#I think I was onto something with the shading style of these

[kodasea]

Lawrence AUs (2022)

Credit to Oratoreye on Twitter/X for the original format.

[zyafics]

CAN YOU PLEASE, PLEASE ON MY KNEES WRITE ABOUT BITCHY!READER X RAFE AND IT'S SMUT?? I FEEL LIKE YOU'LL DO IT JUSTICE!!! thank you

you literally read my mind because i was just thinking of this prompt that works so well with bitchy!reader!! hope you'll enjoy <3 (if it’s bad, look away!!)

WHATEVER SHE WANTS | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (Blurb) | x Bitchy!Kook!Female Reader

Content — 18+, power/dominance play, p in v, doggy style, orgasm denial, and dirty talks

Word Count — 2.2K

lıllılı Whatever She Wants by Bryson Tiller

You always wanted Rafe.

It's your right. Since you were a child, you demanded the best in everything—toys, clothes, boyfriends. They had to be perfect. Had to be yours. And yes, it may come off a little superficial but who cares? It's what you deserve, and it'll be hell if you don't get it.

Since the first look, when you caught Rafe lounging on a chair with his friends, tipping the rim of his beer onto his lips, while his eyes scanned over the room in an attractive lazy way, you knew you had to have him. It didn't help that you were competitive, and Rafe garnered attention with women. They flocked to him and begged for a minute of his time. It became a game to you, and that heightened your need.

Everything was calculated. The makeup you wore, the outfits you curated, the glances. You always timed your arrivals—when you knew Rafe would be watching the door—and marked your exits. You knew exactly what to wear—dresses that tantalizing exposes your ass, but only as a preview—and the cosmetic style he liked. Rafe's the type of man who believes he wants a bare-faced woman, but truly, he wants something natural that enhances your features.

You came with friends. You left alone. You drank enough to loosen your nerves and danced with the crowd, but not enough to make a fool of yourself. You knew your tolerance and knew Rafe didn't like a messy girl.

At least, in public.

You caught his gaze a couple of times, flashing a flirtatious smile over your shoulders, but never lingered longer than three seconds. Rafe can't know how easy he can have you, because Rafe, like most boys, loves a chase. You're not easy, you're spoiled. He had to come to you.

And he did.

Rafe tried to introduce himself on several occasions. On those nights when you're leaving early—as planned—Rafe would cut to the door to pay a parting remark. "You're leaving so soon?" he would ask, "Alone? Again?" He would add. You always told him it was because no one caught your eye, and Rafe took that as a personal challenge. He would then try to tell you his name, as if he were different, to which you nod—detached—as if it didn't matter.

It drove him insane.

Because you didn't offer the same courtesy. You kept him guessing. He had to finally ask around to learn your name, which he would use to tease you the next time he saw you. And he did. And you laughed. But you acted like you didn't care. Like all the trouble he went through didn't prove a thing. That's when Rafe knew he needed you.

Tonight's no different. Just as you're about to leave, Rafe catches you with another smooth pick-up line. You just giggle. He studies how your eyes crinkle with amusement, the curve of your lips painted in his favorite shade of lipstick, and the lithe tilt of your head to the side as you ask him with your gaze, is that the best you got?

It isn't. But Rafe's determined to get further with you tonight. He continues to talk, asking about which men disappointed you and the reasons for your constant disappearances from these parties. And, for once, you're answering his questions with little resistance. Perhaps, it's because of the amount of cheap wines you consumed, or maybe you—for once—are tired of the games and want it to come to a fruitful end. Because when Rafe finally asks to take you home, you don't say no.

The walk to his truck is brisk. His arm wrapped around your waist, directing your path, while his fingers trail over the backless cut of your dress, producing a buzzing feeling beneath your skin. He's whispering something in your ear, but all of it is incomprehensible as you revel in the feeling of his touch and his touch alone. The feeling of your game coming to a conclusion.

And, just as you're about to reach the car, Rafe slams you into the side of the vehicle with a searing kiss.

His mouth catches yours and everything feels perfect. As if the buildup leading to this precise moment had been worth it, and every needy emotion rises to the top. His hand travels down the length of your body, to your hips, pulling you closer, and needing to eliminate all the space and wait you made him do.

Rafe's movements are swift and controlled. One of his hands props open the backdoor of his car, pushing you inside, and laying you against his leather seats. All without breaking the kiss.

"You don't know how long I wanted this, wanted you," Rafe blubbers between wet kisses. "Seeing you at every party, in these tiny dresses, not being able to touch," he rasps, bundling the hem of your dress into a tight fist. "Tell me you wear them for me."

"And if I did?" You say with a moan, tipping your head back to grant him access to your neck. "Did you like them?"

"Of course I did," he murmurs against the curve of your neck, the vibration of his words sending heat straight to your core. "You dressing up for me like my own perfect doll."

You want to retort that it's him who's in the palm of your hand, but Rafe sucks on a sensitive spot, causing your eyes to roll back and a whimper to escape your lips instead. He grabs your wrists with one hand, throwing them over his shoulder as he pulls you flush against his chest.

"So pretty, so fucking untouchable," Rafe kisses down the length of your throat, his fingers collecting the spaghetti straps of your dress before sliding it down the slope of your shoulders. "I'm going to fuck you so good."

His words snap you out of your haze. And while Rafe continues to expose more of your body, lamenting each reveal of flesh with a kiss, you withdraw enough to grab his attention.

"You're not fucking me in a car."

"What?" Rafe breaths, unable to snap out of the trace you had him in. Delirious with want, his mind warped around the idea of you being so close to attainable, that all rational manners left his system. He tries to kiss you again, to resume the moment, but you pull enough to send him a deadly glare, pouty and spoiled.

"Rafe, take me somewhere nice or we're not fucking at all."

He can't believe what he's hearing. He can't believe he's contemplating it. But Rafe doesn't understand that you have it all planned out to result in a perfect moment. You won't let it be disrupted just because Rafe can't drive the extra mile to take you somewhere nice. You'd rather leave him with blue balls.

"Are you serious?" He asks slowly, his eyes drawn to your swollen lips, the little pout, and the desperation to have them back on his. Sure, Rafe's had girls who wanted something more than a casual fling. He had them ask him for a better spot, but he never obliged. He never cared. But you're different. He wants you, and it's been a hell of a chase to get you here. He'll be damned if he lets it slip away because of a pretentious standard.

"Does it look like I'm joking?" You cross your arms over your chest, pushing your breasts further up. He nearly groans at the sight. "We're not having sex here."

"The nearest place has to be at least a fifteen-minute drive," Rafe argues. And it makes you upset, brows pinched together. "We can just—"

"I don't care," you snap. "Take me somewhere nice or I'm leaving."

You're serious. He sees it on your face. Rafe can't risk that, despite wanting to protest, because he knows he if he messes this up, he won't have another chance. Swearing under his breath, he drags himself out of the backseat and into the driver's side, pulling the car out of the parking lot.

Dangerously, Rafe speeds down the road, while you're sitting in the backseat with a self-satisfied demeanor, fixing your makeup through the rearview mirror. Occasionally, Rafe spares a glance through the same reflection, connecting with your gaze, and while there's subtle bitterness coiled in his chest, he recognizes the bigger prize at hand.

And what he can do with it.

Because, despite your bratty attitude, Rafe is a person who wants control. You want perfection. You two can have both.

That's how you find yourself in a newly-booked penthouse suite at one of the bougie hotels in Kildare, your head digging into the soft comforter of the bed, your ass in the air, as Rafe drills into you from behind.

When you reached the room, everything moved frantically. Rafe slammed you against the nearest wall to kiss you again—needing your lips, needing your taste—while his hands roamed over your dress and pulled down your cleavage, revealing your tits. Your hands wandered down his pants, unbuttoning them hurriedly, needily, and he assisted you by pulling them off alongside his boxers. His cock was big, slightly red with a pearly bead of pre-cum that rolls off the tip. And you could tell by the look on Rafe's face that he wanted you to suck it.

But you told him, "I don't do blowjobs."

So fucking pretentious.

It didn't matter. He hauled you over to the king-sized bed and pushed you onto the mattress. You landed with a soft thump, while Rafe hauled you up to your ass, pushing up your dress, until it became nothing but a bundle around your waist. His movements were urgent, and he wanted—no, needed—to be inside you because a bratty girl was going to be a great fuck.

And he was right.

You're perfect. The way you wrap around him, the way he sinks inside you. He doesn't know if it's because of the delirium of wanting you so desperately, of chasing you for so long—but he never had better pussy. And it doesn't help that your moans are sweet, breathy, and loud—begging him to go faster.

"Such a pretentious brat," Rafe grabs your throat, hauling you upwards till your spine rest on his chest, airway constricted by his harsh grip. "Making me wait this fucking long."

"R—Rafe," you mewl, eyes rolling to the back of your skull at the way he's angling his cock deep into your cervix, bullying the sensitive spot over and over again until you're seeing stars.

"Had to get the princess treatment, did you?" He murmurs hotly into your ear, nibbling a spot on your neck as you rest the back of your head on his shoulder. His thrusts grow more erratic. "Had to make me earn you, didn't you?"

"You weren't going to fuck me in a car," you persist, and despite how cockdrunk you became, and how much of an attitude you're willing to sacrifice to feel good, you were still adamant about receiving what you deemed enough. He respected that. "I'm not one of your whores."

"But I'm fucking you like my own personal slut. Is that any better?" He bites the lobe of your ear, and his other hand wanders up to grab a handful of your breast, squeezing the fat before rolling your perked nipple between his fingers. You moan louder. "What does that make you?"

You can't seem to answer him, can't seem to find your senses. The words Rafe uses are vulgar, but there’s still no regrets about this entire thing. Rafe wanted you so badly, that he was willing to spend hundreds of dollars on a hotel he probably won't even stay the night in. All because you demanded it.

You win.

"Shut up," you stammer, your stomach tightening. "Shut up and just fuck me, Rafe."

Rafe grins. The hand playing with your tits slips between your thighs to assist, finding your clit easily as he rubs it with his thumb in sync with his thrusts. Breathy moans escape you as you arch into his palm, while he pistons deeper inside of you, bottoming out.

"You sound so pretty, doll," Rafe murmurs against your heated skin, "Come on, take my fucking cock."

Everything’s so dirty. The way he handles you, the way your wetness drips down your thighs, the way his words breathe onto your skin and tighten your core. But you love it. You do, but you're not willing to give in so easily. No matter how good it feels. No matter how much he feels like a prize.

"You don't deserve me." You whisper with a mewl, body tightening with the familiar wave of your undoing.

Yet, Rafe merely grins.

"But you're sucking in my cock like you need me," Rafe taunts, pleasure coursing through his body at the way your walls grip him in a vice. The way your words spark challenge and invitation. He knows, despite your spoiled attitude and pretentious demands, he'll do anything to get another chance like this. "Now, behave like a good girl or you're not coming tonight."

IMPORTANT: if you want to follow my fics and updates, follow @zyafics-library and turn on notifications!

tagging @starkeysprincess bc she saw it first <3

[sixosix]

wanderer can fly; you cannot. he makes it his problem.

“What? Giving up already?”

“Shut—” heaving, you barely have the energy to flip him off, “shut the fuck up. Fuck off.”

Wanderer chuckles, all low and mean, as if his entire purpose in life is to ridicule you. He continues ascending overhead, moving and looking like an angel, but the words that come out of his mouth are far from angelic. “Careful, now. I know you overestimate yourself, but I won’t save you if you continue to scale a mountain with one hand.”

“Stop agitating me on purpose then!” You nearly slip from the intensity of your yell, but thankfully, it isn’t your time yet.

“How can I? You’re cute when you’re mad.”

Grumbling, you focus back on the mountain. Cute when mad. He must think he’s goddamn adorable, then.

You’re starting to lose sight of dents or protruding surfaces to get a hold of, and the mountain is getting steeper. You curse under your breath. If only you had Geo or Dendro—that’d help a lot much more. Maybe even Anemo, but that would be admitting defeat to the man who’s currently watching you intently.

Wanderer scoffs when your breath hitches, the surface you’re holding onto crumbling. He descends until you’re eye level. “Idiot, I told you that it’d be safer if we didn’t climb this all the way.”

“I know my limit.” Maybe. You may or may not have gotten a little over-competitive and jumped a few times, but that shouldn’t be a problem.

“Not more than I do,” he says.

“Don’t say it like that, weirdo.” You appraise the mountain overhead and, with a sunken stomach, realize that he’s right. There’s still a long way to go, and it’s a long fall back.

“Damn,” you say. You turn to Wanderer and blink up at him with wide eyes, hoping he would take the hint without having to say it outright.

Wanderer sighs, holding out his arms. “Jump.”

“Are you serious?”

“I won’t let you fall—of course I’m fucking serious.”

You grit your teeth, wondering if it’s easier to humiliate yourself and jump into his arms or to let gravity do its work.

“Hey,” Wanderer says, gliding closer and hovering an arm behind your waist. “No stupid ideas. Just jump and hold onto me.”

It’s always unsettling when Wanderer is not acting all bratty, like you’re not quite sure if you should goad him back to being mean or watch him bristle when you point it out. It’s been happening too often recently. That must be saying something about him if his soft moments are scarier than his jabs.

Wordlessly, you reach out for his shoulder with one hand and hold back a yelp when the lack of balance causes you to slip. You hold on tight around his neck, eyes wide and heart jittery. Wanderer secures his arms, moving in one swift motion. Before you even know it, he has one arm on your back and the other under your knees.

“How convenient it must be to have a ride as your companion,” Wanderer mutters in amusement at your relieved face.

“Yeah. That’s why I keep you around,” you say as he glides upward, barely straining from your weight. He looks as unaffected as ever.

He looks as infuriatingly and devastatingly beautiful as ever.

“Ha,” his smile is all sharp, “and not because you have a little crush on me?”

“You follow me around because you do. Don’t get it twisted.”

He snorts, tipping on something a little more genuine. You wisely decide to stop ogling at his face and enjoy the view of the sky instead. The blue of his clothes and the shade of his eyes are much prettier, but you’d rather lose that than start squirming in his arms. Not when he’s carrying you bridal style and all.

Finally, he descends, hardly disturbing the grass with his grace. He sets you down, arms crossed, as you pat yourself off from dirt and stuff.

“Well?”

You eye him warily. “What do you want?”

“Some semblance of manners will do,” he says, then leans close as if he’s baring his face for you. He’s been less and less subtle recently, too.

Nonetheless, you find yourself smiling. The things he’d do just to get a kiss—it nearly makes you laugh out loud. But then he’d start getting all irritated like a cat, and you much prefer when he’s sweet like this. Sweet in his very Wanderer way, you mean.

You kiss him on the cheek. He puffs up like some proud peacock. He calls you adorable all the time, but he’s the one who’s acting like this. It’s no wonder you keep him around.

[sjyuns]

NO DOUBT、I LOVE YOU! — ENHYPEN MEMBERS TELLING YOU THAT YOU’RE THE ONE!

hyung line!enhypen x fem reader 1000+ words warning kissing pet names jealousy drinking genre fluff, slightly suggestive mikaela’s note happy comeback! i jumped the moment niki sang the chorus. i got carried away as the members progress haha (jake i want you so bad) | collection

LEE HEESEUNG

The unfamiliar feeling of deep green envy bubbles up your chest and straight into your heart as you stare at your boyfriend — who’s familiar lean figure is nestled between Jay and another girl you’ve yet to get to know. And yet here you are by yourself, swept in coldness by the absence of your boyfriend by your side.

It was the first time you and Heeseung had argued since you got together five months ago — a rather long honeymoon phase. Your teeth gnaw fervently on your lips in slight panic, eyes glued on your boyfriend’s figure, overall too consumed with jealousy to notice his lack of comfort.

Even though Heeseung sits squished between two people, the lack of you makes his heart feel cold. And he notices the way your tongue sweeps over your lips, eyes darting away every time your gaze catches his. It’s too cute the way you’re obviously jealous.

“You jealous, baby?” Heeseung whispers, as he pulls you into an empty room, leaving his friend behind, “no need to be, you’re the only one that I want.”

Your lips part ever so slightly at the sudden confession, and Heeseung takes the chance to pull you in, placing his lips on your pillowy ones — slightly swollen from the constant biting. And the ever familiar feeling of his warmth returns back to your heart where it belongs.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, head dipped down,“I should have listened to you first before jumping into conclusions.” Soft fingertips dance against the skin of your chin as he lifts your head up to kiss you yet again. “I’m sorry baby, I should’ve told you before.”

“I love you.”

PARK JONGSEONG

Your footsteps are hurried as you rush into the nearby pub, eyes scanning around for your boyfriend, only to find him slumped in a corner — eyes half opened, slick backed hair with strands poking out, and tie half undone. His head drooping side to side as his mouth muttered incoherently.

“Thanks for coming, he wouldn’t stop blabbering about you,” Jake said, moving over to give you space to sit next to Jay. He opens his eyes at the arrival of a new touch, cheeks flushed a shade or coral red and eyes glimmering at the sight of you.

“Love,” he speaks out, face housing an uncontrollable, geeky grin as he stares into you, and your heart pumps irregularly in the name of love. “I love you,” he says, fingers tracing your features from your eyes to your lips — and it’s almost like he’s casting a spell the way his touch is so gently intricate.

“I love you, love,” this time he says it more firmly, as if it was a proven fact, something he had known for a long time. And you stare at him, entranced at his very rawness of love, smiling goofily at a side of your boyfriend you don’t see too often.

“Are you not going to say it back?” He frowns, eyebrows furrowed as strands of hair fall back onto his sweaty forehead.

“I love you too.”

SIM JAEYUN

You absolutely regret introducing your friends to Sim Jaeyun with the way they’re clamouring around him, eager to get to know him more — as if you weren’t the one to know him first. His signature styled hair and thick black rimmed glasses that sit perfectly on his nose — the very features that lured you in once now irked you to your very core.

“Where did you get the hot nerd from,” your friend squeals, “can you link me up with him? Heard he’s single.” Your jaw clenches, lips tightly shut as you give her a small smile. Your heart eager to correct her yet your mind telling you to slow down, that you and Jake were nothing other than just friends.

“Sorry, think you heard wrong,” an arm swings over your shoulder, pulling your body closer to his, “this one’s got me.” The deep aussie accent puts you into a daze once again as your head swivels over to look at Jake, lips brushing against his face from the lack of space between the two of you.

“Isn’t that right, princess?” He asks, a mischievous glint in his eye. And all you can do is nod as she leaves the both of you alone.

“Jake? We aren’t in a relationship,” you state, head tilted slightly. And Sim Jaeyun has never seen someone as adorable as you look right now.

“Now that everyone thinks we are, we might as well right?” The cheeky glint in his eyes never leaving as his fingers move to tuck strands of hairs behind your ear, eyes darting from your lips to your eyes and back before moving closer to press his lips onto yours.

“Now that you’ve kissed me, i’m yours forever baby.”

PARK SUNGHOON

Being roommates with the devil’s incarnate might be the harder thing on earth, not to mention how insanely hot he is. The underlying tension and long gazes at each other makes it hard to breathe even in the familiarity of your own house. He invades all your senses — from simple habits of walking around topless to his teasing comments that leave you flustered.

“Leaving so soon?” Sunghoon questions as he steps into the kitchen with you, away from the dining room full of his friends. “Don’t like me that much?” He grins, sharp canine fangs on display.

“Yeah that, and also i’m tired,” you answer back, holding back a yawn of your own. Sunghoon feels his heart sink slightly at the thought of your absence in tonight’s round of gaming — the smile you have when he lets you win. “I’m going to bed now,” you tell him, turning your back around.

“Where’s my goodnight kiss,” he jokes, leaning over the counter, lean muscles on full display under the tank he’s donned. You turn back, face red and flustered at the sudden direct comment — you’ve always thought that Sunghoon was good looking, yet you’ve never really made a move given your relationship as roommates.

“I’m not giving you a goodnight kiss, Hoon,” you lament, tossing the idea of him flirting with you out of your mind. “So you want me to give you a goodnight kiss?” Sunghoon asks, his tone void of any mischief, as his eyes stare into yours with some kind of want.

And suddenly it’s quiet, the muffled laughter from the dining room gone, leaving the two of you in serene tension. Sunghoon’s ring clad fingers dancing against the slight revelation of your waist, cold metal a stark contrast to the warmth between you two.

He bends down to kiss you, and it isn’t a short one off peck — it’s raw and passionate, as if he’s wanted this all his life. And when it finally breaks off, the two of you are left gasping for air.

“I like you,” he says, breathless, “actually I think i might be in love with you.”

This time you pull him into you.

© SJYUNS

[bbyquokka]

nerd in love

– after a misunderstanding, jisung finally tells yn how he feels at his birthday party .ᐟ.ᐟ

pairing | han jisung x fem reader

genre | mutual pining , fluff , uni au – 18+ is strongly advised!

cw | she/her pronouns used ; mostly in jisung pov ; food and alcohol mentioned ; a lil suggestive at the end

words | 10.1k ~ ( 10,133 )

notes | well, here it is! i started this before my break (which is why its so late) but finished it during my break n i just wanted to post it bc im proud of this n i adore this version of jisung n the friendship dynamics !! :( don’t forget to leave feedback, reblog and tell me what you think here. i hope you all enjoy! ‹3

m.list — wips list — you can also read it on my ao3

dont repost. dont translate. minors, ageless & default blogs; dni! feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

your pen taps against the white, lined sheet of paper that has a few scribbles and doodles on. your cheek resting on your hand as you sigh a little in boredom. 

the professor has been groaning on and on about the same thing. you want to listen and take in the information as you know it's important, but your mind wanders and you start to daydream; making imaginary scenarios.

you'd imagine an alien suddenly abducting you because it heard your silent cries of boredom. you and the alien would become the best of friends, the alien showing you around it's space shuttle and inviting you to have some tea and cake before making friendship bracelets – because that's what humans do, right?

other times, you'd imagine a strong, buff greek god suddenly turning up in class. he'd walk to you and take your hand, claiming that you're his long lost bride, before carrying you bridal style and off into the sunset where you two would get married and have babies.

so caught up in your fake scenarios, you don't see that another student is now looking at you.

the student is sitting in front of you–his usual designated spot. black hair that's long and permed and covers his eyes. glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. dressed in a button up shirt and black jeans, paired with a few accessories and black doc marten boots.

“excuse me.” he whispers, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “you're making too much noise.” he frowns.

you snap out of your daydream and sit up straight, wiping the imaginary drool from your chin with the back of your hand.

“o-oh.. sorry jisung.” you laugh awkwardly. he tuts and rolls his eyes before facing the front. you scoff a little and sit back in your seat.

you don't have very many friends in university, a small handful but it's enough and you don't have very many enemies either, but since jisung started the same class as you, he's been cold towards you.

he's not like this with other people, just you–it's like he can't stand you.

but for some reason, his cold, mean demeanour just makes you want him and find him even more attractive.

it's not a kink of yours, to be spoken down to and degraded. in fact, you love having the attention on you and being treated kindly and gently so it's unknown to you why you find him so attractive.

“alright class! that's all for today. you're all dismissed.” the teacher says. you silently cheer, packing up your things in your backpack.

jisung rises to his feet and swings his bag onto his shoulder, letting it rest there before pulling out his phone. you both catch eye contact with each other.

“see you tomorrow?” you say politely and smile. jisung quickly looks away and mumbles something before walking out in a rush.

maybe you're still daydreaming, but you swore you could see the tips of his ears turning a light shade of pink. 

────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

“fuck, i’m so late!” you alternate between running and speed walking your way to your class. your alarm didn't go off this morning so when you finally awoke, it was up and out in a flash. “i'm so screwed!”

today is an important day. the teacher was going to go over a few things on a test that's due in a few weeks so you really needed to attend it to get an idea–but alas, here you are. hair disheveled, dried up drool on your chin and your socks mismatched with your backpack hanging off your shoulder.

you breathe a sigh of relief before stopping in front of the lecture hall doors. you take a deep breath and fix yourself up before reaching out to open the doors.

the doors suddenly swing open. the students exiting the hall. you stand in the middle of the students as they walk around you, engaging in conversations with their friends.

you frown in confusion, looking at the time on your phone. your eyes widen even more, bulging from the sockets.

“oh wow.. i really fucked up.” you were a lot later than you thought.

you look up to see jisung looking at his phone. today he's in a plain, black t-shirt and skinny jeans. a few chains hanging around his neck and converse.

“hey, ji!” you call out. he looks up at whoever is calling him before his face twists into disgust when he realises it's you. you ignore this, mainly because he rushes past you.

you frown and chase after him, trying to keep up with his speed–but he's too fast.

“hey! wait! i know you heard me, ji!!”

“don’t call me that. my name is jisung.” he mumbles.

“ok ok, sorry! just, i need help!” 

“find it elsewhere.” his tone of voice is cold towards you; like always. again, you ignore it.

“please, i’m desperate! my alarm didn't go off and i clearly missed class! i know it was super important too and–can you slow down and listen to me?!” you huff.

jisung lets out an irritated sigh and looks at you; phone in one hand, earphones in the other. he stops in the middle of the corridor and looks at you.

you bend down, hands on your knees to catch your breath. 

“you being late has nothing to do with me. it's your own fault for being late.” he says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“yeah, i know.”

“you fucked up and now you want my help? how could i possibly help you?”

“i need your notes.”

“my notes? fuck no.” 

“oh please, ji… sorry–jisung. i really, really need this.” you pout. jisung groans and rubs the back of his neck.

“ok, fine.” he sighs in defeat. you're taken aback by how easy it was for him to surrender his notes over to you; but you don't complain. he takes his notebook out of his bag and hands it to you. you cheer and open it up, looking at the notes.

his handwriting is beautiful. his notes are easy to follow, however, you've come to the realisation that looking at notes isn't going to be enough for you to get the information to stick in your mind.

“make sure to give it to me by the end of the day. i’m usually at the library.” he says as you flick through his notes. “if you can't find me, find minho. he's my roommate.” 

you don't respond due to the fact that so much information is causing your brain to go into information overload. jisung sighs again and, as he is about to walk away, you grab his arm.

“wait!” you make a quick mental note of how soft his skin is and how muscular he feels. jisung looks at your hand that's on him, feeling heat quickly rise to his cheeks and his heart to thumb erratically in his chest.

“your hand.” he whispers. you lean in close to get a better understanding of what he just said.

“pardon?”

“hand. your hand. please remove it.”

“oh!” you quickly remove your hand from him. jisung clears his throat and looks down, hoping that his long hair covers his face to hide the blush that's happily sitting on his cheeks.

you see it though and make a note of how adorable he looks. you feel your own heartbeat skipping beats and beating erratically but you put it down to you having to sprint to class.

“i don't think this will be enough.” you start. he looks up at you. “the notes.. i don't think it's going to be enough.”

“well, there's a library and also the internet. there’s this thing called google, so use that.”

“teach me.” his eyes widen in shock.

“t-teach you?! fuck no, yn!”

“please, jisung! just until the test is over! i really, really need this. i’m desperate and, although your notes are so perfect, it's going to take a lot more than notes for me to understand it!”

“then ask the tutor for a one-on-one! or ask your friend!!” he stutters in shock. his cheeks are now bright red.

“you know the tutor doesn't do one-on-ones and my friends don't even take this class! oh please, jisung. pleeeaseee. pretty pretty pleeease.” you pout, giving him puppy eyes.

“yn…”

“i’ll buy you your coffee everyday for a full month.”

“... just my coffee?”

“what sweet treat do you like?”

“...cheesecake.” he answers reluctantly.

“then coffee and cheesecake on me for a full month!” jisung runs his fingers through his hair slowly, a soft, defeated sigh leaving his lips as he contemplates.

“you really need this, huh.” you nod your head fast to the point of dizziness. “you drive a hard bargain, yn. but fine.”

you cheer and grin widely.

“on some conditions though.”

“what?”

“we study in the library, you don't be late and we only do this until the test is over! after that, i won't teach you anymore.”

“yes sir.” you salute. “oh, do you want my contact information? might make it easier to set up study dates.”

“study dates?” 

“yeah! i assume we have different schedules due to different classes, so it's better to text or call each other so we know when to meet up!”

“true.. ok, fine. give me.” you tell jisung your contact information. he phones you and you smile as you save his contact information.

“thank you so much, jisung! you're the best!” you say before sprinting off to find your friend leaving a flustered jisung bewildered in the middle of the corridor.

“study dates, huh.. i kinda like that.” 

────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

“dude, chill. you're just going to the library to study” jisung’s roommate laughs as he watches jisung scurrying around the place as he packs his bag. 

minho is relaxing on jisung’s bed, shirtless and in sweats with round glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose whilst eating an ice pop. him and jisung have been the best of friends since university started and he became jisung’s roommate.

since then, they've both been inseparable. many people speculate that something is going on between the two of them, indicating a relationship–minsung, they call them.

“i am chill.” jisung mumbles as he shoves in a few too many pens into his pencil case.

“yeah, suuuure.” minho laughs as he licks and sucks on his popsicle. “i’ve watched you run around the place like a headless chicken.”

“dude, please hush.” jisung looks at minho just as some sticky sweet ice drops onto minho's chest. he scoops it up with his fingers and eats it. jisungs sighs “do you have to eat that on my bed?”

“yeah. problem?” minho smirks

“yes. quite a few actually. you're going to get the sheets sticky!” jisung whines.

“not the first time i've heard that.” minho laughs at his own joke. jisung rolls his eyes but the corner of his lips turn upright into a smile as he holds back his laugh.

“you're disgusting.”

“yeah? and you're a mess right now, bro.” minho places the wooden popsicle stick on jisung's side table before swinging his legs around to plant his feet on the floor.

he stands and walks to jisung, ruffling his hair a few times.

“you're just going to study, that's all. it's not that big of a deal, bro. unless….” minho smirks and wiggles his brows at jisung.

“unless what? what are you implying, minho?” jisung says as he crosses his arms across his chest and raises his brow.

“unless you, oh i don't know, like her.” jisung's eyes widen a little and he clears his throat, turning his head to avoid eye contact with minho. “aha!! i knew it! you do like ‘em!”

“no, i don't. fuck off, minho.” jisung mumbles and rushes to his desk, messing and organizing a few things to ‘look busy.’

minho skips over to jisung with a smirk. “c’mon ji. we all know you've been smitten with yn since the very beginning. it's soooo obvious!”

“dude, please. i don't like her like that. and it's jisung–not ji!”

“ahuh. whatever you say, dude.” minho laughs. 

“plus, she probably doesn't like me in that way..” jisung mumbles before sighing softly.

“have you asked her that?”

“well… no but–”

“then how do you know?” 

“i just do, ok?! enough with the questions, minho. don't you have that media assignment to do or something?”

“nope.” minho says, popping the p in an obnoxious way. “all done, which means i am a free man.”

“no one is a ‘free man’ in university, minho.” jisung laughs. 

“ugh, you're right. even though one assignment is done, i still have a gazillion more.” minho runs his fingers through his long, shaggy hair. “speaking of which, i best start with at least one of them.”

“good luck, man. you'll do great.” jisung says sarcastically, paring it with a sarcastic grin.

“fuck you. good luck with yn, jisung.” minho turns around and walks out of jisung's bedroom. “hope you get laid!” he shouts.

“fuck you.” jisung laughs. minho sticks his middle finger up at jisung before laughing and closing his bedroom door.

with the last of his things packed, he zips up his back. he checks one last time in the mirror, fixing his hair and spraying his best perfume onto his neck. he puts his hand up to his mouth, huffing on it before sniffing. pulling a face, he grabs a mint and pops it into his mouth, sucking on it as he puts on his shoes and a leather jacket.

“it’s just a study thing. it's not that serious. calm down, jisung.” he mumbles as he laces up his shoes.

but he can't stop his heartbeat from thumping loudly against his ribcage and excitement to rush through his body. his excitement is so big, it makes him shake. 

“it’s not a big deal. she probably doesn't like you that way.” he continues to mumble in an attempt to calm himself down as he takes one last look in the mirror. a smile slowly creeps up onto his face and a small squeal escapes from the back of his throat.

“fuck! i’m so screwed.” 

minho hears this and laughs at his friend's excitement before putting on his headphones. if there's one thing minho loves, is seeing his best friend happy and over the moon. he just hopes he won't get hurt.

“cute.” minho says to himself before typing away at his keyboard. jisung leaves the bedroom and shouts a goodbye to minho before heading out to the library.

nervous doesn't describe how jisung is feeling. as he walks to the library, his legs start to feel like jelly and the urge to turn back strong the closer he gets to his destination. he hopes that you're not there first just so he has time to calm himself down.

he even tries to listen to music in hopes that it would calm him down somewhat. but the soothing sounds of violins and cellos do nothing (he even tried listen to a few seconds of whale noises but even that was useless)

“we’re just studying. nothing more.” he repeats under his breath as he walks inside the library.

the place is nicely decorated, modern with a hint of an historic touch. students at tables and little cubicles, headphones on and studying. some in groups, whispering as they do projects of various kinds. some making the most of how quiet it is to take a quick nap. the occasional rustling of snack packets paired with the occasional crunch breaks the silence every so often.

it's silent but it's lively.

jisung says a few hellos to some students he recognises (either from classes they take together or them being minho's friends) as he searches the area for you.

his heart thumping as he searches. he silently cheers when he can't see you because he has a chance to calm down, but, as he walks to an empty table at the very back of the room, his victory is cut short as he sees you sitting there; ready and waiting.

you have your back to him (and to everyone else) and you're hunched over your notebook. jacket resting on the back seat with your bag on the floor, by your side. jisung takes a quick, small peek over your shoulder to see what you're doing only to see small, quick doodles on the page from boredom.

his heart swells a little as it's another thing he's learnt about you. just when he thinks you couldn't get any more perfect.

“hey, yn.” he whispers only to realise that you won't hear him no matter how many times he calls for you due to the music that's blasting from your earphones. he makes a quick mental note of who you're listening to before trying to get your attention again.

“hey, yn.” he places his hand on your shoulder to which you jump at, causing jisung to jump at your reaction. you look behind you as you take out your earbuds, sighing in relief.

“jesus, jisung. you frightened me.” 

“sorry, yn. i didn't mean to.”

“no, it's ok. my music may have been a little too loud.” you laugh as you put them away and jisung sits next to you on one of the chairs.

“you know you'll get tinnitus if you keep doing that.” 

“yeah… i know. it's a bad habit but music sounds better loud, y‘know!” jisung nods in agreement before pulling out his notebook and pencil case.

you watch him lean down. you take the time to admire him. his hair soft and fluffy. you have to resist the urge to run your fingers through it. a faint smell of strawberries and flowers emits from his hair; a sickly sweet yet pleasant smell.

his skin is dewy and perfect; not a blemish in sight. a beauty mark sits close to his lips. it's a small mark so it's no wonder you never recognised it before.

you notice the way his biceps bulge and flex with every motion of his arms. the chains from his neck dangle a little and his aftershave wafts towards you and tickles your nose hairs.

“you smell so good.“ you mumble. jisung looks at you.

“excuse me?”

“you smell so fucking good.” you repeat and lean in close to him. your hair tickles his jawline and chin as you smell the skin of his neck. “what do you use?”

“...i–urm, i don't know. i just picked it up when i was shopping.” you hum and nod. jisungs soft cheeks slowly start to feel very hot. “personal space, yn. ever heard of it?”

“oh!! sorry. my bad. i didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.” you laugh awkwardly as a awkward silence falls upon you both.

jisung turns his head away from you so you can't see him but his cheeks are very red and hot as his heart beats fast. 

you were so close to him. so very, very close. he thought he was going to have a heart attack. he could smell you and to him, you smell so delicious and sweet; like vanilla cheesecake. 

“this is not good for my heart.” he mumbles to himself. 

“by the way” you begin. jisung looks at you. you slide a cold coffee and cheesecake in the middle of you both. “told you i’d stick to my end of the bargain.”

“i didn't expect you to do it so soon, yn. it's only the first session.”

you shrug. “a deals a deal.” jisung takes the cheesecake and coffee, sipping on it and humming softly as the bitter, cold taste coats his tastebuds and the caffeine enters his system.

“i didn't know what flavoured cheesecake you like so i hope it's ok.”

“what flavour is it?”

“strawberry”

“mhm, not bad.”

“you don't like strawberry?” you say with a small pout. he shrugs.

“it's fine. not the worst. but it's too sweet for me. i’m a vanilla kinda guy.”

“aah, ok. i’ll make a mental note of that.” you say as you tap your temple, laughing softly. jisung lets out a small puff of air from his nose. you see the corner of his lips curl into a small and that makes you feel like he's accepted you.

“now, enough chitchat. i actually want to be done in a decent time so, let's begin?”

────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

“sooooo” jisung looks up at minho, his chopsticks half hanging from his mouth, resting on his bottom lip.

the smell of spicy, instant ramen fills the air. minho cooked some food for the two of them as they have both been studying hard for upcoming tests and assignments. 

instant ramen with a slice of cheese on top. rice cakes, fish cakes and other yummy goodnesss swim in the broth. the kitchen looks a mess, pots and pans scattered everywhere–it contributes to the rest of the dorm with the various clothing and shoes scattered around.

“soooo…” jisung repeats, eyebrows raised. his bangs are tied back in a pink hair tie (your pink hair tie), a white vest top and sweats on his body. minho is also in sweats but with an anime print t-shirt and a sanrio clip to hold back his bangs and a pore strip on his nose; getting tighter and tighter by the second.

“have you asked her yet?”

“asked her what?” jisung takes some noodles and a fish cake, putting them on a small, separate plate before grabbing some kimchi.

“dude.” minho rolls his eyes and lets out a long, irritable groan. “for being smart, you sure are dumb.”

“you're just dumb through and through.” jisung smiles playfully as minho sticks his middle finger up at his best friend.

“fuck you.” minho takes a rice cake that's soaked in the ramen broth. he chews it, the sound of sticky, chewy rice cake emits from his mouth. “anyways! have you asked yn about the party?”

jisung lets out a slow grunt. “not this again, minho.” 

“what?!” minho says with a shrug as he continues to chew and talk.

“i already told you, and eeeeveryone else. i don't want a party or anything of the sort, minho. i just want it to be a nice, quiet day.” jisung’s eyes drift to the half chewed rice cake that's being tossed around in minho's mouth. he pulls a face in disgust. “and can you please not talk with your mouth full?”

“you're such a prude.” minho rolls his eyes but swallows his food regardless. “anyways, you know me, changbin and chan won't let you have a quiet birthday!”

“yeah, no shit.” jisung rolls his eyes as he slurps on his noodles. he wipes his mouth with a napkin before munching on some kimchi. “still don't understand why you all decided to plan a birthday party without my knowledge knowing full well i said no in the beginning.”

“dude, you're so boring.” minho jests. “it's your birthday!” he emphasise. “you're supposed to have a party, eat lots of cake and junk. drink beer, hang out with friends and maybe, get laid.”

he wiggles his eyebrows at jisung and laughs softly. with a heavy sigh, jisung puts his chopsticks down.

“no matter what, you're going to go through with this, aren't you?” 

“yup!” minho obnoxiously pops the P. “plus, things have already been ordered and organised for it. we already have a few people who confirmed they're attending.”

“who?”

“mhm–” minho puts down his chopsticks and thinks, looking at the ceiling as he does. “felix from fashion design. hyunjin from art. seungmin from business studies and jeongin who is also from fashion design.”

“how do you know all these people?”

“well, unlike some–” minho's eyes widen as he looks at jisung, indicating he's talking about him in particular “–some of us actually get out. plus, chan is like a social butterfly and changbin is charismatic. put them two together and well, people can't say no.”

“yeah, true. i remember when they begged me to work on a track or something for their music assignment.” 

“they both practically dragged you to do it.” minho laughs.

“only because you told them i said yes without me knowing about the situation!”

“because i knew you'd say no! you have a talent for this stuff, jisung. don't let it go to waste.”

“thanks.” he mumbles, hanging his head low in embarrassment and awkwardness.

“is that… is that a blush i see?!” minho smirks.

“me? blush? for you?! hell no!” jisung frowns. “the ramen is spicy, that's all.”

“dude… it's mild.”

“...fuck you.”

“so, are you going to ask yn or nah?”

“if it gets you and everyone else off my back, then sure”

“good. make sure you do!” jisung opens and closes his hand, mimicking minho's yapping.

“yeah yeah yeah. can we stop talking about this party and eat?”

“just looking out for ya, man. i know how much you like ‘em!” 

“i know. i appreciate it, minho.” minho nods and continues eating the ramen. jisung, on the other hand, is now lost in thought.

how the hell is he going to get the courage to ask you something like that?

────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

the study sessions are slowly coming to end. you kept up with your end of the deal, providing jisung with an endless amount of coffees and cheesecakes whilst he has provided you with an endless amount of insights.

one thing you have learnt about him is that he is smart. he knows how to do things with just a quick glance. he's good at explaining things so it's not confusing. 

you've been stuck on a problem for some time and no amount of teachers advice and youtube videos helped you. all it took was five minutes of jisung explaining the solution and it clicked.

today, however, you are alone in the library. jisung messaged you to let you know that he wasn't going to make it. you felt sad and a little heartbroken–you’ve become so accustomed to jisung's presence that you feel a little cold and lonely right now.

you can't concentrate. the music you're blasting down your ears isn't helping either. the text in your book is slowly starting to merge into one big splooge of text. the information just isn't getting through to you and it's frustrating.

you sit back in your seat and sigh as you take your headphones off and throw them on the table. 

“this is pointless.” you mumble. “i can't concentrate. maybe i should just skip it.”

you take your phone and browse through social media before subconsciously opening up the food app. your mouth salivates as you look at the various burgers, fries, pizza and sweet treats–and then your stomach growls.

“maybe i’m just hungry. that's why i can't concentrate.” you pack your things and head to the university cafeteria. the menu looks dull so you settle on a simple sandwich and drink.

the cafeteria is packed. the atmosphere is buzzing with the endless chatter of students. you take your seat and pick up your sandwich.

it's a standard ham salad sandwich with some dressing on. the slices of ham and lettuce (too much lettuce for that matter), tomatoes and other salad stuff squished together by two slices of thick, white bread, smothered in dressing.

you take a few bites. it's ok. it's not bad but you've had better. the bread is a little dry for your liking but the dressing takes that away. you open the cap of your bottled drink and take a few swigs to help wash it down.

“what do we have here?” you turn your head in the direction of the voice–that thick aussie accent you know all too well.

“ew. go away chan. you're disturbing my peace.” 

“charming. don't think that's something you should say to someone you haven't seen in a while.” he says with a pout as he walks to your table and sits down. he's joined by another man, a friend of his, perhaps. he sits opposite you.

“and whose fault is that, huh? maybe if you answered my calls or texts every once in a while.”

“sorry, yn. i’m just a busy man, y’know.” chan grins as he leans back in his seat, brimming with confidence.

“yeah. too busy being the campus whore.”

“blah blah blah. least i’m getting some.” he elbows you in the side a few times. “what are you getting, huh?” he jests.

“a degree? y'know that thing i came here for in the first place.”

“oh ha ha. very funny, yn.” chan mocks, rolling his eyes at you before stealing your sandwich and taking a bite.

the male opposite you clears his throat as a way of telling you both “hi, i’m still here.”

“oh! yn, this is minho. minho, yn.” minho's eyes widen a little and his lips twitch into a small smile.

“so, you're yn. nice to put a face to the name.“ he grins.

“you know me?” you blink a few times in confusion.

“i’m jisung’s roommate.” you mentally slap yourself. of course!

“oh my god. i’m so sorry. i didn't realise! i’m so bad with names.” you whine. minho laughs and brushes it off.

“and how do you know jisung, yn?” chan says with a mouthful of food; your food to be exact. you glare at him, daggers darting out of your eyes and straight into chan as you snatch your sandwich back off him.

“jisung’s my private tutor as of right now.”

“oh.” chan nods before his eyes suddenly light up. he looks at minho for confirmation. “wait, hold up.”

minho nods and smirks. “nah. really?!” you watch the two men talk in code as they communicate by facial expressions and a stings of “ohs” and “yeahs”

“uh, hello. i’m still here!” minho laughs softly.

“sorry, yn.” you shrug it off and eat your sandwich. “how do you two know each other by the way. chan has never mentioned you before.”

“good. keep it that way.” you say coldly, mainly aiming it at chan. chan pouts and nuzzles into you, head on shoulder. he looks at you with puppy eyes and a pout.

“aww. don't be like that, bestie. you secretly love me.” you flick his forehead.

“me and chan are childhood friends. haven't been able to get rid of him since.” chan smiles at your sweet implication. “he's like a parasite. or a fruit fly in the summer.” his smile drops and now, it's your turn to give chan a big, sarcastic grin–teeth and all.

“rude.” he mumbles. you shrug and finish off your sandwich. 

“so, jisung is your tutor.” minho speaks. you nod.  “are you attending his party?” 

“party? what party?” you look at chan and minho. minho sighs a little and runs his fingers through his hair.

“i warned him.” he mumbles under his breath in irritation before looking at you and smiling softly. “me, chan and a few others are organising a birthday party for jisung.”

“his birthday is coming up?!” your eyes widen. “when? i should get him a gift”

“14th.”

“14th?! that's pretty soon.” you mumble.

“jisung told me he would invite you.” you shake your head no. minho rubs the back of his neck. “well, this is awkward.” 

“it’s ok. maybe he has his reasons as to why he didn't mention it to me. no biggie.” you say with a smile. minho nods before a few minutes of silence dawn upon the three of you.

“out of curiosity.” you break the silence. “how is jisung in general?” minho tilts his head to the side. “it's just he seems so….” you think for a second, thinking of the right (and nice) word to use “... cold towards me.”

“cold?” 

“mhm. he seems so bitter towards me and i don't know why. we barely even talked in class but when we did, he would always tell me i’m making too much noise and to hush.” you slowly start to feel slightly irritated. 

“jisung is fine with me.” he says with a. shrug. “he's pretty chill around me.” you huff.

“i know he can be friendly because whenever i see him in the corridors talking to someone, he smiles and is so friendly!”

“what’s he likes now, yn?”

“well, now that we've been spending more time with each other, he's… i don't know… avoiding me to some degree? he won't make eye contact with me. he doesn't like it when i touch him.”

chan raises his brow and looks at minho, both men thinking the same thing. chan puts you in a gentle headlock and ruffles your hair.

“hey!! get off me!!” you push chan a few times, using all your strength to make him release you.

“you're pretty naive, yn.” chan laughs, continuing to ruffle your hair. he ignores your screams and yells, minho laughing at the two of you.

finally, chan let's you go. you push him with all the strength you have left before fixing your hair and glaring at him. chan pouts and nuzzles into you once again.

“i’m sorry, yn. forgive me?” he puckers his lips and makes kissing noises, edging closer and closer to you. you hold him at arm's length.

“ok ok!! just quit doing that!!” chan laughs and pats your head gently.

as fast as he was in the cafeteria, jisung is soon out of it after seeing you and chan, with nothing but festering jealousy in his stomach.

────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

you bounce through the library to your designated spot at the very back, coffee and cheesecake in each hand with your bag swinging on your shoulder.

jisung is there, punctual, as always. but something seems a little off. the air around him seems thick and suffocating–dark even. 

“hey!” your cheerful voice ringing in his ears, making his heart beat fast. you sit next to him and slide over the coffee and cheesecake.

today he's dressed in a yellow and orange flannel shirt and white tank-top. black jeans and boots to accommodate. a few of his nails are painted in black, chipping from wear and tear.

he gives you a cold nod of the head. you frown a little but choose to ignore it as you take your books and pens out of your bag.

“so, what's the plan for today?” jisung shrugs. “...ok, well how about we go over that question i was struggling with?”

“k” he reluctantly moves closer to you. the scent of cinnamon and vanilla wafts towards you and tickles your nostrils, making you let out a small hum of satisfaction.

“you smell good, jisung.”

“mhm, thanks.” you let out a silent sigh. something is wrong with him and you don't know why. is it something you've done? something you haven't done? 

jisung is being very dry and sour with you. his usual method of teaching you is that he would go into detail and repeat until you'd understand it, today, however, he's very short and sharp.

“i don't understand.” you say. jisung sighs, a long irritated sigh. you bite your lip, thinking that you've done something to hurt him in any possible way.

“what don't you get?”

“all of it…” he sighs again and rubs his face. his eyebrows furrow together in irritation. the jealousy he is feeling in his stomach is festering, becoming more and more intense.

every time he looks at you, he is reminded of the way you and chan were together. he hates that. how could you fall for someone like chan? he thought you were better than that. his head swimming with negative and harsh thoughts.

before he can stop himself, the words just spill without any control. “why don't you get chan to do it for you.”

you blink. “chan? what does he have to do with this?”

“i mean, you two are close are you not?”

“i mean.. well, yeah, i guess.” you shrug. “he does get on my nerves sometimes though. he is such a pain! but he's a good gu–”

“i thought you were better than that, yn.’ he spits.

“the fuck is that supposed to mean?” you feel the bubbling of rage in your stomach as you stare at jisung, who stares at you back. the jealousy has consumed his body and it's too late to back out now.

“as in, i thought you had standards. chan? of all people? he's a whore, yn. everyone knows that he sleeps around on campus and you chose him?!”

“i don't appreciate the way you're talking about him, jisung.”

“it’s the truth, yn! and you know it so why are you with him?! you can do sooo much better than him!!”

“oh yeah?” you challenge. “then who is good for me, mhm? please, enlighten me?” 

jisung freezes. he looks away and chews his bottom lip. you scoff and pack your things in a hurry.

“i don't have to listen to this bullshit. you've been in a shit mood with me this whole time, which is fine. everyone has bad days. what's not ok, however, is you taking it out on me and bad mouthing the people i care about.” you stand up, swinging your bag onto your shoulder. jisung stares at one spot of the desk, burning holes into it. “text me when you're in a better mood.”

you walk out, leaving jisung to think about what he has just done.

────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

“jisunggggg. sungieeee. knock, knock. let me innn!” the sound of minho's high-pitched, cheery voice irritates jisung to the bone. he lets out a slow and irritated groan, hot puffs of air slowly exhaling from his nostrils.

he pushes his glasses up his nose and runs his fingers through his unwashed hair. sitting at his desk in the same baggy band t-shirt and sweats from a few days ago, he checks his phone for the nth time, only to be disappointed.

he hasn't spoken to you nor seen you since that day. in class, it's worse. he's tried to catch your eye a few times, smiling when he does, only for you to turn away. he spent days loathing in his own self pity, locking himself up in his room and only coming out for food, bathroom breaks and class.

minho has had enough. not only is jisung's mood ruining the atmosphere, but minho has no idea as to what happened that day. he was home when jisung came back to the dorm, looking like he was on the verge of tears. 

when he asked, jisung always gave the same answer of “mind your own business.”–and he has; for several days now.

“let me in, jisung.” the repetitive sounds of minho's knuckles against the wood door cause jisung's stomach to bubble more intensely with anger–until he finally snaps.

he rushes to the door and swings it open, brows furrowed together. minho's smug grin makes him foam at the mouth.

“what part of leave me alone don't you understand, minho?” jisung's words dripping with poison. minho shrugs it off.

“all of it.” he pushes past jisung, making himself at home in his bedroom. jisung has no time to protest, all he can do is watch his best friend jump on his bed and rest on his back, arms behind his head.

with a heavy sigh, jisung walks back to his desk. he turns his back on him, hoping that if he ignores his friend, he will get bored and eventually leave. minho watches his friend pick up and put down his phone several times to the point where minho feels irritated by it.

“so?” minho starts

“so?” jisung repeats

“going to tell me what's happened? haven't seen you this down in a while.”

“nope. i'm good.”

“you can't keep moping around the place, jisung.”

“i can and i will.” minho groans and stands up, walking out of the bedroom. jisung mentally cheers only for it to be cut short when minho throws his jacket at jisung.

“put it on.” it's more of a demand than a sentence, but nonetheless, jisung obliges because if he doesn't, minho will force it on him.

“where are we going?”

“to the cafe.” minho puts on his shoes, jisung following suit.

“aah, dude.. i don't really fe–”

“shut up, we're going to the cafe whether you want to or not. a change of scenery might cheer your moody ass up because, to be quite honest, i’m tired of seeing your gloomy ass face.” he looks at jisung who is frowning at him. “in the nicest way possible, of course.”

jisung rolls his eyes before following minho to the local (and one of his favourite) cafes. 

it's a small, local café with an old fashioned sense of style to it. the tables and chairs are worn. cushions on the chairs losing their stuffing and the tables scratched and chipped. the décor is outdated, indicating that the café has been there for quite a few years; but it feels like home to some.

the bell above the door chimes as minho and jisung walk in. they walk to the counter and say their orders before taking their lunch and drinks and sitting at a table.

jisung takes a sip of the coffee. he feels the ice cold beverage trickling down his esophagus and into his empty stomach. minho munches on his chicken salad sandwich, watching his friend look in his drink and ponder.

“i fucked up.” jisung mumbles, lost in thought. the more he thinks about you, the more he can feel the tears threaten to spill down his cheeks. minho tilts his head to the side and as he is about to open his mouth and encourage his friend to continue, a familiar sound in the form of a laugh causes jisung's head to shoot up and look in that direction.

his eyes widen. he feels relief and happy to see a smile finally on your face; but then that same, the green monster in the form of jealousy parks itself on his shoulder and starts whispering in his ear.

minho watches jisung's jaw muscles clench. his facial expression goes from relief to jealousy. minho follows jisung's gaze and raises his brow at the sight of you and chan.

chan is being his usual, goofy self. he's telling you typical dad jokes and being a little grotest by telling you his latest hook-up details. you push him by the arm and roll your eyes, sipping your coffee in the process. chan continues to joke around with you, play fighting a little by wrapping his arm around the back of your neck loosely and rubbing the top of your head with his knuckles.

“i can't fucking stand this.” jisung mutters bitterly under his breath. minho turns and looks at his friend who is green with jealousy.

“stand what?”

“seeing someone as precious and innocent as yn be with someone like chan!” minho blinks a few times.

“what do you… jisung, what do you think yn and chans relationship is?”

“isnt it obvious? they're going out!” minho gives jisung a few blank stares and blinks before bursting out into laughter, choking on his own saliva in the process. “what?!” 

jisungs cheeks flush red with embarrassment but also with anger. his own friend laughing at his statement, finding amusement in his sorrows.

“are you serious? please tell me you're joking?” minho stutters through his giggles.

“dead serious.” jisung says, deadpan. “don't you see the way they are with each other? i saw you all the other day, in the cafeteria! chan's arm around yn and them being all…. lovey!!” 

“oh my god.” minho calms himself down. “you really are serious!”

“i told you! i even asked yn about it and well… it didn't go so well.”

“is that why you've been so moody and upset lately?” jisung nods his head slowly, feeling some type of guilt. minho sighs heavily, wondering how he can soften the blow of the news he's about to give his best friend.

“jisung…” minho starts. “yn and chan are not dating.” jisung's face drops.

“excuse me?”

“they're not dating. they're just childhood best friends. apparently they've known each other since they were kids. “

“so you're telling me.. that i got it all wrong when i saw you three in the cafeteria?“ minho slowly nods whilst giving a sympathetic smile. jisung sits back in his seat in disbelief. “why did chan never mention yn?! fuck, i fucked up… i really, really fucked up…” 

“oh, c’mon. it can't be that bad.” minho tries to lighten the situation.

“dude. i told her i thought she had standards! i called her best friend a whore!”

“i mean, chan is a whore. he knows he is and he doesn't hid–”

“dude, please.” jisung interrupts. “not right now.” minho shrugs and sips his coffee whilst jisung rubs his face whilst groaning. “what do i do?”

“well.” minho puts down his coffee. “you make it right. admit you were in the wrong. explain how you were a jealous lil guy because you like her and that you fucked up.”

“and how do i do that? she’s been avoiding me for weeks and it’s not like i can go up to her right now and be like oh hey yn, sorry i called your best friend a whore oh, by the way, i like you.” jisung mocks himself in a high pitched voice, his face turning red in frustration.

“you're so dramatic.” minho rolls his eyes with a soft, yet heavy sigh. “for a smart guy, you're pretty dumb too.”

“pft, am not!” jisung scoffs and folds his arms across his chest. “... only when it comes to stuff like this.” he mumbles. “i just… don't know what to do or how to fix it. i really, really like her, minho.”

“ok? and? what do you want me to do about it? there's no point telling me about your feelings for yn. i'm not the one that fucked up and then decided to hold myself up in my room to drown in my own self-pity.” minho says with a shrug.

to the outside world, minho's words sound harsh but to jisung, it's a reality check. 

he sighs softly for the nth time as he glances over at you. he watches you laugh and smile with chan, soaking in your beauty and the way you glow with happiness. 

“to make it easier for you.” minho breaks the few seconds of silence between the two, feeling a little responsible for his friend in need. “i may have mentioned your birthday party to yn.”

“what?! why?”

“bro, you weren't going to mention it! so i just.. did you a favour.” minho shrugs, a smug look on his face.

“... is she coming?”

minho shrugs. “dunno. she seemed interested at least but this was before you called her best friend a whore so–”

“that was an accident. i didn't mean to.. i just got too–”

“worked up? jealous perhaps?” minho says, or rather states, with a raised brow. jisung hums and nods his head slowly, teeth chewing on his bottom lip. 

minho chews on his straw as he watches his friend think. he can see the cogs turning in jisung's skull. jisung is inexperienced when it comes to relationships so seeing him like this, brings minho slight amusement.

“look, jisung. if she turns up, you approach her and apologise whilst also telling her how you feel.” minho holds his hand up to jisung who is just about to protest but is quick to close his mouth and listen. “if she doesn't turn up, you find her the next day, apologise and tell her how you feel. heck, text her if you have to!”

“dude… you know i can't do that!”

“ok. then you have the other option, which is to keep wallowing in your self pity and watch yn from the sidelines.” minho shrugs. “i don't know dude. be the main character for once. you clearly like her so take the chance.”

────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

jisung's birthday rolled around. you haven't heard nor spoken to him since the argument so you didn't originally plan on turning up to his birthday party; but chan being chan is forcing you to go as his plus one.

“is this ok?” you smooth down your party outfit as you present yourself to chan. chan is sitting at your dressing table, dressed in blue, skinny jeans, a compression shirt that hugs and molds his muscles and combat boots. a silver chain around his neck, earrings in one ear and a few rings on his fingers.

he looks up from his phone and smirks playfully. he wolf whistles at you to which you scoff and roll your eyes at.

“looking good there, yn.”

“really? i threw this together at the last minute.’

“you look great, don't worry. you're gonna knock ‘em dead.” chan laughs.

“i really don't want to go, chan.” you groan.

“weeeell, too late. you're coming with me to this party, even if i have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you there.”

chan has heard about your little argument with jisung from minho. the two of them had a drink together during the week and chan listened to minho vent about jisung.

once minho mentioned the fight did it all come together. you've been feeling down and withdrawn, not knowing what to do or how to deal with your feelings. you've put on a fake smile and basically faked your way through the weeks–but chan has known you for years so he can see through you, he just didn't want to press you.

you'll come to him when the time is right; you always do.

“do i have to?” you ask for the nth time whilst putting on your shoes. chan laughs at your contradicting actions and shakes his head before standing up.

“yes, you do. it'll be fun and hopefully, it'll lift your spirits.” you pout.

“i have been a little moody lately, haven't i?” chan raises his brows and scoffs.

“a little!? pur-lease! i thought knives were going to spawn out of your eyes at one point.”

“mhm.. i’m sorry chan. it's just been a long couple of weeks with a lot of thinking.” you sigh softly. chan elbows your side gently.

“hey. let's not think about that right now. let's go to this party, have a couple of drinks and a dance, yeah?” you nod slowly.

“not like i have a say in this.”

“that's my girl. now.” chan grabs your hand gently and pulls you to the front door. “let's go have some fuuuun!!!”

────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

it's loud. the bass of the music rings in your ears and shakes the ground beneath you.

it smells. the stench of stale cigarettes, sweat and alcohol tickles your nostrils and causes you to feel lightheaded and nauseous.

you've tried several times to turn away and head back but chan was always right there.

chan abandoned you to go chat up some girls so you're sat on the sofa, surrounded by people making out, drinking or passing out (if they haven't already)

you hold your red, plastic solo cup which is filled halfway with some punch. the smell is pungent and the taste is awful. it's too strong for your liking so you take small, delicate sips.

as the night rolls on, you have yet to see jisung. not that you want to but, it would help you feel some comfort and less suffocated to see a familiar face.

you glance at your phone screen. 11:20 pm. it's soon time for you to leave. you don't want to be here any longer than you have to and considering that chan has left you alone, you don't feel the need to be here any more.

you stand up from the couch to walk to the kitchen. you shimmy your way in and out of crowds of people who are dancing, talking or making out with someone that they won't remember tomorrow.

you pour your drink down the sink and throw away your empty cup. as you're about to turn and leave, a familiar voice is heard from behind.

“yn. hi.”

you turn on your heels and a sense of relief washes over you as you come face to face with a face you've been longing to see (even if you don't want to admit it)

you forget why you're so angry at him for a split second. his beauty never fails to make you feel star struck and silently go “wow.” but then you remember.

“hi.” you reply coldly.

“can i talk to you?” he shouts, hoping his voice isn't drowned out by the music.

“not right now. i was just about to leave.” you walk past him to leave. jisung grabs your arm gently to stop you. you look at him and he is quick to remove his hand.

“please? just… let me explain…” he chews his bottom lip, his brows scrunched together in the middle. you think for a second and sigh softly, nodding slowly.

“ok. fine. but make it quick.” you swear you see the corner of jisung's lips curl into a subtle smile, his eyes lighting up a little. he beckons you to follow him so you do.

you follow him outside. compared to inside, where it's hot and humid, the harsh, cold night air is refreshing and soothes your damp skin.

“look.” he starts as he stops walking to turn to you. “i know i was a complete asshole.” you scoff but don't say anything. “it's just… aah fuck, how do i say this.”

you watch jisung slowly become flustered. the tips of his ears turn red, his hands clammy as he shakes a little. he shuffles on his feet to shift his weight and avoids eye contact with you.

“fuck.. this is so hard… minho said it'd be easy once i get talking but fuck minho.” jisung rambles to himself. the anger you felt slowly disappears and is replaced with… joy? 

your stomach feels a little bubbly and tingly with excitement as you watch this nerd, whom you've grown so accustomed to, become easily flustered and shy because of you.

“just say what's on your mind, jisung.” you say with a shrug. his eyes flicker at you for a second before looking to the ground.

“ok.. well…” he takes a deep breath. ”i like you and i always have and the reason why i got so pissed and called chan a whore, who i later found out was your childhood best friend, was because i was jealous of how close he was to you and i saw red and i didn't mean it. in fact, i've been cooped up in my bedroom in my own self-pity because i'm a coward and i don't deserve someone as wonderful as you and i’m really sorry. can you forgive me for being a lil silly?”

you blink at him several times. jisung dared take a breath during his little speech so all the information that has suddenly been laid on you, isn't going through your head right now.

“ah fuck.. i fucked up again, haven't i?” jisung shakes, his voice wavering as it breaks the tension in the air. his nerves shaking his body as a shaky hand picks at the skin around his fingernails. “god i knew i shouldn't have said anything. why did i take minho's dumb advice.”

“i… i don't know what to say, jisung. it's all so much.” you say in pure shock.

“oh, that's ok! i’m not looking for an answer right now. please, take your time. i just wanted you to know my true feelings and why i acted out. the last thing i want is for you to feel forced.”

“so let me get this straight. the reason you acted out is because you got jealous of chan, thinking that we were dating?” you watch jisung slowly nod his head, his cheeks turning pink; whether that's from embarrassment or from the harsh cold air. “and that you.. like me?”

jisung nods again. “silly, right?” he laughs, trying to soothe himself of the raging anxiety that's heavy in his heart and stomach.

“no.. no! not at all. i think it's kinda… cute.” 

“cute?”

“yeah. i mean, well, being away from you has got me thinking about me, you and well.. us and how i feel.” jisung walks closer to you, closing the gap between you both.

“and how do you feel, yn?” you swallow a little. the atmosphere has suddenly shifted between you both. jisung is close to you, his body daring to press against you.

you can see every detail of his honey skin under the faint moonlight. the cold breeze sweeps between his hair strands. a faint hint of cinnamon and apple from his aftershave tickles and hugs your nose making you inhale deeply for more.

“at first, i was angry at you. i didn't understand why you were so angry. but i spoke to chan about it and during the conversation, he made me realise something.”

“what?” jisung encourages. he gingerly places his hands on your waist, unsure and testing the waters. his touch is as light as a feather and when you don't push him away, his grip becomes firm. 

“that maybe, i like you too and i have for the longest time. i just never realised it because i thought you hated me but, when we spent all that time together, i started to notice the smallest of things about you and i found them to be so cute. but they're cute because it's you.” 

you slowly run your hands up his chest to his shoulder. his breath hitches and body trembles from your touch. with more confidence, jisung pulls your body flush against his own, closing the gap completely.

“so, you like me too?” his voice dips to a whisper. you hum and nod slowly. “do you have any idea how happy that makes me?”

“why don't you show me.” you whisper against his lips, teasing him by brushing yours against his slowly and gently. they feel soft and plump, kissable even. 

“you're playing a dangerous game, yn. you have no idea how long i've wanted you.”

“show me.” you whisper again, furthering your teasing by ever so lightly licking his bottom lip with the tip of your tongue.

“fuck.” jisung groans. his lips crash against yours in a heated kiss that's filled with longing. your eyes widen a little but are quick to flutter close. you melt into the kiss, the both of you becoming synchronised instantly.

you tilt your head to the side a little to allow jisung to deepen the kiss. he licks your bottom lip and you part your lips slowly.

his tongue slides in to meet yours and you're in a battle of dominance that you lose. jisung's hot kisses make you melt and crave for more. you forget about your surroundings, forget where you are. everything is a buzz in your ears and you can only focus on you, jisung and how your body is tingling and twitching.

jisung is the first to pull away. he pants heavily, his own body trembling with excitement. 

“wow.” you hum in agreement. as soon as his lips are off yours, you want them back on you again; whether that's on your own lips or on your body, you don't care as long as you get to feel the softness again.

“is this real?” he asks.

“it's real.” you respond, giggling softly. “and i’m not drunk either so.”

“so, what does this make us?” jisung cautiously asks. he wants to have an idea of what you two are slowly becoming. he wants to make sure you're both on the same page.

“whatever you want us to be, jisung.”

“well, i want you to be mine. i want to show you off to the world, proudly. i want everyone to know that you belong to me. i want to spend every single second of the day with you and during the night, i want to spend every single second caressing your body from head to toe. i want to soak myself in every single bit of detail from your body. i want to drown you in pleasure and my love.” 

you swallow and let out a small, shaky breath at the implications behind his words. your body trembles with excitement and anticipation from where tonight is going to end and for the future with jisung.

“then.. shall we go ditch the party and go back to mine? because i want that too.” with a fast nod of the head, jisung holds your hand and is quick to make way to yours.

“let's go and let's be quick. i want to make you mine, in more ways than one.”

[orangeheliophile]

When he gets jealous

Warnings: Jealous broccoli boy, cursing, slight angst, and slight possessive/protective Izuku, Izuku still has bits of OFA (he doesn't lose it fully.)

Contains: fluff, crack, comfort, oblivious reader. One-sided pining, childhood best friends trope, hopeless romantic Izuku, Third year!AU.

A/n: writers block is so bad and I genuinely wanna write😭 I hope this makes up for the zero activity. But fr I genuinely don't know what this is lmao.

There were three things Izuku did to make sure everyone knew you were his.

Izuku would always get more clingy whenever he was jealous.

He trusted you with every fiber in his being. He just didn't trust the guys who would stare at you as if you were a five course meal, as if you were only an object to own. He hated those types of men.

So when he noticed how you seemed slightly uncomfortable with how the boy was looking at you, he quiete literally swept you off your feet and flew away with you cradled in his arms.

You were perplexed by the sudden action, arms flying around his neck as he used his quirk to fly away. The greenette gave you a sweet grin, holding you tightly against him as you thanked him for helping you; a cute blush on your cheeks that made his grin wider and his heart race even more.

You'd think that once you reached the dorms, he would put you down, but he didn't. Instead, he carried you bridal style to his dorm to hang out.

Hanging out with Izuku was a normal thing. But him refusing to let you go while clinging onto you like a koala? That didn't happen very often.

You sighed, a small smile on your face as Izuku rambled about his hero training with All Might while sitting on your lap. You would think that the gender roles would normally be reversed, but the green-haired boy didn't give a single fuck. He got to be in your personal space and was making sure you couldn't move from your spot by pinning you with his weight.

But you didn't really care that much, he was like a heavy teddy bear and you were really comfortable in your spot on his bed.

The next few days consisted of him holding your hand, giving you I love you so much please marry me platonic kisses on the cheek, forehead, and hands. He would literally become your backpack as you carried him around the entire day. Piggyback rides were normal between you two, anyway.

Overall Izuku would initiate more physical touch in hopes of being able to be closer to you.

Another thing Izuku likes to do when he gets jealous is by having you wear his clothes and colors.

It could be wearing matching bracelets with your favorite colors, borrowing his All Might themed shirts and hoodies, or it could even be him stealing your shirts, too. The last one always made you giggle because of how much your best friend liked your fashion taste.

It totally wasn't because he was desperately in love with you and wanted to be seen as yours.

There was another tactic Izuku liked to use, and it was more of a fun game, really. He would paint different shades of green onto your skin.

You both would have a great time, trying to paint on each other's skin while giggling and feeling ticklish by the brush and paint. You would do flowers, mini All Might faces, and you once painted a giraffe on Izuku's back.

The both of you would burst into fits of laughter the entire time, and Izuku decided to paint his name onto your arms. His first name on your left bicep, and his last name on your right. The greenette cackled and blushed when you flexed your arms at his finished work.

These two things were very sweet and endearing, showing how much Izuku cared for you and how he didn't want any other man to think they had a chance. They both worked well and made other guys back off, but when they didn't work, well...

Izuku had to resort to the third way. And that was only when a guy was starting to really piss him off.

We all know how observant Izuku is, and how he writes down everything in his journals to learn more about something. Izuku had somewhat a bad habit of being obsessive, and whenever you were involved,

Izuku made sure that everyone knew what was his.

You would never be thought of as an object or thing to Izuku, but the way he slammed a man onto the concrete floor when he tried to touch you, would seem otherwise.

Emerald eyes were wide with fury, the energy of One For All crackling around him. The man on the floor gasped for air, feeling threatened by the supposed savior of the Paranormal Liberation war.

Blood was dripping from the greenette's knuckles, staring down coldly at the scum near his feet. The scum who had the guts to try and take advantage of you.

Y/n.

His y/n.

Izuku sneered in disgust, kicking the man in the gut as the bastard flew back, wincing in pain as he was in shock.

"I'll make sure you won't touch her ever again." Izuku rasped, a crazed smile on his face as he knelt down to the man cowering in fear.

After the war, not only has he almost lost his quirk, Kacchan, and his friends, he almost lost you. The doctors said you almost didn't make it, and something in Izuku just snapped.

The green-haired boy began to hyperventilate, panicking at the thought of living in a world without you, in a world where you weren't his.

And some asshole thought he could take advantage of you?

Izuku laughed, crazily as he looked borderline insane to the bloodied man on the floor. The man froze, shivering in fear when he made eye contact with the greenette. There was a glint in those cold emerald eyes, something feral as Izuku stood up, a smile no longer on his face as he clenched his fists. The energy of One For All becoming more powerful as he raised his fist.

Midoriya Izuku would die for anyone, but he would only kill for the people he loved. You were on the top of that list.

Blood-curling screams were heard in that dark alleyway as Izuku beat the man to death, his fists coated in blood as there was a psychopathic look in his eye the entire time.

Love was a powerful emotion.

"Hey, Izuku! I didn't know you would be back so early!" You chirped, going on to hug your best friend, wrapping your arms around his neck as he giggles, giving you the sweetest smile with hearts in his eyes.

Izuku relaxes into the hug, wrapping his arms around you tightly as he buries his face into your neck; sighing as he inhales your comforting scent. The one he's secretly addicted to.

"Yeah, I thought it would take longer because of the traffic, but I'm glad I got those... errands done tonight." Izuku mumbles, a cold glint in his eyes as he stares at the floor, a grin growing on his lips at the memory of dumping the body into someplace where nobody would care to look.

Izuku pulled away a bit, flashing you a lovesick smile as his pupils seemed to have hearts in them when you looked at him. Scarred hands cup your cheeks as you smile and giggle when he presses platonic kisses all over your face.

"Izu! Cut it o-out!" You laugh, feeling the pads of his fingers tickle your neck, leaving you gasping for air but leaving you with the biggest smile.

He could feel his heart leap at the sight.

The green-haired boy giggles, pulling back as he grabs your hand and leads you towards the couch to watch a movie.

Izuku had three ways to deal with jealousy, but you were always the person that made him feel better afterwards.

[torpublishinggroup]

This advertisement is for Swordcrossed by Freya Marske.

WHAT’S IT ABOUT

Mattinesh Jay is the chronically responsible eldest son and dutiful heir striving to keep his family’s business running. Luca Piere is a menace of a con artist desperately trying to escape his past by taking up the blade. When the pair meet, swords clash, and sparks fly. Soon, they’re entangled in a conspiracy that may bring Matti’s house to ruin if they don’t work together.

Want to see if it’s to your liking? We’ve included an excerpt from chapter one below.

Chapter 1 Matti laid his fingers on the polished edge of the bar’s wooden surface and forced himself to stop counting sheep. And yards of twill. And looms in need of repair, and outstanding debts.

Instead, he counted today’s collection of ink smudges, bruise-black on the brown skin of his hands: six. He counted the number of blue dyes that would have been used in the fabric of the bartender’s layered skirt: four, possibly five if the palest shade was true dimflower and not just the result of fading.

The tense throb of pain like a fist clenched in his hair eased, grudgingly, to a quiet ache. Bearable. Normal.

It was busy in the drinking house, the post-dinner hour that usually found Matti heading back to his study to finish the paperwork that a member of his family had tugged him away from in order to eat. Matti counted the number of flavoured jenever bottles on the shelf behind the bar—fifteen—in the time it took Audry to finish serving her current customer and sweep her sky-coloured skirts to stand in front of Matti. “And here’s a face we haven’t seen in a while! Something tells me you’re here for a celebration, Mr. Jay.”

Matti hoped the smile he’d pulled onto his face wasn’t the wrong size, or the wrong shade of abashed. “News travels fast.”

“Mattinesh Jay and Sofia Cooper. A match surprising exactly no one.”

Matti kept the smile going. There was a silence in which Audry politely didn’t say, Pity she’s in love with someone else, and so Matti didn’t have to say, Yes, isn’t it?Audry said, “Wait here a moment. I’ve got something in the back that I think will do nicely.”

Matti cast a glance over the room as Audry disappeared. His cousin Roland made an extravagant sighing motion and pretended to check his watch when Matti’s eyes landed on their table. A burst of laughter came from a dark-skinned woman nearby; she was wearing a dress that rode high at the knee to reveal a fall of lace like frothing water, a northern style of garment that Matti’s own northerner mother seldom wore these days.

At the closest table the Mason Guildmaster, Lysbette Martens, was deep in conversation with a senior member of the Guild of Engineers. Martens met Matti’s gaze with her own and nodded brief acknowledgement. He was sure she was weighing his presence as consciously as he was weighing hers. This was a place to be seen, after all.

“Here you are. Red wine for young lovers.”

Matti turned around again. Audry named the price for the bottle as she uncorked it and set it on the bar. Matti paid her, ignoring the lurch like a fishhook in his stomach at the amount on the credit notes he was so casually handing over. Mattinesh Jay, firstborn of his distinguished House, had no reason not to indulge in one of the finest bottles of wine that money could buy.

No reason that anyone here would know about, anyway.

Matti took the bottle in one hand and hooked three glasses with the other. Making his way over to the table, his mind circled back to dwell on the wrong sort of numbers. The money in Matti’s purse was painstakingly calculated: enough for the first round of engagement drinks, and enough for him to hire a top-of-the-range duellist who would step forward in the awkwardly likely event of someone challenging for Sofia’s hand at the wedding itself.

Matti’s skin prickled cold at the very thought of what might happen if Adrean Vane challenged against Matti’s marriage to Sofia and won. His family’s last hope would be gone. Matti would have failed them in this, the most useful thing he could do for them.

He was so caught up in this uneasy imagining as he wove through the room that he collided, hard, with another person’s shoulder. Matti was both tall and broad, not easily unbalanced; the unfortunate other member of the collision made a grab for Matti’s coat, couldn’t get a good grip, and tripped to the ground with a caught-back “Fu—”

Matti tried to step backwards. They were crammed into a small space between tables and there were people moving around them. His first panicked instinct had been to keep the wine bottle upright and the glasses safe, so he didn’t have a hand free to steady himself on a chair.

He wasn’t quite sure what happened next, except that he ended up wobbling and stepping forward instead, and he felt his boot come down on something that was not the floorboards. A small, pathetic, grinding mechanical sound crawled up Matti’s nerves, heel to head, and reached his ears even amidst the noise of the busy room.

“Sorry!” he said at once. “I’m sorry. Was that—Oh, Huna’s teeth.”

The man on the floor jerked his head up, staring at Matti, and Matti stared back.

For a moment all that Matti could see was the wide, straight line of the man’s mouth, set beneath an equally straight nose, and the frame that set off the whole: the dark, luminous copper-red hair that seemed to be trying to grow in about ten different directions.

The man’s tongue darted out in a nervous mannerism, wetting his lower lip. Something in Matti’s own mouth tried to happen in a yearning echo.

“Would you please lift,” the man said precisely, “your godsdamned foot?” Heat flooded Matti’s face. He snatched his foot backwards with enough force that his heel collided with a chair leg.

The redheaded man stood, his fingers closed convulsively tight around a small velvet bag. His brown coat was shabby and made of a coarsely woven fabric, though his shirt was good and his trousers had probably been equally so before they’d been overwashed into a patchy shine.

“Fuck fuck shitting—fuck,” the man said in tones of despair, with a lilt to his accent that placed him at least one city-state farther east: Cienne, or possibly Sanoy. He shook the contents of the bag into his palm and ventured into new realms of inappropriate language as he did so.

Enough people had witnessed their collision, or had their heads turned by the stream of expletives, that there were a fair few necks craning to see what was in the man’s hand. Matti, at whom the shaking fingers of this hand were pointed most directly, couldn’t help seeing for himself the ragged, glinting pile of cogs and jewels and glass. Only the intact cover��monogrammed in a swirling, engraved H—spoke of this pile’s previous existence as a pocket watch. A very expensive pocket watch, by the look of it.

The man’s breath hissed out through his teeth. “Guildmaster Havelot is going to use my arm bones as a fucking lathe. He only had it made to order, and he only trusted me to pick it up, didn’t he? Two hundred gold. Fucking fuck.”

“I’m so sorry,” Matti said again. He recognised the name: Havelot was the Woodworker Guildmaster in Cienne. “Truly. I can—” He stopped. The abrupt lack of his words created a silence that seemed to suck noise into itself, as conversations died to murmurs and the onlookers sensed something interesting.

The man looked straight at Matti with a stubborn lift of his chin. His brows, the same absurd colour as the rest of his hair, had sprung up into the beginnings of hope; as Matti’s silence grew longer, they lowered again. And then lowered farther. He swept a look down and then slowly up Matti’s own outfit, and now pride warred with scorn in the way those maddening lips pressed together.

Matti felt sick. His own coat was made of the finest wool, a midnight blue cut perfectly to his figure, and the rest of his clothes were of the same quality. He was holding a bottle of extremely good wine. Anybody looking at him would make immediate assumptions about the amount of ready money that Matti might have, and the ease with which he would be able to reimburse a poor clerk, if he’d just ruined a pricey piece of artificer’s skill that the man’s employer had trusted him to travel all the way to Glassport to collect.

Of course they would make these assumptions. That was the point.

Matti swallowed and felt the burning heaviness of his purse redouble. He’d be left with enough to a hire a duellist, yes, but not one of the highest skill. It wouldn’t buy himself and his family the absolute security they needed.

His friends were looking at him. It seemed like every pair of eyes in the drinking house was looking, and in another moment the murmurs of curiosity would turn to murmurs of disapprobation. I thought Matti Jay had more honour than that, they would say. What’s two hundred gold to someone like him?

Besides, the plain fact of the matter was that Matti had broken the watch. And he couldn’t pretend that he and this man with his proud mouth and poor coat, patched at one elbow, were on an equal footing. Even if he were left without a bronze, Matti would still have influence, connections, the weight of his family’s name. That was still worth something. For now.

So that was that.

“I—I really am sorry.” Matti set the wine and glasses down on the corner of the nearest table and pulled his purse from inside his coat. He kept his gaze on the man’s face, on a pair of eyes that were either grey or brown—impossible to tell from this angle—and urgently willed them not to look away. To a degree that seemed irrational, he wanted to banish the judgemental expression from the man’s face. “Of course I’ll cover the cost. Two hundred gold. Who did the work?”

The man glanced down at the metal scraps in his hand, as though the answer might be hidden in the pile. “Speck,” he said at last. “Frans Speck, in Amber Lane.”

“He’s a fair man. Tell him what happened and he’ll rush through the repair job,” Matti said. He held out the century notes.

The man tipped the wreckage of the watch back into the bag and closed his hand around the money, slow and wary. His fingertips had rough patches that scraped against Matti’s own, sending a tingle up Matti’s arm.

“I appreciate it,” the man said. He looked less cold now, though still nowhere near warm. “You’ve saved my life. Really.”

Matti forced himself to smile. Forced himself to say, “It’s nothing,” as though it really were nothing.

The man nodded awkwardly at Matti and tucked both money and bag into a pocket. Then he turned and was gone, headed for the door.

Matti somehow made his way to his table and sat down. His heart was pounding so loudly that he could barely hear anything else, and he wanted to shout at his own blood to be quiet and let him think. He needed to be alone in his study. He needed to contemplate his options, and make lists, and pore over the accounts for the thousandth time, in case they transmuted themselves into a picture of prosperity instead of the ugly, desperate reality that nobody outside of Matti’s immediate family knew about.

“Two hundred gold,” he said, before he could stop himself. “Two hundred.”

“We saw. Hard luck,” his cousin Roland said, making a face.

Perhaps it was stretching the term to call Roland and Wynn his friends, but they were the closest thing Matti had to members of that category, and the only people he’d been able to think of to form his wedding party. At least the three of them never found it too hard to pick up their acquaintanceship again, even if it had been months since their last conversation.

Wynn turned the bottle of wine to inspect the yellow butterfly on the label. “How appropriate that we’re drinking wine from your betrothed’s own winery.”

“Audry’s idea of a joke, I think,” Matti said. The word betrothed had landed in his ears like a piece of music played in an unfamiliar key; his mind was still turning it over, trying to decide how it felt about the melody. His hand was shaking as he poured the first glass, sending the stream of dark wine shivering and slipping. He’d steadied it by the time he poured the second.

“Huna smile,” he said, opening the toasts by lifting his own glass. “Thanks for agreeing to stand up with me, you two.”

“Drown your sorrows in this one, and by the time we hit the next bottle you’ll remember that you’re here to celebrate. And that once you’re married to Sofia Cooper,” Roland went on, lowering his voice sympathetically, “Jay House will be rolling in enough money to replace a hundred watches.”

Except that Matti had to get himself successfully married in the first place. And he’d just lost his best guarantee of doing so.

He let the old, gorgeous wine flood down his throat until a good third of his glass had vanished. He felt lightheaded; it had to be panic, because the wine couldn’t be working that fast. Panic and a sense of becoming unmoored. And the image of the man’s face, pale and sharply beautiful, gazing up from where he was kneeling at Matti’s feet.

“A fair effort,” Wynn said, when Matti put the glass down. “But I’ll show you children of Huna how it’s done.” He raised his own glass. “Agar fill your plates and cups.”

Matti smiled and drank again, accepting the toast. Maybe the wine was working after all. He could still feel his panic, the wound-up watch of his worry, but he shoved it away into a recess of his mind: its own small, dark velvet bag. It would be safe enough there. It would last until tomorrow. Matti’s ability to worry was shatterproof.

For now, he was going to drink.

[bandgie]

More Please | Armageddon Event

Request: Greed | Christopher Bahng-Chan by anon song!

warnings: MDNI18+, fem!reader, exhibitionism!, pussy play, fingering, oral mentions (f!), sex flashbacks, double date w/ Changlix, piv mentions

notes! this song better be released because wtf? he can't drop that and dip

When his hand rests on your knee, you don’t overthink it. Chan is a physical lover in every sense. He needs you next to him. Close to him. He just has to know that you’re here, real, and safe.

But when his fingers trail to your lower thigh, you raise an eyebrow.

A silent question since you two are on a double date. Changbin and Felix love telling the story of how they met. Well, Felix does. Changbin only blushes and says ‘it didn’t happen like that’ more times than once. Perhaps Chan is invested in this new version of the story because he doesn’t seem to notice how you glance at him.

Whatever, you’re thinking too much. Chan got more than enough loving before you two left for dinner. The dress, your boyfriend claims, is all to blame. The way it accentuates your hips and makes the top of your breasts pop is sublime.

Sure, it’s cute. A simple floral gown that Chan tied and untied more times than you can count while getting ready. You had to cover the fresh bruises on your neck with so much concealer you think Felix can figure out why that specific spot is so yellow.

But it doesn't matter too much. You don’t regret being a few minutes late in the slightest. Chan is hardly the type for a quickie, so sex with him is always intense. It was only half an hour ago that the hair he styled for tonight was messy from your pulling. The shade of your lipstick was smeared on your face and his own. You doubt there was enough time to clean the pecks you left on his thighs.

And when he was between your legs, you were sure the dress he claimed was so pretty would get ruined. But Chan still insisted on keeping it on, opting to eat your cunt from under the material.

I’ll be careful.

You look down at your thighs upon the memory. You could see it now if you tried, the bobbing of his head making the fabric bounce. Something was alluring about seeing him, but not quite. The fact that you could hear and feel his mouth sucking only heightened the pleasure. You didn’t know what he was going to do next and you were more than eager to find out.

“Ya! Yongbok, you’re embarrassing me!” Changbin’s voice booms in the restaurant. His volume is something you four have grown accustomed to, but with your imagination running wild, you couldn’t help but jump.

Felix smiles, all teeth and pride. “That’s what I love about you though! It’s okay that you’re allergic to wood.”

You smile with them, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. Not when all you think about is how Chan’s fingers are creeping between your legs and making your thighs tense.

And this time when you do look at him, he looks back. “You okay?” His eyes have a certain gleam in them. “You look like you’re thinking about something.”

That little shit. He is doing this on purpose.

“Nothing.” You can play his little game. “Nothing at all.”

His smirk tells you that he catches on. “Hm. I just couldn’t help but notice that you looked…deep in thought.”

Chan squeezes your thigh. Not hard in the slightest, but possessively. The same way he grips your legs when they’re over his shoulders. When he has to find leverage being on top, fingers digging into the underside of your thighs to keep you still and him upright.

“Ooo, I thought so too.” Felix's wide eyes blink innocently. “I thought you were being quiet. What’s on your mind, babe? Is Channie-hyung bothering you?”

Babe. Chan called you babe not too long ago.

His mouth was latched onto your pussy so good the slick started to run down his chin. He was eating like a starved man, greedy for more and more until you were shaking and oozing cum. Chan swallowed everything you gave him, gulping and licking his lips whenever he pulled away to catch his breath. You can still picture the messy curls from under your dress and how his eyes peeked over the material almost in a frenzy.

Fuck, babe, you taste so good.

Clearing your throat is the only way to make the memories fizzle into nothing but the arousal in your stomach. “When isn’t he bothering me? I don’t know how I’ve managed to put up with him for so long.”

Changbin laughs. Both at your words and Chan’s blushing face. Felix only agrees, stating how bothersome your lover used to be back in pre-debut days. 

“Ah, but you like it when I’m annoying, don’t you, baby?” Chan’s ears twinge with red, but his fluster doesn’t stop his fingers from prying your legs and finally finding the space he’s been aiming for. “You like it enough to stay with me, hm?”

His touches are soft on your cunt. The tips of his fingers brushing against your clit so sweetly it almost feels like a massage.

The buzz in your pussy spreads throughout your body. It’s warm and comforting, and all you can reply is, “Whatever.”

The conversation stirs to Changbin talking about a track he’s making; asking his hyung for advice on mixing and sampling. Chan answers as though he’s not playing with your folds through your underwear.

It was easy enough to listen in the beginning. All you had to do was nod and hum in agreement, but when Chan’s fingers prodded your clit and your clit only, you jolted.

No one seemed to notice. Felix was too entranced in his boyfriend to see how your jaw had slacked open and your eyes nearly crossed from Chan’s fingers.

And when he slid down, he could feel how wet you were getting through your panties. Chan could only imagine how swollen your cunt is from his lips, fingers, and cock. Neither of you thought there’d be enough juice left to get horny, but the slick on his fingers and your underwear shows how possible that is.

The pads of Chan’s fingers rub slow circles on your entrance. It leaves his digits warm and a little wet, and he uses that to trail back up to play with the peak of your clit. If you focus hard enough, you could make out the soft sounds of squishing and slicking from your pussy.

It’s barely audible, but Changbin’s booming voice easily overshadows it. 

Breathe. You have to remind yourself to breathe. Your moans force themselves into quiet puffs of air. Maybe to the couple across, it just looks like you’re catching your breath from eating, but everything feels so obvious. From the licking of your lips to the slight movement in Chan’s shoulder, you think Felix and Changbin have to know what’s happening under the table.

Then your boyfriend adjusts in his seat. You envision his fingers slipping away for a moment, but the exact opposite happens. Chan uses the movement to his advantage, making the slide into your underwear unbelievably smooth.

And gosh, his fingers are even warmer like this. You thought they’d be cold from the air, but being attached to your cunt even with the panties in the way kept them hot. The ridges of his knuckles glide perfectly over your clit and you can’t help the way your hips buck.

“Fuck! I-sorry.” They’re looking at you. Their eyes feel heavy - watchful. You look to Chan for help, but he only has a clueless look in his eyes that makes you want to strangle him. “I thought I felt something crawl on my leg.”

Changbin pales. “Don’t say that! Are you serious?”

You shake your head. “It was just my-” Chan slips a finger in, deep, thick, and welcomed. You suck in a sharp breath. “My imagination. Sorry.”

“Here. I’ll check.” Chan lifts the tablecloth. You have to pinch your lips together from gasping, pretending that Chan’s finger isn’t digging into your cunt for a waiter who decides to check in on your four to see.

He hums, fully acting as if he’s thoroughly searching.

Then a second finger finds its way inside. He even goes as far as to lean down, pretending to look under the table when you feel a string of warm saliva hit your cunt.

Breathe. In. Out. In. Out.

And his fingers are doing the same. They barely thrust to not make it obvious, but it so is. How can he possibly be hungry for more when he was just-

“Nope. I don’t see anything.” Chan’s face is red. You know his friends will write it off from being upside down, but you know the blood rushing to his face is the same reason his cock is straining uncomfortably in his jeans.

“I think my jagiya is getting tired. Should we go home soon?”

It doesn’t matter how good his fingers hit your sensitive spot. How the hard part of his palm rubs just perfectly on your clit. You won’t ever give him the satisfaction.“I don’t know. I think I’m feeling wide awake.”

The smile on his face says it all. You’re definitely getting it rough tonight.

Again.

“Yeah. You know what? I do need to finish that stupid album.” Changbin groans in annoyance. “I really wanted to have seconds too.”

Felix giggles at his lover - praising him for eating so well when you’re the one that’s stuffed to the brim. Chan nods, “Yeah, that sounds good. Plus, I think we have dessert at the house, right baby? You want a little more?”

Little shit. He hardly uses his flirty voice, but it makes you clench around him anyway.

You suppose you’ll let him indulge in you a bit longer. “Please.”

[eccentricallygothic]

Coy

Pairing: Daddy!Steve Rogers | Shy Gf!You.

Description: Steve makes his shy girl call him Daddy <3

Warning(s): Stevie is lowkey a lil mean, m!dom, f!sub, size kink, unprotected p-in-v, missionary, doggy style, dick riding towards the end, spanking, hair pulling, age gap bc it's me, slight bondage idk, choking, humiliation, dumbification, dirty talk. MDNI.

Type: Request for my lovely @chxrryhansen, here. 

MASTERLIST

❤️

“C'mon, just say it, baby” Steve wasn't sure if the annoyance in his voice was unclear or if you were just that stupid. 

“Nooo, Stevie!” You giggled even though you had been whining just a few seconds ago because of how much strength he had had to use and the endurance that had been required of you to withstand the entering of his monstrous cock in your tight little pussy. Yes, Steve had indeed fingered you before that. And yes, it still hadn't been enough to open up your tiny hole. 

Not for Steve, anyway.

“Oh—” he stopped to keep himself from saying something hurtful because you were too sensitive for your own good. “Just… fuck!” He abruptly cursed as your pussy responded to the twitching of his dick by clenching around it just when he was balls deep inside you. “Just say it for me, yeah, baby?” You were choking his dick out and his dick was in pain too. 

Only, your tightness and his girth made up a pain too nice for either of you to want to stop. 

Your face was flush and your heavy breaths were labored, the weight of his massive body pressing yours down into the mattress. “B- But it's wrong, S- Stevie…” It took him all his strength to not scoff at your words so he took his ire out on your poor little nipple that was trapped between his cruel fingertips. 

“Why?” Steve's hips nearly collided with yours when he gave you yet another heavy but speedy thrust. 

“B- Because you're not actually my Daddy, S- Steve— hnng!” Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when you felt his breach intensify, the pangs that were being caused by the vicious jabbing of his hard, thick tip against your innermost spot on the brink of reaching your cervix. 

Steve's nose flared and his blue eyes suddenly flashed you an icy look. “Yeah?” His eyebrows went flat but the violent rocking of his body against yours didn't. The room was full of the gut-wrenchingly obscene sounds of skin slapping against flesh. “Who do you think I am, then?” 

It was getting harder to form proper words the more his cock caused for the burning knot to tighten between your hips. “Y- You… You're… AH!” Your arms that were coiled around his broad shoulders tightened against his neck to withstand how his huge hand rudely was squeezing your boob. “You're… b- bofi…” Steve's strength was no joke.

“And who says bofis can't be Daddies?” The golden haired man expectantly peered down at you for an answer but you were too busy moaning and rocking yourself against his cock as much as his heavy body allowed you to do so. 

“B- But…” Your small protest told him all he needed to know.

Steve didn't have time for this nonsense. 

A loud plop! sounded in the air and you blushed a deep shade of red despite your worked up state. Before you could word your complaint about why Steve had suddenly pulled out of your weepy cunt, the older flipped you onto your chest and roughly pushed what remained of your shirt -the beast had a thing for ripping your clothes off, good thing he made up for it by buying you prettier compensations- up your arms and around your wrists until they were bound above your head. 

New slick bubbled out of your opening as you whimpered and felt your hole blink in sensitive realization of the fact that now he wanted you to lay your face down and keep your ass up. Fuck. When he took you like that, there was absolutely nothing he couldn't make you do or say. 

After that, Steve had your throat in one hand and your boobs in the other, his muscular thighs fished their way under your trembling legs to collect them out of his way. His tip that had cooled down a bit made you jump when he entered you again and though the penetration was somewhat easier this time around, you couldn't help but whine from the stretch again. 

And then, Steve went into a crazed jackhammer mode. Your throat tickled and ached from the deep groans that crawled up your vocal cavity, ones that your position was forcing you to stifle into the mattress. The temperature of his cock easily returned back to its previous warmth. 

“Say it” he demanded as he squeezed your windpipe. 

All you could let out was a humiliating, breathless and incoherent guttural ‘aaaaah~’ as your body began to slide off his due to the force of his brutal fucking. The tip of your nose hurt from how it rubbed up and down the bedding.

“Tsk, messy little kiddie brat” his hand abandoned your boob to firmly claw around one of your thighs to hold you in place to ensure a smooth pounding. “Needs Daddy for everything but acts like she doesn't” you could deny it to your heart's content and be as shy and ‘innocent’ as you pleased, but the way you moaned, messed yourself up and clenched when he said the dirtiest things was not lost on him.

Steve knew you liked it all just as much as he did. 

“Oh, my God—!” Steve squeezed your throat again because he did not like what he was hearing. Your lungs ached from the strain he was putting them under.

“Now that's a bit far, baby” before he shook in mirth and the vibration of his body shook your squishy walls, the sensation causing your eyes to roll until their undersides burnt. “But I guess that's okay too” your fucked out mind felt somewhat relieved. Maybe this would satiate him and you would not have to— “But that's not what I want to hear you call me tonight” your chest ached from the wheeze you let out when he finally let your throat go to smack your ass and you could breathe again. “Come on, now. Chop, chop” you cried out from the frustration. 

He was so mean.

“After all, Daddies take care of their kids. And I take care of you, don't I?” There was something in the way he worded it. You moaned out loud. His balls began to penetrate your stubborn opening. 

And then he crept his fingers between your legs and against your cunt. The grainy digits stroked your hardened flesh. And you knew at once, you had lost. 

It was impossible to hold back now. The taut dam of your building orgasm came undone and your toes curled as bittersweet relief exploded between your hips and down your legs.

“DADDY! OH, DADDY! OH!” You began to chant uncontrollably, feeling your knees shake as cold sweat trickled down the back of your thighs. 

“Now that's more like the dirty little slut that I've raised on this cock” when Steve really got into chasing his own orgasm, and he always did that after yours, the most obscene and sodomous things came out of his mouth. “Tell me, brat” since you were going through a mind melt, Steve smacked your ass to redirect your attention to him. “Will you ever try to deny your Daddy again?” His hand wrapped your hair around it and your body curved in a humiliating angle as he pulled you up to bounce on his cock now.

“N- No, no, Daddy, no! Never!” Your orgasm was turning into overstimulation and there was not a damn thing you could do about it.  

“Really?” You broke into a fit of cries when Steve began to pat-slap your clit. “Doesn't sound very convincing to me…”

“No! No, Daddy! I promise! I promise! I promise I won't, Daddy!” You were curved so far out that your head collapsed on one of his hard shoulders. Your chest ached from how violently your tits bounced up and down.

“That's my girl” The baritone of Steve's voice drilled into your mind as he looked down at you before capturing your lips in a hungry kiss, one tyrannical paw settling on your chest to keep you from falling down, hips springing you up and down like a mindless little toy.

❤️

Everything tag 🩷: @rosecentury

I know it sucks, I am sorry. I have a very bad creative block these days but I am trying my best to clear out all requests <3 

[starkeyisthelastname]

dealer!rafe asking his girl to marry him🥹🥹

it’s official. he’s ready to tie it down 🥹 💍

It was rare that Rafe let you do anything by yourself, but telling you he had some business to handle that day with Barry, he handed you a stack of cash and told you to spend the day pampering yourself. He told you to get your nails done, and pick out something to wear that night as he was taking you out to dinner. You had a closet full of things to wear, but weren’t going to argue when it came to shopping.

Rafe was a nervous fucking wreck all day as he watched the people he had hired to set everything up along the beach. He was going to do something that he had never wanted to do until he met you. He had spent months designing the perfect ring for you, his princess about to turn his queen. He never thought he would want to spend the rest of his life with just one person, always having been selfish. You were so different though in a way he couldn’t even explain.

Rafe stole a quick glance at his reflection in the mirror before inhaling deeply and making a slight adjustment to the gold Rolex adorning his wrist. Dressed in a perfectly fitting navy blue suit, a lavish gold chain draped across his neck, he exuded an air of confidence. After running a hand over his freshly trimmed buzzcut, he carefully placed the red box in the pocket of his dress pants, just as you emerged from the closet.

The moment his eyes locked onto you, he knew that you were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Your hair was styled flawlessly, your makeup adding a sparkle to your pretty blushed cheeks and glossy lips, and the dress you wore embraced your stunning curves in the same shade of blue as his suit, as if you had known what he was going to wear.

“Oh mama…” His voice cracked but quickly clearing his throat. “You look fucking amazing.” He said, watching as you walked towards him. You held up the diamond necklace for him to help fasten that held the initials R.C, little did you know that was going to be your last name soon.

“Where are we going for dinner?” You asked, eyes grazing over how had some he looked. You wondered what would have happened if you hadn’t shown up that night at his house, confessing to him that you could not stop thinking about him.

Rafe glanced over at you, a little startled as he glided the Range Rover down the island roads. He had been deep in thought, realizing he was about to propose to the girl he was in love with. Yes, love. Something he never thought he would be capable of getting, let alone quite literally landing in his lap one night. He swallowed back the nerves, and took a hand off the wheel to grab your fleshy thigh. “It’s a surprise baby.” He said, squeezing your smooth skin in his large palm.

You never argued with Rafe, and you did love surprises, so with that, you looked out the window at the serene view until your man spoke up again. “Can you do me a favorite my pretty girl? Close your eyes for me, yeah? We’re almost there.” He said, his voice low.

You were use to the occasional surprise by Rafe, so him asking you to close your eyes wasn’t something unusual. You trusted him with everything and sometimes that scared you since you didn’t know the depth of what Rafe did but you knew it wasn’t all good, despite him reassuring you he’s just making money. You filled lashes, fluttered close and you soon felt the car come to a stop and your door being opened.

“I’m gonna take these off, okay?” You heard his voice, eyes still closed as you felt the straps being unfastened to the Dior heels you wore. You desperately wanted to open your eyes, but squeezed them shut tighter to not peek. You wondered why he would be taking your shoes off to go eat dinner? Nonetheless, he took your hand and helped you out.

“Now don’t open those pretty eyes for me mama until I tell you to.” Rafe said, voice gentle yet firm to let you know he was being serious.You nodded your head, letting him guide you along the way until your feet touched warm sand.

Rafe had never been so nervous in his entire life and he had done a lot of bad shit. From robberies and to something even more sinister, those things didn’t faze him. This was something entirely different, and something he never thought he would be doing. Slowly letting go of your hand, he took a deep breath and carefully got down on one knee. “Open your eyes for me.” He said, voice a little shaky.

As soon as your eyes opened, you were met with a sight that made your heart stop. The beautiful red rose petals surrounded down the path you had just walked, small candles lighting up the sand as the sun started to set along the Outer Banks. Your eyes then focused on the handsome man kneeled before you, biting his lower lip as he watched you look around the beautiful set up.

“I’ve told you so many times, that I don’t know what you’ve been doing to me. Got a grown man wanting to cry and shit.” Rafe said with a nervous laugh, knowing deep down as cold as he was that he was also quite sensitive, but he always pushed his vulnerability down.

You swallowed the building lump in your throat as he continued to talk, his thumbs grazing across your hands as he held them. “Being in a serious relationship was something I never wanted. I was only about making money, and spending it on myself. Then you walked in, and I had never seen a more beautiful girl in all my fucking life. I never expected to want to tie it down, and give someone my last name. You aren’t just beautiful baby, but you see something in me that I don’t even see. I’m not a good man, and I do a lot of bad shit..” He said, swallowing the guilt down. “You choose to see the good in me. Not the messed up, fucked up side that everyone else is afraid of.”

You watched as he removed one hand from yours, reaching down into the pocket of his navy blue slacks. He pulled the crimson box out that read Cartier in gold letters and slowly opened it, to reveal a stunning rock.

“Remember that night you came back to my house, and told me you couldn’t stop thinking about me. I asked if you wanted to be mine, and I meant that. I gotta make you my fucking wife mama, can I?” He asked, eyes glassy as he waited for your answer.

You were a little naive, and went into this not knowing how thing would turn out with you and Rafe. The first thing you ever heard about him was that he was an asshole, and yes you saw that. But you also saw a man that struggled with an internal battle, a man who provided you with everything you could ever imagine, a man who treated you like the most precious jewel that ever existed. A man that you knew you wanted to spend the rest of your life with without any question.

“Y-yes..” You whispered, tears spilling as you saw the white smile break out on his face. Something he didn’t do very often. He plucked the huge diamond from the velvet that it took place in and watched as he slid it on your ring finger with ease.

He slowly stood back up, pulling you possessively toward him as gripped you tightly. “I’m so fucking in love with you my future Mrs. Cameron.” He whispered against your lips, pulling you into a heated kiss.

[captain-hawks]

IMAGINE BEING LOVED BY ME.

issei matsukawa x f!reader

Your co-star drops out the morning that you're meant to get started on your latest film. The hastily written name on the call sheet for his last-minute replacement simply reads: MATTSUN.

wc: 3.6k tags: 18+ only, pornstar!mattsun, pornstar!reader, brat!reader, brat!tamer mattsun, teasing, dom!mattsun vibes, fingering, finger sucking, masturbation, edging, unprotected p in v, creampie -> requested

“What happened to Iwaizumi?”

Glancing up from the latest copy of today’s script that was just handed to you, you point to where your co-star’s name is crossed out in black sharpie. Beside it, someone has hurriedly written ‘MATTSUN’. 

While the name vaguely rings a bell, you can’t quite put a face to it. You certainly haven’t shot anything with him before. 

The director, Oikawa, sighs. “Iwa-chan had some bad sushi last night, he’s been puking all morning.”

You can’t help the slight pout that works its way onto your lips. While it’s perhaps not wholly professional to have preferred co-stars in your line of work, Iwaizumi’s one of your favorite scene partners by far. 

As if reading your mind, Oikawa adds, “I know you love working that poor man into the palm of your hand.”

So you have a bit of a penchant for letting your bratty side come out in your roles. And with someone like Iwaizumi, whose brusque off-screen attitude collapses like a deck of cards the moment you offer him doe eyes and pouty lips for the cameras, it makes for a dynamic that you’ve become known for in your films. 

Which is why you nearly stumble when he adds, “But I’ll warn you that Mattsun is…a bit different.”

You raise a brow. “How so?”

Appearing from seemingly out of nowhere, his assistant, Hanamaki, peers from around his shoulder with several clipboards clutched in his hands, along with a tray of coffees. Eyes sparkling with something that borders on mischief, he grins, “Mattsun? Ahh…you’ll see.”

–

“Hey.”

A deep voice startles you from your thoughts, and you nearly drop your phone in the process. Unfortunately, you do actually lose your grip on the device when you suddenly find yourself face-to-face with what might be the most attractive man you’ve ever seen.

(And you’ve worked with Kuroo fucking Tetsurou, so that’s saying something.)

He’s tall, very tall, with black hair that has just enough product in it to style his waves while still looking inexplicably soft. His eyes are a deep, rich shade of brown, the playful amusement in them mirroring the slight upward curve of his lips. And while you’re not normally one to outright ogle when you’re working, as he bends down to pick up your phone, you can’t help but let your eyes briefly stray over the tattoos on his chest, the ink exposed by the several rogue buttons left forgotten at the top end of his black shirt. As he hands it to you, you inadvertently catch a glance at several more winding lines that make their way from beneath the rolled-up sleeves of his button down, crawling up his forearms. 

It’s not often that you find yourself speechless, and yet—

“Thank…you?” 

You haven’t the slightest fucking clue why you phrased it as a question.

He chuckles, and you pointedly try to ignore the way the low, rough sound goes right to your gut. Casually leaning against the brick wall beside you, he pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his well-fitting black slacks. 

“Do you mind if I smoke?” he asks.

You blink at him. “We’re outside, I think you can do whatever you want.”

He grins, offering you a lopsided smile that makes your breath catch in your throat for some reason. “I’m asking because we start filming in fifteen.”

Oh.

“Mattsun?” you inquire, trying to hide your surprise.

“Matsukawa Issei.” He sticks out a hand to shake yours. “I’ve seen some of your movies. I’m looking forward to working with you.”

There’s something about the way he says it, something in his tone that nestles its way down the back of your throat, brushing against the base of your spine before unfurling deep in your abdomen. 

It’s eighty degrees outside.

And you shiver.

Though you don’t entirely understand why.

–

“Alright, from the top, people! The viewing is in full swing, and the granddaughter of the deceased has just cornered the funeral director in a coat closet,” Hanamaki calls out. 

You’ve always found it easy to cry on-camera.

“It’s so hard being out there,” you hiccup, palms pressing into Matsukawa’s black button down. 

He pats you on the shoulder, a bit awkwardly, as the funeral director who was just unceremoniously dragged into a closet is meant to do. 

“It’s overwhelming seeing my family…” You rest your head against his chest, arms snaking around his stiff frame. “And my boyfriend was supposed to come with me…but then I found out he was cheating on me yesterday…”

Another fake sob.

“Maybe I should get someone for you…” Matsukawa says, carefully trying to pry you off of him.

Tears roll down your cheeks, and you let your eyes go a little big, lips falling into a pout that would have someone like Iwaizumi dry humping you in seconds as you whine, “I’m just so lonely.”

You’ve been doing this long enough to know exactly how your desperate, pleading face looks right now on-camera, lit with soft spotlight-like light overhead. 

You lean your lower half into him, hips brushing together.

Now, he should offer you a sharp intake of breath in return, a man torn between his duty and the traitorous arousal coursing through him. He should take a step back as you press into him further, eyes going a little wide as you run a hand over the gratuitously low neckline of your dress—

Despite the fact that Oikawa had taken you aside to warn you that Mattsun has a tendency to improvise, your reaction is still wholly authentic when he flips the script on you entirely.

Between one breath and the next, you find your back pressed against the wall behind you, Matsukawa’s palm laid flat beside your head as he leans in, lips curled into a smirk.

“So you thought you’d pull me in here,” he murmurs, one long, slender finger hooking itself in the strap of your dress. “And what? Suck my dick?”

You’d reassured Oikawa several times before you were ushered out of the makeup chair that you were fine with improvisation. In fact, given how bland the scripts had been for some of your more recent films, you welcomed the challenge.

But when you go to respond to Matsukawa, you find that all you can do is wordlessly part your lips.

“I—”

He tilts his head to the side, a rogue curl falling across his eyebrow, his eyes searching yours for a moment until he seems to have found whatever it is that he’s looking for.

“Or maybe you’re just bored. Maybe you thought you’d come in here and show me your pretty tits. Then you’d sit back down out there in one of those chairs and giggle to yourself knowing I’m too fucking hard to come back out.”

Well, yes. That’s what the script calls for. 

He cups your chin. “But I have a better idea.”

Despite the fact that you’ve never worked with him, it’s clearly a testament to Oikawa’s trust in Mattsun, because he’s yet to call cut. The cameras continue to roll. 

“If that’s okay with you,” he adds in a quiet murmur, and you instinctively know that he’s asking you, not your character. 

Well, fuck it. Fine.

“Okay,” you nod, adding in another sniffle for good measure.

“Good girl,” he rasps, and fuck if you aren’t half tempted to go off-script yourself, drop to your knees, and add a blowjob scene for good measure.

Before you can say anything else, your body spins, and Matsukawa presses both of your hands against the wall that you’re now facing, his chest flush with your back. He brings his hips to your ass, and you have to bite your bottom lip as your eyes go wide at the feeling of just how large his cock is. 

You squeeze your thighs together, feeling a little dizzy at the thought of him fucking you with—

Why are you thinking about that right now? How the fuck is he affecting you this much?

“Normally,” he exhales, breath hot against the shell of your ear, “I send brats home when they’re being disruptive to the service.”

He drags his mouth down the side of your neck and continues against the soft curve where your shoulder begins, “But you’ve caught my attention.”

In what may very well be the most amateur reaction you’ve had to a co-star in years, you find your heart thudding in your chest over what certainly was not meant to be a double entendre. 

“S-someone’s going to notice I’ve been gone for too long,” you whimper, finally regaining your footing with an improvised line of your own.

Matsukawa chuckles, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the nape of your neck as he rucks up the skirt of your dress and runs two curled knuckles over your clothed cunt. 

“Maybe you should have behaved in the first place, then.”

For a scene like this, shot in a tight space with dim lighting, Matsukawa could get away with just slipping a large hand into your panties while you put on a show and act like he’s fingering you. It’s not like the cameras are set up for a close up of his long digits sliding their way into your cunt.

But Matsukawa must be one of those actors who likes to draw out authentic reactions, because his chest rumbles softly in amusement at the surprised, real moan that tumbles from your lips when he slides his fingers through your slick folds. Warm embarrassment prickles down your spine when you realize how soaked your panties are.

Matsukawa, of course, notices as well. 

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen a girl get this wet while she’s crying,” he observes, voice even.

You push out a few more tears, putting back on the wobbly voice of a grieving granddaughter. “You’ve just been so nice to me today.”

Matsukawa’s lips graze your ear again, and he slips two fingers into your sopping wet pussy as he whispers, “I’m not nice, sweetheart.”

The sound that heaves from your chest as he nips at your earlobe and plunges in knuckle-deep is so embarrassingly desperate, you know that your soul is going to leave your body when you inevitably have to watch the playback of this scene at some point. But for now, all you can do is curl your fingers against the peeling wallpaper inside of the closet as you beg your legs not to give out beneath you while you rock into his touch.

You don’t even realize how loud you’ve started moaning until Matsukawa claps a hand over your mouth.

“It’s like you want to get caught,” he chastises.

And then suddenly, without warning, the pleasure that’s rapidly building up inside of you is snuffed out like a match as he takes his hand away. 

“What—” you turn to him, dazed, not quite acting anymore. 

His eyes glimmer as he lifts the two fingers coated in your sticky arousal and places them in his mouth, licking them clean. 

Did he just fucking edge—

“Maybe now you’ll behave.”

He goes to leave the closet before you, but not before casting a look back in your direction. The cameras aren’t on his face from this angle, so the smirk that he gives is for you and you alone. 

–

You’re a professional.

You’ve shot plenty of scenes in plenty of films that have been purposefully sexually frustrating.

You’ve even gone entire productions without actually coming.

But this?

This is fucking torture.

There are several filler scenes that follow the fuckery in the closet, ones with the rest of the grieving family where the most you’re meant to do is have a few subtle, flirtatious interactions with the funeral director.

Which would be fine, truly, in any other situation.

But you’re so pent up right now, you’re on the verge of really lighting up Oikawa’s whole script and just adding a masturbation scene right here on this stupid piano bench. He’s written more ridiculous scenes himself, for fuck’s sake. 

And the problem is that Matsukawa seems very much aware of exactly what he’s doing to you, his stupidly handsome expression turning almost teasing every time you lock eyes with him. 

“Not used to not getting your way, princess?” a deep, rough voice startles you, and the piano keys let out a grating sound as your hand twitches. 

You look up to find Matsukawa looming over you, and—did he fucking unbutton his shirt even more?

He catches you staring at the tattoo on his chest, and he grins, curling a finger under your chin and tilting your head to meet his eyes instead. “I’ll let you look if you behave.”

Your toes curl painfully tight.

–

The feeling of relief that courses through you when you walk onto the set for the final scene is all encompassing. If nothing else, regardless of what happens, you’re now this much closer to going home and stuffing a vibrator between your legs. 

You’re splayed out on the large leather couch in the funeral director’s office when Matsukawa walks in. His eyes widen (as they’re scripted to) when he sees your cunt on full display, two fingers already stuffed inside. 

It feels so good, you want to sob.

Now as per Oikawa’s story, he’s supposed to start palming himself through his pants as he watches you. Then you’ll climb into his lap and tell him how badly you’ve been waiting all day for him to fuck you. He’ll try to tell you it’s not a good idea, but then he’ll eventually give in when you start whining and grinding on his erection.

Matsukawa’s clearly not done improvising today, though, because instead, he walks up beside you and says, “Stop.”

Though you’re not quite sure where he’s going with this, you roll with it, and the pout that leaves your face isn’t difficult to make—given that you’re actually frustrated that he interrupted your pleasure once again.

He huffs in amusement, running his tongue along his lower lip before he leans down and murmurs in a low tone, “That’s not going to work on me, pretty girl.”

When he straightens back up, he speaks more clearly as he adds, “Since you decided to be such a nuisance today, you’ll come when I say you can.”

“You can’t stop me,” you retort instantly.

He bites his lip, smiling. “Then I won’t fuck you.”

Your empty cunt spasms around nothing.

Rather than having you climb into his lap, Matsukawa ends up on top of you, fingers deftly tugging down the straps of your dress to let your tits spill out. His mouth is searing hot when he begins to mouth at them, teeth grazing your nipples, tongue lapping at your supple, sensitive skin.

You know somewhere off-camera, Oikawa is gleefully eating up the absolutely unhinged moans that are tumbling from your lips.

Then, Matsukawa makes his way down your body, wasting no time in rucking up your dress past your hips as he slides down your panties—he holds your gaze all the while, pressing a kiss to your ankle when he finally slips them off. The black lace disappears in the pocket of his slacks.

With a camera now repositioned for a close-up shot, you know that he’s going to go all-out with his mouth between your legs. But you’re still not prepared for the full-body shiver that runs through you, the way your spine arches up off of the cushion when he begins to lap at your cunt with fervor. You unconsciously bury your fingers in your hair as he stuffs his tongue into your aching, wet hole, tears of pleasure streaming down your face as you desperately rock your hips into his plush, saliva-soaked touch.

And then he stops.

You cry out in protest, in frustration.

“Not yet,” he tells you, kissing your inner thigh, your hip bone, your belly button, before he eventually reaches your neck.

His position finds one of his legs slotted between your own, and though it’s  purely for selfish reasons rather than aesthetic ones, you start dry humping his thigh. A fresh wave of pleasure rocks through you, heightened by the thought of the sticky, damp mess you’re leaving behind on his pants.

He clamps his fingers down on your right hip, holding you still.

“Cute,” he mutters in your ear, so only you can hear him. “Does that move normally work on Iwaizumi?”

With his other hand he cups one of your breasts, dragging the pad of his thumb over your peaked nipple. 

“I guess that shouldn’t surprise me,” he continues. “He does tend to roll right over for brats, considering he’s fucking Oikawa.”

You choke. 

He readjusts, placing his knees on the outside of your legs, hand releasing your hip to stroke your throbbing, swollen clit at a maddeningly slow pace. Abandoning your breast, he cups the side of your face, thumb tugging down your bottom lip.

“I think I’m letting you off too easy right now,” he says quietly. “But this scene is supposed to cut in ten minutes, so we’d better give them a podium finish.”

You’ve been doing this for years.

You’ve had a lot of sex.

But the moment that Matsukawa’s fat cock bottoms out inside of your tight, dripping cunt, as he lifts up your left thigh to wrap it around his waist to fuck you even deeper, as he pins your wrists above your head and finally brings his lips crashing down onto yours—

—it’s never been like this. 

Matsukawa kisses you hard, and he fucks you even harder, the couch creaking in protest with each rough snap of his hips. The room is filled with the sounds of slapping flesh and the lewd, filthy squelch of your cunt. Arousal drips from your folds, coating the leather surface of the cushions and sliding down your ass. You moan, voice breaking into a sob as your cunt grips his thick cock while he relentlessly stuffs it back inside of you. 

At one point, he releases your hands, fingers cupping the back of your head as he licks his way into your mouth. You card your fingers through his hair, the locks just as soft as you’d imagined, and you tug. Matsukawa groans, and it dissolves into a chuckle as you pull even harder. His lust-blown pupils find yours as he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and bites down.

You whine, and he grins, kissing the pain away as he continues to pump his cock into your tight, sopping wet channel. 

And because your hands are now free, you take advantage of the opportunity to take off his shirt. In your eagerness, you end up popping off half of the remaining buttons, and he laughs under his breath, helping you the rest of the way before tossing it to the floor. 

You’re certain that he feels the way your cunt clenches as you drink in the full sight of the colorful tattoos that adorn his chest and arms. 

“Mattsun,” you accidentally breathe out.

Whatever, they can fucking edit that out with an ADR moan. 

His eyes flash, and he brushes his lips against yours and murmurs, “Issei.”

You blink at him, chest heaving, and before you can think better of it, you thread your fingers into the hair at the back of his head and pull his ear to your mouth.

“Issei.”

Matsukawa groans. He slams his cock so deep inside of you, stars prickle at the backs of your eyes. The coil of pleasure deep in your gut twists and trembles, your muscles tensing further with each and every stroke. 

“Come for me,” Matsukawa says, staring down at your fucked out, cock drunk face. 

He doesn’t look any better.

A stubborn part of you almost wants to come up with some pointless retort, just for the sake of being a—

“Quit being a brat and come all over my cock.”

Pleasure explodes inside of you, white-hot and searing through your veins from head to toe. Your cunt spasms, your body shakes, and Matsukawa’s mouth crashes back into yours as he kisses you hard and swallows down your breathless moans. 

When you come down from your climax, Matsukawa’s cock is still heavy and thick, lodged in the grip of your slick hole. And because you just can’t help yourself, you turn your head to the side, where one of his hands sits flat against the cushion. You take his pointer and middle fingers into your mouth, tongue swirling around the digits as you make eye contact with him while you suck on them. 

Matsukawa’s lips part.

You abandon his hand after a moment, arching up to bring your lips to his ear once more to whisper only to him, “Aren’t you going to fill me up, Issei?”

It’s fruitless to try and hide the second, toe-curling orgasm that Matsukawa drags out of you solely from the feeling of his fat cock pulsing against your slick walls, filling your cunt to the brim with thick, hot ropes of cum that seem to never end. 

It’s quiet on the set for a few moments after the two of you come apart, cum dripping all over the couch as it slides off of Matsukawa’s cock and drips out of your pussy in thick, sticky globs. 

Hanamaki offers both of you robes, and Oikawa hurries over, eyes shining with excitement as he says, “Please tell me you’ll work together again, I have the perfect script coming up.”

Matsukawa cocks his head to the side as he looks at you with a half-smile, waiting. 

It’s up to you.

You turn to Oikawa and nod.

[mxnhoo]

falling (n. rk)

synopsis : tonight, it was only you and ni-ki. genre : romance, fluff, ni-ki is so sweet it's insane brah pairing : ni-ki x reader (ft ive) w/c : 3.6k a/n : heeyyy guys. haven't written in a while so i wanted to take the time to make something so my account doesn't completely die yet LOL. been getting into chase atlantic and falling has been on replay, so i just had to write something inspired by it. not proofread cos i rushed this since i still need to do schoolwork, but hope ya'll enjoy this~ + the coloured text keeps glitching so pls ignore it LOL

now playing : falling - chase atlantic paradise - chase atlantic

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"All done!" a voice informed you, the sensations you felt on your face disappearing as you opened your eyes to see your friends, smiling at you. The one directly in front of you was holding a make-up brush, on the table beside her were multiple make-up products, a few from Clio, Flower Knows, Dasique and other brands. You looked around the room to see your friends looking astonished staring at you, loud squeals filling up the room after a few seconds.

"Babes—" your friend, Wonyoung, who was doing your make-up, put down the make-up brush she was holding, taking your hand with both of hers and flashing you such a gleeful countenance. You were worried about what she was gunna say, did you look bad? "You look drop-dead gorgeous."

Upon hearing her compliment, warmth filled your heart and a shy smile filled your face, making you look away as you felt flattered. A different voice behind Wonyoung added on, "You literally look so fucking hot". You shot your head up and realised it was Yujin talking, her raising her eyebrows and smirking at you.

"Oh stop," you giggled, curling your wrist at her and playfully rolling your eyes. Yujin spoke again, "You're literally gunna be prom queen".

Liz, who was sitting beside Yujin, added on, "Ni-ki's gunna love this, he's so lucky". Upon Ni-ki's name falling onto your ears, you slightly jumped, heart skipping a beat as you realise that he was going to see you like this. He was going to see you all dressed up and pretty, and you were nervous as to what he was going to think.

"No way.." you brushed Liz away, taking the pocket mirror that was resting on the table along with the rest of the make-up to see how you looked like, because no way you looked that good, right? But oh. My. God.

You were gorgeous. Your lips were a pretty shade that matched you perfectly, your base looked absolutely flawless, eyelashes looking so long and lustrious, contour making your features seem sharper, your eyeliner was on fleak, and a hint of blush on your cheeks adding cuteness to your whole look. You felt so confident for the first time in your life. "Holy crap, how did you do this.." you quickly turned to Wonyoung, features of confusion and shock filling your face as you stared into Wonyoung who was now proudly smiling.

Wonyoung shrugged and gave a smug look, "I have my ways, you're welcome babes". She caressed your hand and looked at you with such loving eyes. You couldn't explain how thrilled you were, to be able to show Ni-ki your prom dress, your make-up look, and your hair that was nicely curled up and styled by Rei before the make-up.

"Are you guys sure he'll like it?" you nervously questioned, unsure as to whether Ni-ki will love this sight of you.

Your friends groaned and even rolled their eyes, retorting back in unision, "He'll love it!". You jumped at how united they were to nag at you, and if you said you weren't happy, you'd be lying. You giggled and covered your mouth, feeling so appreciated.

You were packing your belongings into your handbag that nicely complemented your sparkly black dress, and as you were about to pack your phone inside, you received a notification causing your phone to buzz and turn on. You swiftly checked your phone for the alert, and felt as your heart melt when you received a text from the one person you wanted it to be from.

ni-ki my love ₊˚ෆ : bet you look so pretty rn ni-ki my love ₊˚ෆ : i can't wait to see you gorgeous :)

Your heart rate picked up the pace as you shyly smiled at your phone screen, increasingly getting excited to see him. You knew he was going to be dressed up in the suit that you loved so much. You couldn't wait to be able to see how handsome he looked in person, and at the same time you hope that he would feel the same way.

y/n! : me too y/n! : i love you :)

You giggled to yourself before you heard a voice from outside the room, "Y/N, time to go!". Your eyes shot up to the door before you responded, "Okay, I'm coming!". You shoved your phone into your handbag and zipped it up, putting on your heels before walking out of the room to be met by your friends. "Let's go!" you cheered out.

You were nervously walking inside the ballroom after you and your group of friends had checked in at the reception centre. You looked around at your surroundings to realise that everything looked so luxurious, you probably haved walked past 6 chandelier's by now, the roof being higher than you expected, the white cloth that covered the chairs and tables being a high-quality polyester, and you realise that there were a hoard of people that filled the room at every corner. You kept looking for one person, walking at all directions. By now you've already walked away from your friends, alone as you desperately tried to find Ni-ki.

Scanning the crowd, you finally spotted him. Holy fuck, he was so handsome. He was in the black suit that he usually wore for special occassions, but it will always catch you off guard. The suit easily portrayed his well-built figure, his shoulders looking broad. His hair was nicely slicked back with gel with a few strands resting on his forehead. He was breathtaking.

Without even realising, your legs started moving towards him, bumping into multiple people but your eyes remaining locked onto him.

"Ni-ki." you called once you were near him. "Yes-?" he turned around to the direction of your voice before he stared at you, his jaw dropped. He looked at you up and down, his eyes meeting yours and looking completely astonished.

"Fuck Y/N.." was all he could say after he saw you. He let out an amused scoff before continuing, "You look so fucking gorgeous, baby.". A blush crept up your cheeks, and he held his hand up that was holding a bouquet, "Some flowers for the prettiest girl here". You took the bouquet into your hands, leaning forward to peck a kiss on his cheek before you muttered out, "Thanks, love". He continued to stare at you, realising he was such in a lovedaze. He quickly wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer and pressing you against his body before placing his lips on yours. It caught you off-guard, but you slowly closed your eyes as you melted into the kiss, your free-hand resting on his chest.

His movement was slow, steadily tilting his head to be able to gain more access. The rush of adrenaline that pumped through your veins made you feel so alive, your heart now rapidly beating. You couldn't care about the loud conversions around you, or the loud music. At this point of time, it was just you and Ni-ki. His hands travelled up to your face, cupping your head as he brought your face closer. You felt so lost in his lips, cherishing the intimacy between you and him. As you slowly started to feel breathless, you lightly pushed his chest and pulled away, panting as you both looked into each other's eyes with such an intense gaze while resting your forehead on his.

"I feel like the luckiest man on earth, you're literally perfect." He complimented, and you felt the same way. You felt like you won the lottery knowing that THE Ni-ki was your boyfriend. You chuckled as you closed your eyes, your free arm slowly making it's way up to wrap his neck. Before you knew it, loud voices started cheering, making you open your eyes and lean back to see what the commotion was about. There were 2 figures now on stage, Gaeul and Leeseo, that was all the way at the front of the ballroom, holding mic's as they loudly cheered, "Let's get prom started!".

Loud cheers filled the room, and you chuckled, looking back at Ni-ki to see that he was still checking you out, looking at you with such loving eyes. "Stop looking at me like that.." you teased, chuckling at him.

He shot back, "How could I not when you look like this?". You playfully smacked his chest, before taking his wrist into your hand.

"Let's go to our table, the rest should be waiting for us." you said. He looked reluctant, but he didn't want to turn you down, so he nodded and you happily led him to the tables.

You walked around the ballroom, checking the stand numbers on the table, looking out for the number that you and your friends have booked together. You finally spotted the table, and you called out, "There's our table!".

However, before you could pull him towards the table, he pulled you back and you turned around to face him, confused on why he wasn't following you. When you both made eye contact, he softly asked, "Can we get out of here?".

Your eyes widen as you tilt your head at him, confused as to why he would want to skip prom when he had been looking forward to it for the longest time. You questioned him, "Why..?".

He gave you a warm smile, before leaning in, his warm breath now hitting your ears, "I wanna have you to myself for the whole night". Your heart skipped a beat as you rapidly blink your eyes, trying to remain your composure. You slowly tilted back to look at the table where all of your friends were, then slowly back at Ni-ki. Your hand that was on his wrist slowly went down to his hands, interlocking it before you gave him a smile of approval, nodding and quickly answering, "Of course, honey".

He mischeviously chuckled before he ran towards the exit, pulling you with him and you laugh too, enjoying the moment you were having with him. You passed by many people, who had glanced at the both of you, confused to why you both were leaving prom when it barely started, but you both couldn't care less. You both laughed as loud as possible, dashing past all the luxurious furniture and the chandelier's that were above the both of you. He pushed the tall doors open before leading you to the outside of the building, the sky being a pitch black and the chill air immediately making you shiver. He instantly noticed and quickly let go of your hand to remove his blazer, wrapping it around you.

"T-thank you," you nervously spoke out, giving him a soft smile.

"Anytime baby." he grinned. He took your hand again, interlocking it before walking, swinging your interlocked hands up and down. You enjoyed being with him, but realising that you were leaving prom, you had no idea what you two were going to do now.

"Ni-ki, where are we going now?" you questioned.

He playfully looked back and smirked, "I don't know, let's just see where our feet takes us."

Tonight, the world only consisted of you and Ni-ki.

Next thing you knew, you were at a bowling alley with Ni-ki. The bowling shoe that the alley provided felt so much better on your feet, and you both constantly kept laughing at each other. Considering that it was night time, there was now a lot of people, but once again, you both couldn't care less. You cheered at all the strike's that Ni-ki managed to get, and he teased you everytime you got a gutter.

When you were getting annoyed at the fact you were having a gutter streak, he stood up, walking behind you as he held your arm and waist, guiding you through the momentum. The way that your bodies were so closed made you feel so flustered, and after he taught you, you quickly picked up a ball and threw it the same way he taught you, scoring your first strike. As soon as all the pins fell down, you looked back at Ni-ki who was sitting down behind you, smiling and cheering. He cheered as loudly as you, congratulating you and running towards you to give you a hug.

Now, you two were at a Billiards to play pool. You watched as the few strands of hair fell over his eyes as he leaned down to find the correct angle to hit the white ball. You looked at him with such loving eyes, and once he hit the white ball in, one solid ball went in, and he immediately looked up at you and smirked.

"We already know who's going to win" he teased, and you playfully rolled your eyes, gripping the pool stick you were holding onto tighter.

"Sure.. sure.." you replied sarcastically.

Spoiler alert : You won because you were too good, and Ni-ki helped you out. Mainly the latter.

You two were walking on an empty street, the streetlights only being the source of light when your feet started to hurt from your heels. You tried to hide it but the way you were limping practically gave it away. Ni-ki halted to a stop, making you stop as well. "Stop here," he ordered. Your eyebrows raised at him, worried that he realised that you were hurting, "W-why?".

"You're limping. Your heels hurt, don't they?" he asked. You tried to deny, "It's okay! It doesn't hurt that much—" "Sit down there, now." he said, pointing to the bench that was an arm's length away.

You sigh as he guided you to the chair, resting yourself on it. You placed the bouquet he had gifted you earlier and was about to remove the heels by yourself, when he stopped you.

"Stop, I'll do it." he said, kneeling down in front of you to remove your heels. He was gentle with your feet, knowing that it was probably sore from walking around with heels for the entire night. You watched as he treated you with such gentleness, and your hand made it's way to his head, caressing his hair and patting him. He didn't say anything, but you noticed a curl at the corners at his mouth, making you grin.

After he had removed your heels, he stood up and started to remove his own shoes when he got stopped by you, "Wait what? What shoes are you going to wear then?!". You were concerned for him, not wanting him to walk around barefoot.

He chuckled, successfully removing his shoes and responding, "It's okay, I have socks on anyways". You tried to fight against the idea of him walking around with only socks but he kneeled down and gently inserted your feet into his shoes, which were significantly more comfortable than your heels.

You felt guilty that you were being a burden on him, but he stood back up, now face-to-face with you before he spoke out, "The prettiest girl in the world deserves to be comfortable at all time, okay? Now let's go." He held out his hand, the other hand holding your heels and you took his hand, using your other hand to pick up the bouquet.

Next thing you know, you both were at a karaoke studio. Considering it was now super late, there were many rooms that were available so you both could easily book a room. You both enterred the room, noticing the mini disco lights lighting up the dim room. You sat yourself on the couch as you watched Ni-ki close the door behind him and sit himself beside you.

"Any song in mind?" you asked him. "I have one." he responded, before he gently placed down your heels on the area beside him and picking up the machine that allowed him to pick songs and control the song queue. You patiently waited and hummed, thinking about what songs you two could sing when a song started playing, breaking your train of thoughts. You looked at the screen, and the song title was nicely displayed on the screen.

Falling - Chase Atlantic

He picked up the microphone that was nicely set on the table and stood up, walking over to the opposite side of you and started singing,

"Pour another bottle to the floor, love.

he raised his eyebrows at you and gave you a soft smile.

Pushin' for it, oh you know I want some.'Cause everything you do is screaming says it's 'more drugs'.It's kinda sad, but it's awesome."

He shook his body on beat, preparing to sing the pre-chorus.

"Oh, we've lost it. Screeching off with no name, she said 'watch this'. With her hands in the rain, call it conflict, as you should. And you ain't gunna stop this, stop this.

He quickly cleared his throat, preparing for the upcoming chorus. He wanted to sing it to you. This song was only for you, dedicated to you.

And you keep on falling baby, figure it out. Drive slow, straightforward or I'm walking around. And your dad keeps caling, tell him, 'Cut that shit out'. Just keep steering, keep steering, now."

You gazed at him affectionately, you felt like you could explode right now from the way your entire face was red and your heart was beating so fast. You stood up and ran up to him, bringing him to an embrace and connecting your lips with his.

You checked your phone, and it was almost 1a.m. You had multiple missed calls and messages asking where you were from your friends, but you were too carried away to worry about them. Right now, you were at a photobooth with Ni-ki that was conveniently placed beside a convenience store. You sat beside him, not knowing what poses to do. He inserted the cash into the machine, and the screen instantly displayed a countdown, indicating it was time to take photos. You quickly panicked and looked at Ni-ki not knowing what to do. He chuckled before he wrapped his arm around your neck and pulled you closer.

First photo, he was wrapping his arm around you and kissing your cheek. You had a shocked expression on your face.

Second photo, you both were folding your arms, back-to-back as you both had cool and mischevious expressions on your face.

Third photo, you two were holding up finger guns to the camera and biting your lips.

The last photo.. You two were kissing, his hands cupping your face and your arms wrapping around his neck.

After the photobooth, there was suddenly awkwardness between the both of you. You always kissed him, but something about that kiss in the photobooth made your heart race more. You cleared your throat, trying to break the silence. You looked at him and realised he was staring at you, and you chuckle, "You're literally going to stare a hole into me".

He grinned, before taking your hand into his. "It's getting late, I'll bring you back to the dorms, yeah?". You nodded at him, and he pulled out his phone to call a taxi driver.

When you were in the taxi, you rested your head on his shoulder, his thumb caressing your hand and his other hand gently squishing your thigh. You felt sleepy, and he softly sang a lullaby, his deep voice making you feel more at ease. You closed your eyes, and allowed yourself to sleep.

Once you woke up, you quickly looked around to see if you were still in the taxi, but no. You were already nicely laid down on your bed, and the first thing you wanted to find was Ni-ki. As soon as you were about to get up, your bedroom door opened and it was Ni-ki. He was shirtless, and his pants already changed into the clothing he had left the last time he came over. He noticed your awake figure, and chuckled, slowly making his way to you.

"You're awake?"

You mentally cursed at yourself. You initially planned to sleep only until the taxi has reached your destination, and not burden Ni-ki to carry you all the way home, "I'm so sorry..". You ruffled your hair and groaned, feeling guilty.

"For what?" he sat beside you on the mattress, looking at you.

"I didn't mean to be a burden, I mean, wasn't it hard to bring me hom—" "Not at all. Don't worry about it, okay?" he tucked a hair behind your eyes and smiled.

You nervously spoke up, "And won't your mom kill you if you stay the night?". He raised his eyebrows, "She knows it's you, it's okay baby, don't worry about it."

You furrowed your eyebrows, "Are you sure? I don't want to give you anymore trouble..".

He embraced you and brought you down the bed, hugging you tightly. "Why would you be giving me any trouble?", he asked.

You hesitated, thinking of an answer but he continued, "I don't find you a burden at all, baby."

You remained quiet, ruffling your head into his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"You're the best thing that has happened to me, okay? So don't ever call yourself a burden." he reassured, playing with your hair and patting your back.

You felt so lucky that this boy was your boyfriend. This boy was like the lottery, and you can't believe that you won him, you couldn't believe he felt the same as you.

"Ni-ki." "Yes, love?" "You know I love you so much, right?" you looked up at him, and he looked back down at you, a smile evident on his face. "I love you so much too." he responded, leaning closer to place his lips on yours.

[littlelamy]

Could you perhaps to Stylist magainze reader x Drew. She is a stylist on a set for LOEWE and in charge for his wardrobe. They have not met before. She is on the shy, sweet, introverted side. He finds her attractive and finds little moments to touch her (not in a creepy way, more so like you are when you have a crush on someone, you touch their arm when you laugh as an example) Gives her some longing heart eyes from time to time but Reader thinks she is just delusional

hope you enjoy!! ⭐️ the sun dips low over the loewe set, casting a warm glow over the meticulously arranged garments and accessories. the air buzzes with the chatter of the crew, but you feel distant, lost in the fabrics, the textures, and the vision you have in mind for the shoot. as the stylist, you’ve always preferred the company of clothes over people, but today is different. today, you will work with drew.

you’ve heard stories about him—his charm, his wit, and, notably, his colorful language. still, nothing could prepare you for the sight of him. when he arrives, casual and effortlessly cool, it feels like a scene from a movie. his presence radiates confidence, and as he saunters onto the set, your heart skips a beat. you quickly look down, focusing intently on the dress you’re adjusting, your cheeks burning.

“hey there,” drew’s voice cuts through the background noise, warm and inviting. the way he leans casually against a rack of clothes makes your breath hitch. you glance up, and your eyes meet his. his smile is charming, with a hint of mischief, and it makes your stomach flutter.

“hi,” you manage, your voice barely above a whisper. you feel shy, as if the spotlight has suddenly shifted onto you, and the world is watching. but you can’t deny the spark of excitement that courses through your veins. you’re here to do a job, and you will give it your all, even if your heart races in his presence.

as you both begin working together, the initial awkwardness fades into a comfortable rhythm. you pick out outfits, explaining your vision, while drew listens intently, nodding along. the way he engages with you makes you feel seen, his dark eyes sparkling with interest. you try to focus on the clothes, but every so often, you catch him looking at you with a soft, lingering gaze that makes your cheeks flush.

“okay, so what do you think about this one?” you ask, holding up a flowing, oversized shirt in a vibrant shade of blue. it contrasts beautifully with his rugged looks, and you hope he’ll agree.

“i think it’ll look sick on me,” he says, a playful grin stretching across his face. “but only if you promise to style it right.”

you can’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling up unexpectedly. “i promise,” you reply, your smile brightening.

as you work, drew finds little ways to bridge the distance between you. he leans in closer when you adjust a collar, his arm brushing against yours, sending sparks shooting up your arm. each touch feels electric and innocent, like a silent conversation charged with a mixture of humor and something more profound.

during a break, the crew gathers around a table laden with snacks. drew pulls you into the group, and you find yourself laughing at his jokes. he has a way of punctuating his stories with colorful language, each curse word drawing laughs and gasps from the team. “and then i said, ‘you’ve got to be fucking kidding me!’” he exclaims, eyes wide with mock disbelief.

you find yourself giggling, completely taken by his animated storytelling. it’s easy to get swept up in his energy, and for a moment, your shyness fades away. as you laugh, drew casually reaches out to tap your arm, the warmth of his touch lingering longer than you expected. you look at him, heart pounding, but he’s already looking at someone else, throwing out another joke to the group.

with every shared moment, you can’t shake the feeling that there’s something between you—an unspoken connection that pulses in the air. but you brush it off as your imagination, convinced that you’re reading too much into it. you’re just a stylist, and he’s drew—the talented actor everyone adores.

as the day progresses, you catch him watching you more than once, his gaze lingering, filled with admiration. each time your eyes meet, your breath catches in your throat. “am i just delusional?” you wonder, shaking your head to clear your thoughts.

when it’s time for the fitting, you step back to assess how the clothes hang on him. “you look amazing in this,” you say, your voice filled with genuine excitement. the outfit fits him perfectly, accentuating his frame and highlighting his features.

“yeah? you’re not just saying that because you styled it?” drew quips, tilting his head, his eyes glimmering with mischief.

“maybe,” you say playfully, unable to suppress a grin. “but it really is great.”

he steps closer, your faces inches apart. “you’ve got an eye for this,” he says softly, his voice low and sincere. you can feel the warmth radiating from him, and in that moment, all the noise of the set fades away.

then, unexpectedly, he reaches out, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. the innocent gesture sends your heart racing, and for a moment, you forget where you are. you blink up at him, stunned, and see a hint of vulnerability in his expression, a longing that matches your own.

“don’t look so surprised,” he teases, but there’s a softness to his tone that makes your heart swell. “i’m just trying to keep it real here.”

“yeah, right,” you laugh nervously, trying to play it cool. but inside, you feel a whirlwind of emotions—hope, excitement, and an undeniable attraction that you can no longer ignore.

as the day comes to a close, drew walks you to your car, the air heavy with the unsaid. he leans against the vehicle, arms crossed, a relaxed grin playing on his lips. “so, when can i work with you again?” he asks, his tone casual but his eyes intense.

“i—um,” you stammer, caught off guard. “i don’t know. it’s usually up to the director…”

“let’s make it happen,” he interrupts, his confidence shining through. “i’m serious. you’ve got something special.”

your heart races as he steps closer, his gaze locking onto yours. “i mean it. i really enjoy working with you,” he says, his voice sincere, yet laced with that playful edge you have come to love.

“okay,” you whisper, feeling a smile bloom on your face. “let’s do it.”

as you drive away, the sun setting behind you, you can’t shake the feeling that today has changed something inside you. drew has not just been a client—he has seen you. and as you replay the day’s moments, your heart soars with the possibility of what could come next.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafecameroninterlude @sstargirln

[i520u]

⌕ dates with riize 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

hello briize hello riize lovers i’m one of you please keep the requests coming

PAIRING riize x gn!reader (not proofread!)

TAGS sfw, fluff, headcanons

OSAKI SHOTARO ༄

literally all sunshines and rainbows throughout the rest of the relationship

if you get into an argument with him that has GOT to be your fault idk what to tell you

i feel like he’s the type of boyfriend to teach you how to drive

and when you hit the curb he’s like “that’s okay! we can try again when i fix the car!”

but at the same time he’s gripping that roof handle in the car for dear life but he’s just too sweet to tell you that your driving’s horrible

he never lets you drive again btw

HE’D FILM SOOO MANY DANCE TIKTOKS WITH YOU!!!

also i feel like instead of a gf effect, it’s the opposite with him because he gives you the bf effect

your entire fashion style is gonna change for sure like have you seen this man? that is a man of AESTHETICS

would be so enthusiastic with teaching you all the tiktok dance steps

and none of these tiktoks are cringe they’re actually those cool ones

the type to hug you at the end of the tiktok video or kiss the temple of your head idk…

i imagine his ideal dates might be cafe hopping/cafe hunting all across tokyo or just shopping around shibuya

takes you to one of those claw machines while you’re shopping and he’ll try winning you a random plushie of an anime that neither of you watch

so now you have a random plush of like… some dude from haikyuu

would pay for your drinks btw (coffee, milk tea, matcha)

SONG EUNSEOK ༄

OK LISTEN.

cake decorating

he just looks like he’d enjoy doing that like did you see how proud he was wearing that hello kitty hairclip

please this man is gonna hear you suggest it and he’s like “LET’S GO!!”

craziest part is that he’s gonna eat you up at decorating it too

you’ll see him make a cute flower on his cake using the cream and you’re like “how did you do that :( how dare you be better than me :(”

and he’s gonna giggle nervously and his face is gonna turn a light shade of red while he helped you out

“i’m not better than you, we’re equally good.” and then he compares your cakes together and the only reason why yours looks ok is because he helped you for the most part

if you genuinely feel a little gloomy that yours looked bad he would purposely mess up on the rest of his cake

because eunseok will never be caught dead leaving his beloved partner unhappy, no matter how small the issue might be

i feel like he would notice those little shift of emotions that you have that even you barely notice

and he’d do his best to cheer you up because you’re just his everything </3

after the cakes are done he takes 282629 pictures of you and your cake and then he’d probably say things like “keep posing, you’re so pretty”

i think most of his dates would involve domestic things like that

if you don’t live together he’d crash to your house, help you deep clean the entire house and he considers that a date too

a little bit more low maintenance when it comes to relationships if that makes sense

also i think he’s not very clingy but he LOVESSS a clingy partner even if he doesn’t verbally say or show it

he’s always have a light blush on his face whenever you just cling on him

so please cling onto him as much as possible

JUNG SUNGCHAN ༄

just a feeling… but

gym dates 😭

and he’s so cheesy about it okay like at first you’re reluctant because the thought of going to a gym scares you

but then the first time you go there and he’s like so touchy with you in a good way

purposely standing so close to you while he helps you out with the equipments

maybe at one point he’s even like “yeah just do it like that.” while helping you out with the weights and then giving you a kiss on the cheek

which catches you off guard you almost dropped the weights but he was holding it with you so you’re good

when you blush he would let out a flustered giggle and won’t comment on it

and then you make it even worse by saying something like “i’m just flushed from the workout” and he’s like “sure babe”

would always be close to you just in case you’re caught underneath the weight and you can’t lift it up anymore

at the end of the date you’re like “i can’t move my legs” and then he just carries you

takes you out to eat something sweet afterwards

he’s going to be all smiley the whole time too

at the end he’s like “didn’t i tell you it would be fun? do you wanna go to the gym with me again next week?”

if you say no he’s not gonna sulk and punch the wall or something he’s just gonna be like “aww that’s alright too.” and then kiss your head

then he would say something like “you were incredible on your first try though, i’m proud of you.”

clenches fist i want him so bad…

PARK WONBIN ༄

i swear wonbin’s a little weird

like have you seen his tiktoks… something’s strange about that man

i think he stated before that he loves shopping so you KNOW what that means

always send you vids he sees on the internet about some new shop opening up in hongdae or something and he’s like “let’s go bae”

sends you the weirdest tiktoks and is like “you”

and then you’re like “wonbin what”

and he won’t elaborate

sends you his fit checks

if you don’t approve he will actually sulk i’m not kidding

sometimes when he’s bored he’d write a song for you

like not a singing song but a musical one from his guitar if that makes sense

he loves matching with you. matching earrings, matching clothes, matching beanies.

ohh i feel like he’d also do those cute couple videos on tiktok like you know he would slow dance with you in the snow and post it for everyone to see this man LOVES soft launching you

his soft launches are also by no means him trying to hide you or keep you a secret, it’s more like… he just likes to have a mysterious vibe to his online person 😍

also i think he loves leaving kisses on your neck whenever you snuggle up to watch a movie or something

like you’re talking to him while you’re on his lap and he’s just like “mhm, and then what?” and then he gives you kisses down your jaw and neck

he’s all over you PLEASE no matter in public or private and it’s even worse (or better 😜) in private too

HONG SEUNGHAN ༄

definitely a gamer bf

dates with him involves him going out to see the sun for the first time that week ❤️

i’m just kidding but your dates probably involves a lot of going out because you feel like this man NEEDS to get some sunlight

also one of the guys that enjoys PDA

he wins the idgaf war he would kiss you at any point of time if he suddenly feels like it

you can just be talking like straight up gossiping about something that happened between your aunt and a scammer and he would just…

he would just grabbed the sides of your face and plant the deepest kiss ever

and then you’re all flustered and he would burst into laughter

he’s the biggest flirt ever he has this one stare that would leave you WEAK in the knees

definitely has a habit of staring at your lips when you talk which makes you SOOO nervous

plays with your hands or hair while you talk

just a thought but he’d definitely run his thumb over your lower lip after he kissed it WOAH

calls you with the most generic pet names but god it makes you run LAPS

also when you come over his house he’d make you pull for him on that FIFA game idk how the game works but i hope you get what i’m trying to say

LEE SOHEE ༄

AH i feel like him as a bf is so fun

he looks like so much fun from the instagram/tiktok posts tbh

the most normal boyfriend ever help idk how to explain it

sends you pictures of him at work with captions like “fighting my hardest battle (i’m at the work i willingly applied for)

various dates

he doesn’t always suggest ideas for dates but he goes ALL out for you when you suggest them

you want to watch the sunset? best believe he’ll take you to the prettiest beach he could find for you to enjoy

you want to have a movie date? he’s gonna set up the projector at his house HIMSELF

i don’t think he’s very keen on kissing in public but he has no problem holding you close to him

holds your hand, holds you by your waist, EVERYTHING

takes 0.5x pictures of you from your forehead

he has a picture of the two of you completing a heart drawn on your cheeks as his lockscreen

always yapping about you like

“my lover made me this lunch”

“my lover gave me this for my birthday”

“my lover tied my tie for me today”

his favourite type of dates are karaoke dates sorry like this man is beyonce’s son he’s GOING to use that godsent vocals of his

also i feel like anniversary celebrations are so grand with him his love for you is so genuine he wants to give you the world and more

i want him so bad… he’s my goat

ANTON LEE ༄

dates are SOPHISTICATED

he’s bred in BOSTON you know he goes crazy with that shit

make you dress up fancy in silk and satin and stuff everyone once in a while to take you to a fine dining i’m so serious

takes you on concert dates too

like… mitski or laufey or niki zenfaya concert dates

he would lift you up on his shoulders during these concerts so you would see clearly

also likes backhugging you

he’s so soft spoken so you don’t have the heart to ever start any arguments with him

when he was a swimmer he’d give you those vip pass or something (idk how dating an athlete works oops)

after his competition finish and he’s still wet from the water and its just covered by his towel and swim attire, he would go up to you with a flushed face and would ask you if he looked cool or not

i think he’s the type to enjoy talking to you most of the time during dates or just like an everyday occurrence

like he loves staring into your eyes as you speak he loves you so much but he’s too shy to tell you that so often

he’s not the type to just blurt out “i love you” but you can just tell that his feelings for you are true from the way he stares at you

would let you decorate his hair with your hairclips and would wear them out for the rest of the day

he’s soooo smitten by you it’s crazy

[moons-of-dewclan]

Hey, a person who is baffled by lineless styles here. You have a more lineless style and I noticed you do still use darker lines to separate overlap stuff so the cats don’t become amorphous blobs. Is there a certain amount you tend to make the lines darker? Or is it like black at a lower opacity? Also when drawing darker cats (or anything else too), do you have any tips for not making them so dark you can’t see the lines or is it just kinda trial and error? Also sorry if this is a lot of questions, just one more, is there any technique or tool or something you use to make the lines stop exactly where the overlap stops, or do you just do it by hand and kinda get better at it with practice?

(Thank you if you answer this. Stuff like this has confused me for a long time and I’ve just now realized I can just ask, hahah)

HELLO BAFFLED ANON. i hope this helps..

IF YOUR SCREEN IS DARK, our girl still looks pretty ... Dark.. BUT you can always make contrast more extreme! AS FOR THEEEEE LINE TECHNIQUE.. ogh i don't think i know what you mean. MAYBE I DO?? the 'shading' lines are pretty much just done how you'd do lineart lines! if you overshoot and they cross where they shouldn't, erase :3 ALSO GUYS WORKING WITH BINARY BRUSHES IS SOOO SMOOTH JSYK. i accidentally drew shine's face on his head layer and i just had to select and copypaste it onto a new layer to fix that. bc there's no aliasing, the lines can perfectly transfer without needing a touchup for jagged edges

[sleepyparalysisdmon]

Let Me Hear You Say

The three times that Minghao resists confessing, and the one time it accidentally slips.

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption and being drunk.

This is part of the Three Times series. This one is inspired by this reaction.

One

“I’m here!” You bust into Minghao’s studio, tossing bags, a coat, and half a dozen other things down in a chaotic mess. “Traffic was terrible,” you moan, collapsing onto the small couch in the corner. 

Minghao looks unimpressed with your dramatics as he peers over his canvas at you. “You sure do know how to make an entrance,” he muses. “What kind of trail of destruction did you leave on the way here?”

“Just a few things knocked over, I don’t think anything broke this time.” Some might think you’re joking, but Minghao knows you’re serious. You’re a bull in a china shop on a good day, and an F-5 tornado on a bad day. He secretly thinks of these comparisons affectionately. “What are you working on?” 

“I don’t know, to be honest. I had some colors in mind and I just went with it,” he mumbles, stepping back to see what he’s done. You join him glancing over the canvas. You give him a wide smile. 

“I like that shade of blue.” 

“So predictable,” he chuckles. “Make yourself useful and mix me some more of it then. And don’t waste paint.”

“No promises!” You exclaim, taking his palette from him and going to the work bench that holds all of his paint collection. When you hand the palette back to him a couple minutes later, he examines the color closely. It’s so, so close that it’s nearly imperceptible. Bull in a china shop that you are, combined with the skills in some arts that you lack, he’s kind of proud of you that you’re willing to stand still and focus long enough to get so close. He doesn’t have the heart to correct you. He never does when he can tell you’re really trying. 

But you’re pouting anyway, glancing between the palette and the canvas. “It needs more white.” He holds the palette above your head when you reach for it. 

“No, it’s fine. I told you not to waste paint. It’s so close I barely noticed.” 

You smile, though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “You’re just saying that. It’s obviously too dark. Give it here. I’ll add a little more white.” 

“No.” Minghao is already dipping the brush in the color you mixed. “I like this one better anyway. Don’t forget the ratio you used. I want you to write it down.” 

“Okay,” you sing, grabbing a pen and paper from his work bench. Once you’re done, it goes it the collection of Y/N’s Colors, a special little spot in the corner stacked high with little scraps of paper. He wonders if you notice how often those colors reappear in his works. Probably not, which is just as well.

Two

It’s Minghao’s day off and you drag him to the art gallery. You say there’s a new collection that you’re interested in seeing. It surprises him, because it’s usually him that’s dragging you to places like this. It’s usually too quiet and not exciting enough for you, and you bounce on your feet, trailing behind him until he’s ready to go. 

This time, you’re many paces ahead of him on the sidewalk, turning excitedly to get him to hurry up. “Since when do you rush for something like this?” Minghao asks, watching you bounce up the stairs to the entrance. 

“You’ll see.” Your eyes are a little wild. You grab his hand and start tugging him like he’s not moving fast enough. Usually you both would start at the beginning and slowly make your way through the room, but you’re tugging him somewhere in the middle. You come to an abrupt stop and he nearly bumps into you. “This is the one I wanted to show you.”

You point to a photograph. It’s black and white and a little out of focus, but that’s the entire point. He recognizes the style and doesn’t really need to look at the little placard underneath the photo. “You didn’t tell me you submitted something,” he admonished, admiring your work. 

You sort of squeal and shake his arm. “I didn’t think they’d accept it. I found out yesterday,” you talk fast. It’s only because he’s known you for a while that he can keep up with your motor mouth. “I guess someone had to pull out last minute and mine was a back up. It’s small, but isn’t it cool?”

“It is,” Minghao says genuinely. “This is great, Y/N. I’m proud of you.” He pushes you towards the photo. “Come on. Pose for a picture.” 

“Oh, no Minghao. You know I prefer to be behind the camera,” you whine, resisting his shove. 

“I won’t post it. It’s just for me,” he promises. You sigh, standing next to your piece. He snaps a quick photo before you decide to bolt. He lied a little. He didn’t post it on social media, not even his private accounts. But he did get it printed and framed for his studio. He hangs it up high so you won’t be able to reach it and get rid of it easily if you ever notice it. 

Three

Woozi whistles when he flips through the pages. Minghao spins in the chair, waiting for a response. It’s not too often that he presents lyrics for the group’s use. He’s better at other forms of media, primarily visual aspects. Still, sometimes he tries his hand at it and gives it to Woozi to do with it what he will. 

“I could use some of this,” Woozi finally says. “I’ll credit you if I do.”

“Don’t bother,” Minghao waves off. “You know that’s not what’s important to me.”

“I know,” Woozi chuckles. “You make it pretty obvious what’s important to you.”

Minghao raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, my focus is performance and choreography.”

“I know that,” Woozi rolls his eyes. “I meant, it’s obvious who all of these are about. You should really do something about that.”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” Minghao says shortly. “They’re just lyrics. They aren’t that serious.”

Woozi hums, though he looks a little bit entertained. “Denial is a really strong start, but not very convincing though. What’s so wrong with just telling her?”

“Tell her what? She’s just a friend.” 

Another eye roll, and Woozi goes back to his computer. “Fine, have it your way. You can deny that, I guess, but you can’t deny the writing credits you’ll get.”

Minghao leaves the studio before he can be roped back into that conversation. 

Four

Later that night, he agrees to go out with some of the members for drinks. He’s distracted and keeps taking whatever is handed to him, drinking faster than he normally would. He’s busy replaying the conversation with Woozi in his head. He’s never said it out loud, never admitted it, and no one has ever called it out so blatantly either. He’d always preferred it that way, maybe because then it doesn’t feel real and he can shove it to the back of his head to deal with later, or never. Something about Woozi’s direct comments make it hard to ignore, makes it feel real and it’s a little suffocating. 

He’s nearly asleep at the table when he loses the grip on his glass. His eyes snap open, scrambling for it, but it’s not that it’s slipped. Rather, a hand his tugging it away. He recognizes the hand because he’s watched it mix paint for him more than a few times. He releases the glass and puts his head in his hand, rubbing away the headache that’s formed somewhere between his eyebrows. 

You rub his back, voice teasing. “Having fun?” 

“Loads,” he mumbles. “What are you doing here? I thought you had to work.”

“I did. I’m already off. Jun called and said you might need a ride home,” you say lightly. Minghao checks his watch and groans at the time. He’s lost hours dozing at the table, it seems. You laugh, patting his back. “Come on, you can crash at my place. It’s closer.”

He lets you throw his arm around your shoulder once he’s standing and he hopes it doesn’t look like you’re carrying him, though you kind of are. You help him into the car and even buckle his seat belt. If he were sober, he’d never let you do that, but he’s a little overwhelmed by how nice you smell when you lean in close. He must doze off during the drive, because he wakes up to the smell of your perfume again as you’re leaning over him to unbuckle him. 

Inside your apartment, you help him out of his shoes and help him lie down on the couch. “Feel like you’re going to be sick?” He shakes his head and prays it will stay that way. “Okay, be right back.” In what feels like both a spilt second and a hundred years, you reappear with a bottle of water and a few aspirin. “Take these, get a head start.” He does as you say and then curls up into the pillow. A fluffy blanket comes over him. 

“Thanks. Love you.”

You laugh and the sound makes the corner of his lips turn up. “I think that’s the first time you’ve ever said that. Who knew you’d be such a sweet drunk?”

“Just to you,” Minghao mumbles. 

“Aww, am I special?” You chuckle, brushing back his hair. 

He hums in agreement. “Yep. Love you. In love with you.”

You guffaw, standing up. “Okay, honey. Get some rest.” He’s pretty sure he’s asleep before you even turn the lights off. 

He wakes up the next morning to the smell of coffee. It’s strong, mostly because when he opens his eyes you’re waving the mug under his nose. He rears back, groaning at the sudden movement because his head is pounding. You laugh, placing the mug in his hands. “Aspirin is on the table. Take some more. Breakfast is coming up.”

Later, in between bites, you ask, “So did you have fun last night?”

“I don’t know,” Minghao mumbles. “Don’t remember much to be honest. I didn’t do anything stupid, did I?”

“It depends,” you smile, taking another bite. “Does confessing your love for me count as stupid?”

Minghao chokes on his coffee, nearly spraying it across the table. “I did what?”

“Yeah,” you say casually. “I don’t know if it was the alcohol talking, but you said ‘love you’ twice, and then ‘in love with you’ once. It was very sweet. You’re very sweet, even if you didn’t mean it.”

Minghao’s silent for a long time and you let him be, probably thinking he needs a minute to collect himself from the embarrassment. But you’ve got it all wrong. He kind of wishes he had the liquid courage he did last night. He can’t really look at you when he says, “I meant it.”

You stare at him for a few long seconds before finally smiling. “Good.” You’re up on your feet and he never knows how you have so much energy, but you’re bounding around the table and cupping his face, pressing the smallest peck to his lips. 

He’s momentarily stunned before he’s pushing you back. “Oh, come on, Y/N. I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet.”

“I have a brand new one under the sink. You better hurry.” He does, jumping up to run to the bathroom. He can hear your laugh echo down the hallway and thinks this will probably the first and last time he’ll ever be relieved to have gotten drunk the night before.