with the company of a fine bottle of wine and they had talked literally until morning, passionately recounting the things that had worried and troubled them in these past few years. When Nina talked about Matthias, her eyes lit up so obviously that Jess swallowed her surprise and all questions about how he had coped with his beliefs that all Grishas should be recognized as a mistake of nature and killed.

The stern Fjerdan intimidated her with grim evaluative glances and the silence with him was so dense and physically palpable that it reminded Jess of the rare moments when her father had punished her with such silence and she had become extremely uncomfortable even standing next to him. But Matthias brewed the best coffee in the Slat and proved to be contradictorily curious. Jess thought that was Nina's beneficial influence, though she didn't go into details about their complicated relationship.

— Kaz let slip that you escaped from the Little Palace. Were you a Grisha?

Matthias found her after breakfast, taking the clean plates from her without further question to wipe them dry. His voice sounded wary, but Jess appreciated the first steps taken toward her, so she tried to show reciprocal benevolence by shaking her head gently, though she was almost certain that Kaz had told Matthias such details on purpose.

— Grisha's abilities come from birth and remain with them until death, even if we don't use them for some reason.

— So it's true, isn't it? Can you do magic stuff like Nina, too? Trick someone else's mind and control their heartbeat?

Jess knew that hiding something from the Crows would be an extremely difficult task. She was going to be living with them for a while and she wanted to believe that they would be able to make some sort of connection. To be on good terms. The last thing she wanted was to be in isolation again, where she could trust no one and had to constantly look over her shoulder, drowning in the pitch blackness of anxiety. Matthias, with his crystal blue eyes, looked naïve and curious, but Jess remembered that he had dragged dozens and dozens people like her to execution before.

— I have certain powers, but no, I'm not like Nina.

— I've heard that Grishas get sick when they give up their powers and hide them. That it's a punishment from the gods for ignoring their gift. Is this true? — Matthias seemed genuinely positive, not about to reproach or condemn her for who she was born to be.

— My grandmother used to say the same thing. I haven't met Grishas like that personally, but it sounds likely. I know your culture raised you differently, but many people do perceive our powers as a miracle and a special gift. Which is funny, since Grishas have been training for centuries only to die in the Fold.

Sadness seeped into Jess, threatening to turn into regret over Aleksander's sins, so she chose to change the topic to how Matthias was adapting in Ketterdam and what exactly he was doing for Kaz while he was trying to convince himself that he didn't stay here because of Nina.

Her next personal encounter with one of the Crows came the next day, when Inej caught her on her way back from some shopping. The Wraith was given her nickname rightfully. Her footsteps were completely inaudible, and her appearance made Jess twitch reflexively for a moment .

— Kaz wanted me to keep an eye on you. Why did you go out to the city alone?

If Jess hadn't known they'd only met each other a few days, she would have thought that Inej was really worried about her. But she just shrugged her shoulders and nonchalantly shoved a large bag of groceries into Inej's hands, since she'd decided to stop hiding on the rooftops and keep her company for the walk.

— I didn't know that the Slat was supposed to be my prison with required permission to go in and out from Saint Brekker, — Jess' lips parted in an amused chuckle, though she knew she really should have been careful. — I haven't been gone more than twenty minutes. I thought you were on a mission. What did the boss have in mind for you today?

— Looking for some information, nothing new, — Inej answered vaguely, stepping first into the building that had become her true home in the last couple of years.

Inej held herself aloof and rather professionally, but Jess managed to melt the ice between them with lemon cakes and herbal tea brewed in the Suli tradition, as well as her own honesty about the terrifying things she had seen before in the Little Palace and while visiting military settlements with other Grishas. Experience had told her, correctly, that nothing brought people closer together as much and as quickly as shared traumas. Inej, tearfully talking about the Menagerie, earned Jess' respect almost instantly.

After she had left, Jess expectedly had another nightmare waiting for her. It started out so well that it looked like her real past. She was in her father's study, beside a huge elongated desk, drawing a map of Ravka according to Aleksander's instructions. Shadows stretched lazily along the walls to the ceiling and looked more like puffs of loose smoke, something her father had remembered to point out to her, reminding her to focus better on control. He said it so often that Jess heard his voice in her head many times, even after their classes.

Aleksander was there and she could feel the warmth of his smile, as well as the tangible touch on her shoulders in the form of an approving gesture. She had relaxed enough, and that's when the first terror shaked her. The nightmare crept into her memories as an ugly shadow, taking any light from the room and distorting Aleksander's facial features, bringing her back to that forest. To his screams, to his commands and to the massive pain. To his regret that she was too weak to really be his daughter. Even years later Jess didn't know what hurt her more — his cruel words or the searing, lingering pain by the darkness that had slipped inside her body and deprived her of air, ripping her skin through. Her father always calmed himself at the sight of the first blood, but now, in the midst of the nightmare, it wasn't meant to be.

The clammy fear didn't leave her even after she awoke. Her hands were shaking shamefully and Jess was suffocating in the stuffiness of her bedroom, so she stepped out onto the porch leading to the small backyard. Someone from the Dregs had dragged a nice white bench here, better suited to stand outside a fancy coffee shop, attracting tourists with full wallets. And that's where Wylan found her, unabashedly holding out a cup of tea. His outstanding and too readable facial expressions remained visible even in the night's semi-darkness, his eyes running across Jess' face and his lips pursed in dangerous anticipation, as if he thought she was bound to chase him away.

— Kaz said you had nightmares. You were screaming in your sleep. I guess it's silly to ask you how you're feeling, isn't it?

— If Kaz Brekker is so attentive, why doesn't he talk to me about it himself? I haven't seen him in a few days, — Jess managed to get her emotions back under control and softened the harsh phrase towards the end. She carefully took the cup and nodded appreciatively, dabbing her fingers on Wylan's arm to sit him invitingly on the bench beside her. — I'm fine. We all have reason for nightmares, don't we? No one in the Slat had a good life or we wouldn't be here otherwise.

— What do you usually see in your dreams? — Wylan's question sounded muffled, and his mind had already shifted, tossing up an image of his father. Goosebumps ran down his skin at the same second, giving away his former fear, and he wondered if he would ever be able to get rid of that terrifying reflex. No child should ever have to react like that to his own parent.

Jess knew very little about Wylan. Just some things Nina and Inej had told her. He was amazingly good with substances that could be detonated, had an eye for Jesper that was quite mutual, as was their endless flirting, and was excellent at music, judging by notes Jess had spotted in his room through the ajar door. Nina had mentioned that Wylan had run away from his family, and because of that Jess felt a special sympathy for him. Sometimes even life on the streets or being among ruthless cruel thieves and murderers was better than being under the family wing.

— My father, — the answer came out before Jess could even decide whether she should give away any details or it was better to keep her secrets from the Crows. If she had to run again soon, there was no point in making any friends here that she would have to leave behind.

The weight of the truth was really heavy for her more than ever, and she could feel in her gut how her hope for a peaceful future had crumbled. She could fool herself all she wanted with the rumors of the Darkling's death that were still circulating in Ketterdam, but there was a nagging sense of foreboding under her skin that she couldn't shake off. They really did have a connection.

Once, when she was eight, Aleksander had given her an enchanted pendant when she'd begrudgingly refused to let her father go back to the war. The Fabricator had worked on it so that the silver chain with its decoration in the shape of a small bird, remained completely black, as if it had been made of pure darkness. Her father had said that it would stay black as long as his pulse was beating, that he would always come back to her as birds flew back to their home nest. And she believed. She still believed and that's why she never had the courage to look at the chain kept in the silk pouch at the bottom of her suitcase. Jess still didn't know whether she wanted to see the black or the silver.

— I'm afraid that he'll come back for me. I'm afraid that part of me wants him to, because I'm still attached to him. No matter what - that's what he said, and now it seems like a real curse, — a sad smile flashed across Jess' face, but quickly disappeared behind her cup with another sip of tea. Her heart felt heavy at the admission of her weakness, but she was comforted by Wylan's presence in the moment. — Do you have something similar with your father or have you already managed to jump to the next stage and free yourself from his influence?

— Mine never took care of me. No breakfasts together, no walks, no affectionate words or hugs. He had no part in my upbringing, though he liked to punish me for something he alone saw some sense in. So, I didn't have anything to hold on to. Maybe I was a little luckier in that regard.

Jess had trouble being tactile, but at that point she could clearly feel someone else's pain, and she was sorry that it was her nightmares that indirectly caused Wylan to return to the troubled subject. Damn Kaz Brekker, had he sent Wylan to her? So, coping with the rush of anxiety, she took a deep breath and touched his knee fleetingly as a sign of mute support.

— We don't get to choose our parents, but we can surround ourselves with those who treat us much better. You're doing pretty good with Jesper, aren't you? That gives me hope.

[valkyrieandstrangeridingaragorn]

5 Years Ago, 'Black Panther' Changed the World — But Marvel Failed to Change With It (msn.com)

what do think of this I think it does bring up some fair points

I agree, it brings up some really good points.

We have to be careful though not to fall for the belief that L&T or The Marvels are being criticized because the directors are not white. There is a part of that, racists everywhere unfortunately, but we need to analyse the product like we would with any other director. L&T is just not a good movie and The Marvels is not bad but it's not good either and it's certainly not a sequel for Captain Marvel.

So while Da Costa surely will be getting a lot of hate directed at her for being a POC woman, when it comes to discussing her work I have also seen a lot of people claim if you don't like what she does that means you're racist. So there's a fine line there.

With that said, they get scrutinized a lot more, the demands they have to face are much stricter and when their work is subpar we have to hear the "Women can't direct" which is something you never hear when the bad director is a man (I heard many critics of L&T and Quantumania but none of them said men can't direct).

Da Costa is probably facing the same fate as Brie Larson. When Chris Pratt got a lot of hate a few years ago, everyone jumped in to defend him. But Brie was mostly left alone and now it seems Da Costa is going through the same thing. If the studio can't be arsed to take a stand and defend them, are we really surprised the MCU fanboys feel free to hate on them?

There's also the fact that as per Da Costa's own words, she had no full creative control of The Marvels and the movie is pretty much a Feige movie. Where's the criticism aimed at him? 🤔

One thing from the article I agree with is how fake this "diversity" from Disney/Marvel truly is. The critics love to claim Phase 4+5 are not good because the MCU is focused on diversity but... is that diversity being used well?

Is it really representation when Loki says "a bit of both"? When Sam is Cap but we haven't heard from him since his series (but we get Captain Brexit bullshit every other week)? When some female characters might be taking the spotlight but their stories are not written well and their characterization is all over the place?

Black Panther works (and Wakanda Forever too, that movie is so good) because it's a well-crafted story that is not patting itself on the back every two minutes for how "woke" it is. It's quite simply a good movie done well that focuses on POC. And it works, of course it works!

The way Marvel/Disney approach diversity and representation nowadays is as follows: They do the bare minimum for clout, enough to anger the bigots and keep the rest of the audience happy. They have the best of both worlds: The bigots complain (thus fooling the audience into believing what the MCU does is actual rep), and when we complain that it's not enough, we're paired with the bigots and told we're racist, sexist, etc. It's a vicious circle and Disney loves it.

I really like this part of the article:

“There is a symbiotic relationship between studio and fandom but at the end of the day, the studio sets the tone. Trust that the people you’ve tasked with telling that story can do it to the best of their ability. Stick behind your actors, directors and screenwriters because filmmaking is a collective thing. You have to work as a team.”

That includes sharing the scripts with them in their entirety, being there for them when unfair criticism and hate are thrown their way, hiring more diverse people behind the scenes so we can get richer stories, delivering when providing representation... This is all something they are NOT currently doing.

[honyakuninakunaru]

Rather Than Wishing Upon A Star In Vain // Mithra SSR Card Story

CHAPTER 1

(City of Stella)

As I wandered around the stalls throughout the festival, I felt a familiar figure approach me.

Akira: "Hi, Mithra!"

Mithra: "Good evening, Master Sage."

Akira: "Since we're both here, shall we browse around together?"

Mithra: "Sure, why not. I haven't got much to do anyways..."

Mitile: "Heave-ho!"

(Smack)

Mitile: "Aww, missed again... This is difficult..."

Hearing a certain someone's voice, we turned our heads towards one of the stands. There, we saw Mitile trying his utmost to score at one of the festival's games.

Akira: "Hey, Mitile, what's up?"

Mitile: "Oh! Hello, Master Sage! And Mister Mithra... I've been trying to throw this ball for so long, but I can't seem to do it right."

Mitile: "Apparently, if you manage to hit any of the prizes hung on the platform, you get to take it home with you. But..."

Akira: "Alright then, let me give it a try! Which one do you want?"

Mitile: "That bag on the right! It's got lots and lots of star-shaped konpeito in it!"

Mithra: "I can just get it for you, you know."

Mitile: "Y-You can...?"

Mithra: "All I have to do is throw the ball at it, right?"

Mitile: "P-Pretty much, yeah. Here, you aim it like thisー"

Mithra: "<Arthim>"

Akira: "Whoa, the ball's floating!"

Mitile: "M-Mister Mithra, you can't do that! It's against the rules..."

Stall Owner: "Oh, Lord! A-A wizard! Y-Yer a... wizard...!"

Upon witnessing Mithra use magic, the stall's owner abruptly yelled out in distress. 

Mithra: "Well, yes, I am. I am Mithra of the North."

Stall Owner: "Mithra o' the North... I reckon I've heard that name before... They say yer a heinous tyrant, the devil incarnate himself...!"

Mithra: "Heh, you know me quite well it seems."

Akira: "(I should step in, shouldn't I...) H-He's also a Sage's Wizard, among other... things."

Akira: "Mithra's not one to resort to violence without rhyme or reason. As the Sage, I can personally vouch for that."

Stall Owner: "Aha... So yer the Sage? Well, not that I'd know even if ye were lyin' to me, but yer quite the character, millin' about with them wizards."

Stall Owner: "Ah, whatever. I suppose wizards from other countries don' really have a reason to be conning us folk. Go on, play all ya like."

Stall Owner: "That goes for ya too, lil' mister."

Mitile: "T-Thank you, sir!"

Though still slighty wary, the owner took the ball from the cage and offered it to us.

Mithra: "Good. Now, let's see..."

Mithra: "<Arthiー>"

Mitile: "Umー! Just a moment... please."

CHAPTER 2

Mithra: "What is it this time? Don't you want that sack anymore?"

Mithra: "I'm going to get it for you in a bit, so just stay put, will you?"

Mitile: "I... Appreciate that, but this still feels like cheating, and I don't like that..."

Mitile: "So, I'm going to get it myself! Without magic!"

Mithra: "Goodness gracious... Nevermind."

Mithra undid the spell he had cast upon the ball. It fell and rolled on the ground, a stone's throw away from the target.

Mithra: "This is what I get for trying to be nice. How utterly vexing."

Mithra: "Oh well, not like I cared about this in the first place."

Mitile: "...Thank you, Mister Mithra. Now, watch closely. I'm going to hit it on the first tryー!"

(Some time later…)

Mitile: "Heave-ho!!"

Akira: "Mitile! You got it!"

Mitile: "Hooray!"

After many strenuous attempts, the ball finally hit the target. Having successfully acquired his prize, a satisfied smile graced Mitile's face.

Mitile: "Look, Master Sage! I got it! I really got it!"

Akira: "That's amazing, Mitile!"

Mitile: "Eheheh! I should also thank you, Mister Mithra! See, I was able to get it with my own two hands!"

Mithra: "I still don't get it. It would've been so much quicker if you had simply used magic."

Mitile: "That's true, but putting effort into making your wishes come true feels much more rewarding..."

Akira: "You wished for something, Mitile?"

Mitile: "Mhm. I heard that if you get a bunch of star-shaped things at this festival, your will get your wishes granted."

Mitile: "That's why I really wanted this bag full of konpeito. ...Here you are."

Akira: "Aw, Mitile... Are you sure you want me to have this?"

Mithra: "I'm beginning to think you didn't really want this if you're willing to share it."

Mitile: "You two stayed by my side and encouraged me to continue, so... It's only right that I give you some as thanks."

Mitile: "I'm going to look for more stars, then! See you!"

(Distancing footsteps)

And with that, Mitile skittered away merrily, the bag of konpeito tightly clutched to his chest.

Akira: "Sounds kind of romantic, doesn’t it? Collecting star-shaped things to get your wishes granted, I mean."

Mithra: "Do you actually believe that? Surely there are other, more practical ways to get what you want."

Mithra: "You have Mithra of the North standing right before you. Anything you want, I can make it come true."

Akira: "...You will do that? For me?"

Mithra: "Of course. There's nothing I can't do. Come on, ask for something. Say, anyone you want me to do away with?"

Akira: "No, I don't have anyone like that... Um, I'm a little thirsty, so if you could get me something to drink..."

Mithra: "<Arthim>"

Mithra: "Interesting. It appears Nero's making some concoction out of pressed fruits. I'll go and get it for you."

Akira: "J-Just like that?! A-Ask him first, perhaps...?"

Mithra: "He won't mind. Anything else?"

Akira: "Well... I've been walking around for a while, and I'm a little tired, so it'd be nice if I could sit down for a minute."

Mithra: "As you wish. <Arthim>"

CHAPTER 3

Akira: "Is this... A chair from the manor's dining hall?"

Mithra: "It is. Since you're used to sitting on it, I thought it'd be the best choice."

Akira: ("That's true, but... I wonder if anyone's been sitting on it until now...")

Mithra: "Come on, take a seat. What would you like next?"

Akira: "That will be all. Thank you, Mithra."

Mithra: "Really? You're satisfied with this little?"

Rather malcontent, Mithra's dark-green eyes wander off to the stall we were at earlier.

Mithra: "Since you said you wanted to collect those start things, I assume there's still something you want?"

Akira: "Well, yea, it sounded interesting, so it made me want to try it for myself."

Akira: "But, rather than collecting them to have my wish granted, I'd like to collect them for the fun of it..."

Akira: "Mitile looked so happy when he got that bag of konpeito. I mean, how can he not. They're so sparkly and pretty, just like little stars."

Mithra: "...I see. You should've said so sooner."

Mithra: "&lt;Arthim>"

(Woosh)

(Somewhere up in the sky)

Before I knew it, Mithra had seated us atop his broom. Glancing upwards, we saw the night sky, adorned with millions of stars, in all its stellar glory.

Akira: "...Wow...!"

Mithra: "You wanted the stars, right? Is this good enough?"

Prompted by Mithra's words, I reached out my hand towards the sky. Beyond my fingertips, the stars shone like polished jewels.

Amidst a sky so dreadfully dark you could get lost in it, never to return, the stars bestowed a gentle, soothing glow from afar.

Akira: "...It's so, so beautiful... I feel like if I just keep reaching out like this, I could actually grab one..."

Akira: "If I had this many stars, my wishes would all come true in the matter of seconds... Thank you for bringing me here, Mithra."

Mithra: "No need to. This is the least I can do."

A perfunctory answer typical for Mithra. And yet, his voice was laced with the faintest bit of mirth.

Mithra: "Now you know that should you ever want anything, you can come and find me."

Mithra: "I will grant you whatever it is you may want, and much better than some petty star."

Akira: "...Mm, I will. Next time I think of something, I'll definitely ask you first."

Mithra: "...If you insist."

Mithra turned around. In his eyes, I could see the reflection of the stars.

Captivated by those little luminaries said to grant one's wishes, I didn't dare blink, for I wanted to remember this view forever.

Mithra's Wish // Card Training Episode

(Manor Lounge)

Akira: "Thank you for going along with my caprices last time, Mithra."

Mithra: "You didn't ask for who-knows-what, so there's nothing to thank me for."

Akira: "Still, it made me very happy. And now, it's my turn to do something for you."

Mithra: "You mean to tell me you can grant a wish of mine?"

Mithra: "What if I asked you to make me the strongest in the world? Or to bring me the greatest legendary beast there is, so I can eat it and fill my stomach for centuries to come?"

Akira: "U-Um, perhaps something a human like me can do... For example, I could cook you your favourite meal!"

Mithra: "Hm. Let's go to my room then."

Akira: "You want me to... cook in your room? I mean, why not, I need to fetch a few ingredients firstー..."

Mithra: "We can do that later. The things you can do for me can be counted on one hand."

Mithra: "If you want to do something for me that badly, put me to sleep, please."

Homescreen Voiceline

Mithra: "No matter how long or hard you wish upon a star, there's no proof that what you want will come true. Stop wasting your time and come here. I trust you haven't forgotten you have a duty at night. If you like the stars so much, I'll simply give you some of my sugar."

ーーーーー

Biiig thanks to circ (@amoresviesse) for providing raws for this story!

[shimmerwindow]

I Never Really

Part Four

Warnings: heavy alcohol use, marijuana use, mentions of throwing up (no graphic descriptions)

Word count: 4.5k

Playlist

Masterlist

He pointed the house out to you, halfway down the block. It was small, with yellow siding and brown shingles. There was a porch adorned with white plastic chairs, and a hammock hanging from two support beams. An arm hung out the side of the hammock, the person inside slowly rocking themselves back and forth by pushing off the railing below them.

“Where is everybody?”

“People always show up late. I figured we could show up before most of the crowd gets here so you could meet the guys before they get too drunk.”

That was a blessing and a curse. You wouldn’t have to spend as much time making awkward conversation with strangers, but now you wouldn’t be able to avoid meeting his brothers. You feared you were getting in too deep too quickly. Together, the two of you walked up the concrete path to the house.

“Heyo,” he called in a low-pitched voice.

There was a rustling from the hammock, and a man emerged. “Hey, little guy!” He shouted, bounding across the porch to wrap an arm around Sam’s shoulder, to which Sam shot you an embarrassed look. “Jesus, haven't seen you in a week, Sammy. Did you get taller?” He rubbed his hand over Sam’s arm.

“Get offa me.” Sam laughed and brushed the man’s arm off his shoulder. “This is Josh. Older brother, if you couldn’t tell.” He introduced you, and you held your hand out for a handshake.

Josh gripped your hand with both of his, holding it at eye level, saying your name back to you in a dreamy voice. “So nice to meet you, love.”

“Likewise,” you smiled back.

Josh had an air about him that you couldn’t quite put your finger on, and it wasn’t just the odor of weed hanging off of him. He had a mop of brunette curls that just barely dusted the base of his neck, and bangs that bounced with every move he made. His eyes were the same color as Sam’s, a gorgeous golden brown that shone in the sunlight. It was clear he and Sam were related when you looked at his features, though Josh was several inches shorter, only slightly taller than you.

“Is that Samuel?” A voice came from behind the screen door to the house.

“Is that Daniel?” Sam called back.

Josh let go of your hand as you turned to face the guy coming through the door. He smacked his fingers against the top of the door frame as he walked through, glancing between Josh, Sam, and yourself with a grin.

“Who’s this?” He motioned at you.

Sam told him your name, raising his arm like he was going to put it around your shoulder, but awkwardly setting it back down by his side. Thank god he didn't do that. “She’s a friend, from class. Met her on the roof. Bummed a ciggy off her.”

You let out a small laugh and smiled, recalling the memory fondly.

“I’m Danny,” he introduced himself, shaking your hand with a firm grip. His hands were heavily calloused and rough, but warm. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

You shot a glance at Sam, who was giving him a pained look.

Danny laughed, waving a hand at Sam. “Nah, I’m just fuckin’ with him. I haven’t heard a thing about you. You look nice, though. I like that necklace.” He motioned a finger at your neck, where you wore a beaded necklace you’d made with a friend many years ago.

“Oh! Thank you!” You touched a hand to the beads. “I like your hair.”

Danny was tall, with long, gorgeous curls that were even longer than your own hair. It was pulled back into a half-up ponytail, the other half swept forward over his shoulders.

“Thanks,” he said, toying with a piece of his hair. “Grew it myself.”

You giggled a bit, fidgeting with your necklace. You’d been rather worried these guys would be unbearable, but they seemed like a wonderful group. But didn’t Sam say there were three of them?

Right on cue, you heard footfalls crunching on the leaves behind you, and a call of “aha!” in a low voice.

“That’s Jake,” Sam said to you.

Jake came around the corner and up onto the deck, a bottle of tequila in his hand. “Who’re you?” He asked, gesturing to you with the bottle.

Sam rolled his eyes and introduced you. “I told you I was bringing someone, man.”

“Well, it’s lovely to meet you.” Jake shook your hand, his fingers warm, and calloused, but gentle.

Jake looked remarkably similar to Josh, but with long, straight hair swept back from his face.

“So, you guys are…” you gestured between Sam, Jake, and Josh.

“Brothers,” Sam finished.

“I’m the oldest,” Josh said, pushing an arm against his brothers with a smile.

“By five minutes. He lets it go to his head." Jake held up a finger.

“They’re the twins. I’m just the little brother,” Sam said.

“Twins, huh.” You studied their faces, noticing they really did look identical.

The leaves in the yard rustled together loudly as a chilling wind whipped across the five of you. “Jesus, it’s cold out here.” You pulled your fingers into the sleeves of your sweater.

Jake held open the screen door to the house, gesturing everyone inside. “Shall we?”

The group filed inside, and everyone went about their business. The house was impressively clean for a place owned by three young guys, you thought to yourself. Immaculately decorated, too – like something straight out of the 70’s, but tasteful. The furniture looked vintage, but restored. Plants stood in every corner the light could reach, and a pothos was strung against the wall, circling the entire living room and disappearing into an adjacent room.

The place had a wonderful vibe. It felt cozy, but spacious, and the fireplace against the wall added perfectly to the overall feeling of warmth in the room. You took a seat on the couch, running your hands absently over the orange fabric. Sam sat near you, in a plush yellow recliner.

“Should we help them with anything?” You asked, glancing over your shoulder as the guys milled about the kitchen, talking amongst themselves. Josh was carrying a gigantic charcuterie board, Jake was putting together a drink station, and Danny walked past with a bag of charcoal over his shoulder.

“Nah.” Sam pulled out his phone, scrolling absently through something. “We’ll just get in the way.”

“So…do they, like, go to the school here? I’ve never seen any of them before, I don't think.”

“Nope. They just followed me down here.” He motioned to a guitar leaning against the stones jutting out from the fireplace. “They’re trying to get a little band off the ground. Did I not tell you any of this?”

“I guess we haven’t had many chances to talk.”

“Maybe if you didn’t sit at the back of the class every morning, we’d have a few more chances.” He looked up from his phone at you, narrowing his eyes with a smile.

Embarrassment crawled up the base of your neck. So he did know you had been avoiding him. “Well, maybe if you didn’t distract me the entire class, I could sit next to you.”

He raised his arms and made a face of mock confusion. “I didn’t even do anything!”

“You gnawed the shit out of the pen I gave you the first day you sat next to me, first of all.”

He laughed at that, running a hand over his face. “Sorry about that. I kinda forgot it was yours.”

“Whatever.”

“Anyway!” He leaned towards you. “They’re trying to make me their bass player. I’m just trying to get this whole education thing done first, though.”

“You can play bass?”

He nodded. “Been playing for a bit now. I’m alright at it, I guess.”

“That's pretty sick.”

“I’d play you something, but Jake would end me if I touched his guitar.”

As if he'd heard Sam, Jake entered the room and picked up the guitar by the neck.

“That’s yours?” You asked.

Jake nodded. “Yes, she’s mine. Love her.” He disappeared behind you and you heard the stairs creak as he headed out of sight.

Over the next half hour, one by one, people started to file in through the door. Sam didn’t leave your side other than to stand up and give the occasional hug or handshake, and to grab a few beers, and in many ways you were grateful for that. The living room filled up quickly, your spot on the couch becoming uncomfortably close to some guy you’d never seen before. But Sam kept you entertained, keeping a conversation going between the two of you even as you grew increasingly more restless on the couch.

Jake came into the room at some point, sitting on the mantle of the fireplace and easily drifting into the conversation. You found your eyes drawn to him, he had something of a magnetic presence that couldn’t be ignored. You could just barely make out the outline of his eyes behind the sunglasses he wore, and how they caught your eye on more than one occasion.

You were being pulled by two potent forces, your attention divided between both Jake and Sam. Jake had barely said a word to you, yet his body language stayed pointed towards you, his head always coming back to rest in your direction. It was borderline overwhelming.

“You look like you need a drink.” Sam cocked his head at you, snapping you out of your reverie.

“Oh, that’s alright. I’m not really a huge drinker.”

“I insist. Trust me. It’ll make all this…” he made a sweeping motion across the room. “A whole lot more enjoyable.”

One drink couldn’t hurt, you figured. “You’ve got a point.”

“Follow me.” He headed over into the kitchen and you followed close behind, dodging glances from the strangers in the room.

He mixed you something from a few bottles you couldn’t identify on label alone, handing the finished drink over to you with a flourish. “Your beverage, missus eclipse.”

His little nickname for you was so endearing you couldn't help but smile at it.

“Tell me what you think.” He looked at you eagerly as you brought the cup to your lips and took a sip.

Your face scrunched up at the taste – it tasted like pure liquor to your alcohol-abstinent tastebuds, but it was drinkable. “That sure is…a drink,” you rasped.

“Is it nasty? I can make another one!” His hands were already grabbing for a bottle and unscrewing the cap.

“No, it’s okay. Just strong.”

“We’re in college, the drinks are supposed to be strong.” He gave you a smile.

“I suppose you’re right.”

“Hey, I just realized I never showed you, like, anything. You want a tour of the house?" He glanced through the arched opening into the living room. "It's getting a bit crowded in there."

“Sure.”

As you absently sipped at your drink, he walked you through the house, pointing out little pieces you would have never noticed on your own. The piano in the corner of the sitting room seemed like a point of personal pride for him – “I saved up for so long to buy this thing,” he told you. There were framed vinyls with art you didn’t recognize decorating many of the walls, some of them still in their plastic wrap. Rare relics, you figured. There were little touches of each of the guys throughout the house, small pieces that made you think of them.

He took you upstairs, pointing at the doors to each of the guy's rooms. They each had a small wreath of dried flowers pinned to the outsides.

“Did you guys make these?” You asked, inspecting one made of white roses. The stems had been immaculately bent and twisted together. You didn’t even know you could weave flowers together that way.

“Josh made them for everyone. That one’s his. He got really into the symbology of flowers for a bit and gave all of us a big bouquet of flowers he thought were ‘us’.”

“That’s so cute,” you smiled. Josh seemed like an incredibly thoughtful guy.

“This one’s mine.” He walked to the door at the end of the hallway. His was made of several different flowers you couldn’t name, but mostly sunflowers, their petals curled in on the centers. “I think it’s kinda ugly, but it's the thought that counts.”

“I think it’s beautiful.” You examined it closer, impressed with Josh’s craftsmanship.

A feeling of calm you hadn't felt in a while rushed into your head at the same moment he opened the door to his room – the alcohol was kicking in.

His room was decorated in a way you could only describe as maximalist. On every wall hung a poster or framed vinyl, shadow boxes with concert tickets and wristbands, and a corkboard by his bed full of polaroids and photos. There was a bass leaned up against his dresser, and an older-looking one hung on the wall. Despite the clutter of decor, his room was impeccably neat, left pristine while he was in the dorms.

“Here’s my place.” He made a grand sweeping motion towards the room.

“Why live in the dorms if you have a room here?” You asked, your eyes scanning over the walls.

“Easier commute. And easier to make friends, not that I do that very often. Plus I wanted the true college experience.”

“If I had a room like this, you could never get me to leave it.” You ran your fingers over the comforter on his bed. It looked incredibly cozy, a pattern of dark autumn colors.

“Really?” He looked at you, surprised. “I feel like it’s kinda…messy.”

“Not messy. Just cluttered. In a good way.”

You went around the room, pointing out little things that caught your eye and asking about them. He happily explained – that’s a rare vinyl, those are tickets from a show last year, that’s a poster of this movie I love. You listened to every word intently, taking it all in, just purely enjoying the sound of his voice and the many stories he had to tell. He was midway through a sentence when a shout came from the stairwell.

"Sammy boy!” It was Jake’s voice that echoed down the hallway. “You up there?”

Sam shot you a look, rolling his eyes with a grin and heading over to the top of the stairs.

“You fuckin’ up there or something?” Jake shouted. “Get down here and share a drink with me!” He sounded audibly drunk.

“Jesus, Jake, I was just giving her a tour. Have some couth!”

You were a bit embarrassed by the accusation, but laughed at it nonetheless, the alcohol dulling your sense of shame.

“My apologies, fair lady, I didn’t know you were up there!” Jake called when he saw you appear at the top of the steps.

The two of you joined Jake downstairs in the kitchen, where he poured each of you a shot of something – he wouldn't show you the bottle, and you weren't entirely sure you wanted to know what it was.

“It’s the finest in the land,” Jake assured you, in a boisterous British accent. He toasted you and Sam, “to new friends,” and you downed the shots.

“Sam!” You heard Danny’s voice from the back door, just as you were reaching for the sink tap to give yourself something to wash down that awful shot. “Come check this out.”

Sam looked between you and Jake for a moment, considering.

“I’ll be back,” he told you, setting his shot glass on the counter and following Danny outside, the two of them looking as happy as young boys about to go throw stones through glass windows.

“So, what’s your deal?” Jake asked, looking you over, his eyes wandering across your body in a way that made you suppress a shiver. “You guys have a class together or something?” He gestured in the direction Sam had gone.

You nodded, swallowing around the bitter taste still stuck in your mouth. “Germanic literature.”

“Sounds hard. Is he any good at it?”

You shrugged. “It’s more boring than anything else. He’s decent enough to have as a project partner.”

“Right.” He peered out the window and you followed his gaze. Sam and Daniel were poking and prodding at the fire with sticks, and it had grown considerably in size since the last time you saw it. “You from around here?”

“Nah, across the country. This was my dream school.”

Jake raised his eyebrows at you. “Dream school? I didn’t know anyone dreamed about education.”

You covered your mouth to stifle a laugh. “I dream of the degree, not the everyday slog.”

“What’re you going for? Writing, I’m guessing?”

You nodded. “How’d you know?”

He dragged his eyes over your body again, but it didn’t creep you out in the way such a gesture normally would. He was genuinely admiring you, not gawking at you like you were a piece of meat – and the difference was crystal clear. “You look like a writer.”

“And what does a writer look like?” Your voice dropped a bit, entering a softer register.

He took a step closer, reaching for the bottles behind you, his hip brushing against yours. “Perfect.”

Your vision narrowed and your pulse quickened, your heart skipping a beat.

“Me?” You figured he must be talking about something else.

“Yes, you,” he scoffed, turning his head ever so slightly to catch your eye. “Look at yourself, girl.”

“It sounds a lot like you’re hitting on me, Jake.” You prayed those words came out sounding more confident than you felt at this moment.

“Would you be mad if I was?” He leaned a hand against the counter, giving you a cocky, self-assured smile that made you feel a bit weak.

Would you be mad? The alcohol had dulled your senses, and switched off the part of your brain that normally turned you into an anxious mess. You liked what was happening here, and you liked it a lot. Attention from men was not something you sought out willingly, typically. But when it was offered, especially from a man like Jake, sometimes you couldn't help but enjoy it.

You looked him over as he stared you down, your eyes drawn to his chest, his shirt held together by only the last few buttons and masterfully parted to show you just enough. Enough to make your mind start working, thinking of what it would feel like to run your hands across his soft, flawless skin, or how the necklaces he wore would hang as he–

As you opened your mouth to reply, the back door swung open suddenly and banged against the wall, the sound causing you to flinch as your head whipped in the direction of the commotion.

Sam’s head poked through the threshold, looking first left, then right, his eyes settling on you and Jake. You didn’t miss the way his smile faltered for a moment when he saw the two of you. He called your name, beckoning you over. “Smokin’ time. You want some?” He pointed a finger at Jake.

“I’m good, thanks.”

Sam disappeared back out the door, and you moved to hurry after him. “I’ll catch you later,” you said over your shoulder, unable to look him in the eye.

Events passed by in a blur the moment the joint hit your system and started to mix with the alcohol. You swayed on your feet, but Sam kept you upright, sitting you down in a chair outside, where you would – to your knowledge – stay planted the majority of the night. Faces came and went, friendships were formulated on the spot with people you’d never seen before. Drinks were shoved into your hands and you readily gulped them down with no regard to how drunk you already were.

“What, I can’t let loose once every two years?” You slurred when Danny, who had sat across the fire from you, said you were looking rather hammered.

“You absolutely can, darling!” Josh, who was in the seat next to you, raised his own glass in agreement.

Josh had taken his own turn captivating your attention for a bit, and it was one of the only moments of the night that was clear enough to register as a memory in your mind. He grabbed both sides of your face, looking you over like a mother looks over their child.

“You are just so gorgeous, sunshine.” He was so close you could smell the liquor on his breath, but you didn't mind. Like his brothers, he was quite easy on the eyes, if not a downright treat to stare at. “Any man would be lucky to have you. If men are your thing, of course.”

You nodded into his hands. “Thank you, Joshy. They are my thing! Well, sometimes. They also suck.”

“Amen, dear!” He exclaimed, releasing his grip on you to take another sip of his drink. “That one, right there, though–” he pointed a finger behind you. You followed his gesture, your eyes locking with Sam’s. “He’s a good one. He doesn’t suck.” He leaned in a bit closer, lowering his tone so you could hear him. “Give him a chance, why don’t you? He needs a girl like you.”

“Josh!” Sam exclaimed; evidently, Josh hadn’t lowered his tone quite enough. “Cut it out, man, I just met the girl.” He gave you a sheepish smile, shaking his head. “He’s always trying to set me up with people, I swear.”

“Josh just wants everyone to get laid more,” Danny laughed from across the fire.

Josh threw his hands up in a surrendering gesture. “Maybe I do! Sue me for wanting more passion in the world!”

You waved a hand at all of them. “I don’t have time for all that stuff anyway.”

“No time for love?” Josh asked, aghast.

“Oh, lord. Don’t say that around him, he’ll start a monologue about love,” Sam joked, poking a finger into your side.

“Maybe I wanna hear it, Sammy,” you poked him back.

“If I have to hear it one more time my head might explode.”

“Maybe you need more love in your life. Or passion, or whatever he said.”

“Maybe I do, but not everyone is so open to it right now.” He narrowed his eyes at you, like he was accusing you of something, but it flew right over your head in your drunken state.

The night devolved back into a colorful blur, punctuated by the occasional long goodbye of a partygoer saying their farewell before stumbling their way back to their dorm or house. You were struck by a kind of unexpected feeling of coziness, sitting with the brothers by the roaring bonfire. You could tell they didn’t expect you to leave, and you didn’t want to. Like they had already absorbed you as a member of their family, a sense of belonging warmed your core even better than the fire could.

Friendship had never been your forte. Gaining and keeping friends was a juggling act you’d never been skilled at pulling off, and you’d written it off for so many years that loneliness was the default most of the time. It didn’t hurt anymore, but the dull ache it left behind was melting away in the presence of these men. Like a switch had been flipped, just like that, you understood why your mother had lectured you about friends so many times. It was for the moments like these.

The vast majority of the party had left, only a few stragglers were still inside the house, searching for their keys or their coats. You and the twins sat in a peaceful silence around the fire while Jake plucked at his guitar – at what point he’d brought it out, you couldn’t quite recall. Sam had passed out in his bed, and Danny had vanished with some girl an hour ago.

You weren’t feeling well, the drinks still catching up with your cross-faded body. “I think I’m gonna go throw up,” you remarked to the twins, nearly falling over as you got up out of your chair. Jake’s playing stopped.

“You need me to hold your hair?” Josh got up alongside you, placing a gentle hand on your lower back as you hurried towards the house.

You waved him away, not trusting yourself to open your mouth right now. The next time your mind was conscious and present, you were on the bathroom floor, your arms hugging the sides of the toilet bowl as you tried to take deep breaths.

There was a soft knock at the door, followed by a voice calling your name. It was Jake. “You okay in there?”

You responded by flushing the toilet a final time, certain there could be nothing left in your stomach. You took your time cleaning yourself up, your gaze lingering on yourself in the mirror. You looked a mess by this point, and you'd gotten vomit on your sweater.

“Not this sweater,” you groaned.

“Got some on yourself?” Jake’s voice came from behind the door again, followed by a chuckle.

“Yeah. Fuck my life.”

“Don’t worry about it. Stay there.” You heard his boots on the hardwood walking away, returning a moment later. “Open up.”

You cracked the door, and he shoved a shirt through the gap. “Put this on.”

You didn’t even think twice about it before gingerly removing your shirt, and slipping on the one he’d given you. It bore the name of what you assumed to be some band – your vision was swimming so much you could barely read it. It felt heavenly, well-worn and a bit too large on you, and it smelled like him. Warm and spicy with a bit of vanilla, it smelled expensive.

You stumbled out of the doorway directly into his arms. He held you with a supporting hand under your biceps, your face mere inches away from his.

“You should probably lay down.”

You looked up at him with glassy eyes, mumbling a soft mhm in response.

“You can take my bed. I don’t want you out on the couch.”

“Thanks, Jakey.”

He guided you up the stairs and into his room, not bothering to turn the lights on as he showed you to the bed.

“Stay on your side,” he warned, holding up a finger. “And please try not to throw up in my bed.”

“I won’t,” you mumbled, pulling his comforter up to your chin, your eyes already slipping shut.

“Stay cozy, angel.” His words rang dully in your head as sleep claimed you quickly, before the light from the open door had even left the room.

[ticklish-n-stuff]

Heya! I'm so excited your requests are open! Could you do a mha fic with Bakugou and Shinsou? Either lee!baku or a tickle fight? If you don't feel it, no worries!! Thanks you!

Training partner

Oof I haven't written for MHA in a while, but it's Shinso so I can't say no to that XD

And as much as I love to badmouth Bakugo, I still love writing/reading tk content of him for some reason lol. So this was quite the fun pair to receive~

Merry Christmas~!

___________________________________________

Bakugo x Shinso (interpret as you wish)

Lee: Bakubro

Ler: Shinso

Warnings: Tickles! A bit of bondage!

___________________________________________

Bakugo was furious to say the least. I mean, he was always angry. But today even more so. He had been looking for someone to spar with all day but all of his friends seemed very busy. That's when he stumbled upon Aizawa sensei who suggested him to practice with his prodege, Shinso. The blonde was hesitant but it's not like he had much of a choice.

He and Shinso went out into an open field where they could freely throw hands at one another.

"This'll be too easy~" Bakugo grinned, very confident in himself while Shinso only rolled his eyes. They both got into position to fight and...

WHAM!

BAM!

KABOOM!

Bakugo was so busy trying to attack Shinso with all his might, he ended up getting captured by his scarf.

"You were saying?~" Shinso smirked proudly to himself, having managed to tangle up the explosive boy up in a tree. He was hanging upside down. It was pretty funny watching him squirm like a fish out of water to try to get free, but it was no use. He was pretty stuck up there. The purple haired male let out a soft snicker, causing Bakugo to get riled up even more.

"Oi! Don't laugh at me you damn extra!" the blonde snarled at him. Shinso could practically see the flames in his eyes. To add more salt into his wounded pride, the purple haired male decided to have a bit of fun with him.

He slowly approached Bakugo with a slight teasy smirk, causing the other to grow a bit nervous. Not like he would show it so of course he kept the tough guy act up.

"So are you gonna put me down or what?!" the blonde practically shouted up to Shinso's face.

"Hmm... now why should I? When you look so vulnerable right now~".

"Huh-" Bakugo's brain shortcircuited as he felt a poke to his stomach. He watched as Shinso's grin grew wider at the second. A soft blush started to spread across Bakugo's cheeks. "I swear if you tickle me I will- PFFT! BWAHAHAHA! W-WAHAIT! STAHAHAP!".

Bakugo's threat fell deaf as he quickly started cackling like a madman. Shinso was currently digging his fingers against his ribs, making sure to get between each ticklish bone.

"Sorry what was that? I couldn't hear you through your laugh~" Shinso teased as his fingertips lazily trailed down Bakugo's sides and all around his stomach.

"Pfftehehehe! I-I swehear when I get ohout you're so deheHEAD-!" Bakugo shrieked in surprise as Shinso's hand snuck below his uniform, playfully tickling his navel.

It didn't matter how many threats and curses he yelled out, he was stuck up there for Shinso to tease as long as he wanted. And maybe that wasn't such a bad thing, not like Bakugo would ever admit to liking it though.

Shinso then dragged his fingers down his sides to his ribs, right below his underarms. "Any last words?~".

"S-suck my- PFFT! AHH! NOHOHO! NAHAHAT THEHERE!" Bakugo squealed, yes you heard me, squealed in laughter as Shinso playfully scratched at him armpits. Somehow his laughter got even more wild. He squeezed his eyes fully shut. Shinso watched in amazement as Bakugo's face slowly turned all kinds of shades of red. Even though he looked like he might die from lack of oxygen, Bakugo looked so happy, like actually happy. Maybe he did enjoy this as much as Shinso.

Shinso softly smiled down at him as he kept attacking the sweet spot "What's wrong? Did I hit a good spot?~". The tease only made Bakugo more insane with laughter. His smile was so bright and wide it was unrecognizeable.

Once Bakugo's laughter started to turn wheezy and silent did Shinso let up. He slowed down his wiggly fingers to soft tickles, just to keep the blonde all giggly. It was rare hearing him chuckle so sweet and softly, but it was quite the pleasant sound. Shinso could keep this up forever but Bakugo truly looked worned out so he finally stopped, helping Bakugo down from his tangled mess.

The blonde quickly sucked as much air as he could, his red cheeks all puffed out from embarrassment. He tried to look angry and annoyed but his eyes looked so soft and content. Bakugo lowered his head as his blush grew ever so wider and mumbled out "T-thanks for that... I guess...". It was barely audible, but Shinso managed to catch it.

A blush of his own started to form before he tried acting all teasy again, but in the end he settled for a warm, caring smile "No problem~".

After that encounter, they both headed back to their respective dorms, neither of them talked about what happened but they both kept thinking about it all day and night. Both content and flustered by the experience. Who knows, maybe they'll get the chance to 'train' again.

___________________________________________

I had too much fun with this akdhsjdjsj

[zenixromeave]

aphtober day 20: parent and child

aphmau and levin try to reconnect over breakfast

Levin pulls on a stray curl, looking at the woman. The blonde strand bounces back to him. He knows his mama– Zoey– isn't blood related to him, but at least he looks like her. He feels like he was meant to be her child, even if she never even met his mother and father.

But Aphmau–

He can't see it.

Malachi calls her mom. He remembers her.

Zoey calls her his mom. She remembers her.

There are big, big eyebags under her warm eyes, and it makes him think twice about everything he's ever been. His mama told him stories, as he grew up without her, of what she was like, how selfless and wonderful she was. Is. Everyone who ever met her seemed to fall in love, and she returned their love in favor, no matter how much it took from her.

He wanted to be strong and beautiful like her, but even though she looks nothing like him, looking at her is like looking into a mirror.

She looks so tired.

He's heard she hasn't been sleeping well recently.

He's heard of the wonderful people she's lost.

He's heard of how she's never had the peace to mourn them.

The sizzling of eggs on an oiled, cast-iron pan quiets to only the popping of the oil as the heat dies, and the quick clatter of dishes and forks as Aphmau plates the two fried eggs alongside buttered and honeyed bread.

"Does Zoey still make her toast like this?" She asks, placing a decorated plate in his place on the small wooden table, and doing the same once again for herself before sitting across from him. "With the honey? She showed me to do it like this, back when we were first getting to know each other."

Levin brings the sweet bread to his mouth and takes a bite, gauging its similarity to what his mama would make for him. It seems to melt in his mouth, delicious, he nods with his mouth full. "Yeah, not as much anymore, but when we were younger she used to make me and Malachi bread like this for breakfast, too. I think she put extra sugar on it though, because she knew I liked it."

The warmest smile twitches onto Aphmau's face– a smile so genuine and loving he feels as if he's looking at something he's not supposed to: a smile for someone else. "Sweet tooth, huh? I think Zoey's always liked sweet things, too."

"I grew out of it, sort of." He takes another bite. "This is good though. Thank you, Aphmau."

He's a smart boy; he sees the wave of sadness wash over her, quick as it is, but he doesn't think that lying and calling her mom would feel quite right to either of them.

"Do you like to cook?" She hasn't taken a bite yet, more intent on conversation than hunger.

He thinks about it for a minute, trying to give her as much as he can. "Yeah, I like to give things to other people. I'm not that good at it yet, but I've been working on it, in my free time."

"I'm sure it's yummy," Aphmau smiles with a hint of a laugh. "What else do you like to do?"

He's in the middle of a bite of egg and toast, so he has a moment to think again. He likes helping people. He likes protecting people. "I don't know, um–" He chuckles awkwardly, "You're putting me on the spot. I just like to do whatever makes other people happy."

He sees it, and he knows she sees it too. The way the darkened circles under their eyes mirror each other, even if his are much lighter.

She tilts her head with a funny expression– one he isn't sure how to read. "You used to like to paint, when you were little. You'd get so messy, painting with your stubby little fingers. I kept everything you made, I hope Zoey still has it… do you still like painting?"

Levin knits his pale eyebrows together, "Ah, I don't know. I haven't done anything like that since I was a kid. We don't have many art supplies around, anyways."

With just a little bit of toast in her mouth, "Since you were a kid," she repeats with a lighthearted, mocking tone, poking at him with her fork– still skewering the white of an egg. "You're still a kid, Levin. I know it doesn't feel like it, but you are." She sighs, pausing for a second. "I used to paint the back of my house, and the… old house, out in the woods. Somewhere where no one could see, so I knew I couldn't mess up, you know?" He nods, and se smiles again, "But I always showed you and Malachi. I knew you two wouldn't judge."

"I guess, but we still don't have any paints."

Aphmau lets out a humored laugh, "That's half the fun! That never stopped me, I got pretty good at making them myself." She leans forward, and Levin takes in the wonderous look in her eyes. "It's really nice; to have something all to yourself. It doesn't have to be painting, but if you want me to show you the ropes, I'd love to. It's… been a while for me, too."

"...That might be nice."