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bleachification · 4 months ago

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⸻ THE PRINCE(SS) & THE PROTECTOR

pairing: zoro x reader

word count: 3.5k

synopsis: being in love with zoro is not for the weak, especially when such a love is unrequited. so it is all the more confusing when a certain pirate refuses to let you go when you decide to give your heart a break and leave the crew for good.

note: i really need to stop writing zoro fics with an arranged marriage and bodyguard/protector type premise. with that being said… enjoy xoxo

(also yes this is part ONE)

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Thunderstorms are the perfect weather conditions for silent rumination. You isolate yourself in a corner of the ship, eyes closed as rainwater glides down your face in cool streams. With a smile, you breathe in the scent of salt and earth that mingles with the southern winds.

The crew is below deck, sheltered from the downpour and crackling lightning that splits the skies every so often. They’re all asleep and have been for a while now. You are the outlier. The strange one that decided to sit between a storm and the sea during the devil’s hours. Funnels of black clouds swirl angrily above you as it continues to pour. Your clothes, hair, everything is drenched. Soaked down to the very bones—some particularly weary ones.

You relish the feeling of the water against your skin for another moment, reviving yourself from the bleak reflections plaguing your mind. By the time you make it inside, a decision was made.

The next morning, faint sunlight filtered by sparse clouds light up the horizon in hues of soft orange and calm yellow. The water is still. Steady. Almost as if it had forgotten its role as a tempest’s plaything mere hours ago. It’s early. Much too early for most of the crew to be awake, but you can hear a faint tinkering from Usopp’s room and the steady footsteps of another member coming up the stairs to the upper deck.

A familiar silhouette appears in your vision.

“Morning, Robin,” you say.

The archaeologist comes to stand next to you and nods. “Good morning. You’re up early.”

“Had a lot on my mind. Doesn’t leave much room for sleep,” you point out.

“Did you get any?”

“Some.”

She raises a brow, unconvinced.

“About an hour's worth,” you shrug.

An arm sprouts up from the railing you’re leaning on. It holds out a mug of steaming coffee. You take the cup gratefully. The smooth liquid warms you up in the crisp autumn air. Robin takes a sip of her own drink before responding.

“What’s the verdict?” She asks.

“I’ve decided to go.”

She sighs. “That’s it then. I understand there’s no point in trying to change your mind?”

You shake your head sadly. The past few weeks of turmoil and trepidation cemented that certainty. You can’t stay. Not when the fate of a nation falls on your shoulders… and certainly not with feelings as forbidden as the ones you harbour.

“Is it because of him?”

“No. No,” you emphasize at Robin's doubtful expression.

“Don’t lie,” she chides.

You grimace. “Well, not entirely because of him.”

Robin scans the calm horizon with watchful eyes, a storm of thoughts whirling into action behind that piercing gaze of hers. The archaeologist has always been the most logical out of the crew, favouring rationality over emotion. It is the trait you admire most about Robin and the reason why you sought her counsel specifically, choosing to confide in her—and only her—about the decision you faced.

“He deserves to know,” she says softly.

You stiffen, the mere thought making your throat tighten up with anxiety. You shake your head, effectively ending the conversation. At the perfect time too, as one by one the rest of the crew pad up the stairs, ready to start the day.

Luffy first, bounding up the steps with a large grin. Nami follows, then everyone trickles through the doors. Zoro is last.

The swordsman yawns and stretches his arms behind his head, taut muscles glistening under the morning sun. He opens one eye, peeking at you from under sleepy lids. Your heart clenches at the lazy smile he greets you with.

This is going to be difficult.

“Mornin’,” Zoro mumbles, stifling another yawn behind his fist.

The rest of the crew bustles about, running around the deck in preparation for the day ahead. You hear Luffy’s excited laugh somewhere in the background followed by familiar shouts of concern and beratement from Nami, Sanji and Usopp, each taking turns to scold the captain’s latest—and no doubt foolish—idea. Whatever it may be.

The noise and chaos fades away the moment Zoro walks up to you, his warmth surrounding you despite the cold morning temperature. It makes it near impossible for you to focus on much else. Anything else.

“Hey,” you say.

He frowns, eyes scanning your face. You resist the urge to touch it, anxious. Was there something on your face? A pimple? An eyelash?

“What? What is it?” You ask, nerves alight.

“Did you stay up late?”

You blink, caught off guard. Did you really look that tired?

“Yes,” you answer plainly. There’s no point in trying to hide it from him. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Zoro arches a brow. “Why not?” Concern laces the question. You almost crumble, seconds away from confessing the truth you’ve been hiding for weeks, when someone barrels into Zoro, knocking him over and effectively ending your conversation.

Luffy, unfazed, pops up onto his feet and dusts himself off, his signature toothy smile never having left his face. Despite his right-hand man groaning on the ground next to him, Luffy seems as chipper as ever.

“Sorry, Zoro!” He apologizes, not sounding very sorry at all.

“I… hate… you…” Zoro grunts, still recovering from having the wind knocked out of him.

Luffy only laughs it off and runs back to the rest of the crew, chattering about some new adventure that is bound to be more effort than it is worth.

“You okay?” You press your lips together in an attempt to stifle a laugh.

Zoro takes the hand you offer, warm palm wrapping around your own. You can feel rough calluses against your skin—a testament to his training. You pull him up and watch him steady himself. He doesn’t let go of your hand. Nervous, you break contact first.

He shoots you a puzzled look, but decides against commenting on it.

“I will be once I knock him upside the head.”

“Let’s not give the poor boy brain damage.”

Zoro snorts. “You mean more than he already has?”

You laugh, the sound almost entirely concealed by a burst of raucous shouts coming from the other side of the deck. Curious, you begin walking over to the crew. Zoro follows suit with his hands in his pockets. As the two of you make your way across the ship’s expanse, the sight of Nami and Luffy arguing comes into view. The others stand off to the side, exasperation and amusement colouring their expressions.

“It’s too risky!”

“It’ll be fine, why are you being so boring?”

“I am trying to keep us from getting killed,” Nami seethes. Her face is set in a tight scowl that twists her features into something alarmingly frightening. You haven’t seen her this angry in quite some time.

“Not if we’re careful,” Luffy defends. The captain looks bored and irritated at the same time.

Nami’s right eye twitches.

Oh dear.

“And since when are you careful?”

“I’m not. But [name] is.” Your captain jerks a thumb in your direction.

All heads swivel to look at you.

You raise your palms up, placating. “I… just got here.”

Nami runs up to you, eyes pleading. The ginger-haired woman grabs your shoulders and gently shakes you.

“Please knock some sense into him!”

You tilt your head and lean to the left in order to peek at Luffy from behind Nami’s frame. The boy scratches the back of his head with a toothy grin.

“Would you care to explain, Captain?” You ask bemusedly.

Luffy’s eyes dance with mischief. “We’ve got a mission!”

It’s Zoro that steps in this time. “Just the two of you?”

“Well, yeah,” Luffy answers plainly.

You gently pry Nami’s hands off. “Why?”

“You’re the only one who knows the layout of the place,” he explains.

You frown. “What place?”

“Aracorn Palace,” Robin interjects. There’s a small smile on her face as she watches the situation unfold. Always assessing. Always dissecting.

Aracorn… such a familiar name. It takes a second before a sliver of memory tickles the edges of your mind. An image forms; one of a mighty castle built from silver and stone erected in the heart of a powerful city.

You used to travel there for important delegations and social banquets. Luffy is right. You do know the area well.

“We’re going there? What for?”

“And why only the two of you?” Zoro questions.

“To be stealthy,” Luffy grins.

“Right. Stealthy. You.” Zoro stares, unconvinced.

Luffy ignores his second-in-command. “We’re going to go rescue someone. He’s being kept in the dungeons.”

So many questions.

“Who is it?”

Robin, again, speaks up. “His name is not important. He may not even own such a thing. His role as an ex-member of an underground information guild named Kleios is what makes him useful to us. An execution date has been set for tomorrow evening, so if we are to save the man, we must do it soon.”

“Well? What do you say?” Luffy's enthusiasm is palpable.

The rest of the crew watches you, assuming that you would wave it off. The danger is obvious, and you are—among most instances—level headed enough to pull the plug when needed.

One last adventure.

You surprise them.

“I’m in.”

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . 　

You should have known it wouldn’t be easy. In fact, you should have known that the entire plan would fall apart because of course it did. Nothing ever seems to go right for the crew. Right now you curse such rotten luck. Although… it isn’t even luck, not really. It’s the captain… Zoro… Nami… Sanji… the whole lot of them! No matter how organized—how meticulous—a plan was, it never actually fucking went to plan. You suppose you’ll miss it. That unmanned chaos. You suppose you’ll miss all of it. As for who you’ll miss most…

“Zoro!” You stare up at the swordsman in both relief and horror. He dangles from a rope ladder, cascaded off the side of a strange looking vehicle—one with wings and whirring motors that suspend its large metal body in the open air. Usopp sits in the pilot seat manning the impressive contraption. Sweat beads on his forehead from concentration. The others are likely protecting the ship from the nation’s naval cavalry.

You increase your pace despite the burning sensation in your lungs. Hot on your heels is a stretch of armed guards mixed with strange looking creatures that look to be a gruesome mismatch of different animals—both natural and mythological.

Chimeras.

Luffy, for once, listened and fled alongside you when shit hit the fan—albeit with extreme reluctance. The captain was able to deal with the first rush of soldiers and their Chimera, but the monster was vicious and even Luffy struggled. That was a mere one. The royal guard owned five. And all of them, snapping their fanged teeth and snarling in hunger, are quickly closing the distance between themselves and you—their prey.

The prisoner was long dead. The whole thing was a trap designed to ensnare the Straw Hats, and Luffy and you had walked straight into it. By the time you both realized you had been played, the cavalry had already surrounded you. Thankfully, Luffy was the master of creative escapes. He was not, however, a master of subtle ones. What was originally one guard unit and its accompanying Chimera quickly turned into all of them chasing after you in a vicious frenzy.

“Don’t engage! We’ll come to you!” You shout towards Zoro, urging him to stay aboard. You can see a sort of panic in his eyes, mottled by excitement. He’s itching to fight. But doing so would be his biggest mistake yet and likely his last as well if he does not heed your words.

The murderous soldiers are practically breathing down your necks, and even with Luffy trying to fend off as many as possible, you will quickly be overwhelmed by the strength of the Chimeras. The monsters growl and roar as their heavy steps thunder behind you, bloodlust practically soaking them through. If Zoro abandoned the ladder and tried to fight them off… it would be sheer suicide. You won’t let that happen.

Luffy manages to stretch out and grab hold of Zoro in the near distance. With a yell, he swings himself up and grabs you along the way. You yelp, the sudden movement catching you off guard. You shut your eyes as the wind whips you in the face. With a soft thud you land against a warm mass.

Zoro catches you, arms encircling your waist.

“Are you okay?” He murmurs into your ear.

You sag into him from relief. “Yes. Is Luffy…?”

“He’s completely fine,” Zoro smirks.

Luffy, who is sprawled across the floor, gives you two thumbs up in reassurance. You can’t help but laugh.

“Usopp! Take us away.”

The pilot gives you a smile and a salute before he presses a button and pulls the wheel up. Slowly, you feel the contraption tilt upwards. Smooth and steady.

CRASH!

Out of nowhere, you and the rest of the crew are violently thrown to the left as something punctures the metal wall of the vehicle and jerks the entire thing back. Before you go slamming into the wall, Zoro twists himself around and cushions the blow.

“What the hell?” Zoro’s grip on you tightens protectively.

A strange red pincer curls into the crumpled sheet that—just a moment ago—was the side hull. It looks to be the same sort of armour that is found upon the back of a crab, except it bears a darker color. Not unlike a deep pool of blood. Its shape is almost identical to that of a scorpion's tail but riddled with sharp ridges that cover its surface. The thing is the size of your head—a grotesque limb extended from one of the Chimeras, no doubt.

Zoro and Luffy both immediately jump into action, the former slicing at the pincer while Luffy tries brute force. Neither works. Solid and unbending, the pincer trembles then stills. The next second you are staring into the howling winds and open space. The army roars beneath you, fifty feet below. The ugly beast with the scorpion tail isn’t finished. It narrows its beady eyes and with astonishing speed, it whips its tail upwards, spearing the floor.

Usopp does his best to recenter, managing to keep everyone upright and away from the gaping hole left by the ripped wall.

“Shit,” Zoro hisses. “The damn thing is too tough. I can’t cut through.”

“I can’t rip it out!” Luffy frowns, throwing punch after fruitless punch at the immovable pincer.

Panic threatens to overwhelm you.

Shit, shit, shit. Shit!

Something glints in the corner of your vision. A solution strikes you and you scramble towards a device on the floor.

“The laser cutter! I can–” but your voice is lost to the bellowing winds as the monster yanks its tail once more, causing the entire machine to shake. You fumble with the device and clumsily clasp it in your trembling hands. Vertigo strikes you as you look down for a split second.

The ground is nearing at an alarming rate.

It’s too close. Too—

Zoro jumps.

“NO!” You reach out in an attempt to pull him back but you're too late. The fabric of his shirt slips out of your grasp and Zoro goes tumbling down—straight into the unhinged maw of the monster below.

You aren’t sure if the screams piercing the air are your own or if they belong to the dying men below. With fluid ease, Zoro manages to sidestep the beast. He dives into the mass, slashing through their ranks. It is beyond impressive.

But it is not enough.

The Chimeras have zoned in, their attention drawn to Zoro. Snarling and snapping, they circle their prey.

Its suicide.

“No…”

Luffy steps forward, ready to leap into the chaos, when familiar shouts sound from below.

The rest of the crew are here.

You collapse in relief, adrenaline draining from your body.

He’s okay.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . 　

“This is such a stupid fight,” you sigh.

“This isn’t a fight,” Zoro frowns, unnerved by the very idea of arguing with you.

Sanji pipes up. “It sounds like a fight.”

Nami pinches him by the ear and drags the chef out of the kitchen, scolding him as he protests and apologizes.

“But Nami! They’re in my workspace!”

You and Zoro both ignore him, too preoccupied with the argument at hand.

“I saved your life. His too. If anything, you should be thanking me.”

You scoff in disbelief. “I’m not going to thank you for your recklessness.”

“And I won’t apologize for it,” Zoro says firmly.

“You’re going to get yourself killed one day! I refuse to stick around and watch it happen.”

He freezes as he catches onto the underlying meaning behind your words. “What do you mean by that?”

“I…” you hesitate, unprepared for this conversation. You didn’t mean to let news of your departure slip out. This isn’t how it was supposed to go. You’re both too agitated. Too riled up.

“What do you mean by that?” He echoes. His voice is low and careful, tip toeing on the edge between urgency and trepidation.

You want to turn around. Walk away. Lie.

But this is Zoro. A man you entrust with your life and, occasionally, your heart as well. Secrets don’t belong in your relationship—as muddled as it is—and they will only consume what trust you have forged through the years.

It is time to bear the truth in front of the most terrifying witness.

With a rough swallow, you tell him everything. Your plan to leave the crew, to retain your birthright, and to finally settle your country’s score, once and for all, by bringing peace through union. A marriage between royal heirs. You and a foreign prince.

You can’t look at him as the secret you’ve been harbouring finally spills over your lips like oil. If you look at him, you’ll cry.

“…I leave in two weeks,” you finish. You’re still staring at the ground, heart racing a mile a minute.

There’s no answer. Silence stretches on for a while, so quiet a person’s breath could be mistaken for thunder. So cloying, it stains your lungs. Finally, you can’t take it anymore. You snap your head up, ready to demand a reply from the swordsman, but the look on Zoro’s face wipes anything you have to say from memory.

Shock, anger, disappointment, sadness. Those are all too shallow of description for the depth of what he is feeling. The best he settles on is desperation. An intensely unpleasant anxiety that borders on panic. That is what currently thrums in his veins.

You’re leaving…?

“You won’t change my mind Zoro.”

He doesn’t answer.

“Nothing will,” you add softly.

Especially not him.

This is your goal—your dream. He can’t take that away from you no matter how much he resents it. He simply can’t. But he can be angry, can’t he? He deserves that anger. Needs it to keep him sane. But before he can articulate it, you speak up again, turning the subject back to the argument before.

“The point is you’re too rash.”

He’s barely listening. “It’s my job.”

“No,” you reply firmly. “No it’s not. You put that title on yourself—placed that burden on your own shoulders, never asking for a hand. Not even when so many would offer.”

“I don’t need help. I protect my friends. That’s what I do,” he grits out.

“Even at your own expense?”

“Yes.”

You scoff in disbelief. “It's idiotic.”

“It’s my duty.”

“So you say!” You throw your hands up, exasperated and frustrated. “But that’s not all it is, is it? You fear losing that part of yourself—the protector, the bodyguard, the shield—because you would lose yourself in the process. Your entire life—your purpose—does not revolve around meaningless self-sacrifice and protecting us from a world we choose to exist in!”

He scoffs in sheer disbelief. “And you? What exactly is your role? Don’t you dare stand there and attempt to psychoanalyze me when you’re just a damn coward!”

You suck in a sharp breath, his words striking deep. “I am not a coward.”

“Then why the hell are you running away?!”

“Running? Running?!”

He nods, jaw clenched. He avoids looking straight at you—at the hurt in your eyes. “Yes. The only thing you know how to do.”

Anger replaces hurt. “You fucking hypocrite,” you spat out.

He shakes his head. “I’m just calling it like I see it.”

“You are nothing without your so-called duty,” you hiss. “So you do not get to judge mine.”

“Is that why you abandoned it in the first place? I wonder where this valiant change of heart came from.”

“You could never understand.”

He drops his gaze to the floor and takes a heavy step back. Zoro can barely look at you. “You’re right. I could never understand turning my back on people who needed me.”

Those are the last words he says to you. The next morning, you are gone. All of your things and belongings cleared from your room—like you had never existed on the ship in the first place.

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p0orbaby · 4 months ago

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We Can Stay Here, Spend Every Day Here

summary: barcelona win the champions league

warnings: none

a/n: thanks for sending in a Request

word count: 1k

The final whistle blows, and the stadium erupts like a shaken bottle of cava. People are screaming, crying, jumping like they’ve just been told they’re getting a lifetime supply of jamón. Barcelona’s just won the Champions League, and you’re there in the thick of it, standing on the sidelines like a stunned meerkat, absorbing the whole chaotic spectacle.

You see Alexia. She’s standing on the pitch, breathing hard, looking like she’s just wrestled a lion. Her hair’s stuck to her face in sweaty strands, but she’s beaming, a look of pure, unfiltered joy that probably hasn’t graced her face since the day she found out croquetas were a thing. She’s surrounded by her teammates, who are mobbing each other, doing that thing where they all scream “Let’s go!” even though they’ve just gone and won the damn thing.

Alexia’s eyes dart around the stadium, trying to soak in everything at once, like she’s worried she might miss a single drop of this euphoria. It’s that moment when you realise she’s not just a footballer, she’s also a sentient human sponge.

But then you notice it. The way her shoulders slump a little, how the corners of her mouth twitch as if they’re debating whether to keep smiling or just fall off her face altogether. You can almost hear the monologue running through her head, like: “Am I dreaming? Did I leave the oven on? Is that tear in my eye or did a pigeon just shit on me?” The existential dread of it all hits her at once—she’s just achieved one of her life’s greatest goals, again, and yet… what now?

It’s all too much. You can see it in the way she starts blinking furiously, like her eyeballs are allergic to victory. The next thing you know, her chest is heaving, and her breath’s catching, and you’re thinking, Oh, Christ, she’s about to go full Niagara Falls.

You’ve never seen Alexia cry. You’ve seen her stub her toe on a chair leg and swear in Catalan that would make even Gerard Piqué blush, but cry? This is uncharted territory. It’s like watching a unicorn sprout wings. It’s so rare, you almost want to pull out your phone and film it for posterity, but you figure that might be a bit much, even for you.

Instead, you just stand there, paralysed with awkwardness, trying to figure out how to comfort the world’s greatest footballer without making a complete tit of yourself. Do you pat her back? Offer her a tissue? Do that weird side-hug thing where you don’t know what to do with your arms?

No, no. You do the only thing that seems right in this absurd moment—you just walk up to her and stand there, like a total muppet, until she finally notices you.

“Y/N?” Alexia blinks at you, her eyes glistening like she’s either about to cry or ask you to help her find a lost contact lens.

You open your mouth to say something profound, like, “You did it!” but all that comes out is a croak that sounds suspiciously like a bullfrog who’s just stubbed his toe on a lily pad.

“Hold me,” Alexia suddenly blurts out, her voice barely a whisper.

You freeze. Hold her? Alexia Putellas, the most un-holdable person you know, is asking you to hold her? That’s like Messi asking you to tie his shoelaces or Ronaldo admitting he’s bad at something—utterly inconceivable.

But then again, she’s standing there, looking at you like you’re her last line of defence, and, well, what the hell else are you supposed to do?

So you awkwardly shuffle closer, your arms hovering in the air like you’re about to hug a cactus, and then, with all the finesse of a drunk giraffe, you wrap your arms around her.

And she just melts. Not like the Wicked Witch of the West—more like an ice cream in the sun, all warmth and sweetness and, honestly, a little sticky from the sweat. Her head drops onto your shoulder, and you can feel her trembling slightly, her breath hot against your neck.

“Wow,” you mumble into her hair, which smells like some fancy shampoo you can’t pronounce but secretly wish you could afford. “You’re really, uh, hugging me”

“Shut up,” Alexia mutters into your shoulder, but there’s no venom in it. She’s smiling again—at least, you think she is, though it’s hard to tell when your face is smushed into her neck like you’re trying to get a good whiff of her collarbone.

You stand there, holding Alexia in the middle of the pitch, while her teammates continue to celebrate around you. Pina is dancing like she’s auditioning for So You Think You Can Dance: Champions League Edition, and Mapi’s screaming something in Spanish that’s probably either very inspiring or incredibly inappropriate, maybe both.

You feel Alexia’s shoulders shake with laughter, though you’re not sure if she’s laughing at you, with you, or because she’s just realised how utterly bizarre this whole situation is. Probably all three.

“You okay?” you ask, because you’re not sure what else to say when you’re holding the greatest footballer in the world while she tries not to dissolve into a puddle of emotions.

“Yeah,” she breathes out, her voice soft, almost tender. “I’m just… It’s just… a lot”

“Yeah,” you say, nodding sagely, like you totally understand what it’s like to win the Champions League and have an entire nation screaming your name. “Winning’s hard”

Alexia snorts—a real, honest-to-God snort that makes you laugh, which makes her laugh, which then makes you both laugh even harder until you’re both giggling like a couple of idiots who’ve just been told they’re getting the last slice of pizza.

And for a moment, you forget that you’re standing in the middle of a stadium filled with thousands of people, that you’re holding Alexia Putellas like she’s some kind of cuddly footballing teddy bear, and that you’re probably the most absurd couple on the planet.

You just laugh, and she holds you, and you both stand there like two complete goofs, surrounded by the chaos of victory, soaking it all in, and not giving a damn about what anyone else thinks.

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #fcb femeni #fcb femeni x reader #espwnt #espwnt x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso community

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rikosseen · 28 days ago

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James Lee/DG x Reader: “Is that James Lee?”

Anon request? | Featuring the gen 1 kings

Seokdu Wang watches Taesoo intently, slowly picking up the brussel sprouts on his plate. The Ansan King is trembling, completely dropping the dead boar he’s holding on the ground, his only eye glued on the small TV with a pulsating bulge.

Is that James fucking Lee?

And- Lo and behold, it most certainly is. The menace is on Taesoo’s TV screen, holding an almost identical little girl in his arms, laughing. The bastard is laughing.

“Why’s that fucker on national TV?”

Seokdu offers a casual shrug, while Jichang gives him a sharp look, clearly disapproving of the fact that Taesoo just dropped an entire animal on the floor.

“Mm’apparently he’s an Idol,” Jaegyeon snorts, slurping on a drink.

An Idol? The prick who took his eyeball all those years ago is a prissy celebrity?

Taesoo’s face twitches in something close to a seizure as he watches James answer a question from the interviewer, proudly proclaiming that his supposed daughter inherited her red hair from him. A woman—his girlfriend? Wife?—stands beside him, draped on his arm, looking entirely too content.

With a sharp hiss, Taesoo flings his jacket over the screen, as though it could somehow shield him from the sheer injustice of the moment. The other kings exchange knowing glances, but Taesoo is already stalking off, his frustration practically vibrating in the air. He plops down outside, fists clenched, eyes shooting angry lasers at the ground.

Fuck. How many fans does he have? He’s not even that good looking. He’s fucking megamind with that forehead.

Taesoo scrambles to get his phone out of his pocket, and once he does, goes on a rampage search. Creating new accounts left and right, he dives into a sea of fan edits, each one more nauseating than the last. The fawning comments directed towards James- Diego, only fuel his rage further.

Taesoo decides that he needs to balance things out, and makes his very own hate comments to satisfy himself. But it’s not enough. He’s furious at James’ success, and wants to see the man fall.

And then, it happens. His eyes fall upon a video— a twerking video. Of Diego Kang throwing it back and doing aegyo. Taesoo’s fake eye pops out, and instantly, he’s rolling on the ground, cackling like a deranged weirdo.

Jaegyeon steps outside, only to be perplexed at the sight of the grown man writhing on the ground. With a scowl, he considers running Taesoo over with the Initial N again.

#someone brought the idea of James doing aegyo and I couldn’t get it out of my head 😭#lookism #lookism x reader #lookism manhwa #dg lookism #james lee #james lee x reader #diego kang x reader #diego kang

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abstractvanity32 · 16 days ago

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Season 3

Spontaneous Change - Things That Happen in the Bathroom

As Hannah washed her body down, she felt something extremely off about herself. She didn’t know what causing it but she looked down to see that her feet were expanding and growing. Toes thickened and veins bulged. Hannah’s eyes widened, as her she felt the heaviness of her hair get lighter, as it darkened to brown and shortened.

She felt her back crack, as her height began to increased. Brown hairs sprouted from her legs, as they thickened with muscle. She saw her fake nails fall off as she splayed her hands against the wall. They expanded and got larger, as the fingers expanded.

Hannah’s back was expanding and growing. Her entire frame broadened, as her muscles swelled. Her breasts firmed into pecs, as her stomach hardened into abs. Light dusting of brown chest hairs appeared on his pecs, as he just was in awe having this happen to him.

Hannah felt a strange stirring in his crotch, as he felt his new cock and balls form between his legs. His face changed and chiseled, as the pain suddenly seemed to cease, but Hannah let out a dark grunt, as he brushed his pec.

He got out of the shower, and let out a very deep and vapid “Wow” he looked at his face and immediately seemed mesmerized by his new features. Hannah was a pretty college girl but now. He was fucking stunning.

He just kept looking at himself and admiring his looks. And like all victims of this weird phenomenon he slowly succumbed to his new persona. Dean just smirked as he kept admiring himself. He smirked in the mirror and played around with his expression.

He had no idea where he was but he needed to get a pump in. He saw a discarded white tank and put it on and tried to get himself pumped. As the buff himbo left the bathroom, Hannah’s friends walk into the common room in shock seeing this chiseled guy coming out of the girls bathroom.

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writingmeraki · 9 months ago

Text

the proposition of us — k.mg drabble.

❝ in which mingyu realises he hates the idea of you going out on a date with your crush more than he hates you.

( or a date with your crush, alleged crush, makes you think that perhaps you don't actually know how you feel. )

pairing : frenemy/menace! mingyu x reader, frenemies to ?? genre : fluff, a little angsty and a whole bunch of attempted humour. warnings : cussing, bickering, mingyu is down bad to the point he doesn't actually acknowledge how much he likes reader, oblivious reader.

a/n : a very very late birthday gift to my darling, I love you so much 💌 I hope u all like this randomness that sprouted while I was literally showering <3 !! i have a love hate relationship with this but! menace mingyu for the win ( although it is very less here i'll admit ) anyways let me know what you think!!

word count : 1.8k

Wonseok was good.

Great even.

The best actually.

But was he the best for you?

For a long time, that's what you'd concluded.

His looks were definitely as though Aphrodite herself crafted him and his sharp jawline, perfectly shaped nose, eyes as bright as if diamonds were specifically embedded in them.

Or maybe you were just way too infatuated with him because when you told Chaewon you finally are going on a date with him, all she did was furrow her eyebrows in what seemed like confusion and questioned,

Are you sure you like him and not someone else?

Now it was your turn to be in confusion at that time, because what on earth did she mean by someone else? Were you doing something that implied you liked someone else and not Park Wonseok, the guy who stole your heart when he saved you from falling and embarrassing yourself,exactly 6 months,10 days ago?

This same confusion stuck with you like a pestering thought, unable to be moved until you finally left the date, more at unease than at excitement.

The unease you felt made you irritated because you couldn’t quite understand what it was that was bothering you.

So in all that chaos, you stood outside the one place that would hold the answers to your confusion.

The convenience store.

The owner probably thought you had lost it or were drunk, no in between because for one you were all dressed up in your prettiest outfit, makeup done and hair one while you stood outside looking at the sign.

Who dresses up for the convenience store? A crazy person.

Are they drunk? Probably.

Luckily it was none of those.

You might rip your hair out now, because the one thing you came looking for in the grocery store was not even there.

The blueberry flavoured ice candy.

Your favourite blueberry flavoured ice candy.

You just gave up then and there, without buying anything you went outside of the store, and decided the sidewalk was the best place to sit. Ah yes, the sidewalk with the uneven edges and small stones that would dig into your butt and probably bruise it if you sat on it longer than ever.

Perfect.

Shutting your eyes, you began to think of possible reasons behind your discontent with Wonseok.

You didn’t even notice, someone followed you out of the store, with the very thing you’d been craving right in his hands.

The crinkling sound of a wrapper, made you open your eyes in both surprise and fear, and you almost would have fallen down even while sitting as you looked in front of you.

A hand, holding...the blueberry ice candy?

Your eyes immediately darted towards the owner of said hand, and you’re sure the surprise now showed on your face as it was none other than Kim Mingyu.

Kim Mingyu…how do you even introduce him in your life as a person? Did you hate him? You’d say hate is a strong word, but he was annoying you’d say that, get on your nerves more than you’d admit it.Did you find him hot? Hey now, anyone with two eyes could see he was definitely attractive.

Tall, pouty lips, pretty chocolatey eyes, even prettier smile, buff like very huge buff you were pretty sure he could punch you to another corner if he wanted to with just one hit.

You’d seen him carrying like two boxes of books once and you remembered how you almost broke your arm trying to even lift one. You also remember staring at how his veins seemed to pop out, how large his hands seem,how nice they would wrap around yo-

Okay you were getting off track now.

In a way you might say you hate him, not in the despise kind of way but because it was as though he was both everything you wanted to be and everything you wanted to have.

Both being not attainable to you apparently.

Now a big question rose up amidst the hundred others you already asked by now, what the fuck was he doing there?

“Here, maybe if you put in the effort of searching more nicely, you’d have found it.” You took the ice candy from his hand, him taking it as an invitation to sit right beside you, his other hand holding his ice cream of the night.

He looked nice…good actually. It was unfair how great he looked despite his clearly messy hair, worn out black t-shirt and oh God were those grey sweatpants? You tried not too put too much thought into it.

You frowned in annoyance once you processed his words, finding that there was surely an underlying meaning to it.

“What the fuck are you doing here Mingyu?”

“Last time I checked, the convenience store was a public facility.”

You scoffed at his sarcasm, opening up the candy and for a moment as you took in the dark blue purplish colour, you think all your worries dissolved right there.

Mingyu thinks he might have melted then and there with the way your eyes immediately sparked up as you saw your ice candy. It was cute how you found the absolute delight in the most seemingly boring things.

It was one of the things that made him just fall for you even more and more. What you didn’t know about the boy next to you was that he was gone, finished, down all just for you. It began when you went out of your way to save him from being hit by a flying football. His personal knight in shining armour.

From that moment, he figured if he wanted to be at least a part of your life, he’d somehow have to play something noticeable enough to you. So he took the bite and made himself one of your greatest frenemies. Not that you had any other so probably your only frenemy.

He hated you…or that’s what he made others think. It was working well until his feelings caught up, his true ones at least, his very real bitter feelings when he found out you went on a date with your ‘crush’.

He was having a terrible night, figured going to the convenience store would help him and there you were, the cause of all the bitterness.

“So are you following me or something? And- and how do you know I like this?”

He rolled his eyes, his turn to scoff at you,

“Not everything revolves around you.” A lie, for him, most things did. He did.

“And I just have good observation skills.” Just for you though, only you.

The sweet and tangy taste of blueberry juice lingered in your mouth as you blissfully closed your eyes, the coolness of it only adding more to your satisfaction and Mingyu wishes he brought his camera because you looked so…content. So beautiful.

“That sounds stalkerish, please you’re obsessed with me.” It was just a joke, to pull his leg, like you always did.

“What if I am?” Okay and he sounded way too serious for that.

You almost choked on the candy if it weren’t for your quick swallow reflex, eyes widened at his no hesitation reply.

“Wha-what?”

“What, what?”

“What do you mean by that?”

He blinked once, twice. And it was then he realised, what he replied, to who he replied. Your widened eyes looked at him both in curiosity and astonishment, lips purplish due to the candy that was now melting in your hand.

“Is it really you know that bad?” You raised an eyebrow in confusion. This was it, for him.

“You know, the proposition of us? Like actually us.”

You held your breath, waiting for the punchline or anything that would indicate he was joking but, if there was something you knew surely about him is that his eyes would never lie. And right now, they showed all seriousness.

“Like us- as in us being civil? Friends?” You nervously laughed, knowing you could be misinterpreting it but you want to take back your words when you see the way his expression drops and the scowl that’s on his face.

“No. I mean- I mean as more than friends. More than whatever this is. More like a couple.”

“Min-mingyu are you- are you suggesting we date?”

You didn’t exactly know what else to respond other than the obvious,

“Yes! Yes exactly, finally. I- yes a date. A date is all I ask for.”

Now you think, you have more questions than ever because why exactly did the idea of going on a date with Mingyu, excite you more than your actual date that you just had?

“When did you even like me? I- what? This is so confusing, I thought I annoyed you?”

“Well you did, you still do but it’s just- I thought it was the only way to be apart of your life and now that I think of it, it sounds stupid but I just-You know what I'll explain it to you on that date so uh what-what do you say?”

In that moment, he looked at you like a puppy pleading to his owner for a treat, his suspicious eyes looking way too innocent but they indeed made their way right to your heart.

“Okay, okay fine! I’ll go out with you. One date.”

That stopped his brief mental spiraling immediately, in a bit of shock as he looked at you in disbelief for agreeing. For actually agreeing because he did prepare himself for the worst scenario. Which was you probably humiliating him then and there.

His disbelief quickly turned to content and that, that sickly adorable giddy smile of his made its way onto his face, canines peaking out. It seemed the bitterness he’d been harbouring went away.

“But what about your date tonight?”

You didn’t ask how he knew, but rather answered his question and your own dilemma,

“I don’t think I actually liked him. Probably just that I was grateful he saved me that time, and I mistook it for something else, I guess.”

“And you’re sure you want to go out with me because it’s not just… I don’t know out of something else too?”

“Don’t worry about that Mingyu, you aren’t that special.”

You joked and the way his smile dropped made you giggle even more.

“Fine then, I’ll show you just how special I can be. How does Saturday, 7pm, near that downtown record store sound as a meet up place?”

“Alright then. Saturday it is.”

You didn’t think you’d ever reach a point where Kim Mingyu was something or someone attainable in your radar but there you were, not just with him but a whole date with him.

Perhaps, this time you were indeed wrong about some things in life remaining as just unrealistic wishes because this was in a way your daydream come true. What a bizzare night.

And oh, your hands were now also blueberry flavored and bonus! disgustingly sticky too!

perm. taglist ( open ! ) : @mansaaay ; @gyuguys

( if you want to be added just send an ask/reply to this !)

all written works as well as images and edits (unless credited) belong to pri. do not plagiarise, repost, re-edit or claim as yours. pics mostly found on pinterest.

feedback is always appreciated 💌 !

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stvolanis · 3 months ago

Text

TOO SWEET

PAIRINGS: the vampire Louis De Pointe Du Lac x Fem! Mortal! OC

WARNINGS: Swearing, mentions of blood, blood consumption, alcohol consumption, mentions of killing, mention of Lestat, no Claudia, reader is perceived as innocent, age gap, OC being turned into a vampire, inaccurate timeline probably, YES I USED LINES FROM THE SONG DONT HATE ON MY GRIND.

NSFW WARNINGS: light choking, biting, sir kink, manhandling, blood, fingering, making out, p in v, creampie, praise, overstimulation, power play, slight corruption kink? Idk

The year was 1925, 15 years after Louis had been turned into a godforsaken vampire, doomed to the harsh life of an unwilling immortality of lies and betrayal.

The dark gift was taking, the worst of its flaws and punishments being that every night you woke and walked amongst the living. The bitter feeling of no longer being mortal, and forgetting what it was once like to be a regular human amongst the crowd, rather than a predator picking out its prey in the sea of flesh.

Day after day, party after party, body after body—to be short, it was a routine. A boring one, at that.

He noticed her dress first, long and drug behind her. Baby pink in color, with periwinkle and a flamingo pink shade of flowers adorning the fabric. Diamonds glistened under the light of the expensive chandelier, and her white gloved hands reached for a deep red champagne—the vibrancy he imagined her blood would be.

A long white feather sprouted out from her mass of curls, a dark chocolate with an odd singular strip of white rooted at the front of her hair, framing her face. Where her white strand of hair was rooted almost melted down onto her face, a pale patch of skin on her forehead stood out.

Her face was decorated in moles, almost perfectly hand placed by God herself. Lips plump, parted as his enhanced hearing heard every soft breath that passed. The gentle rise and fall of her chest as she scanned the room, oblivious to the bright eyes staring at her.

She was out of place. He knew that she knew she didn’t belong in a place like this, but that only lead to the question of why she was here, in a room of people money and sex hungry. The complete opposite of her.

Her voice echoed in his head, and he couldn’t help but let out a laugh. ‘I wonder if there’s cake. This drink is awful.’ How sweet. In a room of smoke and drunken men, she’s worried about eating cake.

The dark angel lurked against the walls of the extravagant room, looking at the beauty in every angle possible. A lamb. His lamb. So pure, unbeknownst to the evils around each corner she turned. ‘What is your name, girl?’ He spoke, using his mind as communication.

He visibly saw her freeze. Like her heart stopped beating in her body—not yet. Her heart would not yet stop beating. “What?” She replied, aloud, desperately looking around the room to match the voice to a face—till her eyes stopped on him.

Their eyes connected. Heat rose through her in a fiery roar, curiosity and conflict dancing in her eyes with the smallest hint of fear. Fear was normal. Humans lived off of fear, it’s was the reason for everything if you peeled away enough layers.

‘You’ve found me’ Louis smiled. She felt her heart begin to beat again. Her hands balled into fists against her dress, a wad of fabric curled into a ball. ‘How are you doing this?’ She asked, eye contact between the two never once being broken.

‘Come.’ Was all he replied. He left the large room full of lousy people, around the corridors, and out through the back. He was met with a dark alley, a rather clean one—still boxes scattered around, though. Humans we’re filthy. Like toddlers who didn’t know how to clean up after themselves.

She followed behind him till they were standing mere feet apart from each other outside in the privacy of the night. “Who are you?” She finally spoke after a long moment of silence.

“I am whatever you perceive me as. Most call me the devil.” He chuckled. The first few years after his changing, he took offense to it. Hated being called it. Pondered if he really was the Devil. He knows he isn’t now. Farthest from it.

“You’re too handsome to be considered such” she smiled, two dimples. She was genuine, not a hint of lie detected in her speech. “I ain’t got nothin’ on you.” He replied, stuffing his hands into his pockets nervously—nervously? How peculiar.

Louis felt like a schoolboy all over again. Giddy at the compliment she gave, flush rising to his cheeks faintly over her eyes pondering over his existence. ��What is your name?” She asked, her head tilted ever so slightly.

“Louis De Pointe Du Lac.” He said, pridefully. She thought for a moment—“my daddy used to go to that place you own, I’m not sure what it’s called?—” she said, urging him to finish her thought. “The Azalea. My money maker.” A charming smile graced his face.

“Maybe I should go sometime.” She said, a cheeky smile playing at her lips. Louis let out a breath of air as he softly shook his head. “Nah, that’s not the place for you, baby”

“Yeah? then what is the place for me, Mr. du Lac?” She whispered, glancing down at the bottom of her dresses as she nervously fiddled with her fingers behind her back. His hand found her chin, lifting her head to do their eyes could once again meet.

“Bright as the morning, aren’t you?” He whispered back. His voice was laced with desire, yet he was holding himself back. Louis was in fear, for the first time in a long time. He was fearful to taint the aura of innocence the damsel carried around with her. He didn’t want to have to be the one to burst her bubble. But somewhere inside of him did.

“What are you, Mr. du Lac?” She said, her tone more serious than before as her eyes swirled with curiosity. But after all, it was curiosity that killed the cat. “I’m a vampire.” He replied calmy, like it was an every day occurrence. She giggled.

“Oh yeah, then where are your fangs?” She teased. Louis quirked a brow, taken aback for a moment. His mouth opened large enough for her to watch as his fangs protruded—white, and sharp. She brought her finger to the tip of his tooth, pricking her finger.

Crimson spilled from her small wound, and her scent clouded his mind. He couldn’t have her like this—not yet. It wasn’t her time still. Louis couldn’t help himself as he gently grabbed her wrist, holding it in place as his tongue met with the pad of her finger, sufficiently licking up any traces of blood.

“Fuck—you taste like pineapple.” He mumbled, placing a soft kiss against her wound before forcing himself to pull away, again, in fear of harming her. “My name is Thérèse.” She let out a shaky breath. He knew it wasn’t from fear, but rather arousal.

His hand reached for her waist, pulling her close to his body. Her chest was flush against his, and her cleavage was on display. She looked like an angel, sent down just for him. He knew he didn’t deserve her, shouldn’t have even been able to be in her presence—yet the way she felt against him felt so right, and that feeling wasn’t something he could deny or dismiss.

Their noses brushed against each other, and their lips were mere centimeters apart. One move and they would be touching. “Thérèse.” He said. Her name sounded like velvet on his tongue, and she longed for him to say it for centuries to come. To hear him call out for her. To her.

Their lips crashed together, the kiss desperate. The metallic taste of her blood lingered on his tongue, yet it only made her all the more eager to have him. Their tongues danced together, a fight for dominance that Thérèse easily gave up. He explored her mouth, and she allowed him.

This would be the first of many things she would allow him to do. She allowed him to hold her hand delicately as he guided her through the busy roads of their town. He had a certain way about him, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Enchanting, almost. Alluring, maybe. Possibly a word non-existing.

His hand was cold to the touch, which Thèrése found odd, yet she had not comment to give. She was aware he was not quite human, but she wasn’t ready to accept what he was yet. Just a few moments, maybe days longer, she’d like to live in a carefree bliss. He respected and supported her unvocalized wish.

“How long have you lived here, Louis?” He sighed, glancing around at the town he’d known all his immortal life. “Forever.” He replied. “The white people are ignorant. Greedy liars, most of them. They feed off of the red district, and all the people in it.” He said.

“I made the Azalea to counteract them. Get the white mans money.” He finished. She hummed in acknowledgment.

Thèrése was Hispanic, and immigrant from overseas. A land conquered by natives with the white people invading like the Huns invaded Rome. It was tragic, being forced to move far away from all she’d known since she was 17. She was now at the ripe age of 22 years old, standing at 5’5 without shoes on.

“Was it hard?” Louis asked, glancing over at her. She quirked a brow in confusion. “Was what hard?” She asked. Louis looked up at the sky. It was dark. The way it had been for years. Darkness was now the only thing he’d ever be able to see. “Leaving your home. To travel such great lengths.”

She decided not to ponder on how he knew, in fear of messing up the content atmosphere they had created. “Yes. I left many family members and friends behind. But, I endured. For my family, I endured.” She responded, almost as if robotically.

“I was going to be forced to marry a white man named Humbert had I not left. The life I saw before me was not what I had planned, but I am grateful for the freedom I have now grown accustomed to.” She responded. She looked up at the sky with him.

“They’re beautiful.” She started. “I wish to see space. To feel the heat of the stars.” She whispered, pausing her walking with Louis next to her, close enough to have their shoulders bumping. “The stars get exhausting when you look at them long enough.” He whispered back.

“I think I could spend a lifetime looking at them.” She said, a smile gracing her lips. She looked beautiful like this, and Louis wished to remember this exact scene before him for the rest of his life. “Be careful what you wish for, Thèrése.” He responded, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his clean slacks.

They walked throughout the night, hand in hand. The moonlight created highlights that emphasized their alluring features, and for the first time in a long time, Louis was in love. And for the first time ever, Thèrése was too.

They stopped at a gated entrance, and beyond it, was Louis home he hadn’t showed anyone who lived to tell. Thèrése would be the first mortal he brought to his home without killing, and she would be the last as he opened the gate, allowing her to go in first.

A small hand was placed at the small of her back, guiding her throughout the house she had entered after walking through an outside area of the house. “You live here? By yourself?” She asked him, glancing over her shoulder as her eyes wandered over the antiques of the house.

“Yeah, I live by myself now.” He said, shrugging off his expensive jacket and hanging it on a rack. Thèrése felt an unfamiliar heat spread throughout her body as she watched him loosen the cuffs of his sleeves and collar of his shirt. “Now?” She asked.

“Had a roommate. We didn’t work out. He was a cunt.” He said, walking to a table and picking up a wine glass, pouring some for himself. “I know you don’t like wine. I’m afraid I have nothing else to drink, but if you would like some then tell me.” He said, taking a sip.

Thèrése watched the way he swallowed it, visibly seeing it travel down his throat. Her eyes zeroed in on the droplet the fell from his lips—and her head was suddenly spinning with thoughts of him consuming her blood.

It must’ve been the wine she had drunken before she arrived. That’s gotta be it, right? Why else would she be having such vile thoughts?

He didn’t give her time to linger on the thought much longer as he began to unbotton his shirt, ever so slowly walking closer to her. Almost like he was hunting her—but he wasn’t. He wouldn’t allow himself to hunt such a pure being.

Thèrése fiddled with the rings on her gentle fingers, watching, unsure of what to do as his shirt was swiftly removed, displaying his body. Slim, yet fit. She longed to trace over every piece of him, to memorize Louis inch by inch so she wouldn’t forget this very night.

His hands reached out to her. One placed delicately on the base of her neck, and the other, roughly pulling her body to his by her waist. Her breath got caught in her throat, and she couldn’t seem to stop herself from glancing down at his lips.

“Louis…” She said breathlessly. He could feel her heat radiating off of her, especially from where his hands were touching her body. He could smell the slick between her thighs he knew were meaty under her dress. “Need this off of you.” He said, tugging at her dress.

“You gon’ let me take it off you, mama?” He asked, gently as he searched her eyes for an answer. “Please.” She said, almost desperately, making her face flush in embarrassment. Louis laughed at her eagerness.

He removed her dress from her body, following with her gloves. She covered her breasts with her hands shyly, laced panties still on. Her dress was pulled at her feet and Louis removed her hands from covering herself.

Thèrèses’ nipples hardened under the rather cold air of his odd home. Louis hands cupped them, inspecting them with such admiration. “So pretty. So fuckin’ pretty.” He said, kissing a mole above her areola, down to where her perk nipple was.

He suckled it harshly into his mouth, massaging the other with his free hand. Thèrése whimpered at his assault on her nipple, watching as he switched to the other one. His tongue reached out to kitten lick her nipple as he held eye contact with her.

Thèréses’ thighs squeezed together as the burn between her thighs grew uncomfortably. “You gonna let me have you?” He asked, trailing one of his hands down to her panties. He kissed along her neck, all the way up, till he was at her mouth again.

“Yes, Louis.” She mumbled. Louis clicked his tongue. “Try again.” He urged. He pushed her panties to the side, slowly sliding in one of his slender fingers. Years of pleasurable experience revealing itself as he worked at her cunt.

“Y-Yes, sir. Oh—Oh god.” She whimpered out as she felt another finger prod at her entrance. Two of his fingers slammed into her sopping hole at an alarming rate. Thèrése felt herself grow weak in the knees, and Louis knew as he held her up. “Shh.” He whispered, his breath fanning her ear.

He slipped out his fingers and slightly bent down just enough to reach her bottom as he slightly tapped it. “Jump” he said. Thèrése jumped, wrapping her legs around Louis slender waist, and her arms around his shoulders as she buried her face into his neck, leaving small opened mouth kisses.

“So needy, aren’t you? You all needy for me?” He asked, even though he confidently knew what the answer was. Thèrése nodded her head against him, afraid her voice would betray her if she spoke and said anything.

He threw her onto the couch—not hard enough to hurt her, but enough to make her bounce slightly on the cushion. He wanted to see her bounce on him. The imagine of her on top of him trying her hardest to ride him while her breasts moved with each of her bounces made his cock twitch.

Thèrése was more overwhelmed than she had been her whole life. No one had ever seen her this bare as he took her panties off. She was ashamed to be letting him to these things to her, but she was more ashamed at the fact she grew aroused from it. Aroused from the power difference between them.

She might not have known to what extent his strength lied, but she knew he was strong. Strong enough to probably lift her with just a finger. The idea that he could bend her and use her to his liking sent a shiver down her spine of want. She needed him in every way she could have him.

Louis spread her legs apart, revealing her aching, wet cunt that looked almost painfully in need to be taken care of. Two of his fingers found their way back inside of her, working at her gummy walls as she whined and whimpered under him.

“Shh, I know. I know.” He whispered, his fingers growing more erratic. “Want you—in me, please.” She said desperately, a hand cupping his face. He was breathtaking. His thumb skillfully rubbed her clit at a slow pace, almost as if he was trying to sooth whatever pain Thèrése might’ve been feeling.

“Gonna make you feel fuckin’ amazing.” He said, pulling out his fingers. He unbuttoned his slacks and pulled them down along with his undergarments just enough to reveal his cock. Thèrése couldn’t help but just stare at it in a mix of emotions of fear, arousal, and excitement.

Fear from how intimidating it looked; long and uncut with a patch of curly hair at the top. Thèrése felt nasty as she realized just how badly she wanted to lick his happy trail. Arousal from his mushroom tip that was pulsing with desire, and pre cum leaking from his tip. Excitement bubbled as Thèrése thought about the events that were mere seconds from unfolding in front of her.

He slapped his meaty cock onto her pussy tauntingly, a wet, heavy sound, loud and prominent. She clenched around nothing, but slowly felt his tip enter her. It was a painful stretch as he slid himself in, inch by inch, trying his hardest not to hurt her.

Louis restrained himself as she clenched around him tightly. He knew this was the closest to heaven he’d ever get, with the angel under him at his mercy. His to do with whatever he pleased and saw fit. His in every aspect of her mortal, and soon immortal, being. Soul tied and bound to the earth together for eternity was the way he wanted to spend his days with her.

“Oh my God—oh fuck—” she gasped out, mouth hung slightly agape. Pain shot through her first, eyes watering as evidence, but was soon followed after with an immense pleasure she never knew she could feel. “Not God, Thèrése—Me.” He huffed as he gripped her thighs, throwing them over his shoulder.

Louis began to move his hips against her, slowly at first—then, in the blink of an eye, he snapped. The self restraint he forced himself to have was gone, and a seemingly sweet and charming man was replaced by a domineering beast.

At an inhumane pace, his cock hammered into her. His hands dug into her thighs in a tight grip—a grip so tight, his sharp nails broke skin. The scent of her blood filled his senses, and he went feral. His lips found her neck as he leaned down, leaving desperate kisses to subside the pain he was soon going to inflict on her porcelain throat.

“Louis—wait—” she pleaded, but made no movement to stop him. The pleasure was overwhelming as she arched her back into him, grasping onto his skin—still cold to the touch. Why was he so cold? She felt something sharp pierce the side of her throat, but oddly enough, the pain was overruled by the way he fucked her.

Thèrése wouldn’t be living much longer. “You’re to sweet for me.” He groaned, licking at the wound on her neck he had created. He watched blood ooze out of her, enjoying the crimson that decorated her neck. The familiar taste of pineapple was nothing if not addicting.

Thèrése felt weak, her body unable to hold itself up any longer as she grew light headed. The room began to spin, and Thèrése now knew she was no longer seeing things as his fangs poked two more holes near her wrist. Blood poured out of her and into his mouth.

Was this the way she would die? At the hands of the most charming man she’d ever met? The vampire who sealed her fate stopped sucking, slit his own wrist, and brought it to Thèréses’ mouth.

He fucked her harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoed throughout the room. Her moans got caught on his wrist as his blood trickled down her throat. Thèrèse, pupils dilated and on a high, felt her end near as she clutched his wrist to her mouth like she would never be able to drink the forbidden liquid ever again.

Louis snatched his wrist back from her mouth quickly before she made herself sick. He knew she would want more blood, so he instead flipped Thèrése onto all fours, arching her ass into the air. Thèrèse cried and begged for Louis wrist—his cold blood back in her mouth.

“Shhh, shut up. You’ve had enough. Don’t be greedy, baby.” He scolded, grabbing her by the back of her hair and shoving her face into the cushion. “P-Please—Louis, M’gonna c-cum. Need you.” She begged as she pushed her ass back onto him, meeting his hard thrusts.

Her words began to slur together as his brutal pace never faltered. The grip he had on her waist was bruising, but Thèrése couldn’t even feel it. Her body felt as though it was on fire from head to toe, and the unbearable heat and pressure of her cunt was all too much for the young fledgling.

“You said you wanted to see the stars forever, right?” He asked, his breath grazing the shell of her ear. He didn’t sound like he did earlier—calm and alluring. He sounded gruff and disheveled—and every word he spoke almost came out in a growl.

He felt his balls tighten, and ever muscle in his body tensed. “Gonna stuff this pretty ass cunt. You ready, darlin’?” He said, his southern drawl laced with every word. “Y-yesss.” She groaned out through clenched teeth as his hand found her clit.

He played with her clit like he had been doing this for years, expertly. An overbearing wave of pressure was what made Thèrése snap as juices poured out of her. Louis never once slowed down, and his fingers continued to help her ride her high.

Louis didn’t stop, still chasing his end. Thèrése mindlessly took everything he gave her as her pussy grew sore and overstimulated from the relentless of the top of his cock hitting her cervix. “Can’t��I can’t, sir—“ she choked out, her words sounding almost as if her mind was in a distant place.

“Take it, Thèrése.” He urged as he bit down onto his lip, trying his hardest to resist sinking his fangs into her again. Thèrése listened, and the only sounds that escaped her drying lips were moans and whimpers of pleasure. Only Louis would ever be able to see her this way—this desperate and in need for him.

“Good girl. Just like that.” He said, stuffing her pussy full of his cum. His head was thrown back in bliss as he fucked his seed into her, deeper and deeper as his high subsided into a dull aching feeling. “Did so well, baby.” He said, his voice shaky.

He slid himself out of her, and watched as his cum spilled from her used hole, and onto his expensive foreign furniture. Thèrése laid there, legs sore and head still spinning, now in a painful manner as Louis scooped her up into his arms bridal style.

“S-so you’re really a vampire, huh?” She asked through a long and drug out yawn. He chuckled as he gazed down at her small frame in his arms. “Yes, and come tomorrow night, you will be too.” He replied, walking up the stairs of his old home.

“I’m scared, Louis.” She whispered, blinking slowly. Thèrése grew tired, her eyes heavy with sleep. “You won’t be for long.” He said reassuringly. “You have me now. Forever.” He muttered as he pushed open a door.

A singular coffin was placed in the center, right in front of a fire place. Thèrèse was laid in the coffin by Louis, and she watched as he left the room to grab a warmed wash cloth. She was in love. She died in love. And now, for the rest of her dead life, she will continue to live in love with the man who swooned her in the alley.

Vampires say the worst thing to experience from immortal life is a simple thing; loneliness. A feeling Louis knew all too well, and how would never feel again. Thèrése wasn’t Lestat. She wasn’t cold, and manipulative. Calculated in every wrong doing. No, Thèrése was kind and gentle. Thoughtful with every word she spoke and every action she took.

Never again would Louis ever have to worry about being alone.

guys this took me like 3 weeks to write I’m obsessed with this show rn. I worked so hard on this so istg if it flops I’ll be so sad 😭🙏

don’t be shy, ask to be a part of the tag list and request stuff!!

TAG LIST: @epthedream69 @claire-elvisgirl @elvisrealgf @littlehoneyposts @luxuriouslokistan-3 @sapriao @xiyingly @jazminsjaz @likeits2002 @www-interludeshadow-com @khxna @my-fabulousness-has-arrived @floredaqueen @lemonadygirl @newavenger @bloobewy @vogueprincess @theoraeken @scintilla-morningstar @liv-n @armandosbabymama @axailslink @cosmixstar

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gretavanflame · 2 months ago

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Kiss Me Good

Jake Kiszka x Reader (f)

Cw: SMUT including: fingering, oral (f) reviving, the word daddy (said one time), a ridiculous amount of pet names, arrogant cocky jake, slight overstimulation, slight choking, kissing, nipple play, teasing, slight mentions of pain, slight hair pulling.

Summary: Your surprise for Jake, fresh back from tour, finally gets noticed, and in turn- heavily rewarded.

Word Count: 2k

It started out as a simple idea really. One that took root and sprouted in your brain until it just had to be done.

Your friend had mentioned something. A wax job she got that, “made my man go into a frenzy over my pussy.”

It was funny first, but then you began to wonder what it would look like for your man to, well… do that.

It’s not like he hasn’t before. In fact you’re his favorite meal, and he tells you that every time he indulges. But because of the tour, it’s been a while. He got back only yesterday, and had been too tired to touch you, and at this point- you’re craving him.

Long story short, you got the name and number of her esthetician and booked an appointment right away, and since then, you’ve just been waiting.

Now you lay on your side, silently watching the rise and fall of Jake’s chest through his state of sleep. It has always perplexed you how a man can look so beautiful while sleeping. And Jake often perplexes you.

You reach your finger out to trace along his nose and down to his lips. You run the finger over them, just feeling the soft skin that your lips miss. This however, wakes him, and his eyes blink open and turn to you.

You smile at your boyfriend like a puppy in love and sit up higher to watch him realize he’s not on a tour bus. A stupid grin stretches across his face and he sits up on his hands so that his face is right in front of yours.

“Good morning Jakey.”

“Good morning doll-face.”

You swallow, taking a moment to get used to the sweet sound of his morning voice. It's low and grumbly, and it makes you want to rip off your clothes right here, which would spoil the surprise entirely.

“So are you feeling well rested?”

He laughs, shaking his head, leaning in.

“Are you still all pouty that I denied you last night? Hmm? Did my pretty girl not get what she wanted?”

Now you do pout, and push his face away. He only laughs again.

“Com’ere, give me a kiss.”

You lean in, letting your eyes close as your lips connect, sparks flying through your body. His hand comes up to your cheek, just resting there as you taste his breath, hot on your tongue. The kiss is slow, every move intentional and full of love and longing as your tongues intertwine in a way that is less than ladylike, setting prickles all over your skin.

He breaks away, a wet pop filling the air.

“You missed me.”

“I did Jake. So much.”

“Did you miss all of me?”

You smirk, meeting his eye with a knowing look.

“Come. Have me.”

He gestures to his body, you internally chuckle at the double meaning behind his words. He pulls out his arms and you crash into them, grabbing and pulling at the material of his soft t-shirt as you attack his mouth.

He’s slightly pushed back at the force, laughing against your mouth before his tongue licks into it. His arms wrap around you, tight, possessive. You’re like two magnets, unable to be pulled away from each other.

You break away just to breathe, “You know what I really missed Jake?”

You lean back in to bite along his bottom lip, waiting for response. A soft whimper that he tries to hide, ricochets off his warm tongue and you drink it down, the ache between your thighs growing significantly.

“I missed your tongue. I want it all over me. Please Jake. I need it.”

“Oh you neeed it?” He draws out the word, teasing you, pouting his lips and contorting his face into one of feigned sadness.

“Shut up.” You challenge, words coming out as a whine before his hand comes to loosely wrap around your throat. The remaining air is pulled from your lungs, sounding like a pitiful moan. And there's no pressure in his hold, it merely reminds you who’s incharge.

His other hand grabs your waist, turning you on the bed so that you’re lying beneath him.

“You know what princess?” He asks, dipping down to nip little purple splotches into your neck. “I think I am feeling well rested.” His mouth harshley sucks the skin above your breast, leaving a glistening pink hue in its wake. “Thank you so much for your concern, baby.”

He’s playing a game now. Giving you exactly what you want, but not without a little fun for himself.

His hands come to your tank top, gripping the neckline and ripping until the fabric opens up, exposing your bare breasts to him. An animalistic groan escapes him and he immediately latches his mouth onto your nipple.

He sucks one long kiss into your skin and pops off with a breath, looking up at you through wild eyes. He smirks, lowering his face to your stomach, kissing and licking along it until he reaches the waistline of your boxers- or rather his.

“What are these, baby? Are these some other guy’s? Did you cheat on me while I was away?”

He smiles, amused, knowing that they’re only his.

“My princess got so horny she had to fuck some other guy? She wouldn’t do that, would she? I think she would wait until Daddy gets home. I think she would wait until she could have his mouth.”

You’re panting now, back arching as you try to lift back up into his touch. A single finger traces down your stomach, stopping short at the top of his boxers. You shudder under his touch as you’re reminded of the familiar calloused fingertips. The ones that are the product of spending hours tearing up ‘The Beloved.’ Treating her just as he treats you.

His fingertips hook into them, pulling them down at a tantalizing pace as he kisses just above it. His eyes open to stare at yours as his mouth lowers. When he realizes you aren’t wearing any underwear he smirks, his eyes still on you. Your heart is racing with anticipation and he’s better than you even remembered. Every word, every touch makes you feel like you’re falling deep deep into the abscess with him holding you steadily behind.

“No panties? You’re terrible.”

He looks down, finally, at the grand surprise. The thin ‘landing strip’ you had waxed into you sits neatly and his mouth parts, leaving him panting above you.

“Holy fuck sugar. This all for me?”

You nod slowly and he grants you a prideful smile. Your heart skips a beat and melts all at once while he takes a moment just to look at his favorite girl.

He drops his back down and his tongue speaks out to lick a slow stipe right next to the bit of hair. He moves his head to the other side, and you feel the cold air hit the moisture in contrast to how warm his tongue felt just moments ago. He repeats the action on the other side, landing with a kiss to the top of your mound.

You feel yourself practically leaking out of you, feeling his tongue so so close, but just not enough. You feel like begging, like letting go of all shame and screaming for his mouth on your cunt. But you know begging gets you nothing. He’s taught you better than that.

You bite your lip as his tongue kisses the inside of your thigh, just teasing you now, denying you of your deepest desires. He knows it too, by the smug look on his face as he moves to the other leg, licking the supple flesh.

Finally, finally, his tongue flattens, and runs from your entrance, all the way up to circle your clit. The sudden pleasure is white hot and travels up your whole body, making a moan drift off your tongue.

“That’s it bunny. You just lay there making all those pretty sounds. Make’s my fucking cock ache.”

Your pussy clenches at his words in their obscenity. And the fact that you have some effect on him turns you on beyond belief.

Then he breaks, finally diving into your pussy, licking and sucking with no mercy. Your back arches from the bed once more, chasing his tongue as it spoils your clit rotten. He rolls it into his mouth, lapping his tongue over and over again, the wet noises blaring into your ears.

You wrap your hand into his chocolate locks, pulling like they’re reigns, guiding his mouth down onto you. You moan his name as your legs wrap around his head, then releasing it through a shake. His lips continue, moving down to your entrance to suck up the arousal that drips out of you.

He takes the juices on his tongue, bringing them back up to your clit before drinking them down with a quivering moan. Your clit is throbbing now as his tongue gains in speed. Embarrassment is out the window now. Jake begins to absolutely devour you while you just lay there and take it.

You tug on his hair again, just to test the waters as he works you. He sighs again into your cunt, the vibrations settling you wild before he pulls away to say, “You taste so fucking good.”

He brings two fingers up now, teasing them over your entrance. A choked groan gasps out of you as he inches them in.

“Jake.”

He pauses, looking up at your face, amused by your flushed, out of breath state.

“I touched myself while you were gone. But my fingers- they weren't as big as yours- didn’t feel as good.”

“Aw that’s too bad, angel.”

He sinks an inch deeper and you cry out.

“You have my fingers… now.” He plunges both the digits deep into you with no warning. You cry out, your breath strangled and desperate. His fingers hit you so deep, stretching you out so good, just like how you remembered.

His name falls from your lips and he curls the fingers into you, hitting your g-spot with ease. His mouth reconnects too, tongue delivering small kitten licks to your clit. His hands pick up a slow rhythm.

The paired pleasure makes you tip your brows back, mouth opening in shock as the licks get sloppier, wetter. As his fingers start to thrust into you.

You bring both hands down into his hair, pulling him by it to get his face as close as possible. He groans into your pussy, licking a thick over your slit.

His thrusts get a little harder now, the painful dull ache melting into pleasure in a few moments. His mouth picks up speed, fully connected to you, kissing and licking any surface his hopeless tongue can find.

Your legs begin to shake now. Slowly, from deep within it like a faraway rumbling of a train. You start to slowly rock your hips into his face, his mouth moving with you.

He comes up for air, breathing in a struggled breath as he rasps, “That’s right. Fucking cum on my face. Be a good girl.”

With one final jab of his fingers into you, his mouth working alongside the rhyme, you burst.

Your eyes roll back as your hips lock in place, your whole body shaking. Your hands pull him to you, needing to feel him even closer, if that, possible. Your legs clamp around his head, pushing around his head and pull it down, cutting off his oxygen as you cum all over his face. You chant his name again and again, a sound he’ll remember and use as recollection for when he’s away. It flows off your tongue hurried and grating, syllables scraping for air.

In one quick second, his euphoric touch turns to pain, feeling white hot as you try to push his searching mouth away. You whine and hiss before he finally does, completely out of breath and fucked out.

It’s only then do you release how completely soaked he is, his face glistening with your cum. You lay back, exhausted, the twitching muscles in your legs slowly beginning to settle, your pussy convulsing and clenching around nothing. He tilts his head down to grant you one last lick, and laughs when you jolt and whimper.

“I missed you too Y/n. For the record.”

Taglist <3 - To join click here

@jazzyfigz @gold-mines-melting @musicislove3389 @valentine264 @jenniferkiszka @knoxious-dalton @torun-was-here @ageofmaglc @allof--mylove @fleetingjake @ff-liveyourlegend-ttiol @cheersdannyx2

#gretavanfleet #gvf #jake kiszka #jakekiszka #smut #jake kiszka fic #fluff #greta van fleet #jake gvf #jake kiszka x reader

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azsazz · 10 months ago

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With Me

Eris x Rhysand's Sister!Reader

Summary: Anon Req: I know your request are closed but still writing. In the future could you do something with Eris x rhys sister?

Warnings: Graphic depictions of canon violence

Word Count: 1,520

_________________________________________

It had been on a wisp of an autumn breeze that Eris found out.

Found out about the plans of the High Lord of Spring, how he and his sons planned an ambush on the wife and daughter of the High Lord of Night on their travels to the Illyrian mountains for a visit with her son.

He had been on his horse, red as the leaves on the trees, scouting the borders between Autumn and Spring. The wind ruffled his hair and tickled his pointed ears with the whispers of scheming sons. Eris had stilled the mare beneath him and urged the current with a touch of magic to enhance the conversation.

That High Lord will pay for everything he’s tried to do to ours.

He won’t even know what’s coming. And neither will those little bitches.

Dibs on the older one.

It had eaten Eris throughout the day. Across the rest of his round on the border, during battle strategy, between sword fighting with his younger brothers. Lucien was learning quickly how to play his brothers against each other, and even scored a hit on Eris while his mind had been run through with worry.

He is a smart male but the thought of going to his father with this news didn’t feel right, but keeping it to himself felt even worse. So, after a family dinner that he loathed, Eris put on his emerald robes and marched into the Night Court territory.

He was too late.

Eris caught the scent of your blood on a tornado of wind that carried the harrowing cries of you and your mothers downfall. You had been brutally attacked by the Spring Court sons and their father, and as Eris crept closer he saw blood coated flowers sprouting from the ground. The High Lord’s magic, a love note to the High Lord of Night.

A soft gurgle caught his attention as he stepped into the clearing washed in moonlight. The sight before him was harrowing; your carriage door ripped off its hinges, the windows blown out. Even the large, black steeds that had been pulling the wagon had been slaughtered, their entrails long lines in the white snow.

A wet cough, one with the whisper of death accompanying it drew his attention. Eris didn’t hesitate to locate you, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of you curled beneath your slain mother, her arms still wrapped around you protectively.

Your eyes were wide with fear, mouth gaping like a fish. Blood of both yours and your mothers surrounded you, leaking from your lips, from between the hands you had pressed weakly to your stomach.

Falling to his knees, Eris reached a hand out but halted when your eyes met his. His mind was reeling, a young warrior with little battlefield experience before a female struggling through her thinning breaths.

Something stirred deeply within him, something he knew but couldn’t say, wouldn’t admit out loud until years later.

You had enough strength to shift your hand in the snow, reaching towards him, eyes screaming a plea for help from the handsome son of Autumn.

And he did. He held your organs in his hands as he winnowed you from Night into his own territory, right into the hands of his mother.

Amaretto stood with a start, the book in her hands falling loudly to the floor. There were no sounds in the room, not even the crackling of the fires raging in the hearths. She kept it this way so she could hear the sounds of her husband's footsteps when he walked down the marble halls of the Woodland House, each echo a shot to her confidence.

“Eris,” she gasps at her son, who looks over at her with wide, pleading, auburn eyes. She halts in her tracks, that look in his eyes, the sheer terror on his face. Her own eyes softened with a knowing look, and she uttered, “Oh, Eris.”

He and his mother worked in tandem all through the night. And when Beron’s footsteps began to sound down the hall Eris had been the one to distract him, goad him. He didn’t care about the bruises and pain inflicted by his father’s hand because it was nothing to the pain he could feel from you, through the thread of the bond that had appeared at the sight of you.

His mother saved your life with the little trickle of healing magic she had left. Always hidden from Beron, but would use it to save her son’s mate’s life. Two gentle souls that deserved much better hands that you had been dealt in the world.

Eris stayed by your side when you had been moved to a guest room. You hadn’t woken for days and he couldn’t figure out a way to hide you from his father who would surely use you against the Night Court, who were mourning the news of their felled female family members.

Word had come of the slaying of the Spring Court High Lord and the two eldest sons, leaving young Tamlin to take his place. In the fray, the High Lord of Night had been murdered as well, with Rhysand taking the chair of rule.

It was all very confusing times.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“Eris,” you plead, tears staining your eyes. He can feel the cracking in your chest even though you’re trying to hide it from him. You’ve never been good at blocking your feelings from your loving mate, but the thought of returning home was all too much. Eris wasn’t understanding your fear, your need to go home to the Night Court after so long away, after Amarantha’s reign of terror has finally ended. “I need to see my brother.”

Eris had hidden you from the wretched female while he and all of the other citizens of the Autumn Court had been forced beneath the mountain. It had been a long, lonely fifty years of trying to find a way to get back to Velaris, to get inside of the barriers that had been protected with an extra boost of Rhysand’s power before he became trapped.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispers, hugging you closely. The both of you are laid up in his bed, days of reacquainting each other with the other’s body after so long away. Your mate had all but fallen apart in your arms, and you in his, the loneliness of your years spent wondering how your mate fared against the powerful female set to ruin your world.

“Come with me,” you beg wetly, clutching to his clothes. He had winnowed right back into your arms as soon as he was able, and he hasn’t let you go since. You hadn’t wanted him to. “Let’s run away from Autumn, together.”

Just like Lucien had done, chased away from the Court he knew as home while their awful brothers hunted him down. It had been another harrowing night for Eris, one you held him through.

Only the knowledge that his brother was safe in the Spring Court had kept him from completely falling apart.

“I can’t just leave like this, fawn,” he answers wetly, stroking your hair back from your face. You’re as beautiful as the day you woke up, when your eyes landed on his and the bond made itself known to you. He has spent every day since thanking the Mother for this time with you, for sparing you that winter night, for keeping you safe when he was trapped under the mountain with no way out. “Not yet.”

Your voice breaks and hot tears stream down your face, throat tightening to the point where no words could break if you tried. You want Eris to come with you, you need Eris to come with you. You’ve only just gotten him back and it cannot be time to give him up already.

“It’s okay, fawn,” Eris consoles sadly. He will keep you in his arms tonight and tomorrow, up until he escorts you to your brother’s land and makes sure that you are safe with them. He has been a selfish male for so many years, falling headfirst into the mating bond. He’d fallen into you completely and without any remorse, the same way you had found yourself falling into him. “You need to do this. And I will be here, fighting for a better life for us until we can be together, freely.”

Eris and Amaretto had come up with an elaborate plan to tell the rest of the family. That Eris would hide you until you healed, and found his mate at the Autumnal Equinox balls. It would ensure your safety, being classed as a High Fae, but also being Eris’ mate. You had learned to deal with Beron and Eris’ insufferable brothers for years.

You love Eris with every fiber of your being, and the thought of parting with him so soon after getting him back tears your heart to shreds, but you need to go, especially after everything Eris had told you happened down there.

“I love you, Eris.”

“I love you too, fawn.”

#eris x reader #eris/reader #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #acosf #eris #eris vanserra

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oculusxcaro · 1 year ago

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When Khare's mutation advances to the point that it can no longer be hidden, she will straight up vanish off the face of the earth, quitting her job at Pauli's Diner with a quick phonecall before abandoning her apartment in the dead of night. Everything she owns will be left behind in a hurry, other than the few items that could identify her which will promptly be destroyed and dumped into Gotham Bay before she heads deep into the sewers, only daring to venture out on rare occasions for the things she needs until she can no longer pretend she's even human.

#🌈 || musings #body horror tw #body horror cw #This is pretty much what'll happen at some point asdfghjkl #Barring she somehow obtains a cure or her body is able to regain genetic stability #She'll get sicker and sicker as the mutation advances and THEN it'll start looking obvious #Hair falling out in clumps as eyes begin sprouting on her face #At that point she'll just quit Pauli's Diner and disappear #Won't go back into the wilderness though #She'll head somewhere deep where few can find her #Scribbling away in her journal until she forgets how to write #:x #Just a thought that popped into mind while at work tonight #Because Khare can't hide her mutation forever #Right now it's only affecting injuries and the main core of her body but #Sooner or later it'll start showing on her face and that's it #Fucking Gollum-ass bitch creeping out during the middle of the night all covered up to hide her fucked-up J'avo looks #Feeling a teensy bit better let's see what I can do on my day off in the morning

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martiniblues · 1 year ago

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weave your little webs of opacity ; 이민형

pairing spiderman!mark x female!reader

synopsis dating your friendly neighborhood spiderman was never an easy task. having to hide his identity from your family and friends was tough, but his life being put in constant danger was even worse. one night, he shows up at your window for reasons you feared most.

genre mutual comfort, so so so much fluff, slight angst, mark has cuts and bruises, reader uses she!her pronouns, established relationship, slightly suggestive towards the end.

wc 1.5k

tap tap tap

that’s what you heard as you lay in bed, attempting to fall asleep. you sat up, looking around your pitch-black room to navigate where the strange noise sprouted from. assuming it was nothing, you laid back down, pulling your comforter back up your body.

a few seconds passed before another sound was heard. "baby… it’s me." you could recognize that voice from anywhere.

mark.

quickly throwing yourself out of bed, you rushed to your window. after pushing up the glass, you were able to take in his appearance. he was wearing his spidey suit without the mask, revealing many cuts scattered across his beautiful cheekbones.

"mark what happened?" you quickly pulled him to your carpeted floor and examined the rest of his body. his suit was ripped in various places to expose more cuts that were littered across his abdomen and chest.

"it’s not too bad." he joked as his head fell back against the edge of your bed. you ignored his comment and held his face in your hands, inspecting it once more before running to your bathroom and grabbing your first aid kit.

crouching in front of him again, you began getting out the disinfectants and gauze you needed. "mmmm~" mark groaned, reaching for your waist and attempting to pull you to sit in his lap.

"dude, you have cuts all over you; i’m gonna hurt you!" you protested, trying to free yourself from his grip. "i think you being closer to me will help more than some stupid medicine." his head rolled to the side as he looked at you with a stupid smirk.

you fought back the urge to slap his chest but retorted to sitting in his lap after all. "you cheesy loser." you commented before working on moving his hair back from his face.

"hey, that’s not very nice. i’m injured here!" he whined, laying his head back once more. "baby, seriously, sit still." you held his head firmly as you picked up one of the soaked disinfectant cloths. "this might sting a little." you said before dabbing one of his cuts and quickly blowing on it softly to ease the stinging sensation he clearly felt due to the hiss that fell from his lips.

"i’m sorry." you cooed as you continued to work your way across his face. with every dab on his cuts, his grip got tighter on your waist.

after finishing his face, your fingers looped under the collar of his suit. "can i… um." you stuttered, knowing what was underneath. you and mark had been together for over a year, but still, the sight of him shirtless left you blushing like a little girl.

he laughed at your nervousness and kissed your flushed cheek. "you act like you’ve never seen me shirtless before." he teased you as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, making you grow even more red.

"whatever, i’m just making sure i won’t hurt you or anything." you rolled your eyes, trying to hide the fact that you were burning from the inside out. "that’s not how you were last night-" he was quickly cut off by a hand to his mouth. "shut up!" you shrieked, causing him to laugh as your palm left his lips.

you began to slowly pull down his suit to rest at his waist. if this were any other scenario, you would have begun kissing him right then and there, but the sight of many cuts and bruises left your heart to pang with worry.

"oh mark…" your fingers lightly grazed over a large pink spot on his side that was slowly blooming into a dark bruise.

"yeah those guys weren’t playing around." he laughed, but you could see the pain stitched between his brows. "baby, you have to be careful. i don’t know what i’d do if-" mark cut you off instantly by pulling your lips to his.

suddenly, all worry melted away, and all you could feel was him. forgetting about the cuts and bruises between you two and just feeling him on you.

"i know. i don’t mean for things to end up this way." he sighs, slowly pulling away from you. the little light from your lamp next to you two left a beautiful glow on his breathtaking features.

"how could someone be so senseless as to mess up such a pretty face?" you said before you even had time to think about your words. mark’s cheeks instantly flushed at your words, biting his lip to hold back a toothy smile.

"i think it’s kinda hot, don’t you think?" he moved his face to show off his battle scars. "whatever…" you will admit that it is insanely hot when you ignore how they got there. but he doesn’t need to know that.

you continued your doctor-esc duties before realizing you never got an answer to how he ended up like this in the first place.

leaning back slightly, you softly held his face to look into his eyes. "what happened, mark?"

he sighed and stretched his body slightly before his hands came to rest on your hips once again. "these idiots were trying to rob the bank a couple blocks away, and i tried to stop it on my own, but it turns out they had some bats and plenty of rings on their fingers to nearly take me down. but…" he reached under himself to get his phone to show you the news headline that he (spiderman) had in fact beaten the criminals and gotten them arrested. "i got ‘em anyway." he smirked cockily while you tried not to slap him for his stupid actions.

"i’m proud of you and everything, " you averted your gaze from his phone to lock eyes with him, stroking his cheek with your thumb. "but you shouldn’t be doing these things on your own. i know you’re strong and amazing at what you do, but i worry about you all the time. these guys could have done so much worse to you if one thing went wrong!" you expressed your distaste for his actions.

mark did take you seriously because he knew what happened when he didn’t, but you just looked so pretty above him that he couldn’t find it to control himself.

"so you think i’m strong and amazing?" he teased, turning his face slightly to kiss your wrist that he now held. he then stretched his torso to accentuate his sculpted body and defined arms.

"that’s all you got from my speech?" you tilted your head in disappointment but still couldn’t fight your eyes from taking all of him in.

he just made it so hard.

"dude, you don’t even try to act like you don’t love it." he titled his head to catch your eyes but winced slightly when he irritated a specific cut on his jaw.

"okay pretty boy, just sit still for a minute; i’ll be back." kissing his cheek where he wasn’t hurt, you made your way to your closet, where you kept the clothes mark left at your house, which was quite a lot.

picking up a shirt and shorts, you made your way back to the boy, who began to take off his suit. your cheeks still flushed at his bare skin, even if you had seen it countless times. "it’s not polite to stare." he commented as he stole the clothes from your hands, beginning to pull his shorts up his legs.

you just rolled your eyes and sat on the edge of your bed, relishing in his appearance for the hundredth time that night. you helped him pull his shirt over his tender skin and guided him to sit against your headboard with you.

"aren’t you forgetting something?" he asked as you reached over to turn off your lamp, leaving only the moonlight to illuminate your bodies. "hmm?" you hummed, unsure of what you could have possibly forgotten. silently, mark tapped his cheek, his forehead, his lips, and finally his nose.

you laughed at the childish pout pulled on his lips and rolled over to be flush against him, making sure to avoid hurting him.

"oh how could i forget?" you could feel the smile on his lips as you kissed all over his face. it was lazy and slow due to your tiredness, but you also took your time, wanting to absorb as much of this moment as you could. even though mark always came back to you in one piece, the thought of that not always being true hung in your mind like a curse.

"i love you so much, mark. more than anything." you pulled away before kissing his lips softly. he pulled you closer to him, squeezing your hips and raking his fingers in your hair. "i love you (y/n). i promise that i will always come back to you." it was as if he could read your mind, and maybe he could with his spidey senses, but you would never know.

you two stayed like that all night, slowly and deeply expressing your love for each other. it wasn’t until the sun began to outline your figure from the window behind your body that you finally decided to sleep.

you two were both tangled endlessly in each other’s webs of love and wanted no way to escape.

notes | this is completely inspired by that one andrew garfield spiderman scene (ifykyk). there are not enough spidermark fics on here it’s truly tragic!!! hope you enjoyed <33

#nct #nct dream #nct dream fic #nct fluff #mark lee #mark lee fic #mark lee fluff #mark lee imagines #nct 127 #nct 127 fic #mark lee angst #mark lee x reader #nct x reader #nct angst #nct scenarios #mark lee scenarios #nct mark lee

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beefboyandbabygirl · 2 years ago

Text

Girl Code (18+)

pairing: student!jihoon x student!reader

genre: college au, angst, smut (MDNI), lotta crack, friends to...?

description: when you and your friends find out jihoon's been writing down everything you've off-handedly said about "girl code", you simply have to know why.

warnings: brief bondage/restraint, heavy insecurity on readers part, self-doubt, dirty talk, pet names, dom!uzi, sub!reader, desperation, oral (f. receiving), praise (f. receiving), muscly uzi, unprotected sex (dont do it guys....), pining, bad writing, red velvet are your friends, theyre super fun, mingyu is excluded badly, he just wants to b a part of it :(

quotes from my creative director (@joshibambi): "i am simply a hole for him", "pussy? wet. heart? pounding. me? yearning", "every1 talks ab sapphic yearning but what ab just. jihoon-yearning?",

wordcount: 12.0k

a/n: idk why but this is deffo not as good as my previous works. n e way also sorry to @onlyseokmins bc i promised her a seokmin fic WHICH IS STILL COMING i just felt like this was kinda genius and needed to happen first ok bye

It’s mid-spring, and the world is blossoming and flowering around you. Grass sprouts greener, plants drink in the heavy rainfall and flowers are blooming, slowly unfurling their pedaled heads to crane into the beautiful sky. At odds with nature, people walk the street to be drenched in the downpour, only to be dried off by the shyly peeking sun, and to have freckles surfacing on their skin and hair, getting frizzy from the humidity, when they’re biking along the streets. It’s serene, it’s natural. You’re reminded to love the place that birthed and fostered you.

But that’s out there.

You’re sitting, bottom planted firmly on the sticky surface of Joshua Hong’s couch, looking distantly into artificially colored lights, flickering across the floor, where people are dancing on one another in skimpy outfits and makeup, and everything is very far from the moon and the flowers.

“The second one is a lie!” Seulgi yells over the music, cup of god knows what in her hand, and slurring her words.

Sitting on the couch and stools surrounding the coffee table is you, Mingyu, Soonyoung, Seulgi, Irene, Yeri and Jihoon.

“No, I know she likes anal!” Screams Soonyoung giddily (forever oblivious to his surroundings), receiving a glare from your roommate, Yeri. You were currently playing two truths and one lie, and attempting to discern whether Yeri was lying about being on television, lying about having black belt in taekwondo or lying about having tried anal. “It’s about whether or not she’s tried it!” Irene rolls her eyes and huffs. “My point still stands,” Soonyoung grins and eyes Yeri, and you watch somewhat disgusted, reminding yourself to ask her about it later.

You’re sitting next to Mingyu, utterly small next to him, and the two of you are only watching the scene unfold, sharing snickering glances when something funny happens. “I’ve never done taekwondo!” Yeri screams at Soonyoung, and you and Mingyu fall back in your seats laughing and slapping each other, when Soonyoung’s face drops for a moment.

“They’re so dumb!” Mingyu cries, and you nod buried in a decorative pillow.

“Screw this noise, I’m finding Junhui,” Hoshi mumbles, a little deflated from his loss. Then he’s standing up, cargo-pants and all, and trudging away, pouting over his shoulder when he hears the laughing continue.

Jihoon - who’s been incredibly quiet and observant throughout the night, only sipping a single bottle of beer, slaps his thighs. You’re hoping in his ever searching eyes he hasn’t seen the way you’ve been staring at him all night. Are you drunk or is he so complex and sexy, and wearing a t-shirt that shows his huge arms and pants that show his thick thighs? You’re almost certain you can chalk this up to only ever seeing him in sweaters that totally swallow him - almost. “I’m going too,” he announces, standing up and not leaving much room for argument.

“Why? I’ll be the only guy,” Mingyu whines, pout pushing out his bottom lip. You scoff. You know he loves feeling like he’s one of the girls. “Paper,” Jihoon says, and adds more, when he realizes he’s being so curt it’s almost rude: “Tomorrow. I have a paper tomorrow.”

The group seems to accept this, knowing the stresses of college are weighing on each of them heavily. But your eyes narrow. You’re not buying it.

You watch him sling his jacket across his body, biting back more words. He’s quiet, sure, but never this quiet. With how he’d slumped back in his seat all night, almost bent into himself, there must be something bugging him. Jihoon’s eyes meet yours. It’s a half a second, but you feel like he knows you’re on to him, the way he hides his face under his long, black hair again and turns his back to you. All of a sudden he’s hurrying away, excusing himself half-heartedly. You narrow your eyes even further and purse your lips.

“Be right back,” you say. Seulgi pouts.

You’re trudging after him, fussing with your hair all of a sudden and adjusting your dress and - God, you care so much how he sees you. But you suppose you care more that he’s okay. That’s why you’re squeezing through the dancefloor, getting grinded on by several anonymous bodies, before pushing out to the entrance and finally breathing air that wasn't coming directly from someone else’s mouth.

“Jihoon, wait-”

You catch up to him by the doorway, where he’s stopped his journey, to slip Vernon a bill for a ziploc of mediocre weed.

“Jihoon!”

Finally, he hears you and he turns to you, where you’re regaining your last leg from the mass of bodies. Vernon is apparently still sober enough (you wouldn’t have thought so) to understand time and place, so he gently pushes past the two of you into the crowd.

You’re not ready for the look he gives you. Eyes so sharp and face darkened from his shaggy hair, curling into his face, and frowning and furrowing his brows as if he couldn’t understand why you’re here.

It sends your out-reaching body slamming backwards. You’re shrinking away from him, eyes flitting downwards self-consciously. You consider your history with him for a moment, weighing it in a glass of vodka-cranberry. This is pathetic, you realize, and it feels terrible. You’re pathetic and desperate and clingy and why would you feel the need to ask him this.

And then one moment to the next you’re scolding yourself for thinking that way. For thinking it was wrong to reach out a helping hand.

Jihoon apparently has enough of you debating with the angel and the devil on your shoulder, because he speaks finally: “What is it?”

There’s a pause.

“Are you okay?”

Another pause. You watch Jihoon’s face soften in shock, mouth falling open for a split second, before he’s closing it again and looking away. The ziploc crunches in his fingers, when they tighten and he shoves it into his inner pocket.

“I’m good,” he says.

“Okay.”

And this time and even longer pause! You can barely take it, the way he looks at you, and it almost feels like he suspicious of you, like he’s trying to discern what you’re doing here in front of him.

“Have a good night,” you say. He nods slowly and begins to walk off, and you watch him and the way the moonlight fills the entrance, so you’re coated in for a moment. Then it disappears with a slam of the door. You let out a shaky sigh.

Why did you do that? Why would you even think to do something like that?

You decide against standing there for any longer, not allowing yourself to overanalyze it, and you turn around to go back to your friends. Yet again comes the song and dance of trying to navigate the most terrifying human cesspool, face scrunching up in disgust as you make your way back to the sofa, almost unscathed, except you think you accidentally got caught in an armpit.

“Y/n! Come quick, so you can be a part of this momentous- momentous.. Moment!” You hear Mingyu calling and when he’s finally in view, you realize something very, very terrible is about to happen.

Mingyu’s holding a leather notebook between his fingers - Jihoon’s notebook. It’s the one he’s always writing in; the one he shuts closed whenever anyone gets too close, the one he keeps tucked under his arm at all times; the one he’s inexplicably writing in, even if he’s blasted on Vernon’s weed. And it’s private and he’s somehow forgotten it.

“We’re not opening it,” you say immediately, power-walking back to your spot in the couch. Mingyu snaps his head towards you, and he almost looks offended at that. “What do you mean we’re not opening it, of course we’re opening it!”

“It could be private, Gyu!” You retort and Seulgi chimes from her spot on the couch: “I’m with Y/n.”

“No, what? Fuck you guys! We’re seeing what’s in that notebook!-” Irene spits. “Thank you!” Mingyu says.

“Yeri, it’s up to you,” you say, eyeing your roommate sharply, as you sit down again. The entire group turns to her, fury behind their retinas, and she gulps, shrinking a little.

“Me, I just…” she shrugs abashedly and trails off. There’s a moment where you think she’ll side with you and leave the poor boy alone. You have some semblance of faith in your friendship, and maybe, maybe she’ll back you-

“He’s a music major, it’s probably just angsty lyrics, now open!”

“Yes!” Irene and Mingyu gloat, and despite wanting to respect his privacy, you scoot closer to Mingyu (he scoffs at you, but does not mention it further, as he is itching with curiosity). With a solemn, heaved sigh, as if about to unfurl the world’s grandest mysteries, Mingyu’s large hand flips the book open.

There’s no justified way to put word to the shock that follows this. The first page reads:

“Girl Code Rule #1

Guys should bring flowers on the first date. Either lilies, roses or tulips. Depends on vibe.”

There’s a confused silence - as much as silence as you can get from a bass-boosted room of drunk college students.

“What?” Irene quacks in disappointment, leaning closer to read it again. “Why-.. Go to the next page.” And Mingyu does, turning over the page and the next couple of pages follow suit.

“Girl Code Rule #2

Whoever offered the date pays for dinner. First date should always be dinner, ‘none of the bowling crap’.

Girl Code Rule #3

Guys are more attractive the more hygienic they are.

Girl Code Rule #4

It’s an ick to wear skinny jeans. *Google what an ick is.”

They come one after another, each more confusing than the last, and it’s not until number 5, that the heavy, suffocating spread of realization begins blooming among you. Clarity - your minds open like leaves of a flower in spring.

“Girl Code Rule #5

The cinema on Attacca street is a nightmare and we hate them. Never go there.”

“That’s-” you begin.

“Us!” Yeri finishes, pointing her finger at the page but directing her eyes, wide and pupils small from shock, towards you. The group exchange gaping glances. It’s undeniable - the cinema thing is relating to an incident that had happened months prior. You refuse to go into detail, but it had gotten grim.

“These are all things we’ve said!” Seulgi snatches the book out of Mingyu’s hold, beginning to mindlessly scroll through the book with furrowed brows, etch growing deeper and deeper in outrage.

“That’s- This is crazy. That’s so not cool!” You shriek and Yeri nods in agreement: “Girl code is for girls only!”

There’s a general agreement on the outrageousness of this. That is, except for one big boy on the couch.

“I meaaaan,” Mingyu is looking a little sheepish sitting in the middle of you and Yeri and Seulgi and Irene. All eyes flit towards him, small and sharp. He’s talking slowly, lowly and carefully: “You guys have to have said it out loud while he was there, so you weren’t exactly being discreet…”

“Men don’t usually listen to women, we thought we were in the clear!” Irene hisses.

“No man has ever listened to me in my entire life,” Seulgi deadpans, looking at Mingyu from beyond the book. Mingyu throws his hands out, incidentally hitting Yeri in the face, and ignoring her pained groans when she falls back on the couch. “I listened. Just now. Check that off your list-”

“Why is he writing this down..?” You mumble, seemingly the only one grasping the gravity of the situation (although maybe there is none? You can never tell when it’s with him) and it truly is such a mystery. Was he attempting to pry open the minds of women? You don’t exactly think he has trouble finding dates, so you’re left a little at a loss.

“Let’s ask him-” Mingu says.

“He just left, dumbass,” Irene spits and you can tell she’s almost disgusted with herself for ever siding with him.

“Let’s ask him tomorrow, then, after class,” you say decidedly.

“Ugh, don’t talk about tomorrow..” Yeri groans, and you can see the regret settling in because why do all the hot guys throw weeknight parties? “Y/n, can we go home?” she asks and you’re nodding immediately.

“Seul?”

“Yep.”

And in the span of just a couple of seconds, your entire friend group is packing up, Seulgi stuffing the book into her tote bag. Mingyu’s still sitting, much smaller when you’re standing over him, and when he has that almost starstruck look on his face. “I’m so glad I’m a part of this, guys.”

“You’re not.”

“Yes, I am,” Mingyu counters, clearly thinking otherwise. He’s grinning stupidly. “Hey, wait, where are we confronting him tomorrow?” he calls out suddenly, but you’re already on your way out.

“GUYS! WHERE ARE WE MEETING?” _____________________________

You, Yeri, Seulgi, and Irene sit side by side on the middle-back row in class, eyeing Jihoon from the peaks. It’s a quiet, morning class, and the teacher rambles on while the four of you glare down at him. Or at least they glare. You hope it’s not noticeable how there’s something softer in your eyes - something almost tender. He’s fidgeting a little. Maybe he feels the pairs of eyes on the back of his black-buried head or maybe he’s noticed the book is gone and he feels the consequences coming.

It was certainly a strange situation to tackle. Mingyu did have a point, if it was a private conversation, you certainly had not discussed it as such. And even then, was there a crime in what he was doing? You just couldn’t understand how Jihoon possibly felt the need to garner all this information on women. He’d never had trouble picking up girls. You would know.

You shake the terrible, terrible thought away, when Irene speaks up: “The coward is all nervous.”

“Okay, let’s calm down. We can’t know he’s an evildoer, before we find out his true intentions.” Seulgi reasons, a hand soothing over Irene’s arm. Yeri nods softly. “God, I wish class was over.”

And suddenly it was. Well, twenty more minutes of suffering through a class that was totally lost, picked up by the pollen-saturated wind. Then the professor is excusing himself and wiping the board.

Never in your life had your group been so fast at packing up their things, pencils and computers shoved down bags, before you’re strutting (model-walking) over to Jihoon. “We need to talk to you,” Yeri says, once she’s in front of his desk, hand on the wood. Jihoon looks up from where he’s packing his bag, eyes peeking through the thick strands of hair. He nods. He knows.

As you wait for students to exit the class (Minghao giving Jihoon a confused grimace, before he squeezes out), you study Jihoon. He’s still sitting, and you’re all towering over him. His pale skin is glowing in the light and he purses his lip and bounces his leg - God, his thick leg - in nervous await.

Students are slipping out the door in droves and when the last, tired body escapes, Seulgi reaches into her bag and pulls out the leather-bound book. “We read it.”

“I figured,” he mutters. He’s avoiding your eyes, flinching a little when Irene slams her hand onto the book. “So, why have you been writing down the girl code?”

Jihoon sighs. His lips make a tight line, and you can see how he wonders what to say. The pause would’ve been more tense had you not had the girls with you.

“The girl code is for girls only,” Yeri supplies.

“Well, you weren’t exactly being discreet about it-”

“Just answer the question, Jihoon!” Seulgi snaps, crossing her arms over her chest. “This is, like, top-level strange.”

“Alright!” Jihoon throws his hands up in the air. His eyes flit to you, totally quiet and scratching your nails on the wooden table. You look away. He sighs a little. “I… It’s..”

You almost want to hug him when he buries his face in his hands, tugging at the ends of his hair.

“You can’t tell anyone.”

The four of you exchange glances.

“We won’t.”

He pauses.

“It’s.. IhaveacrushonthisgirlandIdon’twanttomessitup.”

There’s a beat, where the information glides cooly into your skulls and you begin to process. Jihoon - cold, cynical, loner Jihoon - has a crush on a girl and is trying to improve himself for her?

Holy hell.

“Jihoon!” cries Seulgi and Irene chimes in, equally as adoring and diffused: “That’s so cute, you should’ve just said something!”

There’s an uproar of coos and cries and oohs and ahhs and compliments being thrown at Jihoon and he just sits there, cheeks blazing bright red, although with a little, shy smile on his lips.

And then there’s you. It’s so dumb. Why can’t you help the slight disappointment that lowers on you, like the fog does in the blooming season? Why can’t you smile wider, happier for Jihoon? Why do you feel this way? Does it really take all this commotion for you to realize how much you want him? You half-smile and look at your shoes. Just as how your feelings blossomed like a flower in spring, you hope they, too, are destined to wither away once more.

“Congratulations,” you say to him, giving him a dignified nod. Jihoon looks at you for a moment, before he smiles tightly and thanks you.

“Jihoon!” Yeri says, and you know you’re about to hate her for what comes next: “We can totally help you with the crush!”

Jihoon’s eyes widen. “Really? I mean- you guys don’t have to-”

“No, no! You can come to our girls’ nights and we can tell you everything!” Irene cuts in, nodding in reassurance. Jihoon smiles to himself a little sheepishly.

“Who is it?” Seulgi asks, and you can tell her heart is triple its usual size.

“I’m not telling you.”

“Come on!” Seulgi begs, but Jihoon is steadfast. He gives her cheeky smile and shakes his head again. “No way. It’s my secret.”

“We can keep a secret!” Yeri begs, bending her knees in plea. You, unusually quiet, speak up again: “We can.”

There’s a pause while Jihoon looks at you again. He narrows his eyes and it’s almost like he’s trying to decode you. Maybe he’s noticed you’re just as quiet as he was, at that party. You hate yourself when your heart picks up at the thought of him caring about you.

Suddenly he’s snapping out of it and smiling and shaking his ruffled head of hair again. “No. If girl code was supposed to be a secret, then I don’t even wanna think about telling you.”

This time there’s no talkback, only somewhat embarrassed nods.

“We deserve that.” _____________________________

You come back to your dorm room that afternoon, and lie down in bed. Thoughts of Jihoon plague your mind and you feel disease-ridden, attempting to push away the thought with the same useless reminder: You should do your paper, gotta do your paper now, it’s due very soon…

But no matter how many times you tell yourself, you can’t overcome the crushing feeling in your chest, like your entire rib cage is being compressed.

You know when these emotions started. It was at the Halloween party, six months ago, and Jihoon had been wearing a cop-outfit and you, with a more humorous approach, a lobster costume (Mingyu was a chef). Somehow, he’d still found you sexy though, because he was laughing in the bathroom of Seungcheol’s frat house, ripping the costume off of you.

“I can’t believe I’m gonna fuck a lobster,” he’d said in between kisses, laughing again as he caught sight of the costume, discarded on the floor. You giggled. “Me neither. There are plenty of fish in the sea, you know?”

And he’d thrown his head back, still with that black hair, still in that sexy fucking uniform, and his nose all scrunched and adam’s apple bopping in time with his joyful laughter. “Stop making me laugh while I’m trying to get you wet!”

“I’m already wet,” you’d shrugged, “you’re hot.”

And before you knew it you were handcuffed and he was rutting into you against the sink. His cock was disappearing and reappearing from your pussy, hooked onto him like a vice. Groaning and listening to your withheld moans, he’d left the most sinful hickies along your shining neck, while mumbling desperate praises to you: “You’re so pretty, N/n, letting me have you like this, so fucking hot.”

You supposed you’d buried those feelings, because you felt so pathetic for catching feelings from a one night stand.

And it is pathetic. And you are pathetic, and desperate, and alone, and God, is it even Jihoon, or is it the way it suddenly feels like no one wants you?

“Stop that,” Yeri says suddenly, lying on her bed on the opposite side of your room. You tilt your tired eyes towards her. “What?”

“I can hear you thinking. What’s up?” She said nonchalantly, dropping her phone, that she’d been mindlessly scrolling through. Cheeks bunched up on your pillow and mascara smudging under your eyes, you look at her and sigh.

“Just tired,” you hum. _____________________________

Jihoon has been adopted. For a whole week following that incident, suddenly, your friends are taking him with them everywhere, and your safe space is invaded by his hair, his laugh, and his subtle cologne. It’s him with you during movie nights, it’s him during girls’ nights, and it’s him while you’re getting ready for a bar-night, all sitting in Irene and Seulgi’s pink-tastic room, doing makeup on the floor and on the desks and on the bed.

“I love your eye makeup,” Seulgi says to Yeri (it’s a pink number with glittery inner corners), under eyes totally covered in white powder, as she’s baking her makeup. Jihoon is sitting on the floor, hair tied up in two pigtails that Irene had given him. “Thank you, Seul.”

You’re doing your own makeup, working blush into your cheeks and trying not to look at him, the way he’s half-lying on the carpeted floor, looking absentmindedly into his phone. His thighs are huge, and he’s wearing gray sweatpants, and you think you’re going insane.

Irene (who’s done with her makeup before anyone else, always) looks up from her own phone. She narrows her eyes deviously. “Jihoon, what do you think of Yeri’s makeup?”

Jihoon snaps his head up, pigtails bouncing. “Uh,” he looks a little lost, when he turns his head over to Yeri, who smiles sheepishly, not totally understanding what was happening. “It’s nice.”

“Just nice?” Irene smirks, and Jihoon finally seems to catch on to the fact that this is some sort of test. Indeed it was, and you knew it from the moment Irene began to talk. Your eyes flit between them, sitting behind you in the mirror. “Can you elaborate on that?” Irene smirks.

“It’s…” Jihoon considers what to respond, almost nervous. “She looks better without makeup.”

“Son, no!”

“Never!”

“Absolutely not!”

It’s a cacophony from the girls, even a pillow is thrown at his head, which he dodges in shock. “Never say that to a girl, Jihoon! It’s rude!” Irene lectures, a finger pointedly thrown in his direction. When he doesn’t seem to get it, Yeri explains: “Imagine spending time on something, only for someone to say they’d wish you hadn’t done it all.”

Jihoon, who’s been bristling like a disturbed cat up until now, softens in understanding. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, our child, you’re learning,” Irene says, face turning back to her phone, as she apparently has lost interest in the conversation.

You watch quietly with a bemused smile, having paused your ministrations on your face, brush held in the air before you. Jihoon’s eyes flicker over to you, an unreadable expression on his face. You meet his eyes in the mirror, pitch black and blank. You look away quickly.

You can feel him, still looking at you, and you feel self-conscious at the way you crooken your back to better focus on your face. What’s he thinking? That you look ugly? That your back is ugly? Your makeup?

“Are you okay, Y/n?”

You freeze. His voice is soft as ever, and you understand now, better than ever, why he’s a music major, because it’s so melodious and sweet in your ears. All eyes in the room snap to you and you eye them all in the mirror. “Yep.”

Yeri sighs, exasperated. “She’s been depresso for, like, a week.”

“I’ve been fine,” you correct, smudging out the pencil on your lid. “I’ve been fineeee,” Yeri mocks, making her voice nasally and high. You glare at her through the mirror, but all she does is stick her tongue out at you.

“I’m just stressed out, okay? I've got a lot on my plate,” you mumble bitterly, and it’s true, because every time you’re trying to do assignments, papers, write notes and focus in class, you think of him, and how he doesn’t want you. And one wrong thing leads to another, and then you’re thinking about how no one wants you, and you haven’t had a boyfriend since you entered college. And then it’s something about how you look, or it’s something about how you are, as a person, and you just sit at your desk with this terrible feeling in you gut, trying not to cry, or hoping that your sniffles don’t overpower Replay by Shinee blasting in Yeri’s headphones, as she’s eating crackers in bed, just a few feet away from you.

“Just talk to us if you need anything, okay?” Seulgi frowns and you smile at her, hoping it looks convincing. She nods at you, turning back to her handheld mirror. But alas one person stays staring at you. You avoid his eyes, trying not to look like you’re about to cry.

“I can arrange a spa day? We can get our toes done,” Irene asks, and she wiggles her toes in the air for emphasis. “Ooo, yes!” Yeri exclaims.

Finally, Jihoon’s attention is ripped from you, wincing at the thought of another person handling his feet. “Can I skip out on that, maybe?”

Irene scratches her chin, pretending to think about it. Then she says, bluntly and directly: “Nah.”

_____________________________

“Let me come with you to the spa!”

“No! Jihoon, walk faster,” like a mother, Seulgi is grabbing Jihoon’s wrist and dragging him further from the tall, huge man behind you. Mingyu is following you all like a dog, whining and crying, and pouting. “Please, guys! I don’t wanna go with Seungcheol and Jeonghan, they’re mean!”

“Spa day is for girls only!” Yeri yells over her shoulder, as the five of you stumble away from Mingyu, crying out to you. “What about him?” Mingyu yells and points.

“Don’t listen to him, sweetie,” Seulgi tells Jihoon and he nods very seriously. “He’s our adopted son! Now shoo!”

Finally Mingyu gives up the chase, and you disappear behind the outerwall, beginning down a busy street towards Irene’s favorite spa. “I don’t get how you’re friends with that guy,” Irene says, elbowing you, and you both snicker. “He’s a pup,” you shrug.

The streets are filled with people, the sun is shining, and it’s spring, and everything should be great, because you’re with your friends. But he’s here too. Swallowed up by his hoodie, pitch black in a sea of colors, he’s still here and his very presence has you tense, and yearning for the touch of a masseuse. The streets that had grown so familiar, that you thought you had learnt and mastered, had become so foreign, and you’re trying to escape into yourself, trying to find a backdoor out of the constant blabbering, teaching Jihoon the importance of gossip and female communication and companionship. These are your friends. The sadness eventually musters into frustration.

Soon enough, you’re sighing so hard you think your soul escapes with it through your mouth. A spa-worker begins massaging your feet, and working her thumbs into your sore soles. Irene laughs at your reaction, two seats over. “Told you all you needed was a spa day!” she beams. Yeah, a spa day and maybe a new friend group that wouldn’t adopt the guy who you should certainly not be around!

And speaking of him, he’s sitting in the chair right next to yours, grimacing and flinching back from the disdained worker.

“What are you gonna tell her?” Yeri quips, smiling at the end of the row. Jihoon takes a second to snap out of his constant flinching, looking over at her nervously. “Oh, uh…”

The girls are all looking at him expectantly, but you’re squeezing your eyes shut and wishing your ears could shut too.

“Probably, like.. ‘Hey, I like you, would you maybe wanna go out on a date sometime?”

“Pssh!”

“Absolutely not!”

“As if!”

Jihoon is a little flabbergasted.

“Here’s what you’re actually gonna say,” Seulgi leans over in her chair towards him, directing him with a finger in her armrest. You hear Jihoon scramble in his chair, and you know he’s taking out that stupid notebook again.

Seulgi lowers her voice to mimic his, when she talks again: “‘Hi, crush, how are you?’ Wait for her response… Then: ‘I’ve always thought you were very beautiful. Your very presence takes my breath away. I would like to take you on a date, would that be okay with you?’ And be suave about it.”

“HAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAH.”

Yeri and Irene burst into laughter, hitting the armrests of their chairs and covering their bright smiles with their hands. Even you snort in amusement. “What?!” Seulgi exclaims, outraged. “What’s so funny about that?”

“Nothing, I just-...” Irene wafts herself, trying to ease away that tears of glee that spring in her eyes. “I can’t imagine any man, let alone our son, saying that to a woman.. Wow.”

“It’s good! I would be flattered,” Seulgi defends herself viciously. Yeri snorts from her seat: “It’s not a drama, Seul!”

“Well!” Seulgi scoffs, twisting her upper body to face Yeri now. “Maybe I would like my life to be a drama, thank you very much!”

Their argument continues viciously, insults and laughter being thrown at each other left and right and you can almost begin to tune them own, letting the feeling of pads on your feet and a gentle, cool brush on the nail lure you to sleep.

Then there’s a hand on your forearm. You peek an eye open and see him - God, it just has to be him - leaning over his chair to gently grasp you. He looks at you through lashes, and he’s so sincere that it kills you when he says: “I can tell you’re not okay.”

You’re a little taken aback, one second prior you were being lulled to sleep and now he’s talking to you, so low, so seriously, while the girls try to attack each other behind him. You wish your heart isn’t suddenly galloping, and you wish his warmth on your arm and radiating onto you isn’t so nauseating. “I-”

“Don't say you are, when you're not. You’re very obvious, you know?” he hums, smiling softly when he sees you flush from his intense gaze. You avert your eyes nervously. “Uhm. I just.. I don’t really want to talk about it, Hoon.”

You flick your eyes back up to his to survey his reaction. His expression softens at the nickname, and he holds your gaze for a moment longer, before he nods in understanding, all the warmth of his closeness disappearing, when he sits back down in his seat.

“That’s okay,” he smiles at you in reassurance, and your heart leaps, and you can’t help but think that he doesn’t need anymore training to make his crush - whoever the lucky girl is - completely and totally happy for several lifetimes.

He’s a beautiful, sun-beamed flower, where he sits, light flitting through the store-front windows. You’d be happy for several lifetimes. If only he wanted you. _____________________________

“What is going on?!”

It’s Mingyu, and he’s somehow found you, as you’re trudging out of your latest class, suddenly hot on your trail and outraged about something or other. “What?” you mumble, heading to the cafe near the end of the hall.

“With Jihoon?! Why does he get to be your son when I don’t?!” Mingyu wafts his arms and pouts and you cringe, leaning away from his loud voice. “Ugh…”

“I need to know why he was writing that girl code stuff, Y/n. Why is he suddenly allowed at girls’ nights, when I’ve been trying to get in for months?!”

You take a turn into the cafe and sigh at how crowded it is, immediately placing yourself in line, Mingyu right behind you. “Calm down,” you say, just wanting a sandwich and maybe some peace and qui-

“I will not!” he snaps back, brows furrowed and a determined look on his face. You look up at him, pursing your lips in thought. Did Mingyu deserve to know? Maybe. He had been trying to get into girls’ nights forever, always going on about being ‘an honorary member’.

“I’m not sure I can tell you- Hey, can I get a tuna sandwich, please?” You say, quickly turned to the clerk behind the counter. “I won’t tell anyone, pleaseee- Can you get me one of those too? Thanks.”

You’re handed your sandwiches, and you hold both of them, drifting over to a table by the window, both of Mingyu’s hands on your shoulders and his voice in your ear: “Please, please, please, pretty please with the sugar on top?”

You plop down in your seat, simply exasperated, and hand him his sandwich. He’s settling himself down when you answer: “Okay.”

“Yes!” Mingyu fists the air in victory, mumbling self-assured under his breath: “Begging always works.” You snort and take a big bite of your sandwich.

“Stop eating and tell me!” he whines. “I’m hungry– Hey!”

Mingyu snatches the sandwich right out of your hands and grins at you deviously, dancing with it. You hate him. You hate him, but it is a little endearing.

“Jihoon has a crush on some girl and he’s been writing down the girl code in an attempt to understand women,” you deadpan, and when Mingyu’s mouth and guard drops, you snatch your sandwich back and begin gulping down hungrily.

“Are you shitting me?!” You shake your head.

“So, that's why he's allowed at girls’ night?” You nod your head.

“So, that’s why you’ve been so down?” You almost choke on your food.

“What?”

“Because you like him,” Mingyu says seriously and, with a totally stunned look on your face, you shark down the bits of sandwich in your mouth painfully. “How do you know that?!” you cry, head suddenly snapping in seventy different directions, relief washing over you, when none of your or Jihoon’s friends are around.

“Because you’ve been acting all weird around him since you fucked at Seungcheol’s Halloween party,” Mingyu shrugs. You wave your arms wildly.

“How do you know that?!” Whining, you throw yourself back in your seat, and bury your head in your hands. This couldn’t be happening. Your delicate secret, the one that could have - should have - simply faded away into summer, was now out and open, and you look out the window, and it’s spring.

“I know everything,” Mingu says ominously, giggling evilly.

“Mingyu, I will fucking kill you.”

“Fine! I needed to pee and you guys were super loud,” Mingyu pouts and takes a bite of his own sandwich. “No need to be so rude.”

“I can’t believe you know,” you groan, head collapsing on the table. Mingyu, forever and always silly, finally softens and frowns. You’re scattered.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No,” you say. Then, a moment later (in true Girl Code fashion) you’re lifting your head from the table and burying it in your hands: “I just. I don’t know, Mingyu. I feel so pathetic for liking him after a one night stand! And now he’s doing all this for another woman and he’s with us all the time…I haven’t had a boyfriend in college, Mingyu. I just feel so…” There’s a pause, when you’re trying to find the right word, and Mingyu stops breathing, looking at you and fearing the worst. Then comes the word, ripping itself from your lips:

“Unlovable.”

Mingyu’s frown deepens. Big, puppy Mingyu who’s always silly and happy, just slumps in on himself. “You’re not unlovable,” he mumbles, sounding genuinely disbelieving. You scoff.

“Thanks, Mingyu, it’s just.. That’s how it feels,” you admit, running a hand through your hair and looking at your half-eaten sandwich on the table. Mingyu’s quiet for a moment. When he speaks up again, he’s determined, and you can discern almost immediately that there’s no escaping this plan. Or he’ll for God’s sake start begging again.

“I’m going to wingman you,” he’s nodding to himself, and you can see the plan falling into place in his head, “I’m gonna wingman you and set you up with my friend at the party on Saturday!”

“Please, don’t,” you groan half-heartedly, but a piece of you brightens with hope, with summer, like maybe this was the thing you needed to get over your schoolgirl-crush on Jihoon.

“No,” Mingyu responds simply. “This is happening.” _____________________________

Indeed, it is happening.

The frat house is practically bumping with each beat of whatever pop song is playing over the speakers, and you lean into the rhythm that reverberates in the kitchen table beneath your fingers.

You somewhat wish that you hadn’t been as excited for this as you were, that you hadn’t spent hours picking out the perfect pink dress and doing your makeup, and that you aren’t hopelessly dependant on Mingyu (of all people) to find you a fuck. But you are. Putting on that dress and hoop earrings and doing your hair and declining Yeri’s invitation to the girls’ (and Jihoon’s) pre-party, you feel like you’re scrambling, like constantly falling through the air, flailing for something to ground yourself on.

Now, scanning over the tinted lights and the dancing people and feeling the slight, warm buzz of vodka in your blood, you know you need this. And still, you combat that slight anxiety, the insecurity that you hadn’t felt in years - what if Mingyu couldn’t find a single guy that wanted you?

Mingyu doesn’t seem worried though.

“Okay! We just gotta figure out who to set you up with. Take your pick,” he places a hand on your shoulder, squeezing and gauging your reaction. Your brows furrow as you shrug. Somehow, even when half the guys are objectively hot, you can’t say you find yourself drawn to any of them. You don’t linger on the feeling, fearful that maybe you’ll realize all the things they’re missing, the things they’re falling short of, are just Jihoon’s traits. “I don’t know, man. I just-..”

Mingyu senses your struggle and elects to give you his excellent guidance. “Alright, well you could do Joshua?” He’s pointing somewhere in the crowd, and sure enough, you notice Joshua, majoring in communications or something like that. “He’s a star: total hottie, super smart, sweet and considerate, and-”

“And he fucked Yeri,” you deadpan, head lolling over to look at Mingyu disapprovingly. Mingyu’s mouth falls open: “What?!”

“Yeah, like, two months ago!” you argue, wafting your hands. Mingyu’s mouth stays open, and he’s seemingly totally appalled by this.

“What?! Okay- nevermind. How about him?” He points his long limbs again, and this time you notice-

You narrow your eyes confusedly. Hopefully Mingyu was not trying to set you up with the biggest player in your year? “Jeonghan?!”

“What? No, the guy beside him, dickwad,” he playfully smacks the side of your head as you refocus your eyes. Indeed, a blonde guy is standing next to Jeonghan, seemingly whining at him. “Who’s he?”

“Lee Chan. Super sweet, great bod, a little dumb, but very doting-”

“Is he a freshman?!” you cry, almost as if it were a crime. Mingyu huffs. “You’re not making this easy, you know?!”

“I’m not dating or fucking a freshman,” you cross your arms and Mingyu senses the air of finality in your words. He sighs, slumping behind you for a moment, before he spots something across the room.

“Wonwoo! What about him?” he doesn’t even bother pointing at this point, simply tilts your head towards the man, who was currently talking to Seungcheol a little ways from the kitchen. You spot him. You suppose you’d always been a little curious about Wonwoo. From what you’d seen of him in passing, he was sweet and polite, absolutely gorgeous and extremely smart. You nod solemnly.

“I could- I could see that,” you say and Mingyu’s eyes light up. He bounces victoriously, punching the air. “He’s great, you’re- you’re gonna love him,” Mingyu delights and before you can even get another word in, Mingyu’s yelling across the room: “Hey, Wonwoo! Wonwoo, scootch over here!”

Your eyes widen in shock. “Wha- we’re doing this now? Just, on the fly? No warning?”

“It’s fine,” Mingyu waves you off, eyes trained on where Wonwoo is now walking towards you.

“Do I look okay?” your voice is wavering nervously. You still can’t help how you feel, even in your dress and your makeup. Where had all your confidence gone? The confidence with which you’d literally fucked Jihoon in a lobster-costume? Even the thought of him stings. Mingyu’s confident facade falters for only a split second at the vulnerability in your tone. His gaze softens and he looks at you: “You look great, N/n. Calm down, Wonwoo’s super nice.”

“Hey, Gyu,” Wonwoo’s voice is cool, as he approaches Mingyu. Standing in front of you and Mingyu, he briefly scans you, then acknowledges you with a nod and a sweet smile. “Wonwoo, hey, you know, I was just wondering if you’ve already done the history paper?”

Wonwoo is unamused. “I’m not doing your paper again, Mingyu.”

“Oh well, shucks, that’s simply too bad,” Mingyu (poorly) feigns annoyance and defeat, before he’s grabbing your shoulder. “Anyway, Wonwoo, have you met my very good friend, Y/n?”

You fake a smile, hoping the absolute pain of the current interaction was not showing on your face. If you’d known Mingyu was this bad at wing-manning, you would’ve gladly put up with his begging instead. You want to crawl into a hole and die, because based on Wonwoo’s smug smile, he has a pretty good understanding of what’s happening.

“Whoops, look at the time!” Mingyu looks at his wrist. He is not wearing a watch. “Damn, I guess I gotta go and- and leave my two good friends alone with each other, such a shame, uh, anyway!” As he speaks he backs further and further from you, trying to ignore the glare in your eyes, before he’s bolting at his last word.

There’s an awkward silence as soon as Mingyu’s gone. You feel like an unshelled turtle. You purse your lips and stare at your heel-clad feet.

“So, Mingyu was trying to wingman you?” Wonwoo’s voice is deep and bemused. You look at him in horror, trying to think of a way to salvage the situation.

“Yeah,” your breathe, and he immediately begins laughing. “Sorry about that, he was- he was just trying to be helpful, although it’s hard to defend him right now.”

“He’s wingmanned me before, too,” Wonwoo muses and, thank God, this was actually a good thing. You find a balance on the common ground. “Really?” you grin, looking up at him.

“Yep,” Wonwoo admits, “safe to say I did not get my dick wet.”

You laugh hard, and it feels like a switch has flipped inside you, restarting your joy-generator, because you’re laughing and hitting Wonwoo’s arm, and he’s smiling because he’s just made a pretty girl laugh.

“He’s so bad!” you say when you’re done laughing. “Everytime!” Wonwoo drawls, “Everytime he pulls that shit and he’s never wearing a watch!”

You and Wonwoo laugh together, throwing (good-hearted) snarky comments about Mingyu around, and your cheeks are rosy and shining in the kitchen-light. Finally, party still bumpin’ and pumpin’ in the near distance, your laughter dies down and you’re both half-leaning against the counter. Wonwoo looks down at you with a smug smile.

“What?” you ask, growing insecure again under his gaze. He hums.

“So you asked for me?”

“Hm?”

“When Mingyu was wingmanning you,” Wonwoo reminded you, tilting his head. “You asked for me?”

“I-” you stutter, and your heart clenches nervously, because if things had been right, if things were different at least, you would have asked for Jihoon. It’s this gut-punching guilt. It feels wrong to use him, Wonwoo, to overcome Jihoon. “He was laying down my options.”

“Options?” Wonwoo quips, brow raised questioningly, but he doesn’t interrogate further. Instead, he leans his head down, so he’s much, much closer to you, breathing hitting your face when he whispers: “But you wanted to fuck me. Isn’t that right?”

You gulp. His presence is almost suffocating. Avoiding his eyes, you flicker them onto the dancefloor, where-

Where Jihoon is storming out of the house.

You squeeze your eyes shut - something Wonwoo thinks is out of embarrassment, from the question he’s just asked you - and try to refocus on Wonwoo. Try to ignore how the thoughts about Jihoon come bubbling in your head. It was probably something with his crush. You want to do nothing more than comfort him, hold him, steal away every bad thought he may ever have.

You open your eyes, hoping that somehow seeing Wonwoo’s face would fill you with a need for him - him, and not Jihoon - but seeing him in the low lighting only serves as a reminder that Wonwoo is not him.

“I’m- I’m so sorry, Wonwoo. I gotta go. I’m really, really sorry-” you say suddenly, and immediately you’re scurrying towards the door. Wonwoo frowns, eyes following you in your path. “Did I- Did I make you uncomfortable?”

“No, you were hot!” you say absent-mindedly, before you’re disappearing into the entrance, and then further along, out the door.

Wonwoo stands alone at the counter, still somewhat leaned towards your ghost in front of him, and shakes his head in confusion. “What the fuck?” _____________________________

“Jihoon?”

You exit just in time to see him, stomping on the other side of the road, armless denim jacket wafting in the wind. It’s spring, just warm enough that you’re not freezing, but still cold enough that you curl your arms around yourself. Your hair blows gently. It smells distantly like flowers.

He turns around at your voice. When he does, you know your suspicions were right. He looks so defeated. His gorgeous long hair, that usually only makes you clench your thighs together, is limp and drags him downwards. His arms hang similarly at his sides, fists clenched at the bottom, causing veins to ripple along the forearms. He stands just below a street light, spot-lighted, as if on a stage.

“Leave me alone!” he yells out to you across the road, voice breaking halfway. This does nothing to dampen his demeanor - this tough front, this anger he suddenly carries. You still in the grass beside the road, looking at him pleadingly. He can’t hold your gaze.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it, Jihoon,” you begin, choosing your words carefully. “But I can just.. Support you. You don’t have to be alone right now.”

This almost seems to piss him off more, clenching his jaw, sharply defined by the harsh shadows, and steering his head away from you, like a sunflower following the sun in the sky. It hurts your heart. The way he almost seems angry with you. And yet again you’re made to feel pathetic for following him out here. Like you’re on your knees and he’s standing there in front of you, spitting on you. Why does it hurt so much? You almost wish you’d stayed with Wonwoo - that you’d followed him to his room and let him fuck you and pretended you weren’t thinking about him the entire time.

“Shouldn’t you go back inside?” he’s prickling with hostility. “You seemed like you were having a good time.”

“Jihoon,” you say breathlessly. “None of us is having a good time if you’re not.”

Whatever cog you unturned, whatever screw you unscrewed, Jihoon’s tightly wound posture unwinds, and he softens and withers before you, one hand clamping over his eyes. You take this as a sign to move towards him, heels clicking on the asphalt warning him of your advance. It’s deadly quiet, save for the heartbeat of the frat house behind you.

“I’m sorry,” he says, finally lowering his hand and looking at you. You smile sympathetically, relief flooding you, when he lets you gently place a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay.”

The two of you begin to walk in silence, and you recognize it as the path that leads back to the dormitory. It’s calm, steps becoming rhythmic and breeze easing your muscles with its cool touch. You study his face as it’s lit and unlit by the systemic presence of street lights. You’re able to put your own feelings aside for him, to be a martyr, and to sacrifice yourself to comfort him. It feels like cutting your own throat to talk to him about another woman, a woman he loves, truly, but you know it must be done.

“So,” you muster finally. “What happened in there?”

He scoffs bitterly, looking at the pavement underneath his shoes. You frown. “Nothing happened.”

“Nothing?” you repeat, a little confused.

“I didn’t tell her.”

“Oh.”

You’re honestly not the best comforter, you realize, cringing and hoping you’re not making it worse by talking to him about it. You see the faint outline of the dormitory at the end of the street.

“Why not?” you quip quietly. His mouth makes a tight line. He breathes out shakily, and you fear you’re riling him up again by asking further.

“She was talking to some other guy,” Jihoon says, eyes flitting to yours before immediately ducking back to the pavement. You furrow your brows. Could it be you? That thought nurtures the spring garden in your stomach, the one you’d been trying to kill. But the insecurity that had come with it, and with him, only manages to squander that light.

“I’m sorry that happened,” you say softly, hand finding his arm, but he pulls it away from you immediately. Ouch.

“Yeah,” he chuckles without humor.

Finally, you decide to just shut up, to stop pushing him when he’s so vulnerable, but this time it’s Jihoon who doesn’t stop speaking. “You know,” he begins and again he’s laughing, but you can tell it’s only a cheap plaster for the pain in his voice, “I’d memorized that- that confession thing Seulgi made. And I followed all the- the style advice and the-” his voice breaks and he hisses at how pathetic it sounds. “Everything. I did everything,” he summarizes finally and when you look you see orbs of tears forming at his waterline, like the dew drops that sparkle on leaves in spring.

You don’t know what to say. It’s almost too hard to see him like this. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, but Jihoon shakes his head.

“Stop saying that,” his voice is harsher, groggier, thick and stained by the sobs in his throat. You pause your steps. You’re standing in the yard outside the dormitory now. Hundreds of windows become an audience to where you now stand before each other.

“Why?” you ask.

“Because-” he wipes the tears away aggressively, composing himself before he finally, finally looks at you. “Because you’re gonna make me think that you actually care.” His voice is suddenly laced with venom again. The hostility that you’d tamed returns and it’s so much stronger, more bitter. You’re taken aback.

“I-I do care? Why do you think I don’t care-”

“Oh, please, Y/n. You didn’t want me at your girls’ nights or at spa day or fucking whatever. You didn’t- You don’t care about my book or my crush or my-”

“I do care!” you interrupt, voice stern and much louder. “What, you think I follow you out of parties for fun? Because I don’t care about you? And yeah, maybe I didn’t want you at the girls’ nights, but what does that matter-”

“It matters because!–” he stops himself in his tracks, hand coming out to halt you. “Fuck it, wait here,” he orders, and suddenly he is trudging into the darkness of the courtyard. You stand still, flabbergasted, and thoroughly confused. It’s so dark you can’t even see what he’s doing, only hear him in the dirt, silhouette blending into the shadows. Then, he’s walking back to you and you finally see him.

There are flowers in his hands.

It’s a makeshift bouquet, held tightly in between his veiny, pale hands, consisting of flowers that grow in the courtyard, red, yellow and lilac. It’s a slow-burning realization as he stands himself before you, looking into your eyes with a sincerity that is laced with pain. You know this part of the girl code.

“Hi, Y/n, how are you?” he breathes, and his voice is shaking and he’s looking at you and practically begging you to play along - to indulge him, even if you would turn your back on him. You can hardly register anything but him and those flowers, because your surroundings, the moon, the stars, the shadows and the streets are overpowered by the blooming in your chest. A single flower unfurls the pedals of your heart until you are open before him. You meet his eyes.

“I’m good.”

He nods.

“I’ve always thought you were very beautiful,” it almost seems like it physically pains him to admit these breathless feelings. “Your very presence takes my breath away. I would like to take you on a date,” another pained, gulping pause. “Would that be okay with you?”

It’s as if time has stopped in this moment; how his chest rises and falls under his shirt, how his hair gently nuzzles his face, how his eyes blear out at you from underneath his bangs, how he glows in the moonlight, and how his hands shake around the stems of the flowers.

“Was I..” his voice is hoarse, “Was I suave about it?”

“Yes,�� is all you can manage, because all those flowers that you had stomped into a half-death were coming alive again and this time it was more than welcome.

“Yes?”

“Yes, you can take me on a date,” you break into a wide smile and, upon realizing you probably look like an idiot, you lower your gaze and your warm, shining cheeks to the pavement. He gasps, and it’s probably the cutest thing you’ve ever heard.

“But- you and Wonwoo-?”

“Do you wanna know why I was even talking to Wonwoo?” you ask, and when you meet his eyes again, he’s also smiling. You can’t help but reach out a hand to wrap around one of his, still frozen in holding the flowers. He quickly maneuvers the bouquet to the other hand and intertwines your fingers. Your heart soars. “Mingyu found out that I was sad because you had a crush on someone - I didn’t think it was me, you know? So he promised to wingman me at this party.”

“Son of a bitch,” Jihoon whispers, and you laugh, feeling so floaty and lovely. “Don’t call him that,” you say, but Jihoon only smiles cheekily, eyes matching the crescent moon in the sky above you.

“No, I meant me,” he says. He looks down at the flowers and frowns. “Is that why you were so quiet? On girls night?”

You nod and he sighs. “I’m such an idiot.”

“No, you’re not. You’re so sweet,” you say genuinely, and Jihoon nearly melts at how much you mean it. There’s something so wonderful about the way all the words, that he would never use to describe himself, float around your head and sparkle in your eyes in this moment, looking up at him.

Jihoon needs to kiss you. He’s not sure he’s ever needed anything as badly. He rips his free hand from yours only to place it tenderly against your cheek, pulling your face and your warmth into him, bouquet held out at his side to allow you snugly in his chest.

His lips are so soft and his nose nuzzles your own, plush hair tickling your forehead, and his huffed out breaths dance along your cheeks. Your lips mod perfectly, unlocking the shackles with which that earth-shattering yearning had held onto you. The world is anguish but will momentarily and suddenly be interrupted, cleaved apart with a sudden gash, by a planet-killer: love.

You truly don’t mean to make it heated, hell, you’d be content just kissing him forever, feeling how his tongue prods at your lips and meets your own, but his sculpted chest under your fingers draws out a pathetic moan. His eyebrows spring up and he pulls back to look at you. You blush under his gaze, fiddling with your dress.

“Holy fuck, that was so fucking hot,” he gasps, lips swollen from your insistent sucking on them, panting into the night air. You brighten at his compliment. “Inside. Now. To my room.”

“You know, girl code says to not have sex before on the third date,” you say smugly, unprepared when his free hand pushes you back into his chest, and his lips drag over half of your face, finding home at your ear. His voice is a growl: “Fuck. Girl code.”

He begins a somewhat dramatic march to the front door and you can’t help but run after him, taking his hand, and seeing how he smiles at that feeling. He looks so happy. Your heart skips a beat, because it’s you - you’re the one making him so happy.

And he’s so hot, it’s all you can think about as he drags you along the corridors, how nice his arms look in the sleeves denim, how pretty his hair is, his fucking face, and the chest you just barely felt under your fingertips. You’re watching doors pass in a monotonous routine, jittery and unable to wait for the one that might be his, for him to take you through it, and for you to bloom, totally and perfectly under him.

“Fucking finally,” he breathes, voice gruff and much lower than you’re used to when he stops at his door, fishing for his keys in his pocket. It enters the lock and with a click, everything you fantasized about is opening to you.

As soon as you’re inside, he’s kicking the door shut and pushing you against the wall, nails gripping into your dress, when he finally drops the makeshift bouquet on his nightstand. He cries out into your mouth at the way your chest bounces from the impact, immediately capturing your lips in his again.

You can’t help the way you’re tugging at his hair, trying to ground yourself in the feeling of him, when he shoves a thigh between your legs. You moan into his mouth, rutting into him, while his wandering hands pull your skirt up you to pool around your waist. He pulls back to look at you, how your hips cant into his strong, big thigh, and how your pink, lacey panties cling to your wet pussy.

“Off,” he mumbles, apparently having decided that the simple tugging of the fabric of your dress won’t be enough. You turn around in a daze, not even uttering a word, simply shoving the zipper at the back of it.

Jihoon groans, he has to, seeing the way you stick out your ass to him, while your hand lay flat on the wall. You shake your hips teasingly at him, and his hands float to your ass, petting it and squeezing it in his fingers, and biting his lips because it looks so fucking good and plump, and there’s a wet spot in your panties. He grabs your hips and rubs his dick into you. You gasp at the feeling, nails scratching against the wall.

“You make me so hard, baby,” he says breathlessly, unable to help himself humping against you, pre-cum spilling from his tip. “Shit,” he grunts, and you’re squeezing your eyes closed at the outline of his dick pressing into your pussy.

Finally Jihoon collects himself and his cold hands drag the zipper down. The top of your dress loosens and slides down your shoulders, where Jihoon aids you in slipping it off. His hands spin you around, finally taking a breath to marvel your bare chest in front of him.

You blush, suddenly so bashful, when just before you were wiggling your ass at him. You curl your arms over your chest, but Jihoon’s own come to stop them. “No, no, no, no,” he tuts, almost sad, “why are you doing that?”

You don’t answer immediately, but apparently it’s not a rhetorical question. His hands intertwine with yours to prevent you from covering yourself up. “Uh, I don’t know,” you stammer sheepishly, “I don’t wanna, like, kill the mood or any-”

“You’re not killing the mood, pretty,” Jihoon whispers so, so achingly sincere and your heart hurts.

“Sorry, it was just-”

“Don’t say sorry,” he lectures, interrupting again. He tilts his head and he looks at you with a flaming intensity. “Try again.”

You pause, flustered out of your mind.

“I-I’ve just been feeling a little insecure lately, I guess,” you say and you’re positive your face is beet-red, but if it is Jihoon says nothing, only pouts and releases one hand only to direct your eyes back to his with a hand on your chin.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/n,” he says and even when you seek it out, you can’t find even the slightest hint of lying in his voice. “I want to show you, but I can’t do that if you cover up. Understand?”

You nod, lips breaking into a little smile, that his heart becomes hot like the spring-sunshine. “Okay,” you say and he smiles brightly, releasing your chin from between his fingers.

He guides you onto the bed, but it’s no longer heated and rushed, it’s so soft and gentle, and he pulls off your underwear only after you whisper in agreement, and then he lowers himself into it, again, only allowing himself the pleasure when you whisper a strained yes and nod vigorously.

He fully makes out with your pussy - his lips are wrapped around your clit, licking and sucking it, and fucking moaning into it, sending vibration straight to the coil in your stomach. You’re moaning so loud, broken cries bouncing off the walls, while your finger wrap into his hair and your legs thrash. His tongue flattens against your folds, then dips down to trail around your slit.

“Jihoon!” you cry, hips bucking into his mouth. He groans again, releasing your pussy with a soft pop. “Fuck, baby, keep saying my name like that.” And then his face disappears in your pussy again.

And you do, everytime his nips and gums on your sensitive folds, tongue trailing back up to your nub to fully envelop it. He sucks, hard. And you think you might cum the second you look at him, because the image of his full head of hair buried in between your legs and lapping like a starved man is so pornographic, your head spins.

He might go insane from just the taste of you, he realizes, because even when you cry that you’re cumming, and your legs shake around his head and your pussy is soaked with your cum, he can’t bring himself to pull away, strong arms wrapping around stomach to still you as you begin to wiggle from the feeling of his tongue just continuing to lap at you.

“Jihoon! Fuck, t-too much,” you whimper and the sound shoots straight to his cock. He finally pulls away, eyes still trained on your pretty cunt, and the way it clenches around nothing. “Clenching so hard, sweetheart, only for there to be nothing, shouldn’t we fix that?” he hums, leaning down to trail his finger through your folds, gathering your wetness on its tip.

You whimper uncertainly, when he crawls back over your body, hair tickling your face when hovers just above you and he shushes your pathetic squeaks. He pushes the wet finger into your mouth and you suck obediently. “Shh, baby, just taste yourself on my finger, how can you be insecure with a pussy like that, hm?”

You cry around his single digit, tongue sliding over it eagerly. He wants to fuck your face, the way your pretty, plump lips wrap around his finger, but he’ll save that for another time. “Shh, baby, I know. You’ll be stuffed full of cock soon, don’t worry,” he rasps soothingly, and slips his drenched finger from your mouth.

Finally, he rips the denim jacket off, white tee following soon after, and you’re left, mouth gaping, at the how toned his stomach is, how big his pecs are and how fucking thick his arms are at his side.

“You’re so fucking hoot, Hoonie,” you drawl, making grabby hands to urge him back to you. He smiles at those words, even gains a small dusting of pink on his cheeks, but he shakes his head. “Gotta get my pants off, baby.”

“Hurry up,” you grin playfully, and he scoffs at you from where he stands, pants and boxers coming off in one fell swoop. “So needy,” he mumbles to himself, but you can tell by the overjoyed expression on his face, that he’s enjoying this just as much as you are.

His cock is finally freed, and your eyes float to it, drinking in the sight of him. He’s so pretty and so red, and a single vein creeps up its curved surface towards the oozing head. You gulp, eyes sparkling.

“Wan’ it in my mouth,” you mumble, where you’re now half sitting up and glowing from your first orgasm. Jihoon looks at you and laughs, as he climbs on top of you again.

His face hovers over yours, finger carding through your hair tenderly. He looks in your eyes. “Yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

He coos at you, eyes flickering to your lips for a moment, and you feel his cock twitch where it rests heavily on your stomach. “Not right now, pretty, I wanna fuck you.”

“You don’t have to cum-” you reason, mouth practically watering at the thought of having him in your mouth. He stops you though, hand still brushing through your hair, so delicately, as if you were a lily, or a rose, or a tulip.

“I’m not gonna be able to hold back if you look at me like that with my fucking cock in your mouth,” he whispers, and it’s so intimate, despite being so vulgar. How warm you both are, naked and holding onto each other and his dick is oozing onto your stomach and your pussy is leaking onto his sheets. “Like that,” Jihoon emphasizes, when you look up at him adoringly. You smile.

“Okay,” you say, a determined look on your face, “later then.”

He laughs. “Eager baby. Relax, you’re gonna get a pussy full of cock now, your mouth can wait.”

You wanna retort, say something snarky, anything, but you’re abruptly interrupted by the feeling of his cock pushing into you. You moan and your nails claw at his back, because it’s so big and so raw in your pussy, you feel that fucking vein dragging against your walls. “Shit, Hoonie. Fuck, fuck.”

He’s groaning too, hands on your waist and face in your neck. “So fucking tight, so pretty.”

You’re both panting when his cock is fully nestled inside you, sitting snug against your walls. You look up at him and he’s pretty, all flushed and lips swollen, and the sight makes you clench. He hisses, jerking abruptly, making the both of you moan.

“Fuck, baby, can’t just clench on me like tha-”

“Please, please, just fuck me now, can’t wait anymore!” you cry, clawing at him, nails raking over his flexed biceps, where he holds onto you. And he can’t help but fulfill your wish.

You honestly don’t know where he gets his stamina, because the second you’re done asking, he’s ramming into you so hard and so fast, your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open in a long whine. The whole bed is shaking from the impact, as his hips sheath and unsheath from your warm, welcoming pussy.

“God, you’re so fucking perfect,” he drawls, hands trailing up from your waist to your bouncing chest, thumbing over your nipples. “Bet Wonwoo wishes he got to see you like this, hm?”

The way your pussy has his cock in a chokehold, the way you’re lying beneath, it has him fully dazed, and now he babbles all that comes to mind. “Yeah, but you’re mine, princess. No one else gets to see you like this, no one else can have you crying like this for their cock, right?”

“N-No one else,” you whimper, sopping cunt clenching and unclenching around his dick. “That’s right,” he pants, humid breath on your cheek, “Say you’re mine, pretty girl, say you’re fucking mine.”

“A-ah, ‘m yours, Hoonie,” you cry and he thinks he might cum just like that, at your blissed face, glowing beneath him, and your pussy sucking him in, and you obeying him thoughtlessly.

“Good girl, good fucking girl,” he rewards you by dragging his hand down your stomach to rub your clit. Your whole body convulses into his, hands dragging over his big arms for support. “Come on, sweetheart, cum on my cock now.”

And you do, the tension in your stomach tightening beyond what you can take, before it finally unfurls, and it blooms, and it’s spring, and your squirting all over Jihoon’s abs, because God, he’s so fucking hot and he fucks you silly with his dumb, big muscles and his dumb, cute face.

The sight of your squirting, thrashing and shaking underneath him is all he needs. Jihoon shoots you full of his cum, making you feel so full and wet, before he finally halts his rutting hips, stilling on top of you.

You’re both panting. You’re sweating so much, your hair sticks to your forehead, and you’re gasping for air. Jihoon is still on top of you, holding himself up somehow, and licking at your neck appreciatively.

There’s a pause, where you’re basking in each other's warmth, and there’s so much love between you it’s almost suffocating. Then you're narrowing your eyes at the head of hair in your neck, growing suspicious.

“... Are you still hard?”

He laughs into your neck, peering up at you with a sheepish smile.

“Are you still open to that dick-sucking thing?” _____________________________

“So,” Yeri trails off.

You’re sitting in front of her, Seulgi and Irene at the campus cafe after a thorough round of congratulating you and Jihoon’s new relationship. They’d been both surprised and somehow not-at-all-surprised.

“He can’t come to girls night anymore,” Irene states the obvious, and immediately you, Seulgi and Yeri are nodding along.

“Thank God, I wasn’t the only one thinking that.”

“It just wouldn’t work,” you supply, agreeing.

There’s a pause. Seulgi pouts. “I can’t believe we don’t have a son anymore. They grow up so fast,” she says and she sounds genuinely sad about it.

You sigh a little, debating whether or not to play this card. Then you say: “I know someone who would like to be our son.”

“Oh, no..”

“Don’t say..”

“Yep,” you shrug, and then you hear him. Lumbering clumsily down the hall, like a galloping horse.

“I HEAR THERE’S A NEW POSITION OPEN DURING GIRLS NIGHTS!!!!! I MADE MUFFINS!!”

Mingu is running through the cafe, dodging stools and chairs like he’s on Ninja Warrior.

Irene frowns. “I guess he’ll do as our new son.”

“We can always kick him out if he gets too annoying,” Yeri shrugs, just in time for Mingyu to stand before your table with a fresh tray of muffins.

“Yes!” he cries with glee, voice incredibly high because he just can’t believe it.

“Begging always works!”

#svt smut #svt x reader #woozi smut #woozi angst #woozi fluff #woozi x reader #svt woozi x reader #lee jihoon x reader #jihoon x reader #jihoon smut #svt angst

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