#If I screwed this up please let me know

[frighteneddraz]

Anthology of Arik 1

Arik sat staring at the empty bottle of liquor, the strongest his money could buy: a dwarven drink called “Dragonfire”, so named because it tasted of pure fire and because it had a habit of blowing up when exposed to even the slightest open flame. He could no longer even get drunk anymore, at least not on alcohol. Anger though? That he could still lose himself in, so he did what any miserable asshole in his position would do: He got in a fight. Sighing, he dragged himself to his feet and scanned the bar, in the city of adventurers, there was bound to be someone he could fight without having to worry about killing them, and to that end he was quite right.

His target stood at 5’2”, and probably just as wide, with more muscle than Arik had assumed was possible for a mortal man. Given his bald head and the sheer mass of his beard, Arik assumed the man was of dwarven blood, the fact he seemed to also be drinking Dragonfire made that assumption a near certainty, seeing as most other races would find their livers shutting down after only a few shots of the stuff. Striding up to him, Arik stood looming over the man. He was ugly, with a misshapen face and a nose that had been broken more times than Arik could probably count, his dark beard hung to his waist and his thick brows were out of line with one another, giving his face a strange slant effect. As though it were meant to be viewed horizontally, something Arik would realize almost immediately was rather apt. 

Arik’s approach was straightforward and rather rude, striding up to the half-dwarf, Arik’s hand formed a fist and crashed into the man’s table, the force of the blow knocking it over and spilling Dragonfire all over the floor. It was effective, without even so much as a word, the stranger stood up, downed what remained in his cup, and hit Arik harder than Arik had ever been hit before. There was a crunching sound, Oh, that’s my teeth and jaw, Arik thought rather nonchalantly. He was unconscious before he hit the ground. The blow may even have snapped Arik’s neck, Arik wasn’t sure, if it did, the bone had repaired itself well enough by the time Arik came to again, sitting with the half-dwarf on the street, though as Arik ran his tongue around inside his mouth, he was unsurprised to find all of his teeth were in pieces.

“Shit” were the first words out of Arik’s mouth as he sat up, though the first thing was a not insignificant amount of blood

“Aye, I’m rather surprised you’re alive, haven’t hit a man that hard in a while,” the dwarven man responded, continuing: “course, no one has been dumb enough to spill my drink in a while.” He took a long draught from what appeared to be a new bottle of Dragonfire. “The fuck is wrong with you anyways? Your brain scrambled or something? Speaking of, how many fingers am I holding up?” the dwarven man asked, holding up 3 fingers while continuing to drink.

Arik didn’t respond, simply pulling out a dagger and getting to work removing the tooth shards that were preventing his powers from regrowing his teeth and repairing his jaw. The dwarven man looked on rather indifferently, as though the whole thing were just another Tuesday afternoon for him. They sat in silence for a while, the only sound was the sickening noises of Arik’s amateur dental surgery. Finally, Arik finished, the ground in front of him covered in tiny tooth and bone shards as well as an impressive pool of blood. Arik’s tongue felt around in his mouth as his new teeth grew in, and his jaw repaired itself.

Finally Arik regarded the dwarven man and said, simply, “I couldn’t get drunk.”

Tordek regarded the stranger who had just spent 20 minutes doing unholy things to his own face. The moron, or perhaps, lunatic would be more apt, who dared spill the drink of Tordek the Strong because he couldn’t get drunk. Tall and dark haired, with green eyes and a face that belied years of battle, despite the fact the lad couldn’t be older than 22.

Tordek simply grunted “Name’s Tordek. Don’t do that again, most aren’t as pleasant as yours truly.” Arik sighed, his battle frenzy and the pain in his mouth both now gone, he simply stood up and left the strange dwarven man without so much as another word. Maybe the adventurer’s guild will give me something I can kill, Arik thought numbly. If I have something to kill… I at least have something else to focus on. Arik looked up at the massive tree that made up the center of town and inside which the Adventurer’s Guild sat. And maybe I’ll get lucky, and this next job will kill me, Arik concluded darkly.

[no-song-so-sweet]

I want to talk about Harry Potter.

Well. Sort of. I want to talk about Harry Potter in a roundabout way, in that, I want to talk about the reaction my friend group had when shit started really going down with That Bitch Rowling.

Because Rowling is a horrible person. She’s a TERF, a denier of Nazi Crimes, homophobic, anti-Semitic, the list goes on and on (and most recently, has been attacking a trans soccer manager, if my dash is to be believed? Somehow, she just seems more cartoonishly evil with each passing day). But this isn’t about That Bitch Rowling, not really. Or if it is, she’s merely a footnote in the story.

Harry Potter was, and I think this is true for many of us, a large part of my childhood. While the writing may be mediocre at best, it was wildly influential. I didn’t know a single kid that wasn’t hoping for a letter to Hogwarts. It was a Big Deal for a lot of people, and that included my friend group. My friend group, which is made up of members of the LGBTQ+ community. My friend group, which includes a young lady who we didn’t always know was a lady. I’m sure you can see where this might be going.

The day I got a tear filled phone call about That Bitch Rowling was, frankly, heartbreaking. She was mad because a woman she had respected up until now didn’t respect her. She wanted to get rid of her copies of the books, but didn’t want to donate them. I never want to hear her cry like that again. So I made a decision.

I told her to hold onto her books for just a little while longer. I phoned the group. I figured out when everyone could get together for a weekend, and when I had hammered out dates, I packed up my car, and drove the six hundred miles back to my childhood home.

In the passenger’s seat, was my set of Harry Potter books.

Excluding my trans friend, there were seven of us. I had made a plan, and my father had the space to enact it - I grew up on acres of land; complete with 200 year old oak tree, creek in the woods in the backyard, and a massive fire pit.

Nostalgia and youth, I find, paint everything with a rose tinted hue; if Rowling had just kept her mouth shut, I’m sure many of us would have looked back on the Harry Potter series with some amount of shame. But I don’t think it would have suffered the sort of fall from grace that led us to this point.

The fire pit is important for several reasons. For example, it had been the popular gathering place for my friend group of literal decades at this point. Small towns mean that you know everyone from a very early age. We lived right beside the woods, so we used the fire pit to burn the leaves, and the branches storms took down, of which there were many. And when the first six of my friends rolled down the half mile driveway that day, I had already collect enough wood to get a decent fire going.

Six of my friends. We told the seventh a later time. We wanted to be prepared, and anyway, we all had the same cargo (six sets of seven books joined mine on a rickety folding table). I put them to work collecting more firewood (is it really a good bonfire if you’re not risking setting the barn on fire?).

By the time our last member rolled up, I had a fire going.

She had her set of those damn books too.

(There is a visceral grief that comes from being let down by your childhood heroes, and I fully believe that That Bitch Rowling embodies the phrase “never meet your heroes,” because folks, as a general rule, I am not a fan of burning books. But I was prepared to make an exception.)

We burned our copies of the Harry Potter books that day, all eight of us. They were well read, beaten to hell and back, with cracked spines, and dents in corners, and pieces of the pages missing where we had bent down the corners one too many times. And I won’t lie to anyone. We cried. Tears of sorrow and rage, for the piece of our childhood that we were choosing to give up, because to keep it would be to disrespect the woman we had known and loved for longer than we’d ever had those books.

Letting go sucked. But it was the right thing to do.

When they were gone, we put out the fire, went inside, and built the pillow fort of our dreams. We marathoned Star Wars, and ordered too many pizzas, and had way too much soda. We fell asleep playing Risk, because that’s what our friend choose, and in the morning, I made waffles with chocolate chips and too much maple syrup.

I wanted to talk about this, not just because this is a fond memory for me (even though it is), but because one of my coworkers confessed to me that they hated Rowling, and everything she stood for, and they refused to have anything else to do with the Harry Potter franchise, but they just couldn’t bring themselves to get rid of the books.

I said I was happy to host another book burning.

But I wanted to write this down because I know that sometimes it’s hard to take that final step, to leave behind that last thing. So for anyone who needs to hear it, it’s okay to grieve the things we loose when we grow up. Letting go can be hard, but I promise you’ll end up better off. It’s been awhile since things really went downhill, but I maintain that, in this case, death of the author is nonexistent, and it is better to have loved and then lost, than to hold on too tight.

Don’t hurt yourself on the shattered remains of your childhood magic.

[thefrogdalorian]

I think on this fine Saturday afternoon it's a good opportunity to take a breather and remember that there are really no ethical paparazzi pictures. Every single one is inherently exploitative.

Just because photos were taken on a movie set, when someone is 'working,' does not make the practice any less invasive and creepy. Imagine just going about your day, doing your job and having some weirdo snapping pictures of you to sell without your consent for others to endlessly repost online.

There are thousands of pictures of your favourite actor online already. Plenty taken with his knowledge and consent. I'd really like to see more of them on my dash, rather than the creeper shots.

And don't get me started how disseminating these pictures directly leads to people going to said sets. What starts off as admiring how good someone looks has real world implications.

No, hanging around a movie set and disrupting people doing their jobs is not harmless fun or a way to show your appreciation.

If you hang around a movie set, you are a stalker.

Don't tell me that it's okay to take your online admiration for someone offline. You may admire him but he does not, and will never, personally know you. He will never be your friend/boyfriend/daddy. He is a stranger.

The only way meeting your favourite actor is going to happen is at a convention or maaaaaybe a movie premiere if you're incredibly fortunate. You know, places they appear specifically to meet fans (or not in the case of premieres, where the purpose is to promote a movie. Which is also completely understandable if actors don't stop. You are not owed an interaction).

Of course, you cannot help it if you randomly run into someone you admire in the wild. Even then, consider that they probably won't be all too thrilled to be approached in public by a complete stranger. It's up to you to gauge the situation, but remember there is a person at the heart of all of this.

Boundaries and respect are a kindness which deserves to be extended to each and every human being regardless of their looks/talent/fame/wealth.

Fandoms blur those lines a little too often for my liking and I think just scrutinising what you're interacting with, or what behaviour you could be possibly falling down that slippery slope towards is nice to do every once in a while.

I mean no malice with this post and it is not directed at anyone in particular. It's something I cannot help but feel strongly about because I've seen this destructive cycle time and again in fandoms over the years. It's not healthy and it makes us all a little bit more disconnected from our humanity for it...

[weedgrinderfullofteeth]

does anyone want to talk about the bible fanfic TV show The Chosen tm and how the actor playing Judas is the most bangable babygirl twink of all time

[pepperonitowerask]

are you fluent in italian to write fakino's reverse-italian dialogue? i only speak english so i was just curious if you can speak italian or if you use a translator of some kind :)

((Oh nah- I use a translator!! I try to put in enough effort to make sure that it’s translatable back and not just. Nonsense words but learning a whole language for this askblog would take a Lot outta me/lh

[give-grian-rights]

head in hands. trying to look through the yjtv tag. i KNOW the show has its shitty moments i KNOW it has moments where it kinda sucks and is Weird towards the source materials but PLEASEE.E PLEASEEEE SO MUCH OF THE TAG IS FULL OF HATE

[getting-messi]

BREAKING NEWS🚨🚨🚨🚨

I AM ALIVE!!!🥳🤩💃🏾💃🏾

[martsonmars]

desperately trying not to have a panic attack about university hehehe

[thornedswan]

Having an eventful, cozy cleaning day. It's been nice. I've been feeling under the weather this past week, and yesterday, I couldn't really breathe when trying to sleep 😮‍💨 so that was fun.

[four-horsemen]

"No shit? What part?" Francis asks, and while it may be fruitless to do so, after cutting eyes toward the path ahead to make sure that it's still clear, the biker keeps his sights predominantly set on the creature in front of him, even though he can't even see the other's face; not so much in an attempt to read him as it is an attempt to size him up.

On the one hand, it could absolutely be handy to have one of the little buggers nearby— assuming said bugger wasn't going to try and eat his face in the middle of the night. On the other hand, well. It could try and eat his face in the middle of the night. But damn, whether he'd ever admit to it or not, it sure is nice to have somebody around to talk to.

Regardless, he isn't committing to an answer right this second.

@intodivergence, continued from threads past

[welcome-to-green-hills]

Maris is all of us in that teaser, just petting the ultimate good boi's quills while he sleeps in our lap. That's the relaxing moment you wish to place on everyone and they showed a prime example of those vibes

Darlin’, I would 1,000,000% pet the Ultimate Life Form’s quills as they sleep on my lap. They just look so… sweet and adorable. This is my child now—I’m adopting Shadow.❤️✨

I would absolutely love to see a potential scene (or some l thing similar to) like that in the third film.

[pearlyscribbles]

Rather be fishin'

[dlxxv-vetted-donations]

Deadline Nov 28: Tawfik needs to pay his international student fees.

My other promos | Currently keeping up with here

Updated: Nov 10

Member(s): @dev-tawfik (current), @devtawfik (shadowbanned), @tawfikblog, @90-tawfik (shadowbanned)

Verification: @/90-ghost

Payment methods:

Gfm for education: PayPal, Venmo, Google Pay, credit/debit

Kofi for survival (mentioned here): PayPal, credit/debit (I recommend focusing on the gfm until the tuition is paid by Nov 28 since it's more urgent)

Tawfik is a Palestinian currently taking online classes at an Egyptian university. His campaign needs to reach USD $9,050 by Nov 15 and $10,050 by Nov 30 so he can pay off his international student fees. Any additional funds will go towards the next semester's payments.

More info:

Update Nov 6:

Tawfik got an extension to Nov 30 to pay the international fee. New goals of USD $9,050 by Nov 15 and $10,050 by Nov 28 (to account for transfer time) were set. The final goal was reduced with some backup money. Grades will be withheld until payment is made.

Update Nov 5:

Currently, it seems impossible to raise the required funds ($10,050 - $10,150) by Nov 13. Tawfik has emailed his school to negotiate for more time.

Update Oct 29:

Now @dev-tawfik.

We fundraised $800 ($6000 in the gfm) for Tawfik's textbooks and he bought them on Oct 17. He got a slight discount for being Palestinian, and the money saved went into his backup funds.

The next goal was $9,250 to pay off international student fees (due Nov 13, see math section below) that Tawfik just found out about.

The family urgently needed $1,000 for healthy food (Tawfik's father has health problems and needs vegetables).

Tawfik initially wanted to use the gfm money for education only as promised, but had to add the sum to the campaign goal (a total of $10,250) because the Kofi he made solely for his family wasn't receiving many donations early on.

There were some issues with the Kofi taking a few weeks to transfer funds, but that's been resolved. It is now for support of Tawfik's family and transfers money relatively quickly.

From Oct 17-27, we fundraised to $7,200 to buy some food for the family. This food money will last roughly 2 weeks.

We are focusing back on international student fees and set a short-term goal of $8,862 in the campaign by Nov 3. There will be another small goal set after this date.

We need roughly $10,050 (an estimate) in the campaign by Nov 13 (hard deadline). Again, this isn't a concrete number and involves some usage of Tawfik's backup money.

Campaign details:

Tawfik is a software engineering student in Palestine trying to continue his education by enrolling in online classes at an Egyptian university.

He already raised roughly USD $2,500 in late July through a now closed Paypal campaign and paid the school as an application and reservation fee. This is nonrefundable.

We fundraised $4,113 (5200 - 1087) and paid off his tuition for the year on Oct 7

The gfm is meant for education only. To support the family, donate to the Kofi. It no longer faces issues with long transfer times.

Tawfik has some extra leftover funds from paying off the tuition, but it isn't much and is to be used for emergencies.

Math:

Please let me know if I screwed up the calculation somewhere.

The transfer fee is assumed to be ~$50 per $600 earned. My bad in earlier calculations where I set it after the bank fee rather than before.

Textbooks: base $600

Funds left after:

Gfm for 40 donations: 570.6

~$50 transfer fee: 520.13

12% Bank fee: 458.13

To cover the funds lost to fees, we need an extra $200 (assumed 15 donations). After fees on that, it's only $166 (enough to cover the short-term goal)

So we need 600 + 200 = $800 for the textbooks.

This is $6,000 in the campaign.

Slightly outdated: International student fees: base $2,423

900£ = USD $1,180.93

60k EGP = USD $1,241.29

Funds left after:

Gfm fees for 160 donations: 2304.74

Transfer fee, ~$200: 2,104.74

12% Bank fee: 1852.17

To cover the funds lost to fees, we need an extra $800 (assumed 55 donations). After fees on that, it's only $625 (enough to cover the short-term goal)

So we need 2423 + 800 = $3,223 for the international student fee.

This is $9,223 10,223 in the campaign, rounded up to $ 9,250 10,250

The rate of ~$100 daily is sufficient to get us to this goal before the deadline of Nov 13 (this accounts for the 2 days needed for transfers)

[imaginedisish]

My Girl (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey guys!! So sorry this took so long. Here is the secret relationship/breeding kink fic. I honestly really like this one...and I hope you guys do too. Was listening to "Juna" by Clairo while writing it, but went with "My Girl" for the title. ENJOY!

Summary: You and Logan have been in a secret relationship for months, but everything comes to a head when a new mutant visits the Institute, and won't leave you alone...Logan shows him, and you, who your man is.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!! SMUT!!! Thigh riding, Fingering, Unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), breeding kink, praise kink, possessive!Logan, jealous!Logan, unspecified/implied!Age Gap, established relationship, creepy!OC who hits on reader and doesn't lay off, minor violence, afab!/fem!reader, fluff/feelings, cursing, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it?

Word Count: 5,313 this is why it took so long also, smut right under the cut...

You remember the first time he fucked you, vividly. 

It was late at night, after a mission. You almost died in his arms. And that was what broke that thing inside him, the burden of time that he carries, that deep-seated pain that made it justifiable to stay away from you. He had held back for so long—had done his all to resist falling for you. He was screwed from the beginning, and he knew that. But he had become so terrified at the thought of losing you that he hadn’t realized it could happen all the same if he stayed away—if he forced himself to remain a friend. 

So, when he fucked you that first time, that first night, he fucked you like it’d be the last—the only time. 

“Goddammit, so fucking perfect,” he mumbled, his lips bruising yours, shoving himself deep inside—as deep as you could take him. “Needed you this whole time. Can’t live without you.”

“Logan,” you whined, his hips snapping against yours. “D-don’t stop, please.” “Never gonna stop, pretty girl,” he promised. “Can’t go back. Can’t be anywhere but here.”

For months now, you’ve been together—but nobody knows. There’s no doubt about commitment—nothing casual about the relationship in the slightest. You start and end every day in Logan’s bed. You’ve talked about running off together, getting married, and settling down. For the first time in his long life, Logan sees a future where he’s happy—genuinely happy. 

The sun peaks through the curtains. You curl yourself into Logan’s chest. His arms are wrapped around your back, holding you tight against him, even in his sleep. You listen to his breathing as the fall breeze creeps through the open window. Everything is calm and quiet in the morning, when everyone is still tucked away in their bedrooms, sound asleep. 

Logan groans, tugging you closer to him, nuzzling his face into your neck. “Go back to sleep.” His voice is heavy, laden with exhaustion. “Too early.” He kisses the spot just under your ear, and you moan involuntarily, feeling extra sensitive in the haze of the morning. He smiles softly against your neck, and kisses you again, his teeth grazing your skin. You moan louder this time, intertwining your legs with Logan’s. “Love those pretty little noises you make.”

“Feels good,” you murmur, his thigh slotting between your legs, pressing against your core. You can’t help but grind down on his thigh, rocking your hips back and forth. “Need you, Lo,” you beg. 

“You’re gonna ruin me,” Logan husks, his palms warm against your bare skin as he slips underneath your shirt—which is really his. 

He’s slow in the morning, pressing soft kisses on your bare shoulders, letting his touch linger longer than normal. He likes the peace of it all—waking up to each other, smelling you next to him, feeling the other side of his bed warm and full of you. When he fucks you, early like this, he takes his time. 

His fingertips trace the curves of your stomach, falling into your dips, gripping your flesh. Logan breathes you in, his lips softly melting into yours. “Still too early?” You mumble between soft, lazy kisses. 

“Never too early to want you,” Logan husks, dragging his thigh against your core again. “Always need you.” You can feel his erection through his boxers. “Gonna take care of my girl. Gonna make you—”

There’s a knock at the door. “Logan?” It’s Scott’s voice on the other side. He knocks again. “Logan, you in there?”

Logan tries to ignore him, his fingertips dragging down your sides, bumping into the hem of your panties as he trails wet, open-mouthed kisses down the hollow of your throat. You let out a breathy moan as Logan bites down on your pulse point. He smiles under your jaw at the soft sound, content that you can’t hold back. 

“Logan,” you whisper, running your hands up his arms, to his shoulders, your fingertips finding the nape of his neck. “He’s not gonna stop.”

Sure enough, Scott knocks again. “Logan, I know you’re in there,” he calls, banging on the door now. “Wake up. We have some tech guy on his way.” 

Logan groans into your neck. “Why do you need me, Summers?” Logan licks your collarbone teasingly, hiking your t-shirt farther up your body. 

“He’s…a mutant,” Scott explains. “He can speak with machines, computers, code—you name it, he can do it. He’s gonna fix some stuff around the mansion. Charles asked me to make sure you’re awake just in case…” Scott trails off.

Logan finishes Scott’s sentence. “In case everything goes to shit?” 

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Scott huffs, likely shaking his head on the other side of the door. “But yes. In case things don’t go as planned. I’m also looking for—"

But Logan cuts Scott off, saying your name for him. 

“Yeah, I can’t find her. Do you know where she might—”

“On a run,” Logan chimes in, and you suppress your laughter by pressing your face into his chest. “She’ll be back soon.” Logan’s arms wrap around your back, holding you against him. 

“Alright,” Scott says, shuffling, slowly stepping away from the door. “If you see her, let her know what’s going on, okay?”

“Trust me bub,” Logan husks, his fingers digging into your flesh, tickling you. “I’ll make sure she knows.” 

Scott mumbles something unintelligible as he walks down the hallway, his footsteps echoing as he disappears down the stairs. 

Logan’s lips are attached to your neck again, sucking playfully. “Where were we?” He teases, his nails grazing down your back. His palms settle on your ass, squeezing your flesh tightly in his hands. 

You moan, your chest flush with his. “Logan,” you whine. “We need to get up,” you insist, your hands pushing against Logan’s broad shoulders, your fingers digging into his muscular biceps. “Can’t stay in bed anymore.”

Logan grunts, his thigh still nudged between your legs, rocking into your core. You want him, and it’s tempting to let him take you right here, right now. But you can’t. And he knows it. He presses a chaste kiss to your lips and pulls you tightly into his chest. “Later,” he promises, his lips finding the shell of your ear. You smile at the thought. There was always a later with Logan.

You snuck out of Logan’s room, unnoticed, as always. It was still early—too early for the ruckus of a morning at the mansion to begin. You got ready for the day and slipped downstairs. You’re still shocked at just how oblivious the rest of the team is. Truly, no one knows about you and Logan. 

You’re in the kitchen now, nursing a cup of coffee, waiting for the day to start. Familiar, heavy footsteps approach, and you smile before you can even see his face. 

“Hi pretty girl,” Logan coos, standing behind you and wrapping his arms around your front. You lean into him, feeling the warmth of his chest and the strength of his heartbeat. He presses a chaste kiss to the crown of your head and walks over to the coffee pot. 

Scott enters the kitchen as Logan takes his first sip of coffee—one second earlier and he would have seen Logan holding you. “The guy is here,” Scott announces from the doorway. He looks at you and smiles. “Oh! Hey! How was your run?” He asks cheerfully. 

You almost spit out your coffee, remembering what you were actually doing this morning. “Great!” You say, doing your all to hold back your laughter. “Surprisingly relaxing.” Logan snorts and plays it off like he’s sniffling.

Scott smiles, none the wiser, and nods, cocking his head towards the hallway just outside the kitchen. “Come meet the tech guy!” He backs out of the doorway and into the hallway. Logan settles his coffee cup—which reads #1 Professor—next to yours on the counter and gives your waist a quick squeeze as you hop out of the chair. You walk shoulder to shoulder into the foyer. All the signs of your relationship are there—out in the open—and yet, still, no one seems to catch them.

You step into the foyer, and there’s Scott and the Professor by the front door, chatting with a younger man—who’s about your age. The man’s eyes find yours, and he smiles softly. “Hi there!” He calls, waving. “I’m Mark!” He strides away from Scott and the Professor and towards you. “But you can call me Techno.” He smirks and winks, extending his hand out, waiting for you to take it.

Logan grabs his hand instead, gripping it tightly, catching Mark off guard. “Wolverine,” Logan growls. “And you can’t call me Logan,” he adds, gritting his teeth. “So, you turn on computers, bub?” 

Mark grimaces, wrenching his hand from Logan’s grasp. “A little more than that,” he asserts, closing his eyes and bawling his fists. You look up as the lights flicker, and televisions turn on and off. Your cell phone rings in your pocket, and you pull it out. The screen reads: Incoming Call from Mark.

Your lips part. “How did you…” You trail off. 

Mark shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. “My powers essentially let me communicate with electricity and tech,” he explains. You can practically hear Logan seething beside you. 

“A technopath,” Charles offers as he rolls over to join the three of you with Scott in tow. 

“Exactly,” Mark says, nodding to Charles. “Makes it easy to put my number into pretty girls’ phones.” Mark winks at you, and you press your lips into a straight line in response. 

You shake your head. “I’m not inter—”

You’re cut off by the sound of Logan’s claws unsheathing. “These,” Logan pauses, lifting his claws to Mark. “Make it real easy to hurt creeps who put their numbers into girls’ phones without asking first, bub.” 

Mark rolls his eyes, and the corners of your lips twitch up. You try to force down your smile, try to slow the rhythm of your heart. You secretly liked when Logan got possessive over you. He was inherently protective, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on just a little. 

“Let’s stay on course,” Charles reprimands, guiding Mark to the hallway to the left with a wave of his hand. “Let me show you some of the machines I’d like you to work on.”

“It would be my pleasure, Professor Xavier,” Mark says harshly, his eyes locked on Logan as he backs away to follow Charles and Scott.

Logan lowers all but his center claw, giving Mark the middle finger as he turns around. “Don’t mind Logan,” Scott says as they disappear into a room, the door shutting behind them.

“Logan,” you whisper, now that everyone is gone. “Don’t worry,” you assure, bringing a hand to his shoulder. 

He turns to look at you. “He’s a fucking creep.”

“It’s going to be fine.”

 It is not going well, or fine.

Mark is something of a nuisance. He’s only been here for an hour, but he has already created multiple excuses to talk to you, to pull you away from whatever task is at hand. 

You’re in the middle of teaching an English class, discussing Mrs. Dalloway with a group of older students. “So, what are we to make of Clarissa and Sally’s relationship?” You ask the students, to no avail. 

This was your hardest class of the day—especially given the fact that you’re not even a decade older than most of the students. You had joined the X-Men in your early 20s, your powers having shown themselves a bit later than in most mutants, and only a few years have passed since then. Convincing the students who have been here their whole lives that you deserve to teach has been nothing short of a challenge. 

So, when Mark butts his head in on your class, annoyance burns through your body. You take a deep breath and swallow down your frustration. 

“Hey!” He chimes, his head poking through the open classroom door. “Mind if I take a look at your computer really quick?”

The class perks up, more focused on you than they were just seconds ago. You fake a smile, nodding and pushing yourself off the front of your desk so that he has space to access the computer. 

He slips behind the desk and smiles widely. “You didn’t have to move,” he remarks. “Would’ve been nice to have you close.”

You want to gag. You turn away from the students, whispering so they can’t hear. “Listen,” you chide, narrowing your eyes. “I am not interested, so could you please—”

“What are you doing in here, asshole?” Logan’s voice echoes against the walls of the classroom. For the first time all year, the class is paying incredibly close attention. “The Professor told you to check the computers in the lab down the hall.” Logan fully enters the room, striding over to Mark, his hands bawled into fists at his sides. “Beat it, bub.”

“Whatever,” Mark mutters, his head down as he exits the classroom. The bell rings, and the class stands, grabbing their things and filing out the door. 

You groan. “Please read the next twenty pages for tomorrow!” You shout over the hubbub and shuffling of students. “I know it’s a challenging novel, but I think you guys can…” The students are gone before you can finish your sentence. “Handle it.” 

Logan smiles sympathetically, closing the distance between you and him. His presence is comforting, warm, everything you’ve ever needed. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest. “Sorry,” he apologizes, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “Didn’t mean to make your class harder than it is already.”

You take a deep breath, your annoyance fading away. “You helped,” you whisper. “Mark is the one who ruined things,” you insist. “He won’t leave me alone.”

Logan chuckles. “You don’t like him?” He teases. “Don’t like a guy your own age flirting with you?” He’s egging you on, trying to joke, but you can tell part of him is a bit serious. 

You shake your head. “Only like you.” You press your lips to the hollow of his throat and Logan grunts. 

He reluctantly pulls away, the palms of his hands dragging down your arms, his fingers intertwining with yours. “Gotta get to my class,” he husks, his fingers slipping, tugging longingly as he steps to the door. “Meet me after?” He asks, but he already knows the answer. You’ll be outside his classroom door before the bell rings, waiting for him.

You nod, and he smiles, his hands gripping the doorframe like some invisible magnet is pulling him away, and he’d give anything to spend another second with you. He slips down the hallway, and into his classroom. 

You spend the next thirty minutes or so grading papers, waiting for the period to end so that you can walk across the hall to Logan’s class. Another few minutes pass, and you start to collect your things, readying yourself to meet Logan. Your heart thumps in your chest at the thought, even after all the months you’ve spent together. 

You grab your bag and head to the door, closing it behind you and locking up. You cross the hall and stand outside Logan’s door. He’s teaching a younger group of kids—ten to eleven-year-olds. You would trade places with him in a heartbeat if you could. The younger students loved you. There was no question of respect, no doubt of your power. But Logan was given the class as a challenge—Charles wanted to test his patience. 

And, honestly, seeing him with the children did something to you. You loved watching the way he doted on them, carefully explaining material in a way they’d understand. He was an excellent teacher, and one day, you’re sure, he’d make an even better father. You find yourself falling into fantasy: Logan, late at night, a baby—your baby—on his chest. You can see it now—him changing a diaper, teaching the child to walk. Your heart squeezes in your chest, your eyes falling closed as you daydream about the future—your future together. 

You’re so distracted that you don’t hear Mark walk up to you—don’t feel his hand grab your shoulder.

You yelp and jump. “Oh my god,” you mumble, turning around and coming face to face with him. 

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, his hand lingering for far too long on your shoulder. He finally peels away, his arms falling to his sides. He leans against the wall, trying to appear casual and cool. “What are you doing tonight?”

The bell rings before you can think of a polite way to shoo Mark away, and the students exit Logan’s classroom, happily shouting greetings in your direction. You stood outside Logan’s door every day, and the students were always excited to see you.

A few of them run up to hug you, complaining about Logan’s gruffness. When they hear Logan’s footsteps approaching the door, they bolt down the hallway, their laughter booming against the walls. 

Logan steps out into the hall, and he groans audibly when he sees Mark next to you. But Mark ignores Logan, his eyes trained on yours. “Got plans?” He asks again. 

You roll your eyes. “Dude, I’m not interested!” You groan, too irritated to pretend to be nice. Mark smirks and parts his lips, ready to persist like the creep he is.

Logan steps in front of you, his claws already out. “Listen, bub,” he growls, his claws just inches from Mark’s chest. “If you don’t fuck off and stop harassing my girl, we’re gonna have a problem.”

Mark scoffs. “My girl? What are you, her father? You can’t possibly be dating her.”

You can see the anger in Logan’s eyes, the honest rage. “Lo,” you soothe. “Don’t do it.” But you know it’s too late. His decision is already made.

Logan shoves Mark against the wall, his claws pressed against his throat. “I’m her fucking boyfriend, bub,” he grunts as Mark squirms helplessly under his hold. 

“Oh, her boyfriend?” He teases, despite the fear in his eyes. “Aren’t you too old to be a boyfriend?”

Logan shoves him harder into the wall, and Mark yelps pathetically, like a small dog. “More serious than that,” Logan asserts. “Guessing you wouldn’t know anything about that though, would you?” 

“Alright, break it up!” Scott’s voice echoes from down the hall. He runs over, Jean and the Professor by his side. Rogue and Gambit follow close behind. But Logan doesn’t budge, the tips of his claws almost digging hard enough to draw blood. 

You bring your hand to Logan’s shoulder. “He isn’t gonna hurt me,” you whisper to Logan. “I could handle him easily if he tried.” You slide your hand to the nape of his neck, trying to soothe him, to relax him. “Nothing’s going to happen, okay?” 

Logan retracts his claws and lets go of Mark, who stutters away from Logan and into the center of the hallway. “I’m getting the fuck out of here!” Mark shouts, but Logan doesn’t react. He simply intertwines his fingers with yours. 

“You okay?” He asks, his thumb brushing circles into the side of your hand. 

You arch a brow. “Are you okay?” You smile and lean into him. 

“So…” Scott trails off, interrupting. “You two are…”

“Together.” You finish his sentence, your eyes still on Logan’s. You can feel the tension in his shoulders stretch down to his hand. He’s rigid, still on edge. You know he needs to get out of here, needs to be alone with you. 

“How long has this been going on?” Scott asks, genuinely caught off guard. “Did anyone know about this?” 

You turn to the team to see heads shaking side to side—save for the Professor. “I did, of course,” Charles confesses. “But I felt it was best left a secret until the two lovebirds decided otherwise.”

Rogue shakes her head, the corners of her mouth twitching up. “I can’t believe you never told me!” 

“Told you what?” Jubilee calls from down the hall, approaching the group. She blows a bubble as she stands next to Rogue, her eyes trailing down to where your and Logan’s hands connect. Her eyes widen and her bubble bursts. “No way!” She cheers, jumping up and down. 

“Settle down,” Charles laughs, extending his hand down the hall to where Mark was just moments ago. “Scott, make sure our technopath friend makes it out the door alive.” Scott nods and heads down the hall. Charles turns to you and Logan. “As for the two of you,” he pauses, winking. “We’ll discuss more at a later point.”

You smile in understanding, and Logan squeezes your hand—another sign it’s time to go. He’s still worked up about Mark; he needs to get this out of his system, needs to relieve all the built-up tension. 

“Got something I need to take care of,” Logan says to the group, tugging you down the hallway.  

He strides through the mansion, practically yanking your arm out of your socket. “Logan,” you whisper, trying to catch his attention. You’ve never seen him like this—rage and jealousy like fire in his eyes, dripping from his pores. He leads you up the stairs and towards his bedroom, and it suddenly dawns on you what exactly he needs to take care of. 

Logan pushes the door open and slams it closed the second you’re inside. His hands are immediately on you, grabbing at the pillowy flesh of your ass, pinning you to the door. His lips find yours—hungry and rough, the wiry hairs of his beard scratching your face. He tastes you, his tongue seeking more of you as it swipes across your lower lip. You open your mouth, inviting him in, your tongue tangling with his.

Logan hoists you up without breaking the kiss, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. You can feel his erection straining inside his jeans, pressing against your heat. He grinds into you as one hand slips under your top and drags up your back, holding you tightly against him. 

“Need you,” he mumbles against your lips. “Always fucking need you.” He tears you away from the door and towards the bed. He throws you onto the mattress and climbs over you, slowly, like an animal stalking its prey. “Tell me you need me, pretty girl.”

“N-need you,” you stutter as he settles on top of you, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head. 

“I’m not too old for you?” Logan teases, one of his hands loosening its grasp on your arm and trailing down your body, settling on the hem of your shirt. “You don’t wanna be with anyone else?” He hikes up your top, pushing it above your breasts. 

You can feel the heat pooling between your legs. “No,” you whine, arching your back as his fingertips play with the bottom of your bra. “Only wanna be with you,” you breathe as Logan slowly, teasingly pulls your bra up. “Please,” you beg, spreading your legs wider. “Want you to fuck me.” 

Logan smirks, finally tugging your bra and top over your head and casting them to the floor. “Gonna take care of you, sweetheart,” Logan soothes, palming your breasts with his free hand, rolling your nipples under his thumb. 

“Fuck,” you moan as he pinches a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. 

Logan hums, his fingertips trailing across the valley of your breasts, doing the same on the other side. Logan pinches harder, and you moan louder this time. “That’s it,” he coos, his lips finding your pulse point, sucking roughly. “Don’t be quiet, darlin’,” he demands. You whisper his name, your voice whiny and needy. “Show me how much you need me. Keep making those pretty little noises, baby.”

“Feels good,” you whimper as his hand traces down your stomach, to your hips, gathering the fabric of your skirt in his fist and yanking it up to your waist.

He chuckles darkly. “You wore this just for me?” He asks, his thumb hooking inside the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs. “Wanted to make it easier for me to fuck you?”

“Fuck, yes, just for you,” you pant, watching as Logan lifts himself off you, tugging his t-shirt up and over his head. He dexterously unclasps his belt buckle and throws the leather to the floor. He balances on his forearm as he unbuttons and unzips his jeans, pushing them down his thighs along with his boxers. “I’m all yours, Lo,” you promise as he presses his forehead to yours.

Logan’s hand glides down your side, slipping between your legs and finding your folds. You moan as his fingertips prod at your entrance, spreading your slick. “Fuck, all this is for me?” He pinches your clit before swiping through your folds again. “You’re soaked already, princess.” His fingertips brush your clit, tracing achingly slow circles into the bud. 

You rock your hips against Logan’s touch, searching for more friction. “Logan, need you,” you whine, squirming underneath him. “I’m yours.”

“All mine?” He whispers, his touch suddenly disappearing. You groan at the loss of contact. “Say it again, pretty girl,” he demands, guiding his cock to your folds. 

“All yours,” you answer, trying to move your hips lower to feel just an inch of him. “Please just—”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he slams into you, down to the hilt with one thrust. He throbs against your walls as he works you open, his hips still, his cock splitting you in two. “Fuck,” Logan grunts. “So fucking tight. Perfect little pussy. Wanna stay right here forever. Maybe I won’t even fuck you. Maybe I’ll just make you sit on my cock.”

But you need him to move, need him to take you. “Logan, f-fuck me,” you choke, trying to move your hips. His hand grips your waist, stopping you from sliding up his length. “Please, move,” you plead. 

“So impatient,” he chides, kissing you bruisingly, biting your lips. He finally pulls out and slams back in, bottoming out again. His hand slides down your waist and slips between your legs. “You gonna be a good girl and let me fuck you the way I want?” 

His hand is just above your clit, inches away from where you need him most, waiting for your answer. You nod emphatically. “Yes,” you say with pleading eyes. “Anything. You can do anything just please—oh fuck!” Logan pinches your clit and starts his machinations, swirling around the bud. He pulls out and pumps back in, setting a ruthless pace. 

His hips snap against yours, taking all of you with reckless abandon. His lips swallow your moans, consuming you, drinking you in. Of all the times he’s fucked you, it’s never been quite like this. There’s a hunger in Logan’s eyes that you’ve never seen before, an undying need you’re not sure can be satisfied. Something feels different about this time—more intense, fervent, and feverish. 

Logan thrusts in and out of you, bottoming out with every pump, still stretching you out. His fingertips stroke your clit roughly, your walls already fluttering around him. He curses under his breath, his chest heaving against yours. 

“Look at you,” he groans, fucking into you. “So beautiful like this. Always so beautiful.” You can feel his cock twitching inside you. “Wanna make you mine, sweetheart.”

“I-I already am,” you stammer, his fingers drawing tight, rapid circles into your clit, pushing you closer to the edge. “Always gonna be yours.”

“Want more than that,” Logan grunts, his hips rocking, his pace quickening. He’s so deep inside you—hitting exactly where you need him most with every thrust. 

“Whatever you want,” you pant, your chest pressing flush to his. “It’s yours. I’m yours.”

“Yeah?” He growls at the shell of your ear. “You gonna let me fill you up? Gonna let me stuff you full of me?”

“Yes, please,” you cry out as he pumps in and out, shoving himself as deep inside as he can possibly fit. You feel so full, so complete. Nothing compares to having Logan this close, to having him be so connected to you. You’re already coming undone underneath him, falling apart. “Want you to stay inside.” And then the words fall from your lips without a second thought. But you mean it, and you want it more than anything…

“Wanna have your baby, Lo.”

Logan groans at your words, his cock throbbing with need. “Fuck, don’t tease me like that, sweetheart.” 

“N-not teasing,” you stammer. “I mean it.”

“Shit,” Logan growls, his skin slapping against yours, your words spurring him on. He’s letting himself go, letting himself plunge deep inside you, fast and hard. “Such a good girl,” he praises, his length dragging against your walls, pushing deeper still. “You gonna let me fuck a baby into you?”

“Yes!” You cry out, the fire burning in your belly spreading up to your spine, coursing through your veins. Your walls flutter around his length, squeezing him tightly.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” Logan coos, rutting into you, his hips stuttering. “Want you forever.”

You throw your head back as his fingers swirl around your clit. “You have me Lo, always gonna have me.” Your walls clench down around him, and the tension snaps. Electricity shoots up your spine as your orgasm crashes into you. It’s intense—more intense than anything you’ve ever felt. Pleasure washes over you in waves, heat blooming across your chest and up your neck.

Logan is right behind you, whispering a string of praises as he finishes inside you. “Did so fucking good for me. Always so perfect, beautiful.” His thrusts slow until he’s still inside you, but he doesn’t pull out. “Don’t wanna move, princess,” he husks, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. 

“You don’t have to,” you say, your voice hoarse. Logan rolls you onto your side, hoisting your leg up and over his hip, keeping himself deep inside your cunt. You close your eyes, your heartbeat finally steadying, your chest still heaving in time with Logan’s. 

The silence is comfortable, calming. You listen to Logan’s breathing as he runs his hands up and down your back. “You okay?” He asks, pressing a chaste kiss to the crown of your head. 

You hum. “I’m perfect,” you mumble, burying your face into his chest. “Do you really…” You trail off, suddenly nervous to ask the only question on your mind, despite everything that just happened. 

“Yes,” Logan answers immediately. “I meant it. Wanna be a family. Wanna be with you forever.”

You melt into him, wrapping your arms around his back. You can feel his cock growing hard inside you as you move to get more comfortable. “I want that too, Lo,” you sigh. “More than anything.” You smile against him, thinking about your future, thinking about how all this started because some asshole wouldn’t leave you alone. You can’t help but giggle at the thought.

“What’s so funny?” Logan asks. You can hear the smirk in his voice. 

You look up at him. “You’re crazy, you know that?” You joke, your smile widening. “You could’ve hurt that guy.”

Logan’s smile widens too. “Just crazy about you,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. He flips you onto your back and hovers over you, his cock still deep inside you. “Should’ve kicked his ass.” You bite your lip, waiting for his next move. “You’re my girl,” he groans, sliding out of you slightly. 

“Yours,” you breathe as he thrusts back in. “All yours.”

tags: @cosmiccandydreamer @alsoprettyinpink @alastorssimp @1800-fight-me @iamburdened @chaoticweirdogeek @loganobsessed @seasonofthenerd @witch-lemon @the-occasional-artist1125 @https-murdock @afw5 @wolviesgirl @the-ruler-of-death @xtwistedchaosx @wittyjasontodd @galacticglitterglue @silversprings-mp3 @zxaera @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @prettyseaveins @ilysmdovie12 @evasmlp @derbygracie @rammakela @honeyfewr @ricefordays-blog1 @manipulatour

[fingertipsmp3]

Girl help I don't have access to the recordings of the online class I'm in and also I don't think I'll be able to go to class tomorrow

[domjaehyun]

under the influence (l.dh)

PAIRING ▸ stoner!haechan x fem!reader WORD COUNT ▸ 11.6k WARNINGS ▸ a hint of dubcon (she’s timid but very much likes the attention), pervy!dom!haechan, shy!sub!reader, slight dacryphilia, corruption kink, finger sucking, oral (giving & receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, nipple play (receiving), marking, some cum eating, spit play, groping in public, panty stealing & sniffing PLAYLIST ▸ FYS - john concepcion, sweet release - kevin ross NOTES ▸ hii i hope you enjoy! any and all positive feedback is greatly appreciated, so send me an ask if you liked it or let me know in the tags pretty please :) 

As you press the button to call the elevator, you start to get the jitters. They start in your fingertips and travel up your arms to the back of your neck, making the fine hairs there stand on end, and you shudder slightly, shaking your head in an attempt to do away with the sensation.

The doors open with a ding, and you jump at the sound, making Yeri look over at you in alarm.

“Are you okay?” she asks, worries, and you nod, albeit a bit too quickly and vigorously to be convincing. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you say with a frown, and she rolls her eyes exaggeratedly. “Nothing!” you insist.

“You’re a horrible liar,” Karina reminds you, and your frown deepens. “But if you say so, I guess.” 

Relieved, you follow Yeri and Karina into the elevator and lean into the back corner of the shaft, resting your back against where the two walls meet. 

“We should watch a movie today,” Karina suggests excitedly, and she and Yeri fall into a discussion that you would join if you weren’t busy thinking about Haechan and whatever stunts he’s going to pull today. 

It takes three calls of your name from Karina and a vigorous shake from Yeri to snap you out of it, and you look at them sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck. 

“Girl, where do you keep going? Every time I look over at you, you’re in la-la land.” Yeri asks, concerned and amused.

“Sorry, I was just… thinking.” you mumble.

“We know that,” Yeri says with a chuckle and roll of her eyes. “Thinking about what, hm?” she presses, and you balk.

“She’s probably thinking about Haechan and what stunts he’s gonna pull today.” Karina supposes, and you frown, upset you’ve been caught.

In your defense, Haechan is always up to shenanigans when you’re around; he pulls at your skirt to fluster you, plays with your hair to get your attention, strokes under your chin just to watch your eyes glaze over—you name it, he’s either done it or is probably thinking about it.

You can’t honestly say his advances are unwelcome because, well, you’ve had a crush on him for the past six months. But something about him is so intense, so jarringly locked in, that it makes you hesitate, and being the object of his full and undivided attention never fails to make you the shyest version of yourself, and you manage to make a fool of yourself almost every single time you get around him, and you have no idea how you’re going to deal with his antics today. 

“Girl.” Karina’s voice cuts through the fog in your brain and you blink hard, focusing on your friend’s concerned expression. “You’re doing it again.”

“Oh. Sorry,” you mutter, rubbing your arm awkwardly. “I’m here, for real.”

As the bell dings and the doors open, the three of you file out of the elevator, walking towards the end of the hall to your destination.

“If you need help with him, let us know. We can make up a code word!” Karina suggests helpfully, and you smile, endeared by your friend’s attempt to calm your nerves.

“What should it be?” you wonder, and she screws her face up thoughtfully.

“Blinker.” Yeri answers, and you both turn to look at her. “It should be blinker. Like, if he’s getting too close and you can’t handle it, you can just say you kinda wanna try hitting a blinker or something like that.”

“The last time I hit a blinker, I coughed for ten minutes straight and it was the most painful experience of my life.” Karina recalls, grimacing at the memory. “It’s perfect.”

“Great.” Yeri says, smiling reassuringly at you before the three of you stop in front of the apartment door. Without a second thought, Yeri knocks three times on the door, stepping back to where you two are standing and waits with you for someone to open the door.

It opens a moment later to reveal Haechan standing in the doorway, one hand on the doorframe and the other holding the door, and you wonder how such a simple stance has you short of breath.

He looks at Karina and Yeri, smiling pleasantly, before he locks eyes with you. Slowly wetting his lips, his eyes slowly drag up and down your frame, taking in your outfit and appearance before he meets your gaze once more and drops one eyelid into a flirtatious wink.

“Come on in,” he invites, stepping back to let Karina and Yeri in. When it’s your turn to pass, he moves closer, deliberately blocking part of your way so you have to brush by him to enter, and you’re sure it’s also no coincidence that he’s positioned himself so your chest has to brush against his. You swallow your nerves and continue walking past him, not daring to look back in case he’s looking at you; which, if today is anything like every other day you all hang out, he most certainly is. 

Shutting the door behind you, Haechan follows after the three of you into the living room, but waits, standing, by the chair where Mark sits—for what, you don’t know. You wave hello to Mark in his favorite armchair and Jeno on one end of the couch, who greet you pleasantly and resume their tasks of packing the bong and rolling a joint, respectively. Mildly confused but saying nothing at Haechan’s behavior, you take a seat at the other end of the couch, only for Haechan to move at last, crossing the living room to sit directly next to you.

Your throat dries up at the prospect of being so close to him, and you inhale shakily, wanting desperately to roll your eyes back in your head when you catch a whiff of his intoxicating cologne.

Haechan doesn’t say anything for a moment, just rests one elbow on his knee and observes you with his cheek in his palm. His expression is nothing short of desiring as he takes in your appearance, your burgundy pleated skirt and short-sleeved cream blouse apparently quite the fascinating little number to him, causing you to shift awkwardly in your seat and self-consciously tug your skirt down a bit.

“Relax,” he chuckles. “I’m staring at you because you look good,” Haechan compliments, eyeing you appreciatively. “You always look good, though, but today… damn.”

You blink at him, stunned by the flirtatious lilt to his voice, and mumble, “Oh.”

“Oh?” he mimics you, chuckling, and you furrow your brows, frowning at his teasing. His brows lift up as his face brightens with amusement, and he shakes his head slowly with a smile.

“Thank you.” you say softly, and he nods, smile widening. 

“You’re so cute.” he murmurs, eyes locked on yours. Your eyes dart around, looking everywhere but at him, but he recaptures your attention when he snickers quietly and you meet his gaze to see he’s no longer looking at your eyes, but your lips, and there’s a distinct longing in his stare that unnerves you and, if you’re honest, piques your curiosity. “Did you make it here okay?”

“Yeah,” you mumble quietly, eyes shifting back and forth from his eyes to your lap before you give into temptation and look at his lips, regretting it instantly when they quirk up into a smirk as he catches you looking. “The bus was basically empty, and it had heating today.”

“Mm, that’s good to hear,” he muses, running his fingers through his hair, and you attempt to hide the way you swallow thickly at the attractive sight. “We don’t want anyone pressing up against such a pretty girl and trying anything sleazy, right?”

“Um…” you trail off, managing to restrain the reply on the tip of your tongue that Haechan is probably the most likely candidate to press up against you and try something sleazy.

“...Right.” he finishes for you, and you nibble your bottom lip.

“...Right.” you echo, and he grins. 

“So… Do you wanna smoke?” he asks.

“I do,” you confirm shyly, and he smiles slightly, no doubt amused by your nervousness.

“Good girl. Did you wanna hit my pen? It’s pretty strong.” he offers, and you won’t lie—your brain blanks for a minute at the praise, but you’re pretty sure you manage to recover just in time for Haechan not to notice anything.  

“Okay,” you reply hesitantly, and he grins.

“Great—give me one second to get something.” he says before standing up and heading to the back of the apartment to his room. You wait fairly patiently, fingers lightly drumming on your knee as you wait for him to return.

“What’s up?” Mark asks curiously.

“Haechan’s getting something from his room.” you explain, and Mark nods slowly, lips pursed thoughtfully.

Haechan returns from the back of the apartment after a moment with a new cartridge in his hand. You watch with mild fascination as he deftly switches the cartridges in his pen, taking a test pull and holding it in for so much time, you’d swear he’s trying to show off.

When he looks over at you and winks before blowing it out, your suspicions are confirmed. 

“This strain is special,” Haechan murmurs to you, and his eyes drop to your lips as he continues, “it’s a ‘horny’ strain.”

“A horny strain?” you mumble, confused, and he nods with a grin.

“It heightens libido.” he adds, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Want some?”

“That’s not real,” Mark calls out from across the living room, and you crane your head to see him. “There’s no actual science to back that up.”

Haechan scoffs, rolling his eyes. “No one signed up for your TEDTalk on weed; save it.”

Mark grumbles something about misinformation being the death of society but remains otherwise silent.

Haechan calls your attention back to him with a simple clearing of the throat, and you look back at him to see his gaze heavy-lidded and sultry as he regards you, and you start to wonder if Mark might actually be the misinformed one.

“Want some?” he repeats his question from earlier, and you hesitate, making him roll his eyes and chuckle. “It’s not gonna bite you.” As you shift closer to take the pen from him, he holds it out of your reach with a glint in his eye. “I might, though,” he murmurs, and you swallow thickly.

He scans your frame, eyes lingering on your almost outstretched hand, and takes a slow, deep pull from the pen, not holding it in for nearly as long before he’s leaning towards you suddenly, making you yelp and draw back.

“Relax,” he mumbles, some of the smoke slipping from his mouth. He cups your chin in his hand and tugs gently to get you to open your mouth before leaning closer, so close that you fear your lips might touch, leading you to attempt to pull back; however, Haechan’s grip on your chin tightens, a clear sign to stay where you are, and he blows the smoke into your mouth slowly. You’re deeply flustered at first, but your instincts kick in as you inhale the secondhand smoke, holding it in your lungs for a couple of seconds before blowing it back out.

When you’re done exhaling, you expect to pull back, but Haechan’s grip on you hasn’t loosened, the male now studying your lips with an intensity in his gaze that gives you a twinge of anxiety and something else you don’t have it in you to identify. 

“You ever shotgunned before?” he asks softly, and you shake your head as much as his hold on you will allow. “You did a good job.”

“Thanks,” you mumble meekly. “Can you let me go now?”

He rolls his eyes slowly, lips quirking into a cocky grin as he does just that, releasing your chin and sitting back. “If you say so.”

“Thanks,” you mutter quietly, and he flicks his brows upwards in acknowledgement, gaze scanning you before lingering for a moment by the side of your face. “What is it?”

“You have something in your hair,” he says, gesturing to near your ear. When you fail to retrieve the foreign object, he tsks in dissatisfaction before leaning over and gently removing a single white feather from your hair. “Probably from the pillows.” he explains, the backs of his fingers gently grazing your ear as he pulls back. When you squirm away from his touch slightly, the contact too sensitive and ticklish, Haechan chuckles softly. “Look how nervous I make you.” His fingers return to your ear, gently stroking the shell of your ear, and your face blazes with embarrassment and something else as he hums softly. “Even your ear is hot. Do I make you hot anywhere else?” He drops his hand, fingers lightly skimming your upper thigh, and you just about jump out of your skin, cursing internally when you see the delight in his expression.

“Thanks for getting the feather out of my hair,” you say in a desperate attempt to navigate the conversation elsewhere, but it seems Haechan isn’t quite set on letting you off that easily.

“Oh, come on,” he presses, sitting closer to you and leaning so close you can smell his (delicious) cologne. “Don’t tell me your heart isn’t racing right now.”

It is, you think grimly. That’s exactly what I’m trying to avoid.

“Haechan, leave the poor girl alone,” Karina calls from the other end of the couch, and the momentary waver in Haechan’s attention on you as his eyes dart elsewhere is all you need to scoot further back and smooth your skirt out with a vigorous clearing of your throat.

When Haechan looks back over at you, you’ve thankfully managed to regain a semblance of your composure, your gaze politely but pointedly focused at your hands in your lap.

“Pretty girl, you want another hit of the pen?” Haechan offers, and you think back to the way Haechan clutched your chin earlier to shotgun you, finally shaking your head in refusal. “Okay,” he relents, reaching into his back pocket for something and frowning before pulling out an empty hand. “I have something for you.” he says before standing up and heading back to his room.

He emerges once more with a half of a red gummy cube sticking out of his mouth, sitting back down on the couch and draping his arm over the back so it’s ghosting just over your shoulders. “Bite,” he urges through closed teeth, and you shoot him a wary look. “Bite,” he stresses, and you falter, not sure if you should.

“Is it an edible?” you ask cautiously, and he rolls his eyes, an amused chuckle leaving him. 

“Yes. Bite.” It’s not a request, and instead of getting huffy about him bossing you around, you’re more surprised than anyone else when you lean in and carefully bite the other end of the gummy, tugging your half away from his mouth before chewing it. It’s sweet and sugary, but there’s a definite strong aftertaste, a tongue-drying, almost numbing sensation that reminds you it was more than just a little snack. “See, you don’t mind sharing with me, right?”

You don’t answer, instead sitting back and pulling out your phone to fire off a quick text to your group chat consisting of the two girls sitting a little ways away from you and your fourth roommate, Yurin, who usually frequents these hangout sessions but had to pass this time to study for midterms.

you [18:11pm] SOS

you [18:11pm] he keeps being all TOUCHY TOUCHY what do i do?

You set your phone down on the couch face down and stand up, heading to the bathroom to calm your nerves. 

Little do you know, your phone buzzes while you’re gone, Haechan’s curiosity getting the better of him as he flips your phone over. 

Luckily for him, and very unluckily for you, you don’t have a privacy setting on your Messages app notifications, meaning that any incoming texts can be read by any prying eyes, no passcode necessary.

yurin big trouble mister [18:14pm] maybe tell him how you get all TOUCHY TOUCHY with yourself to the thought of him 😁

karina bo bina [18:16pm] god could you be any more crass??

yurin big trouble mister [18:17pm] LMAOOO i couldn’t help it the joke was right there

yeri berry [18:18pm] you’re laughing. our dear friend is about to get consumed by a weed smoking incubus and you’re laughing.

Haechan snorts to himself in amusement, deliberately leaving your phone face-up for your return. You enter the room shortly after, picking up your phone and scrolling through your notifications with a small frown bordering on a grimace.

“What’s got you all upset, pretty?” Haechan asks, feigning curiosity, and you flinch, locking your phone and tossing it in your lap in a panic. “And now you’re jumpy, too? What’s on that phone that’s got you so stressed out, hm?” 

“Nothing,” you answer far too quickly for your liking. 

“I don’t think it’s nothing,” Haechan persists, voice lowering in pitch and volume as he moves closer to you, eyes bright with excitement and something else you can’t quite place. “I think there’s something incriminating on that phone.”

“Incriminating?” you mumble, dazed and flustered, and Haechan nods slowly, lips curling into a wolfish grin. 

“Incriminating like… nudes, maybe,” he muses, tapping his chin thoughtfully, and at the sight of your confused face, shakes his head. “That must not be it. Maybe a message of some sort… from a friend…” You freeze as you realize exactly what’s going on, and Haechan’s grin only widens now that he can tell you know that he knows. “Wonder what you look like when you… how did she put it? ‘Get all touchy touchy with yourself’ to the thought of me.” 

“Haechan,” you murmur, heart rate quickening as you try to think of any possible way out of this conversation. “It’s not what you think it is.”

“I think it’s exactly what I think it is.” he counters with a mischievous wiggle of his brows, and you whimper in panic, desire starting to blaze in his eyes at the sound. 

“What were you doing looking at my phone, anyway?” you accuse, cursing to yourself as your voice shakes slightly.

“I’m nosy,” is all he offers in response. “And, oh, please, you wanted me to see that text. You wanted me to know that late at night,” he teases, pulling your hand closest to him away as you squeal and try to cover your ears, “you touch your pretty little pussy,” he forces your hand back down between you two with a chuckle, “and think about me.”

“Could you lower your voice, please?” you mumble nervously, and he just laughs.

“You don’t want everyone to know that you’re into me, do you?” he remarks, and you swallow thickly, looking down at your lap. “I’ll keep your little secret. For a price.”

You study him out of the corner of your eye suspiciously. “What price?”

He strokes his chin thoughtfully before leaning back and draping his arm behind you on the couch. “I’ll let you know.” His voice is teasing but there’s an ominous edge to his voice that makes you gulp.

“Hey, Yeri?” you call, and her attention is on you instantly. “Remember when, um, you hit that blinker earlier? How’s your throat feeling?”

Her eyes widen almost imperceptibly in understanding and she rubs her throat gingerly, frowning deeply. “It’s still sore. Wanna come get some water with me?”

“Yes,” you accept the offer gratefully and practically spring up from the couch, following after Yeri and ignoring, to the best of your ability, Haechan’s little snicker from behind you.

“You wanna switch seats?” Yeri asks in a low, concerned voice as you two enter the kitchen, and she laughs when you hesitate.

“I mean, I like it, I just… need a quick break.” you mumble, and she nods, pouring herself a glass of water. “Could you guys, um, hear him earlier?”

“No… why?” she scrutinizes you, and you blink, flustered. 

“He saw the group chat texts.” you mutter, and her eyes widen in alarm, setting her glass down a bit too harshly, the loud clink resonating throughout the room.

“I’m gonna kill Yurin.” she hisses.

“Not if I get there first.” you huff, and she snickers. Footsteps sound out from the living room, making their way to the kitchen, and Yeri pauses. “It’s not Haechan,” you assure her. “I think it’s Karina.”

Sure enough, Karina enters the kitchen, and Yeri looks at you in surprise. “How’d you know?”

“I recognize the footsteps.” you explain with a shrug. “Plus, the guys are wearing house slippers and we’re in, like, socks, so it makes a different sound.”

“Okay, little miss super spy.” Yeri teases with a laugh, and you giggle, pushing her playfully. “Have you recovered, you think?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, smiling. “I’m ready to go back out there.”

“What’d I miss?” Karina whines, and Yeri looks at you expectantly.

“Haechan saw the texts about me… at night… that Yurin sent.” you explain carefully, and Karina lets out a loud gasp, her hand flying to cover her mouth.

“I’m killing her.” she groans, and you and Yeri chuckle.

“Get in line, girl.” Yeri says, and Karina snorts in amusement.

“You’re gonna be okay if we go back out there, right?” Karina asks worriedly, and you’re briefly overcome with appreciation for your friends.

“I’ll be okay, I’m pretty sure. I’ll just say blinker again if anything goes wrong.” you confirm, nodding resolutely, and the crease between Karina’s brows fades away as she relaxes.

You three make your way back to the living room, fully preparing to sit back down, but thankfully, before Haechan can torment you further, Jeno inadvertently saves your life and whatever’s left of your dignity by standing up from the couch abruptly and clapping his hands together. “I’m hungry. Diner?”

“I would kill for waffles,” Karina agrees, and Mark and Haechan also stand and start to grab their belongings as you all make your way to the door and slip your shoes on. 

As you shuffle between Yeri and Karina for protection and wait as the elevator descends to the indoor garage of the apartment complex, a tickle starts to build in your throat, making you clear it quietly, then more insistently when the sensation persists. 

“You okay?” Haechan asks, hand poised over your back to pat it in assistance, and you nod.

“My throat is just… a little dry,” you mumble, and Haechan nods in understanding, reaching into his jacket and handing you a Blow Pop. “Thanks,” you mutter, pleasantly surprised as you unwrap the lollipop and stick it into your mouth. By the time the doors open on the garage floor, the flavored saliva produced by the sweet treat sitting in your cheek has almost entirely soothed your throat, and you’re feeling significantly better. 

The six of you make your way to where Jeno’s and Haechan’s cars are parked beside each other and stand behind the two cars, silently deliberating amongst yourselves.

“Well, I call shotgun.” Mark calls out, and Jeno unlocks his car, Mark sliding into the passenger seat.

“There’s no way all six of us are gonna cram into Jeno’s car,” Yeri remarks incredulously. 

“Yeah, definitely not, because my middle backseat’s seat belt isn’t working and the airbag sensors are fucked up, so it’s a seat belt or nothing in my car.” Jeno laments, and your skin starts to crawl as you realize where this might be heading. 

“So your car only seats four… and there are six of us…” you say slowly, pulling the lollipop from your lips with a muted wet pop that has Haechan eyeing you like a lion about to corner the slowest gazelle of the herd. Usually, there are seven of you, so even if you had to ride with Haechan, there’d be a third body present in the form of the lovably boisterous Yurin.

Curse Yurin’s midterms, and curse Yurin for sending that text, and curse yourself for leaving your phone where Haechan could see, and curse Haechan for being nosy—

“I’ll ride with Haechan,” Karina offers, noticing the way you become more and more quiet as you sink further into your worries. 

“No, you won’t.” Haechan says, leaning against his passenger door. Everyone looks over at him, and he just pushes off of the door, opening it and pointing directly at you. “Get in.”

“Oh, gosh.” you mumble, and you’re not sure if it’s the weed effect making you feel sluggish or you’re really that apprehensive, but you feel a bit like a puppet with sandbags for shoes, your feet hesitantly shuffling, dragging, scuffling towards Haechan’s passenger door.

“It’s an eight-minute drive,” Yeri calls to you sympathetically, and you nod, shooting her a feeble thumbs up that you don’t even believe. “We’ll see you soon!” 

“Yeah,” you croak, feeling very much like a lamb being led to slaughter, and Haechan smiles sweetly at you, baring all his teeth as you sit in his car. He closes the passenger door and crosses over to the driver’s side, opening the door and getting in. 

When Haechan finishes settling down into the driver’s seat, checking his mirror views and pulling up the GPS to the diner, he straps himself in and looks over at you, eyes scanning your frame for something—you don’t quite know what. Seemingly done with his inspection, he leans closer to you without warning and reaches for the seat belt buckle in your chair, pulling it out and over your body as he clicks it into place. The whole while, he’s invading your personal space, your breath catching in your throat as you realize his face is close enough to yours that you could probably count his lashes if you wanted to.

He turns his head ever so slightly, eyes locking on yours, and you blink rapidly in alarm, rendered immobile as he studies your face.

“You look so cute, all innocent and helpless like this.” he murmurs softly, and the tiniest of squeaks escapes you, his eyes flashing with glee at the sound. “Now stop looking at me like that,” he warns, “or I’ll kiss you.”

You blanch, trying immediately to make any other expression than the one you didn’t even know you were sporting, and he chuckles before sitting back in his seat and starting his car. He turns the air conditioning on—a strange choice, considering it’s a bit nippy outside—and pulls out of his spot, starting to drive towards the diner.

It doesn’t take long for you to get cold, goosebumps gradually appearing on your arms and legs, but you’re a bit too nervous to say anything, instead suffering in silence. You clasp your hands together in your lap, rubbing them together for warmth, and, as he stops at a red light, Haechan looks over at you, watching in fascination as you shift in your seat for any sort of friction that could warm you. After a moment, you notice his eyes fixated pointedly on your chest, and you spare a glance down to see, to your alarm, that your nipples are hard, starting to poke through your clothing, and you curse internally for wearing a thin, lacy bra that does nothing to conceal your stiffened buds.

He swipes his tongue over his bottom lip, smirking in what seems like satisfaction, before refocusing his attention on the road. You cross your arms over your chest protectively, tucking your fingers into the crooks of your elbows as he drives down the road.

“We’re here,” he announces after some time, pulling into a parking spot in front of the diner and turning the car off. The cold air blowing through the vents shuts off, much to your relief, and you unbuckle your seat belt before he gets the chance, practically flinging yourself out of the car into the significantly less cold night air.

As you all file into the diner, you notice a man staring very pointedly at you and your bare legs and your chest, where your nipples have yet to go down. 

Haechan scans the room, catches sight of the man, and follows his gaze back to where you stand, his jaw clenching.

“Put this on,” Haechan murmurs, shrugging off his jacket and offering it to you. You start to take it, eager for warmth, but pause, looking at him suspiciously.

“Why?”

His gaze flicks over your shoulder at where the man from earlier sits, and understanding dawns on you. “Just—put it on for me?” 

You nod, gratefully accepting the jacket, and Haechan steps closer, draping it over your shoulders and helping you put your arms through the sleeves. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly, and he nods.

“You look cute in my jacket.” he remarks with a small smirk, and your cheeks warm.

“Thank you,” you mumble, and he trails his tongue along his bottom lip before gesturing for you to follow after him with a jerk of his head, a quick peek past him revealing the hostess who’s arrived to take you all to your seats.

When you arrive at the booth, Haechan’s right by you, gesturing for you to go in first. You do so without complaint, preferring the inner seat anyway, but it’s when Haechan slides in next to you that you realize your mistake as he closes you into the booth corner, the main obstacle between you and freedom from, well, him.

As the hostess passes out menus and you all start to look them over, you feel the side of his hand resting against the side of your thigh, making you attempt to shift away from his hand, the touch too intimate for you to handle at the moment.

Somehow, his hand finds its way back against your leg, palm turned up slightly as he lightly grazes his fingertips along your thigh, and you suck in a sharp breath, doing your best to pass it off as a cough when Haechan looks over at you, eyes twinkling with amusement.

“I think I’m gonna get the breakfast platter,” Yeri says excitedly. “It comes with pancakes, eggs prepared how you want them, homefries, and your choice of meat.” 

“That sounds so good,” you reply thoughtfully. “I think I want a burger.” 

“Yeah, a burger sounds good,” Haechan agrees, eyes slowly sliding over to study your reaction as he flattens his palm against your leg, slowly sliding it up to caress your upper thigh. Your reaction must be nothing short of rewarding, as you jolt so forcefully that you shake the table slightly, and he chuckles softly.

“You okay, girl?” Karina asks, worried, and you nod, swallowing thickly.

“I just, um…felt a tickle on my ankle. Thought it was a bug or something.” you mumble, and she nods, eyebrows still furrowed in concern.

“I know I said waffles earlier, but I kind of want these barbecue ribs,” Karina says, pointing at an entry on the menu, but you can barely make your gaze focus on where her finger touches the menu because Haechan’s hand is still very much on your thigh, and to make matters worse, you think you like it.

His hand slides up higher, the side of his thumb slipping under the hem of your skirt, and you raise your glass to your lips in an attempt to act natural, hoping and praying no one notices the way your hand is shaking slightly.

Haechan leans in closer to you, murmuring in your ear, “This must be a dream come true for you, huh?” He grips your thigh firmly, not even attempting to play it off as a casual touch anymore, and you barely manage to stifle your yelp of surprise in time. “Must have been wanting this for so long,” he breathes secretively, smiling lips grazing the shell of your ear so subtly, no one else would notice unless they were paying unnaturally close attention.

You, however, do notice. Not only do you notice, but you suck in a sharp breath of surprise, the sudden movement making the water in your cup slosh forward and spill out slightly, a few droplets dripping down your chin.

You suck your teeth in mild irritation, glaring at Haechan as you reach for your napkin, but he’s faster, his free hand coming up and wiping the liquid off of your chin.  

“Um, thanks.” you mumble, and he nods, locking eyes with you as he licks at the pad of his thumb, cleaning off the water droplets with his mouth. “Oh, dear Neptune.” you whisper to yourself, feeling more and more overwhelmed by the moment. “Where is this waitress—I need to eat something.”

“Yeah, we should let her know we’re ready to order,” Mark says, waving a hand out to flag down the waitress. As she approaches, you sneak a peek at Haechan, whose expression is surprisingly calm and neutral given the sensual, slow circles he’s drawing on your upper thigh with his thumb.

Haechan’s hand slips further in between your legs, getting dangerously close to your core, and you decide that’s enough play time for him, clamping your legs together forcefully.

“You trapped my hand, pretty girl,” he points out with a growing grin, and you ignore him even as he continues, “I didn’t know you liked it that much.”

You still don’t give him a response, staring stubbornly out the booth window, and he chuckles before withdrawing his hand from your legs with such ease that you wonder if he was ever really stuck there.

“Oh, we’re doing the silent treatment? Copy that.” he muses, nodding slowly in understanding, and you can’t help but wonder what else he has in store for you.

Today, the energy in the room is entirely different—and you don’t like it one bit.

Haechan won’t even acknowledge you today; his eyes skip over you when he scans the room like you’re not even there, or, worse, he seems to be looking completely through you at times, completely unaffected by your presence.

“Girl, did you piss Haechan off or something?” Yeri whispers to you, and your brows knit together as you shake your head. “He hasn’t made a single move on you all day.”

“I know,” you mutter bitterly.

“Maybe he’s sick,” Karina supplies in an attempt to help, but her words practically fall on deaf ears as you stare burning holes into the side of his face as he laughs at something Mark said.

“I’m about to be sick,” you mumble, your stomach twisting uncomfortably as your somewhat secret crush that used to be obsessed with you treats you like you’re nothing more than a couch cushion.

You don’t know what’s come over you, but when Haechan gets up and heads towards the kitchen. you find yourself standing to follow, mumbling that you’ll be right back to Karina.

Haechan stands with his back to you at the kitchen island, pouring a can of something—it looks like Monster—into a glass, and you take a moment to admire his slender yet lean build, the curve of his shoulders and the perfectly mussed up state of his hair—

“I know you’re there, you know.” he says calmly, and your eyes widen as you immediately attempt to look busy doing anything other than blatantly ogling him. He turns right when you’ve reached for a bag of Ruffles chips and raises an eyebrow expectantly. “You have something you want to say?”

“What do you mean?” you ask, slightly thrown off-guard, and he blinks at you impassively.

“I noticed you staring at me,” is all he says in response, and you blanch, pursing your lips carefully.

“Haechan, are you mad at me?” you ask softly, and he smirks.

“And why do you ask that?”

You fidget with the hem of your skirt nervously, averting your gaze to look at the granite countertop. “Well, you… haven’t talked to me all night.”

Haechan doesn’t say anything for a concerningly long time, prompting you to look up at him and immediately wish you hadn’t. He looks beyond smug, and painfully attractive as he leans in slightly, not close enough to get in your space but close enough to send a thrill down your spine. 

“You were giving me the silent treatment the other day, right?” he reminds you, and you hesitate, realizing you were the cause for his radio silence. “I was just returning the favor.”

“Well, don’t.” you say with a frown, and he raises his eyebrows, amused and surprised.

“Why not? Did you miss me or something?” he teases, and you balk, losing all your nerve as quickly as you’d found it.

“No!” you answer quickly, and he arches an eyebrow skeptically, prompting you to continue, “No, I just—”

“You and I don’t really talk much, anyway,” Haechan muses, leaning his back against the island as he regards you with a cocky glint in his eyes. “So what is it you really miss, hm?”

“Well—” you struggle to find your words, and something softens in Haechan’s gaze, the cocky twinkle now accompanied with a smile bordering dangerously on fondness.

“You miss me messing with you, don’t you?” he asks, and at your lack of response, nods in confirmation. “You miss me touching you?” he questions, dragging out the syllables excruciatingly slowly. He sucks his teeth when you still don’t reply and says, “I know you do. You know you do. Now just admit it.”

“I can’t,” you protest weakly, and he shrugs, raising his hands in surrender.

“You want me to touch you again? Give me what I want.” He sounds dead serious and painfully unwavering on his stance, prompting you to whimper quietly to yourself, too wrapped up in your own nerves to notice the way his eyes darken at the sound of your desperation.

“I want you to touch me.” you mumble shamefully, and his lips quirk up into the beginnings of a smile. 

“Come here; say it again.” he urges, beckoning you closer, and you hesitate, making a challenge flash in his expression before he’s poking his tongue into the inside of his cheek and chuckling. “Don’t make me come over there.”

“I want you,” you say, “to touch me,” you repeat your words from earlier, trying desperately to look anywhere but at him.

You can see him crossing the distance between you in your peripheral vision, your insides tensing with anticipation as he gets closer and closer. To your utter disappointment, he continues to walk as if he’s going to pass you, only pausing to tilt his head to the side in a patronizing display of faux sympathy.

“Good girl. Now, was that so hard?” he chuckles, not even giving you a chance to respond before he continues his path out of the kitchen, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

What in the absolute hell did you just get yourself into?

You’re coming back from the bathroom when you quite literally almost run into Haechan in the hallway. 

“Sorry,” you say, stepping to the side to get past, but he steps to the same side. You laugh awkwardly before stepping to the other side, only for him to do the same, his movements far too calculated to be a mistake, and you come to the realization that he’s intentionally blocking your path. “Haechan?” you ask quietly, nervousness creeping into your voice, and he chuckles.

He takes a step towards you, prompting you to take a cautious one backwards, and his smile widens as he advances on you, slowly but surely herding you back towards the bathroom. When your back hits the nearby wall, your eyes widen, and he mocks you, briefly widening his eyes in faux surprise before flicking his brows up suggestively and placing one hand on the wall by your head on the side you could escape from, successfully trapping you in a makeshift corner. 

“You’re so cute, really.” Haechan sighs, smiling fondly at you, but there’s a devious twinkle in his eye as he regards you.

As he closes in on you, your body is alight with nerves and anticipation, and you decide to try again, feebly calling, “...Haechan?”

“Shh, shh, shh,” he quiets you soothingly, reaching up with his free hand to brush your hair out of your face. “Don’t act like you don’t want this, baby.” As if to prove his point, he presses his knee between your legs, thigh pressing up against your clothed core, and a poorly restrained moan bubbles up in your throat.

“Haechan—” you whine, and he shoots you a smug smile.

“See, baby? I know you want it. You know I want it. That’s why you always wear these tiny fucking skirts whenever you come over,” he states, hand dropping from your face to tug at the hem of your skirt, and you gasp—both at the sudden yanking and the insistent pressing of his thigh against your core. “You like it when I do this. Bet you were waiting for me to slip my hands under your skirt to touch you.”

“Mm-mm,” you protest, but the way your hips move against him, rolling back and forth and grinding wantonly in search of relief, is telling another story, Haechan arching a brow skeptically. 

“Mm, no? You don’t like it? But, wait… what was that you said in the kitchen earlier?” he questions, a taunting lilt to his words. “‘I want you to touch me,’” he echoes your earlier request in a poor imitation of your voice. “Well, I’m touching you, baby—don’t you like it?” When your only reply is a small nod, he shakes his head disapprovingly, gaze darkening. “Words.”

“Yes,” you whimper, breath catching in your throat when he rewards you with a firm upwards press of his thigh into your core. Your movements speed up slightly as you feel that familiar tightening sensation in your abdomen, your climax not far ahead.

“Are you gonna cum just like this?” he asks, and there’s a hint of amusement to his words but it’s almost entirely overtaken by the heavy desire in his voice. 

“Mm-hm,” you whine softly, your desperation peaking as your high gets closer and closer. 

“Beg me to let you cum.” he urges, and you’re already so far gone that your shame is all but done away with.

“Please, Haechan, can I cum?” you pant urgently, a slight pleading quality to your words as you feel the beginnings of your climax, pleasure blooming between your legs in a gush of warmth. “Please?” you whimper, and something in him snaps, Haechan lurching forward and cupping your face in his hands to hold you in place as he kisses you deeply, his tongue tracing along your lower lip as you tremble and moan weakly into his mouth. 

When you move to pull away to breathe, he clutches your face more firmly, slipping his tongue into your mouth and exploring at his leisure, all the while ignoring your muffled, plaintive cries for air. 

“Haechan, I can’t breathe,” you rasp out finally, and he lets you go with a shaky inhale and an unmistakable reluctance. 

“You are so goddamn addicting.” he pants, and his hands drop to your hips, resuming the motions you weren’t aware you’d stopped. “Keep going.”

His hands keep guiding your movements, practically dragging you back and forth on his thigh as he kisses you again. This kiss is messier than the last as he sucks on your tongue and pulls back to trail his lips down your neck, stopping just above your pulse point and sucking hard, a gasp escaping you at the pleasurable sensation.

“Mine,” he grunts against your throat, sinking his teeth into a new patch of skin and sucking there, too, without a doubt leaving some form of mark behind. “All fucking mine.” he repeats, clutching your hips tighter and dragging you up his leg and closer to him, lips parting from your neck with a loud, wet pop and connecting with yours eagerly. “Gonna fucking ruin you, princess.”

“Hae—” you barely get the first syllable of his name out before he’s sealing his mouth over yours again, fingers creeping into the kiss to pry your mouth open.

“Open,” he mutters, brows furrowed in concentration. When you oblige, he taps your tongue impatiently until you let it hang out of your mouth, Haechan sucking in a deep breath as he eyes you appreciatively. Without any warning or preamble, Haechan spits directly onto your tongue, and you whimper, voice cracking slightly. “Swallow. I’m gonna do it again.” You swallow his saliva, the extra moisture in your mouth jarring but not unwelcome, and return to your previous pose of your mouth open with your tongue hanging out. 

He grins and leans in again, hovering over your waiting tongue as he drops a long, clear string of saliva from his puckered lips down to your mouth. “Don’t swallow.” He pulls back from you slightly and pushes his middle and ring finger into your mouth, the cool silver of his ring catching your taste buds as he thrusts his fingers in and out of your mouth, gliding them against your tongue to collect as much wetness as he can. “Good girl,” he coos, pleased, and you’re embarrassed by the rush of warmth between your legs that appears at the praise. “Need them nice and wet for you.”

Not wasting a minute, he snakes his slick, spit-covered fingers past the band of your underwear and starts to stroke over your folds, digits gliding amongst your arousal with embarrassing ease. 

“You’re a mess down here,” he remarks, eyes alight with glee and something wild, primal as he teases you. “You like me that much? Hm?” He seems not to need an answer as he grins cockily at you, eyes scanning your face intently to drink in your every reaction to his touch, no matter how small. He trails his fingers up, up, up until he’s brushing the underside of your clit, and you jolt, flinching away. 

“Haechan, that’s sensitive—”

“I know, baby,” he coos. “That’s exactly why I’m doing it.” With the hand not currently in your underwear, he laces his fingers with yours, the back of his hand pressed against the palm of your own, and trails your linked hands down your body to join his other hand in your underwear. “Show me,” he rasps, and you blink at him, too far gone to fully understand exactly what he means. “Show me how you do it when you’re alone—when you think of me.”

Cheeks blazing, you realize you’re in no position to refuse, so you guide his hand into massaging your clit in circles, your abdomen tensing reflexively whenever his fingers graze the sensitive underside of your clit. 

“Talk to me, baby.” he urges gently, and you whine in protest, the fire in your face increasing nearly tenfold. “Wanna hear that pretty voice tell me how you touch your little pussy.”

“I just rub it in circles like this,” you mumble, voice slightly husky with desire, and the shift doesn’t go unnoticed, if the intensifying of Haechan’s gaze means anything. 

“You don’t go inside?” he asks softly, and you shake your head.

“Doesn’t feel good when I do it,” you whimper, and he sucks in air sharply, swearing under his breath as he watches your face twist in pleasure. It’s all too much for you, having his undivided attention on you like this, and you look away, a shudder traveling through your body as another climax approaches.

“Look at me,” he coaxes, and you reluctantly oblige, pleading eyes locking on his as your peak gets closer by the second. “Only look at me.”

“Okay,” you agree, the last syllable coming out like more of a squeak, and he smiles brilliantly, the hand not pleasuring you slipping out of your underwear and lifting your shirt up to reveal your breasts in your thin, lacy light blue bra. Leaning down, he wraps his lips around one of your nipples through the fabric and starts to suck, tongue swirling around the stiffening bud so wetly that his saliva starts to darken the fabric, the warmth of his spit seeping through the fabric. 

He sucks at your nipples with an almost ferocity, alternating breasts like he can’t get enough of either, and his hand snakes around your back to unclasp your bra, Haechan pushing the garment out of the way as soon as it’s loose and latching onto your nipple with a low groan of satisfaction.

As he flicks your nipple back and forth with his tongue, his fingers stroke you closer and closer to your high until you’re so close you can practically taste the sweet, heady feeling of ecstasy. “Show me what you sound like when you cum, baby.”

“Oh—shit—oh, my God,” you hiss as your eyes screw shut tight, pleasure coursing through your body as your orgasm travels through your system. “Feels so good,” you whimper, and he hums in agreement.

“Say my name, baby.”

“Haechan—” you moan wantonly, and he lets out a noise somewhere between a groan and a growl as he tugs at your nipple with his teeth.

He doesn’t stop attending to your breasts until he’s certain he’s milked every last second of bliss from your body, alternating between sucking and flicking and swirling his tongue around the buds until you go limp, your body slumping against the wall for support. 

Finally, he pulls his arousal-coated fingers from your underwear, trailing them over your bottom lip before pushing the digits into your mouth to suck. 

You do so with an embarrassing amount of eagerness, and are just as surprised as Haechan when he pulls his fingers from your mouth and you whine in protest.

His brows shoot up into his hairline and you feel heat blazing furiously in your cheeks as he regards you with a mix of surprise and an expression that looks close to impressed.

“You like to suck, yeah?” he murmurs, and you nod hesitantly. Something flashes in his dark eyes, and he grins. “Wanna suck something bigger?”

Hesitant but undoubtedly excited, you nod, and he wets his lips before setting about unbuckling his belt and opening his jeans. 

As he does, you slowly sink to your knees, and when he looks up from his pants to see you kneeling before him, he lets out a loud swear that you fear might blow your cover.

As you stare in awe at his impressive size, you realize you’re less worried about getting caught than you are about having to stop. He watches you watch him with amusement and fascination, but the undercurrent of desire runs strong as he clicks his tongue to get your attention. 

You look up at him, and he licks his lips, exhaling a small puff of air before wrapping a hand around his base.

“This is the prettiest sight I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he praises, and you smile, heat rising to your cheeks once more. Lowering himself slightly, he cups your breasts, pressing them together and grunting, “I’m gonna fuck these one day. But now?” he says, releasing them and stroking your chin affectionately. “I’m gonna fuck this pretty mouth.”

“You ever suck someone off, baby?” he asks in a low voice, and you shake your head, making his eyes slide shut in bliss as he squeezes himself harder. “Fuck, I’m your first?”

“Yes,” you mumble shyly, and he coos affectionately at you, leaning down slightly to cup your chin with his free hand. 

“Remember when you were sucking that little lollipop the other day?” he asks, and you nod. “It’s kind of like that. Use your tongue, and the wetter it is, the better.”

You nod carefully and sit forward, letting your jaw drop open. 

“Fuck, baby. Tongue out for me?” he grunts, and you oblige, letting your tongue drop out of your mouth and lie flat for him. “So good, baby, just like that,” he encourages, leaning forward and guiding the head of his cock into your mouth. 

It feels strange but not unwelcome, and you suck gently at the head of his cock, more focused on using your tongue to explore the intrusion in your mouth. Based on the way Haechan’s breathing shallows and quickens, you suspect you’re doing a pretty good job.

“Baby, you’re so good at this,” he groans, his head tipping back before it snaps back up as he seemingly realizes he’d rather watch you. “Mouth looks so pretty wrapped around my cock like that.”

You can only manage a whimper as you boldly press forward, taking more of his length into your mouth, and he sucks in a sharp breath as you swirl your tongue around his length before tentatively flicking it over the slit in the head of his cock. He groans weakly and, emboldened, you do it again, Haechan letting out a delicious little grunt that spurs you to kick it up another notch.

You start to bob your head, doing your best to alternate between bobbing and licking, and Haechan shudders deeply, his hand releasing the rest of his cock and moving to cup the back of your head, fingers slipping into your hair. 

“Just like that—fuck—” he hisses, biting his lip as he watches you suck him off, skill increasing with every movement. When you push forward a bit too suddenly, eager to impress him, you choke briefly on his length, throat constricting slightly as your gag reflex activates slightly. “Oh, shit—”

Despite the slight ache to the back of your throat, you keep sucking, moving forward slower this time to allow your throat time to adjust to his size. When you massage the underside of his tip with your tongue, wet muscle gliding over the ridge of skin, he moans your name and it’s one of the most rewarding sounds you think you’ve ever heard.

“So good,” he pants as you bob your head up and down, and his length twitches in your mouth, giving you a hint that he’s close. “Gonna cum, baby.”

You move your head faster, sucking his length to the best of your ability with all the tricks you just learned, and his fingers grip your hair tightly as he spills into your mouth, his hips sluggishly thrusting forward as he shallowly fucks your mouth. 

“You,” he grunts, helping you to your feet so you’re face to face and kissing you deeply, “are a fast little learner.” His tongue slips between your lips and he explores your mouth eagerly, licking at your tongue and inner cheeks as you whimper, dizzied by the fervor of his kisses. 

“Baby,” he mumbles into the kiss, the urgency in his voice waking you up slightly, “I wanna eat you out. Can I taste you, princess?” When you nod, he grins brilliantly. “Gonna make you feel so good.”

He drops to his knees and slides his hands up from your ankles, hands slipping under your skirt to caress your hips. Pulling your underwear off, he drapes one of your legs over his shoulder, warm, slender fingers spreading apart your folds to get a better look at you.

When you whine softly in embarrassment, he shushes you gently, murmuring, “I just want to admire you for a second, baby, please?” He ducks his head under your skirt and sucks in a sharp breath when he’s met with the sight of your core, folds glistening with your arousal. “Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen,” he breathes in awe, and before you can reply, his mouth is on you, upper lip resting just above your clit as his tongue strokes along your folds indulgently.

“Oh, my God,” you whisper, stumbling back slightly to lean against the wall behind you. Haechan moves with you fluidly, massaging your clit with his tongue as his fingers clutch your thighs, kneading the flesh with greedy, rough movements.

Tongue moving downwards towards your entrance, he prods the tip of it against your hole, chuckling when you jolt and squirm under his actions. “Don’t be shy, baby, I just want to taste.”

You nod even though he can’t see you, and he must be able to tell, because his tongue pushes forward, slowly breaching your entrance. You suck in a loud breath as his tongue delves further into you, occasionally coming out to slurp up the arousal dripping from your hole. 

“Tastes so good, baby,” he moans, his nose rubbing against your clit as he slowly starts to move his tongue in and out inside of you. The feeling is strange but amazing, a slightly ticklish element to the pleasure you’re receiving as he tongue-fucks you. 

Slurping loudly and moaning even louder, Haechan loses himself in your core, alternating between tongue-fucking you and licking at your folds and clit, leaving sloppy wet kisses that make your mind spin.

“Yeah, you like that?” he grunts, sucking at your clit hard before slipping his tongue out to stroke the sensitive underside of the sensitive bud. “You like when I kiss your pretty pussy? Hm? Do you like it when I make out with your sweet little pussy?”

“Yes,” you whimper, fingers clutching at his head over your skirt. When you get a good grip on him, you start to pull him closer, wanting more of his touch.

“Always so good—so shy and innocent.” Haechan murmurs, words slightly muffled from his oral ministrations on your pussy. “Now look at you; look how bad you’re being.”

“Haechan, please,” you breathe, and he turns his head to suck at your inner thighs, no doubt leaving a mark or two in his wake.

“Wanna see just how bad I can make you be.” he coos before surging forward to lap at your core eagerly, losing himself once more in the taste of you. “Fucking delicious, baby, you taste so good for me.”

He sucks and licks and kisses—even nibbles a bit—until your legs are shaking and your grip on his hair is iron-clad. You briefly consider the extremely compromising position someone might find you in if one of your friends walked down the hall and are surprised to find that not only do you not care, but there’s even a smidge of excitement when you think about getting caught like this, with Haechan’s head under your skirt and your breasts exposed.

“Haechan, I’m—I think I’m gonna—” you pant out, and he nods fervently, tongue slipping out of your entrance to flick your clit back and forth rapidly, a sharp whine slipping from you.

“Cum for me, baby—cum all on my tongue.” he urges, pulling you closer as he feverishly laps at your clit and entrance, shaking his head from side to side rapidly to run his tongue along your core back and forth. “That’s it, pretty girl, just let go.” he purrs, coaxing your climax out of you, and you do just that, letting the coil wound tight in your abdomen snap and letting the pleasure flood through your body.

“Haechan—” you whimper, and he hums soothingly as his tongue massages your clit once more, thoroughly milking your orgasm for all its worth. When the trembling of your legs has calmed down slightly and you’ve started to breathe normally once more, he pops his head out from under your skirt and winks up at you, chin and lips covered in your arousal.

“You’re addicting, baby; could eat your pussy for hours.” he says as he rises to his feet. A look downwards grants you the sight of his erection, fully hard once more, and you swallow thickly before looking up at him only to see that he’s already watching you with a small grin on his face. “Think you can handle one more?”

You’re nodding before you even realize it, and Haechan beams at you, drawing closer and closer until you’re flat against the wall. 

Nudging your legs apart, he settles between them and aligns his tip with your entrance, looking up from where your bodies meet to your face.

“Ready, baby?” he asks, and you nod carefully, eyes drifting back down from his face to where the thick head of his length presses against your core. “Good girl,” he breathes before pushing into you slowly, covering your mouth with his palm as you gasp out loudly. “Baby, they’ll catch us if you keep making noise like that.”

“S-Sorry,” you stammer, but it’s a muffled apology given that Haechan’s hand is still firmly clasped over your mouth. “So full,” you whisper in awe, and he chuckles lowly in your ear, lips pressing to the spot just behind your lobe. 

“Feel so tight around me, baby,” he grunts, his labored breathing in your ear telling you that he’s just as affected as you are. “So fucking good—”

“Haechan, move,” you whisper urgently as he bottoms out in you, and he obliges, pulling out to the tip and pushing into you again. A loud whoosh of air escapes your lungs, and he sucks your earlobe into his mouth, making you let out a loud whimper that would have been much louder had Haechan’s hand not muffled it.

“I’m starting to think you want to get caught.” Haechan murmurs with a smile on his lips as he kisses along your jaw and moves his hand to kiss you. 

“Mm—! No, I don’t—” you insist through your cries of pleasure, and he shakes his head with a taunting grin.

“Yes, you do,” he teases. “You want all our friends to come in this hallway and see me fucking you like the perfect little fuckdoll I always knew you could be.”

“Hae–chan—” you stutter, tiny noises leaving you with every powerful thrust of his hips. He’s so good, so big and thick, and he’s filling you up just right and hitting all the right places, and it becomes too much very quickly, an overwhelming amount of pleasure rushing through your body as he fucks into you. If it couldn’t get worse for you, he reaches between you two and his fingers find your clit, rubbing it in quick circles just like you showed him earlier. “Fuck—stop—too much—”

“Doesn’t that feel good, baby?” he coos, shifting himself to angle his hips into you just right so that every snap of his hips sends his tip fucking directly into your g-spot. 

You feel warmth behind your eyes, the telltale pricking at the corners that you know all too well, and the first tear drops before you can wipe it away, another tear following after that as the pleasure all but consumes you.

“Aw, baby, don’t cry, it feels good,” he consoles you, reaching up with his free hand to wipe your tears away. 

“So good—too good—” you babble, and he laughs at that, brows furrowing at the end as you clench around him.

“It can’t be too good, baby—you’re not making sense anymore.” he says with a playful lilt, and you whimper, more tears falling as you sniffle pathetically. “Fuck, you’re so pretty when you cry.”

“Wanna cum—Haechan, please let me cum—” you beg, and his movements stutter, Haechan looking at you in surprise.

“Yeah? Baby wants to cum?” he grunts, eyes squeezing shut for a moment as your walls flex around him again. “Fuck, I love when you do that—feels so good—cum for me, baby.” 

Not needing to be told twice, you promptly fall apart around him with a messy string of swears and “please” and utterances of Haechan’s name as your nails dig into his forearm, making him wince slightly. You’re sure you look a mess, eyes wet and glossy as tears stream down your cheeks, but Haechan’s drinking in your appearance like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Baby—I’m close—fuck—” Haechan grunts. “Gonna cum—where do you want it?”

“Want it inside of me, please—” you croak weakly, and he lets out a sound that’s a mix between a smug chuckle and a moan.

“Can’t believe you were skittish as a mouse just the other day, and now you’re begging for my cum. Want me to fill you up?” he pants, hips driving into yours with reckless abandon. 

“Please—” you whimper, and he swears under his breath.

“Fuck—take it all, baby,” he urges, hips pressing into yours as he buries himself in you and empties his load. “It’s all for you,” he says breathlessly as his length twitches inside of you.

He stays inside of you for a moment, both of you attempting to catch your breath, before he slowly pulls out, tucking himself back into his pants and helping you fix your skirt back into place. To your confusion, he hooks his fingers in your underwear, pulling the thin, arousal-soaked fabric down and off your legs. 

“Um…” you start, and Haechan looks over at you, brows raised expectantly. “Those are mine,” you state, pointing at the fabric in his fist.

“And now,” he hums, bringing them to his face and inhaling deeply, eyes sliding shut in bliss just in time to miss your scandalized expression. “They’re mine. C’mon; you should use the bathroom.”

He loops his fingers around yours, other hand stuffing your underwear in his back pocket as he leads you to the bathroom.

When the door closes behind you, you sit down on the toilet with slightly shaky legs, taking a moment to think about everything that just occurred. 

You would have never in a million years thought that you’d have sex with Haechan, let alone in the hallway—let alone, with your friends in the very next room. However, as you think over the events that just transpired, your body is filled with a warm thrum of satisfaction, and you can’t seem to find an ounce of regret. 

“Girl, where the hell were you?!” Karina exclaims, fussing over you as soon as you reappear in the living room. “We’ve been texting and calling for ages!”

“Oh,” you mumble, pulling your phone from the little pocket in your skirt. “It’s been on Do Not Disturb,” you explain sheepishly, and Karina rolls her eyes hard.

“Don’t do that again. You had us worried sick. What were you even doing for so long?”

“Um… well, Haechan and I,” you start, casting a side glance to the couch where Haechan sits and hesitating slightly when you see that he’s watching you intently, not an ounce of shame in his expression. “We hooked up.” you say finally, straightening your back slightly and standing up taller.

Yeri’s jaw drops. “About damn time.” she remarks, and you narrow your eyes at her.

“Hush, you.” you huff, looking over at where Haechan sits once more. He locks eyes with you and grins, patting the empty spot next to him and wiggling his eyebrows playfully, and you smile, looking away from him to address your bewildered friends. “I’ll explain everything later—”

“Yeah, yeah, just go, girl.” Karina chuckles. “He’s waiting,” she sing-songs, and you elbow her slightly before shooting them a bright smile and a small wave and making your way to sit next to Haechan. 

When you sit down, Haechan drapes his arm around you on the back of the couch, and you can feel the heat creeping to your cheeks.

“So,” he says carefully, taking a hit of his pen and exhaling slowly before he continues, “I know this is a little backwards of me, but… do you wanna go out sometime? Like, on a date?”

“I’d like that,” you reply with a bashful smile, and he grins, relieved.

“Great. Now in the meantime,” he says, looking pointedly towards the hallway before looking back at you expectantly, “I have a nice ass TV, snacks, and a strong ass edible with your name on it in my room. You down?”

You don’t even hesitate. “I’m down.” you agree, smile widening, and he nods, satisfied. He stands from the couch and offers you his hand, which you take as he pulls you to your feet.

As you trail after him towards his room, fingers still locked with his, you can’t help but notice the familiar peek of fabric sticking out of his back pocket, and your eyes widen in alarm.

“Haechan!” you whisper loudly, and he looks back at you with raised brows. “My, um, underwear is sticking out of your pocket.”

“So?” he answers simply, and you pause, brain buffering for a moment.

“So?”

“Yeah. No one knows it’s your underwear but you and me,” he points out as you reach his bedroom door. He swings it open and gestures for you to enter first, head dipping down to your ear as you pass by. “So it’s our little secret.”

“Oh,” you mumble, thinking it over. “Okay.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” he says encouragingly, guiding you to his bed and gesturing for you to sit down. “Now, what do you want to watch?”

“Uh, we can watch Family Guy,” you suggest, and he looks at you, pleasant surprise written on his handsome features, before he nods and picks up the TV remote.

“Good choice,” he praises, sitting down beside you against the headboard of his bed. “Perfect show to play in the background while we make out.”

“Oh—” you stammer, blinking in surprise, and he snorts, eyes fond as he scans your bashful demeanor.

“I’m kidding.” he assures you, and you can’t help but frown slightly. Unfortunately for you, this doesn’t go unnoticed by Haechan, and he chuckles. “You wanted to make out, didn’t you?”

“A little bit,” you mumble, and he grins, leaning in closer to you.

“That can be arranged.” he murmurs, still smiling as his lips meet yours.