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florencemtrash · 1 year ago

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Take it Off - Azriel x Reader

Summary: You and Azriel have been friends for centuries... but what happens when he wakes up one day to find that things have changed? And how will he react when you start wearing Cassian's clothes?

Warnings: Angst. Jealous Azriel. Suggestiveness and then some (I don't know what warning to put, but it's spicier than my usual stuff is all I'll say). Cassian is an absolute menace... good for him

Author's note: Did I write this to procrastinate editing SSIB Ch 22 after watching Bridgerton S3?... yes

Is this a fucking game to you?

Cassian grinned over the lip of his cup, raising his brow in a poorly disguised expression of confusion. He’d been playing the innocent fool all throughout breakfast, seemingly oblivious to the daggers Azriel was throwing his direction every time he made you laugh.

Internally, he and Nesta were both cackling. He threw his arm over the back of his mate’s chair, plucking the cream puff she held out for him, and tossing it into his mouth with a shit-eating grin.

I’ve not the faintest idea what you’re talking about, Azriel. Although it hurts me deeply to see you so upset.

Upset was an understatement. Azriel was holding onto his glass of orange juice so tightly cracks were beginning to form beneath his fingertips.

You elbowed Azriel in the ribs, brows furrowed as you pointed your slice of toast towards his hand. “Are you ok?” You whispered low and just for his ears.

The molten anger in his eyes melted away, hazel eyes softening as he took in your concerned expression. You were the first and only one of his family members to watch him so intensely. You could unravel the meaning in every twitch of his jaw, every rhythmic tap of his fingers against his thigh, every flicker of his shadows. You knew when he was upset, when he was happy, and when he wanted to laugh but had trouble expressing it. The only thing you weren’t aware of when it came to Azriel was how unbelievably in love with you he was.

But that was his own fault.

You’d watched him fawn over Mor for centuries, watched as he practically crawled on hand and knees for any kernel of affection she was willing to throw his way. Then, when you thought he’d finally gotten over his feelings for her, he’d chased after Elain’s heels like a dog in heat. You didn’t even want to begin thinking about Gwyn and the way she’d trampled over his hopes with the simple phrase, “I love you as a friend, Azriel. Nothing more.”

No. It was entirely his fault that you’d learned to bury your own feelings for him so deep they’d become background noise — as inconsequential and ever present as the sound of your own breathing.

Still… you couldn’t help but notice the secrets swimming in his eyes, the hurt and longing there that you could only guess the origin of. Who’d hurt him this time? You wondered.

“I’m fine.” Azriel whispered, his hands ghosting over your thighs before deciding against touching you there.

You hummed, clearly unconvinced. You held your toast in between your teeth, tasting the raspberry jam explode on your tongue as you reached over and carefully peeled Azriel’s fingers off his injured glass.

His heart stuttered at the sight of your lips as they closed around your thumb, licking away crumbs and jam from your fingertips. But then his gaze dropped to your chest and his stomach soured.

As Madja’s apprentice, you’d acquired a special interest in botany — an interest that had all but shoved you into Feyre’s studio so you could learn the skills necessary to depict all manner of flora and fauna in your field journal. When you’d complained about finding paint and charcoal stains over your clothes, Cassian had jumped on the opportunity to give you his old shirts to use as painting smocks. He had to congratulate himself for the stroke of genius. After all, he and Nesta had been discussing plans on how to get Azriel to admit his feelings for months now.

Azriel did not respond well to outright suggestions or bullying. If he told Azriel to pull his head out of his ass and ask you on a proper date, the Shadowsinger would only hunker down on his preconceptions that he was unloveable, and that you were far too good for him. If he revealed to Azriel that you’d secretly loved him for decades that would only make him feel even more embarrassment and shame.

No.

Jealousy worked far better when it came to Azriel.

You looked comfortable and happy in Cassian’s clothes — a fact that escaped no one’s notice. You had the sleeves rolled up past your elbows, the rows of buttons at your back haphazardly done without wings to accommodate. You’d worn that particular shirt a half dozen times now and replaced any scent of Cassian with your own.

Still, you were wearing another male’s shirt… and it was starting to drive Azriel insane.

“I was going to get rid of these and thought you might like them for… painting.” Azriel shifted on his feet, holding out the neatly stacked pile of clothes for you.

You were laying on your stomach in bed, colored pencils and textbooks splayed out around you, but quickly righted yourself and sifted through the piles he handed you.

You held one up for a better look.

“Azriel, you were just wearing this last week.” It still smelled like him — the scent of the Illyrian mountains at night woven through the soft, cotton material. “I can’t take this. Or this. Or this!”

“I have more just like them.”

You huffed, fists balanced on your hips.

Azriel was a simple male with ample space in his wardrobe. When he wasn’t in his Illyrian leathers he wore the same three outfits on rotation, all of them nearly identical. If there was anyone who shouldn’t be giving away clothes, it was Azriel.

“I really appreciate it, Az, but I’m ok. I don’t need these. Cassian already gave me enough hand-me-downs to last two decades at least.”

A muscle in Azriel’s jaw jumped out. “Well I’m glad for that.” He was practically seething. You noticed, as you always did, but you couldn’t imagine that you were the cause of his frustrations.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Az? You’ve been acting strangely the past few days.”

“It’s nothing.”

“I doubt that.”

There were various things on his mind, chief among them you. So he took hold of the olive branch you’d extended him and laid down beside you, talking about everything and nothing at all. But one thing he avoided talking about at all costs was how the gentle scraping of your nails through his hair as he rested his head in your lap made him want to lock the door and never come out.

He wanted to bury his face beneath your sundress and then tear it to pieces. He wanted to dive under the covers and leave an assortment of marks on your skin. To hold you so close that you began to smell like one another.

You lay down beside him, leaning your head against his shoulder so he caught whiffs of your elderberry and lemon shampoo.

“You know you can tell me anything, right? That’s what friends are for.”

Right… friends. He was starting to hate that word.

“Yes… I know.”

How long do you think he’ll last?

Nesta felt Cassian’s soft laugh blow over the back of her neck as they crouched just behind the door of Feyre's painting studio.

Azriel had been undeniably irritable the last two weeks, his patience fraying like a linen skirt with the hem torn off. Cassian was still sporting a bruise on his cheek from this morning’s sparring session after one of his teasing remarks had hit a little too close to home.

Not much longer. Look at him, Nes. He’s practically vibrating.

Nesta slapped her hand over her mouth, stifling her laughter.

Azriel was restless, his wings kept opening and closing with agitation and the curve of his ears had long since turned a bright shade of pink. He’d had his shadows knock over a cup of ink earlier, sending its contents splattering over your shirt and staining the fabric beyond repair. But you’d only shrugged and said, “It’s my painting shirt. It’s meant to get dirty,” before going back to your canvas with a soft smile. The moment you’d turned your back to him, he’d silently cursed the ceiling.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. He kicked himself, too focused on your continuing conversation to think that his meddling brother and sister-in-law might be watching.

He hadn’t expected his emotions to take over so quickly, least of all with you. You’d been his best friend for over two hundred years. You were a staple in his life, more familiar to him than the childhood blanket he still had tucked away in his drawer. There was no reason why he should suddenly wake up one day and realize with a shock of surprise that he loved you and couldn’t imagine living in a world that didn’t have you in it.

It had been such a silly moment as well. You’d been getting ready for Starfall, your hair done up and a flush of color spread over your cheeks and lips. He’d come to check in on you and lost his breath when he saw you sitting at the vanity, holding up earrings to your neck to see if they matched the satin of your deep blue gown. And then you’d politely asked him to lace up your dress and he’d nearly swallowed his tongue in surprise, forcing his hands to stop shaking as they brushed against your spine. Gods he’d wanted to throw himself off a balcony that night, if only because you’d be the one tasked with healing him.

He wanted to throw himself off the balcony now. Let the ground swallow him whole so he wouldn’t have to make a fool of himself in front of you… again.

I give it another week. Nesta declared.

Cassian smirked. I know my brother. He won’t last another three days.

In the end they were both wrong.

It only took two days for Azriel to finally snap.

“Take it off.”

You swiveled around in your chair, tongue pressing against your cheek as you wondered what gave Azriel the audacity to march into your private lesson with Feyre and make such an out-of-character demand.

“What?” You asked, furrowing your brows.

Azriel stood as still as an obsidian statue in the doorway. His wings loomed over his shoulders, talons reaching towards the ceiling tense and twitching.

“Take. It. Off,” he repeated through gritted teeth. He clutched a neatly folded shirt in his hands, knuckles pale and bloodless from the tight grip. You’d been wearing Cassian’s clothes almost every day this past week and he couldn’t stand it anymore. He couldn’t stand sitting beside you at the dinner table or in the library, the laughter in his throat dying when he caught Cassian’s scent drifting off your skin.

It was maddening the way you didn’t think anything of it.

Yes, Cassian was practically a brother to you, and yes, he was a mated male but… fuck it bothered Azriel so much to think of anyone else laying claim to you. To think that one day you might actually walk around wearing another male’s clothes because you loved them. To think that that male wouldn’t be him.

He’d tried to bring up the topic with you in his own round-about way, but you’d shrugged off all his suggestions of wearing something — anything — else.

“If you want painting clothes, why don’t we go shopping this afternoon? I’m sure Feyre has recommendations. Or we could just walk around the Rainbow until something catches your eye.”

“I’m not a full time artist, and it seems silly to spend money on clothes you intend to ruin.”

“Why don’t you ask Feyre or Mor for hand-me-downs then? They’ll fit you better and the sleeves won’t drag so much.”

“I like it when my clothes are loose.”

Feyre glanced between the two of you, namely the flare of Azriel’s nostrils and the way he ground his teeth so intently you worried he’d crack a tooth.

“I’m… going to leave now.”

“Wait—Feyre!”

The High Lady kissed your cheek, a knowing look in her eyes, before scurrying out the door.

Don’t scowl so much, Az, you’re making her nervous. She chirped to the Shadowsinger before slipping down the hallway and disappearing.

She made it all of ten feet down the hall before crowing, “It’s happening!” to the others.

It’s happening?! Mor leapt out from her bedroom, a robe hastily tied around her waist and soap suds clinging to her hair. “Fey—” she hissed.

Feyre pressed a finger up to her lips, cutting her off. They’re in the art studio now.

I fucking KNEW IT! Mor squealed in delight, stomping her feet soundlessly into the floorboards as she allowed Feyre to grab her wrist and drag her forward.

I won the bet, Nes.

You didn’t win, we both lost!

Semantics.

Why you bas—

Feyre, Rhys, Mor, Cassian, and Nesta streamed into the foyer. There was an air vent here that led directly to the art studio two floors above them and painted over so expertly it may as well have been part of the molding. The sounds traveling through it were muffled by echos and distance, but nothing that fae hearing and magic couldn’t overcome.

“That’s it!” The chair you’d been sitting in skittered back with a squeak. “What is your problem, Azriel? You’ve been agitated for weeks now. You won’t tell me, or any of the others, what’s wrong and every time Cassian so much as glances in your direction you look like you want to tear his throat out!”

Azriel said nothing as you stomped forward and dragged him into the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Whiskey eyes flickered down to your hand — the hand you currently had closed around his wrist — and he shuddered.

You didn’t even want to begin to unpack the hidden meaning of that response as you brought him to the center of the room and let go.

He dropped the shirt on the nearby desk, hands lowering to the hem of your painting smock with a grimace.

“I need you to take this off.” He repeated with a frown.

“What kind of person marches into a room and demands that their friend take off their shirt?”

He flinched at that word — friend.

“Az!” Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and his anger. “What is going on with you?!”

“It’s nothing.” He growled out, but he tugged at the hem like its very existence was a personal offense.

“Clearly it’s not nothing.”

“Can you just take off your shirt and put this one on?”

You shoved him away. It wasn’t even like he was asking you to get naked, you both knew you were wearing something beneath this, but it was the way he was asking that grated on your nerves — like what he was requesting was perfectly normal and you were the ridiculous one for not listening.

“No.” You folded your arms over your chest with a huff. You were just being stubborn now, but you didn’t care.

His eyes turned tortured and he clasped his hands together in front of you. “Please?” He begged.

“No! Not until you tell me what’s going on and why you’re acting this way!”

“I don’t want to have this discussion while you’re standing there smelling like another male!”

That was… not what you were expecting.

You gaped at him, unsure whether to howl with laughter, or slap him across the face.

“That’s what this is about? You’re upset because I’m wearing Cassian’s clothes?” You gagged at the mere thought of what Azriel was insinuating.

“Well that was a little hurtful.” Cassian mumbled.

Mor slapped the back of his head. “Shhhhh. I’m trying to listen.”

Azriel shifted on his feet, color beginning to spread high on his cheekbones. “It’s not about Cassian… not really…”

You tapped your foot on the ground, waiting for him to continue. Azriel felt naked. Stripped back like one of your insect specimens lit up beneath a microscope. Your eyes raked over his every movement. Even his shadows, usually so attention-seeking, cowered behind their master’s back whispering to one another about how Azriel might dig himself out of his own grave.

“Well?” You snapped.

Azriel shrank back, “I… I like you, Y/n.”

You rolled your eyes, “I know, that’s why we’re friends. I like you too.”

“No. Not… not like that.” Azriel groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Oh I’m fucking this up so badly it’s not even funny anymore.”

“I don’t even know what it is you’re fucking up. I—”

“I love you, ok?” He said in a burst of energy. “I love you and not in the way that friends are meant to love one another and Cassian’s an idiot and I’m a jealous bastard and I… I…”

You stared back dumbly. “You can’t mean that.”

Azriel’s face fell. “And why not?”

“Because I have been here for decades, centuries,” you jabbed his chest with a finger, “And you never once looked at me that way. Never once considered me as anything more than a friend. You’re upset because I’ve been wearing Cassian’s clothes the last few weeks? Well guess what, Az, I’ve watched you walk in and out of those doors for years with your poorly concealed hickies and that lovesick look on your face, and I never made it your problem or anyone else’s.”

“Well I want you to!” He shouted. It was the first and only time you could remember him raising his voice. “I want you to make it my problem, Y/n. I want you to tell me that you love me and I want you to shout at me for all the stupid decisions I’ve made because I’m yours. I’m yours to shout at. I’m yours to get angry with. I’m yours to love if you’ll still have me and…” Azriel gasped for breath, chest heaving as he came face to face with the fact that he’d just said those words out loud. Those words that he’d kept close to his chest with the rest of his secrets. Those words that proved just how completely at your mercy he was.

Please say you’ll still have me. His eyes begged.

When you didn’t move or say anything, he felt a piece of his heart wither away. He lowered his eyes, suddenly interested in a speckle of red paint that had smeared under his boot, “Forgive me. I’m… I’m sorry I didn’t… I shouldn’t have—”

“You’re a fucking idiot, Azriel.” You muttered breathlessly.

Then you flung yourself into his arms and crashed your lips into his.

Kissing Azriel was better than you could have ever imagined. The fantasies you’d constructed late in the night when you were lonely blew apart like paper houses, crumbling in the face of reality. His mouth fumbled for purchase against your lips before slotting into place with a strangled moan. He lifted you in the air and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, tightening them until you could feel him harden between your legs.

His tongue flitted over your lips tasting like oranges and magic.

But his hands.

His hands.

You couldn’t get enough of them as they slid up and down your back, squeezing and pressing into your skin until he’d memorized the curve of your spine. You wove your fingers in his hair, tilting his head so you could stare into his hazel eyes before diving in for another taste.

He walked you back to the desk, shadows flinging the tins of charcoal and pastel pencils off the furniture so you could perch there instead. Then he surged forward, pressing his hips into the space between your legs so he could feel the heat that gathered there. It sent shivers down his spine.

This… this was everything he’d ever wanted. You were everything he’d ever wanted. Not some unapproachable female he admired from afar but hardly knew, but someone who’d seen every inch of his soul and never flinched. Someone who’d nestled into the hidden corners of his heart and grown there like a willow tree.

You moved your hands over the wide expanse of his back, digging your nails in to feel every twitch of muscle, every shudder, as he latched onto the side of your neck and slid his tongue over the sensitive skin there.

He smelled like mountain rain. Like fresh wind and petrichor and sea salt.

You smelled like lemons and safety. Like maple leaves and lavender and… Cassian.

Because you were still wearing his gods-damned shirt.

Azriel felt his blood boil, and an instinctual rage took over as he growled low in his throat, bunched the fabric of Cassian’s shirt in his hands, and tore it in two.

You pulled away from him at the sound of ripping fabric, but kept your grip on his solid shoulders as air blew across your skin.

Azriel’s pupils were blown wide, his lips pink and raw as he leaned his forehead against yours in a daze. You continued to breathe each other’s air like you were drowning. He seemed just as in disbelief as you, if not more.

“Azriel…” You whispered, chest heaving.

He looked at you with half-lidded eyes full of heat. “... yes, Y/n?” He asked breathlessly.

“I think you ripped through my dress… and my bra as well…”

“Oh…” He fingered the ruined fabric that fell loose around your shoulders and realized that your back was indeed on full display. The straps of your bra slipped down and the mangled buttons of your sundress clung to their loops by weak threads. “Oh…oh gods.”

One hand flew up to your chest to keep the fabric in place while the other slapped over your mouth, suffocating the laughter that threatened to burst forth.

Azriel’s ears and cheeks turned brighter than the sun as he slowly lowered you down to your feet, fumbling over apologies like he hadn’t been shoving his tongue down your throat mere seconds ago.

“I’m so sorry—”

“Azriel, it’s ok.”

“No, I was being an ass and now I’ve ruined your dress and—”

“You can buy me more.”

Azriel’s shoulder dropped. “I can?” “You can.”

He shook his head very seriously. “Yes, yes you’re right, I—” Azriel had always been the beautiful one — the one that drew eyes when he walked into a room. The one that had females and males falling out of their seats for a proper look at his elegant features. But right now he looked so helpless, so flustered and unsure of himself that you finally lost it.

Champagne bubble laughs slipped out of your mouth, light and airy, and sent a shock of warmth through Azriel’s chest. It was infectious the way the skin stretched over your cheeks. The light in your eyes couldn’t be contained no matter how hard you tried.

He couldn’t help himself.

He started laughing too.

What began as one of his reserved chuckles grew into uncontrollable peals of laughter that echoed throughout the studio and had you clutching onto the desk for support.

Azriel doubled over, one hand holding the stitch in his side together as you howled.

“Oh gods. I can’t—” You hiccuped. “I-I-I can’t breathe.”

Soon you were both kneeling on the ground, clutching each other’s arms for some semblance of stability. You gasped for breath, wiping away tears from the corners of your eyes.

Azriel captured one of your hands, weaving his fingers through yours before bringing your wrist to his lips for a soft, reverent kiss. You thought you’d experienced enough emotions for today ranging from frustration to anger to a joy you couldn’t begin to put into words. But you were certain your heart could handle one more shift in the atmosphere.

Wordlessly you tugged off Cassian’s shirt, dropping it to the side where shadows caught hold of the cursed fabric and quickly tossed it into the fireplace. The flames crackled with triumph, eating away at the shirt with a vengeance.

“A little dramatic, don’t you think?”

“We can agree to disagree.” Azriel murmured, his eyes growing dark and heavy. His gaze drifted down to the soft skin now exposed from your tattered dress, the thin straps clinging to your arms, the gentle swell of your breasts as you breathed heavily.

His fingers danced over the straps in silent permission, eyes searching yours for any hint of hesitation. But you were open and wanting and desperate for his touch. You crawled into his lap and a faint nod was all he needed before the pale blue fabric of your dress fell down and bunched about your waist. The bra followed, and then you were sitting there naked from the waist up, feeling the heat grow between your bodies as Azriel looked at you with pure adoration in his eyes.

“Am I dreaming, Y/n?” He whispered, rubbing circles into your hip bones.

You smiled softly, “Have you dreamed of me before?”

“Yes. Many times.” He kissed your chest, slowly dragging his hands down your ribs as you shivered and fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, and then his belt buckle. “But we never got this far.”

“Hmmmm, I think we could go a little further.”

“NOT IN MY STUDIO!” Feyre’s voice echoed oddly through the room, sounding muffled and far away.

Azriel’s wings flared out, hiding you from view as you yelped and pressed your chest against his. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment about being found in such a compromising position. But the door was closed! And so were the windows!

His shadows finally found the culprit in the air vent.

“Godsdamnit—HAVE YOU BEEN LISTENING THE ENTIRE TIME?!” Azriel shouted.

A moment passed before Feyre answered, “... No,” in a much softer tone.

“We missed part of the beginning,” Cassian chimed in.

Azriel groaned, dropping his forehead against your shoulder as you were stunned into silence. He muttered something beneath his breath that sounded oddly similar to, “I swear I’m going to kill him one day.”

Azriel helped you to your feet and finally, you put on his shirt.

“Are you happy now?” You teased, arms dropping to your sides.

The corner of his lip twitched upwards. You looked… very good in his clothes with the sleeves rolled up and a sliver of your dress (now skirt) peeking out from beneath.

He looked towards the vent, then wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close so he could whisper, “I would be happier if I saw my shirt and that dress of yours on the floor of my bedroom.”

His hand slid up your skirt, squeezing the back of your thighs in a way that had you stiffening.

All at once he was second-guessing himself. Maybe he’d taken things too far. Maybe the lust-filled haze had cleared and you didn’t want him anymore.

You swallowed and wrapped your hand around his wrist, gently guiding his fingers to your core. You let him know just how much you wanted this.

A roar of blood sounded in the Shadowsinger’s ears.

“I think that sounds like a very good plan.” You murmured in agreement and his eyes turned black as night.

He stole another long kiss before scooping you into his arms.

“Az, where are we going?” You giggled into the curve of his throat as he flew down the hallway and stairs. “We just passed your bedroom.”

“We’re not going to my bedroom.”

“Well we missed my bedroom too.”

He didn’t respond.

Azriel skidded to a stop at the top of the staircase, already well aware that his family had gathered at the bottom and were waiting to bombard him with questions.

Azriel smirked at you, leaned down, and kissed your cheek. “When I take you to bed properly, it won’t be with our nosey family members in the house.” He ran his tongue across the line of your jaw all the way to your earlobe and whispered, “I want any noises you make to be for me, and me alone.”

“You are certainly a man of poetry, Az.”

He smiled. “Only for you.”

“Well, well, well if it isn’t the two love—” Shadows flew into his mouth, muffling his words. “HEH! Azz! Whazthf—”

“I’ll see you in a week.” He said to no one in particular, his shadows opening the door of the River House.

“Where are you going?” Mor asked, her eyes zeroing in on the bright red mark blossoming on your neck. What the fuck? She mouthed at you, giving you two thumbs up as Azriel crossed the doorway with you in his arms.

“None of your business. I’ll see you in a week.” Then he looked down at you, eyes growing soft. “We’ll see you in a week,” he corrected himself.

Your stomach bottomed out, heat flowing through your body as you heard him make such a declaration in front of... well everyone. You couldn't wait to see where he would take you and where he would take you.

"Ready?" Azriel asked, a sultry smile growing on his face.

"Ready."

You wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face in the hollow of his throat as he took off into the air.

#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel x reader angst

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riddlesrizzler · 3 months ago

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The Butterfly Effect

pt.3 of The Girl in the Bumblebee Tights

summary: The most beautiful things come from change. characters: mattheo riddle. hufflepuff! reader. mentions of slytherin boys warnings: NONE BUT GOD THIS MAKES MY HEART ACHE WITH LOVE word count: 1.8k a/n-i’m so glad that you all loved this little series!! it was so fun to write and i truly love whimsical hufflepuff! reader. sunshine x grumpy is one of my favorites along with opposites attract. i believe that this will be my last big part of the story. but i will be open to do little drabbles of them :)

He had always prided himself on being an enigma. Mattheo Riddle was cold, indifferent, and almost cruel at times, he never allowed anyone close enough to see what was behind his mask. But then you came into his life, and somehow, without even trying, you began to unravel him.

At first, it had been simple curiosity. He wanted to know what made you tick. The way you floated through life, seemingly untouched by the world's harsh realities, was a puzzle he couldn't resist. But as time passed, it was no longer about curiosity. It was about you.

You were different.

Your bright eyes that saw the world as if it were filled with magic. Your hands that always seemed to carry some forgotten trinket that, to everyone else, would be inconsequential, but to you, was a talisman of luck and hope. Your carefree spirit was infectious, and even Mattheo, with all his years of keeping his emotions in check, couldn’t help but feel drawn to you.

The more time they spent together, the more he found himself changing.

You had taught him about magical creatures, about the care and wonder that surrounded them. You’d shared stories about Thestrals, the quiet creatures that roamed the Forbidden Forest, showing him the delicate balance of life and death.

In return, he had tried to show you the thrill of Quidditch, the adrenaline of chasing a Quaffle through the air, the beauty in the speed of it all.

Later, Mattheo found himself on the shore of the Black Lake, where the soft murmur of water lapping at the banks mixed with the crisp autumn air. He wasn’t exactly sure how he had ended up there, but somehow, you had wandered into his world like a soft breeze. And now, you were here, sitting on the grass beside him, your fingers idly trailing through the blades of greenery.

There was something almost magnetic about the way you seemed to float through life-like nothing could touch you. It made Mattheo feel like he was seeing the world in a new light. Every moment with you was like a small, magical escape from the cold, harsh reality he had always known.

You were talking about something-maybe creatures, maybe the stars-his mind was distracted as it always was around you. That’s when it happened.

A delicate butterfly fluttered down from the air, landing right in the middle of his messy curls.

Mattheo blinked in surprise, watching the butterfly settle like it had found the perfect place to rest. He instinctively reached up to brush it away, but you were already laughing-soft, melodious, and light-your eyes crinkling with amusement.

“You look ridiculous,” you giggled, pointing at him, a playful glint in your eyes.

Mattheo raised an eyebrow, the corners of his lips curling into a reluctant smirk. “Ridiculous, huh? You’d think so.”

But then he caught sight of your expression-your face alight with happiness, something he hadn’t realized he longed for.

For just a second, he felt foolish for being the butt of the joke. Yet, it wasn’t in a bad way. It was... different. It felt like something he had never experienced-being okay with looking ridiculous if it made you smile.

“You should leave it,” you teased. “It’s a sign.”

“A sign?” Mattheo raised an eyebrow, his voice half-amused, half-confused.

You nodded, looking so sincere it almost startled him. “Yeah. butterflies are symbols of change, you know. They represent the change in someone’s soul. It’s about transformation, the evolution of who you are.”

Mattheo’s heart skipped a beat. There was something about the way you spoke, so earnestly, like you truly believed in these small, magical things that others might find silly.

But to you, they were real. Everything around you had meaning, had purpose. Even a butterfly on his head had significance.

“Change, huh?” Mattheo repeated quietly, the word rolling off his tongue as if it were something entirely new. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, unsure of what to do with the feeling creeping into his chest.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice softening as you gazed out at the lake, watching the water ripple beneath the gray skies. “The thing about change is that it’s inevitable, but it’s also beautiful. You can’t grow without it. You have to change in order to become something more-something better.”

He felt something stir inside him. It was like a quiet warmth, creeping up from the pit of his stomach. For the first time in his life, he considered that maybe... maybe he had been stuck for far too long.

Maybe he hadn’t allowed himself to change because he was too afraid of what that would mean.

And then, he realized: you were the one who had made him feel that way. Your presence, your lightness, your carefree spirit-it had started to loosen the tight grip he had on his heart. Maybe he wasn’t so cold anymore. Maybe, in some small, inexplicable way, he was transforming.

He glanced at you, his gaze softening as he watched the butterfly flutter its wings before flying off into the sky.

For the briefest moment, Mattheo wondered if the butterfly had been a message for him. A message to let go of the walls he had built around himself. Maybe he had already started changing without even realizing it.

And as if reading his mind, you turned to him with a smile, one that made his heart skip a beat. “It’s funny, isn’t it? How something so small, so delicate, can be so powerful?”

He couldn’t help but nod, his throat feeling tight. There was something about the way you spoke, the way you saw the world, that made him feel as if he were seeing it for the first time.

Then, he saw it.

Hanging delicately from your neck was a necklace-a simple gold chain with a tiny butterfly pendant resting just above your collarbone. It was small, almost unnoticeable unless someone was paying close attention.

For the first time, Mattheo realized that you, too, were changing. You were blossoming, evolving, and he wanted to be there with you for every step of it.

“Is that your lucky charm?” he asked, his voice quiet.

You smiled softly and nodded. “It’s a reminder that beauty comes from change. That growth comes from embracing the unknown. It reminds me that I don’t have to stay the same, that I can always become something better, just like the butterfly.”

He was silent for a moment, the weight of your words settling deep in his chest. He wanted to say something, wanted to tell you just how much he was beginning to feel the same way. But instead, he simply reached out, brushing his fingers gently over your hand, grounding himself in the moment. He couldn’t explain it, but being with you made him feel like he belonged-like he was no longer drifting through life, untouched and distant from everything and everyone.

You looked up at him, your eyes soft with understanding, and for the first time, he didn’t feel like he needed to hide any part of himself. You made him feel like it was okay to be vulnerable, to allow things to change, to allow himself to grow.

"And I think…” you paused, smiling softly, “that’s what you’re doing. You’re changing, Mattheo.”

When Mattheo found himself with his friends in the Great Hall, they immediately noticed the shift in him.

“You’ve changed, mate,” Theo remarked with a raised eyebrow. “You’re not the same prick you were at the start of the year.”

Mattheo smirked, though it didn’t hold the usual biting edge. He felt… lighter.

And it didn’t feel wrong.

“I guess I have,” he said simply, glancing across the room to where you had just walked by, looking like a dream in your soft, floral dress.

Draco, ever the skeptic, gave him a hard look. “So, what? You’re really into her, huh?”

Mattheo’s eyes softened as they followed your figure. “Yeah,” he said, voice quieter now, full of a sincerity none of his friends had ever heard from him before. “But it feels okay.”

Enzo, leaning back in his seat, let out a low whistle. “Alright, mate. You’ve gone soft.”

Mattheo let out a laugh, shaking his head. “You can mock me all you want, but I’m not going back. Not this time.”

His thoughts drifted back to you, and that butterfly that had rested so delicately in his hair.

The next day, he found you in the greenhouse, kneeling down and carefully planting flowers in a bed of rich, earthy soil. You were in your element, and the sight of you-calm, serene, so fully yourself-made his chest tighten.

He stood in the doorway for a moment, watching you. You hadn’t noticed him yet, too focused on your task. The sunlight streaming in through the glass windows bathed you in a golden glow, your hands dirtied from the plants, your face soft with concentration.

And then, without thinking, he moved toward you.

“You’re always here,” he said, his voice quiet, but there was a tenderness in it now.

You looked up, eyes widening with surprise, but there was no hesitation. “I love the greenhouse,” you replied with a smile. “It’s peaceful.”

“I get it,” he said, his voice a little lower than usual. “I feel… peaceful here too.”

You smiled, though there was a spark of curiosity in your gaze.

Mattheo’s throat felt dry as he knelt beside you, his fingers brushing the dirt on the ground. He wasn’t good with words, but he had learned that sometimes, sometimes you have to change in order to grow.

He turned to you, his eyes intense. “Please,” he said, his voice rough. “Be my girlfriend. You’ve changed me in ways I can’t even explain, and I don’t want to grow without you.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest, and your hands shook as you reached up to cup his face. His eyes were full of something raw, something vulnerable, something you had never expected to see from Mattheo Riddle.

Without a word, you leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. His breath caught, and he kissed you back, gently, carefully, like you were the most fragile thing in the world.

As you pulled away, you noticed the faint remnants of dirt on his cheeks. You laughed softly, wiping it away with your thumb.

But just as the moment seemed to settle, something fluttered past, and both of you looked up. A butterfly, the same kind that had landed in his curls earlier, flitted into the greenhouse and landed delicately on one of the plants beside you.

Mattheo smiled, feeling something inside him shift.

“You’re right,” he whispered, his hand finding yours. “I’m changing. And I think I like who I’m becoming.”

And in that moment, under the soft glow of the greenhouse windows, with the butterfly hovering nearby, He realized that maybe-just maybe-he had finally found his place in the world.

And it was with you.

please let me know if you want to be on the tag list for the future :)

@thaliashifts

#slytherin #slytherin boys #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #harry potter #slytherin aesthetic #my works #mattheo riddle #mattheo x reader #mattheoxreader #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #matheo riddle #mattheo x you #mattheo fluff #mattheo imagine #hufflepuff!reader #hufflepuff #riddlerizzler

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defmaybe · 9 months ago

Text

Reticence

aespa x Male Reader

1.9k words

A/N: This blog is fully comprising of bfh at this point, thanks @friskyriskywhisky for the ask!

—

“Tsk, slut.”

Jimin looks down at your pliant body sitting on the sofa. With her are the other three women that were just on the stage, moved so fluidly—alluring to your eyes. And now, you’re in the dressing room, surrounded by them—all sweaty and panting. Every curve and contour of their bodies is shining.

“You think you could just fuck Seungwan for her to brag that to us and still show up at this concert?” Yizhuo asks with her face leaving a little distance from yours. Her voice laces with anger… and something else.

“I–I–”

“Oh, fuck off with this victim card. I know you loved calling a thirty-year-old woman mommy, didn’t you?” Yizhuo continues her interrogation. Your hands grip the fabric of the couch tighter.

“‘Oh, mommy, you’re so tight’, ‘I love your abs, mommy’”

You try to object, “B–But–”

“Shut the fuck up! I’m not done with ya,” Yizhuo shouts. “Or, or, ‘You moan like an angel, mommy’.”

You’re flabbergasted as to why Seungwan could remember that encounter in such detail. And why are these four women so in rage at your seemingly inconsequential actions?

“Wh–Why, me?” You point to yourself, face showing as much curiosity as possible to them. Maybe they’ll let you go if you can feign disinterest.

“Because you have a good cock, baby boy,” Aeri replies, as she strides towards your litheness. “And we want our share of it.”

She plants herself on your lap, feeling that unwanted erection. “God, baby boy, you’re so, so hard already,” she whispers.

“A–Aeri, what are you–”

“Shhh, tell me, baby–” she grinds her supple rear on your pants, and you’re doing your best to not let a moan out. “–do you want mommies to take care of you?”

You are lost in the sea of answers, unable to find any satisfying words for them. “I–I–”

“O–Or do we have to fuck an answer out of you, huh?” Minjeong chimes in, trying to keep her resolve, but vulnerability shines through that façade.

“Alright, fuck it. I’ll fuck an answer out of him. Get off his lap, Aeri,” Jimin commands, unbuckling her belt.

Aeri groans, but she complies with her leader’s command. The feeling of her luscious thighs leaves your lap, robbing you the sense of comfort you felt, leaving you unsated.

Karina

“J–Jimin?” you stutter.

Jimin then puts a finger on your lips. “Hey, it’s mommy, understand?”

You sheepishly nod. It’s like you’d pass on a chance right now.

“Now, be my little good boy, and sit still for me, alright, slut?”

You sheepishly nod. It’s like you’d pass on a chance right now.

“Good boy,” Jimin says, before kneeling down and languidly peeling your lower garments off. Your cock springs out in excitement.

“Ngnh, mommy,” you groan, unable to bear the weight of your lust.

“I know, I know. Just wait, alright?”

“Ngh.”

She leaves you with your shirt on, softly putting your pants and boxers beside you. And she undoes her tight-fitting shorts and her panties in a single motion, revealing her unshaved cunt just for you.

“M–Mommy, I–I–”

“I’ll fuck you now, okay?” she asks, getting on top of you, ready for the ride of your life.

You nod.

Jimin welcomes you with an otherworldly tightness. The walls squeeze the life out of you. You can’t think of anything but her sweet, sweet cunt. Every path in your mind leads to her.

“Wouldn’t be complete without these tits, would it?” she toys with you, hips rocking on your raging cock faster.

“Please, mommy,” you plead.

“Sure thing, baby boy,” she replies, as her fingers grab the hem of her tight-fitting, revealing top, and pull them up. Her voluptuous mounds slowly spill out of the fabric cage. Her brown nipples are sitting in glory, erect, excited, all for you.

Without a word, you latch your lips onto the eager nubs, eliciting moans and whimpers from her.

“Yes, yes, just like that, baby boy,” Jimin screams at your touch.

The taste of her sweat lingers on your dirty tongue—salty. Her breasts feel angelic, the softness resting on your mouth. You make sure to give them equal ministrations to keep her satisfied with her baby boy. And she mewls back—a signal that you’re doing it right.

Slowly, her body writhes—a sign of the impending doom. Her motion becomes more rapid, lost in the promise of ecstasy.

“Ngh, ngh, I’m gonna cum, baby boy.”

“Please cum on me, mommy. Give me your squirt, please.”

And your desperate plea seems to do wonders for her.

“Ah, fuck!”

Her whole body tenses on yours. Torrents of juice flow onto your lap—warm. Your mouth latches onto her divine breasts. She moans and squirm on you. It’s enrapturing, really. And with the sight, your orgasm becomes close.

“C–Can I cum inside you, mommy?”

“Ah, y–yes, baby boy. I–I don’t mind,” she moans through her high.

And you let go.

Giselle

“We should’ve done a Drawing Lots for this,” Aeri sneers, before striding towards you. “You draw all of his cum out.”

Jimin chuckles.

“Aeri, y–you don’t h–have to–”

She seals your lips with a torrid kiss, invading your exhausted mouth so easily. She moans into that slut mouth of yours, and her hands find where Karina failed to—your ass. She squeezes them, knead that supple rear of yours. Until she pulls back. And you’re in her embrace, protected, yet still used.

“M–Mommy.” Your mouth is still trying to close the distance between you two.

“Good boy.” And she strokes your hair, each brimmed with an undeniable care. “Now let me ride you, okay? I promise I’ll try not to hurt you.”

“Y–Yes, mommy.”

“Oh, and–” she slides her dampened purple panties down, before bringing it close to your mouth. The scent of her sweat, her essence, they’re all there. “–put this in your mouth, please.”

You are too happy to oblige, opening your mouth to take in the taste and scent of her core just immediately. You feel the texture of the fabric. God, her aroma just gets you up and running again.

“Good boy,” she says, before straddling your legs in the same fashion as Jimin did. She’s riding you just like her.

“F–Fuck me please, mommy,” you plead with the garment in your mouth.

She sinks down your useless dick with gentleness. She goes slowly, making your pain more tolerable.

“Hhngn, mommy~”

“Good boy, good boy,” she says. Her rhythm grows more impatient to make you cum again. And in mere seconds, you feel it, that aftershock. It runs through your body. It seeps everywhere.

“M–Mommy, I–I’m gonna cum,” you state.

“Oh, baby boy, not so soon~ I’m just starting to have fun with you.” Aeri giggles.

“I–I’m sorry, mommy, but I really have to, ngh.”

Aeri is still giggling.

“Fine, baby boy. But remember–” she leans closer to your ear. “–I’m the best.”

Winter

“G–Girls, do I really h–have to do this?” Minjeong stammers. Her fingers are toying with the hem of her tight shorts.

“It’s up to you, Minjeong,” Jimin responds, bringing her hands to rest on the edge of the sofa. “We’re doing this for fun, after all.”

“Hmm… eh, not much to lose, anyway,” Minjeong says, shrugging, and she takes her shorts off promptly, uncovering her black panties underneath.

“Minjeong, come on. Do you really–”

“Yes, baby boy, I’m fucking that cock!”

“That’s the spirit, Minjeong,” Jimin adds.

Minjeong pushes her panties down, revealing another bare, unshaved cunt you’re taking for the night. She looks mouthwatering, but that’s not going into your mouth tonight.

“Minjeong, please, I’m–”

“Sh��Shut up, slut.”

She strides towards you, hands shaking as she does.

“M–Mom–”

“Nuh uh, b–baby boy. Get ready again.”

“Yeah, like that, Minjeong!” Yizhuo cheers, her hands up in the air.

She closes her distance until only a hot breath separates you two.

And she plants her lips on yours. Her tongue slots into your mouth smoothly. You feel her wet, berry-flavored lips. Her hands roam on your tight body, feeling your sweaty abdomen.

“Damn,” Jimin says.

Within the deep kiss, she impales herself down your used cock, sending another wave of indescribable pain through your body.

“Hngh, mommy!” you scream.

“J–Just stay quiet, baby.” And Minjeong starts her tango. She moves up and down so smoothly on your dick, all while snatching another kiss away from you, piercing your whore mouth.

Her cunt is so damn tight. Every centimeter of her walls hugs you with dexterity, grazing every vein and every ridge masterfully. And you can feel your cum leaking out yet again, after Jimin and Aeri fucked that useless cock out.

“M–Mommy, I–I’m sorry,” you apologize.

“Hey, i–it’s okay, baby, you don’t have to–ah!”

Ningning

“Fucking finally~” Yizhuo sings, getting up from her chair, as your groans fill the room, eliciting giggles from the other three women.

“Give us a show, Yizhuo!” Jimin says. “Make him pass out!”

Dread passes through you. You can’t anymore, you can’t do this, fuck.

“P–P–Please, Yi–”

And a slap lands on your cheek. That shit stings.

“Ugh, god, how many times do we have to tell you that mommy is the only acceptable term!” she says with an incomparable annoyance.

You can only whimper.

“I gotta fuck some sense into this slut, don’t I?” Yizhuo rhetorically asks the laughing Jimin, and that only sends her into a bigger laughter.

Yizhuo snatches her performance shorts and takes them off, revealing her pale, meaty thighs. “M–Mommy, p–please.”

“Shut up, slut, if you’re going to pass out, I don’t fucking care.”

“Ngh.”

“Now, let me–” she pushes her panties aside, trying to give her cunt easy access for you. “–get this shit off.”

You watch in awe—this fiery, raging woman trying to get her pussy fucked by your useless cock. Again, by a miracle, your length twitches in excitement, despite having its essence squeezed out for three times in a mere twenty minutes.

“Ready, bitch boy?” she playfully asks.

Her muscular legs straddle yours, and without a warning, she sinks down.

Her cunt feels utterly indescribable. You moan as loudly as imaginable, from the sensitivity of your dick and the tightness of her walls. “Ah!”

“Yes, yes, yes, stretch me out like that, boy toy,” Yizhuo says as she slams down your length. Her movement is aggressive, determined to milk your cock dry. “God, you aren’t so useless after all.”

“Nghhn, m–mommy, can I suck your tits?” you ask.

Yizhuo bursts out a laugh. “Sure, slut.” Before she pulls up the thin piece of fabric to give you the access.

You’re so eager to put those tits into your mouth as you immediately lock your lips on her taut nipples.

“G–God, you’re such a fucking whore, don’t you?” Yizhuo moans.

“Yes, mommy.”

Yizhuo chuckles. God, you’re so pathetic at this point. She keeps relentlessly slamming her thighs onto yours, whimpering at every rhythm played.

And you can feel it .Her hoarse moans and whimpers only send you into an upward spiral. Each graze of her cunt on your cock only drives you to the hopefully final climax.

“M–Mommy, I–I’m gonna cum.”

“Fucking hell, you pervert. I was just having fun,” Yizhuo scoffs. “Guess I’ll just have to take your cum, won’t I?”

“Y–Yes, mommy.” You thrust upwards with her motions. Your body is almost going limp right now.

“Ugh, paint my insides with whatever’s left, you fucking whore.”

Your cock sends spurts of cum into her cunt, or whatever that is left. Her movements are determined to milk you dry.

And your vision turns black.

—

#karina smut #giselle smut #winter smut #ningning smut #aespa smut

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whateveriwant · 2 years ago

Note

what about task force 141 always admiring their s/o picture before going on field or when they’re feeling lonely and missing them

Price

Because he's old (fashioned), he carries a standard 4x6in photo of you with him during his deployment

He had the picture developed ages ago – so long, in fact, you thought he'd gotten rid of it many many tours ago (he never would, of course; he even has an extra copy of the negative stowed in a shoebox in the back of your shared closet, just in case)

Every day, he makes sure your face is the first thing he sees when he wakes up, as well as the last thing he looks at before going to sleep (just like he would if he was home with you)

When he's not admiring the photo, he keeps it in the breast pocket of his tac vest directly over his heart

He's folded and unfolded it so many times that it's starting to fade and tear at the seams, showing just how loved it is all these years later

Gaz

I can see him having a locket with a tiny picture of you inside

Just a little circular gold pendant, no bigger than the pad of first finger, which he hangs around his neck right beside his dog tags

He bought a matching one for you (which you wear all the time, regardless of whether he's home or not), the only difference is yours is heart-shaped and has a picture of him inside

Most of the time, he'll keep the locket tucked safely beneath his shirt, but will pull it out and look at it on days he's feeling particularly lonely or homesick

However, sometimes (especially when he's anxious about an upcoming mission), he doesn't even look at the picture inside – just worries the surface of the pendant with his thumb, rubbing at the thin grooves that form the looped letters of your initials

Soap

Similar to Price, he carries a larger picture of you with him – his, however, is a polaroid

You bought him the vintage style camera for his birthday a few years back, and immediately upon unwrapping it, he started snapping a bunch of candid photos of you with it

Despite how unflattering you say you look in them, he thinks you're absolutely gorgeous (after all, that's why he carries multiple with him – his favorite one always on the top of the stack)

If he can get away from the guys during the mission, he often finds himself talking out loud to the photo, speaking as if you're really there listening to him

As much as he loves to study your face, his favorite part of the polaroid is your little note scrawled across the bottom: Any more chins and I'll be using your parachute as a scarf

Ghost

This might be a little controversial but I don't think he'd carry around a physical picture of you

Pictures of you on his phone? Sure. But he's not taking his unencrypted smartphone into the middle of enemy territory, you know?

Instead, I think he carries a little trinket of yours with him – something small, seemingly inconsequential, like a hair tie or one of your favorite bookmarks

You might've noticed some things gone missing here and there, but never realized that he was nabbing them for his own little keepsake

He keeps it hidden away majority of the time, but every now and then when he starts to downward spiral, he'll pull out that token as a reminder of what (or whom) he has waiting for him back home, and it gives him the strength he needs to power through

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niningtori · 8 months ago

Text

for the hope of it all | parts i-iii

pairing(s): choi beomgyu x you, choi soobin x you

summary: you've been in love with beomgyu since the first time you saw him, but he sees you as nothing more than a good friend and faithful wingwoman. when he asks you to help him catch another girl, who just so happens to be one of your closest friends, things get complicated.

genre: ANGST, melodrama, romance, smut (mdni), fluff at the end

warnings: smut (mdni), beomgyu is a fucking asshole but he gets better, manipulative!gyu, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering (vaginal), oral (f. receiving), dom!gyu, dirty talk, praise, if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 18.7k

notes: ... hi. literally nobody asked for this, but i realized that part 2 of this work didn't even show up in the tags, so i decided to compile all of the previous parts as well as the ending together. hopefully, you all enjoy this. i'm still struggling, but i pray you all still like it even if it's not me at my best. feedback is always appreciated :) thank you!

part i: august

beomgyu really likes her — like, really— and who can blame him? you certainly can’t. chaewon is a lovely, lovely girl, so it should come as no surprise when beomgyu asks you to, in his words, help him bag her. you’re not one with a particularly strong character at the best of times, so when he practically begs you to convince one of your closest friends that he’s actually not the heartbreaking manwhore he definitely is, you can’t find it in yourself to say no.

it doesn't help that he has enough charisma to charm even the most indifferent target he sets his eyes on, it doesn't help that he's so handsome it makes everyone either want him or want to be him, and it most certainly doesn't help that you've been in love with the boy for the entire time that you've known him. him asking absolutely anything of you would result in you relenting, so when he asks for something as seemingly inconsequential as setting him up with a mutual friend, accepting it is a matter of course. does it hurt your heart to see him pining after someone else when you basically consider him as your soulmate? of course. but his happiness means more to you than your own. if she makes him happy, then so be it.

that's what you tell yourself, at least.

beomgyu doesn’t know that you love him — he can’t possibly know — or else he’d treat you differently, right? you don’t want that. you don’t want anything to change, at least not in the disastrous way you anticipate confessing your love to him would go, so you’ve kept your feelings close to your chest to keep him from suspecting anything. you think you’ve gotten pretty good at concealing your feelings. for example, you laugh when he tells you about his sexual escapades, and you don’t hesitate to give him advice on how to woo the girls who are wary of his lasciviousness. you only want to show him the good parts of you, carefully tucking any ugly seeds of jealousy or sadness away from his prying eyes.

the thing is, though, beomgyu is not stupid; and to your never-ending misery, you are not the greatest actress. he can see the crestfallen look on your face for the split second before you can contort your features into a smile. he can hear the tremble in your voice as you force out a laugh. with his godforsaken intuition, he can sense the hesitation in your movement when you playfully push him aside as he over-dramatically recounts his latest raunchy fuck.

all of this has no discernible consequence, though. if anything, your feelings have been his faithful friend and ally when it comes to conspiring with you to land whatever girl piques his interest at the moment. you may not be a prospective partner, but you are a great wingwoman, he’ll give you that much. and that’s exactly what he needs when dealing with chaewon, who has proven to be a particularly tough nut to crack. he doesn’t usually go for people he would consider friends, if only because he doesn’t like dealing with the messy aftermath, but her refusal to look his way is just too entertaining. he has no earthly idea why this cat and mouse game intrigues him the way it does, but he’s hooked like none other, especially because her reasons for pulling away when she’s definitely as attracted to him as he is to her are unclear. maybe she just doesn’t want to seem easy? whatever it is, he likes it. he likes her.

“so what's the plan?” soobin asks.

“what do you mean?” you blink as you turn towards him, effectively taken out of your daze. you've been staring at a new instagram picture of beomgyu for at least ten minutes now. there's not much going on in it — it's just a candid taehyun took of him — but you can't stop the yearning you feel in your heart as you wish you had been the one to take it, instead.

“i mean, what's your big plan to ‘help’ him this time?” there’s a trace of resentment in his tone as he puts air quotes around “help”. you know he thinks you're just wasting your time on a boy who will never feel the same way you do, but what can you do? you still love him.

“i’m… i’m just going to talk him up to chae, no big deal,” you say rather unconvincingly, because it is a big deal. it’s the biggest deal in the world to you.

“and what are you gonna say? ‘hey, i know you know beomgyu is garbage, but deep down, he’s actually not garbage even though, even deeper down, he really is?’” his words are sarcastic and, for lack of a better term, downright hateful.

“he’s not garbage, binnie,” you chastise. “he’s actually really sweet once you get to know him.”

“sweet? sweet how, exactly?” he sneers. you just sigh and shake your head. beomgyu is a frequent point of contention in your friendship with soobin, but you don’t know how to overcome it. mostly, arguments surrounding him devolve into conversations like the one you’re having right now.

“he puts on a tough act, but he’s not really like that on the inside,” you insist. “you just don’t know him like i do.”

“and thank god for that,” he snorts, and you frown. you can tell he feels guilty by the way his expression immediately softens.

“hey, i’m sorry,” he says, tucking your hair behind your ear. “i just don’t like to see you hurting.”

“i’m not hurting,” you lie. “i’m totally fine. it’s just… i just want to see him happy.” you actually do mean that last part. beomgyu, though seemingly carefree, is actually a lot more insecure and sensitive than one might think. you know this because he’s shown you that side of him many, many times, which must mean that he trusts you like no one else. you are honored to be the one he feels comfortable with, and even if it never amounts to anything more than that, you’re thankful you get to see how he really is.

“and you think being with a new girl every week will make him happy?” he softly asks, no edge to his voice, but his words hurt even more than they did before.

“it's different this time, binnie. i'm serious. i've never seen him like this before. i think he really likes her.” and the words almost kill you to say, but you mean them, anyway.

“okay,” he relents. “just do what you want to do. i’ll be there for you no matter what.”

“thank you,” you reply with a small smile, before putting your nose back into your phone and staring at beomgyu’s pictures again. you don’t catch it, but soobin sighs as he watches you.

you’ve been trying really, really hard. usually, all you have to do is talk about good points about beomgyu, and women fall for it hook, line, and sinker. chaewon is not most women, though, and she makes that abundantly clear with the polite smiles and airy laughs she gives you when you try to bring up beomgyu.

you don't get it. if you had beomgyu’s attention, you’d never let it go, so it makes no sense to you how someone could have it without taking the opportunity to seize it. if it were you, you’d seize it. if it were you, you'd tell him you’ve loved him since the first time you saw him. if it were you — well, it doesn't really matter, does it? because it isn't you. still, you can’t help but dream.

the sentiment that it will never be you becomes clearer and clearer as you watch beomgyu try to initiate conversation with chaewon at his very own house party you are currently attending. you watch from the sidelines as they sit uncomfortably close together, legs flush against one another, as beomgyu wraps his arm around her shoulder and pulls her in to whisper in her ear. you like to think you’re content with him being with her even if it means you’ll be without him, but it’s difficult to feel that way when you actually see it playing out before you. your heart feels like stone weighing heavily in your chest as she giggles at whatever he says, and you think that things might start looking up for him before her smile suddenly melts into a little frown.

without warning, she pries his arm off of her and gives him a perfunctory smile before standing up and smoothing out her skirt. then, she grabs her drink from the coffee table and he's left alone. his previously delighted expression is now filled with irritation and disappointment. you're still staring at him, just trying to get a read on the situation as you're left reeling, and before you know it, he's looking up at you. you're a little embarrassed at being caught, but you realize you can play your intrigue off as objectively analyzing the situation in order to help him better. surely he’ll fall for that, right? every time you say something similar, he buys it with no further questions.

he makes eye contact with you then nods towards his room as a silent plea to talk to him in private. if someone were to ask you how you’re able to deduce all of that from one look alone, you’d probably say it’s because you know beomgyu like the back of your hand — and maybe you do, but it’s like a subconsciously trained reaction more than anything. just as you know what beomgyu will do next, he knows you’ll understand his seemingly innocuous gestures.

you head up the stairs and beomgyu shuts his bedroom door behind you. you prepare to launch into your readymade explanation as to why you were rubbernecking earlier, but he speaks before you can say anything at all.

“why isn’t it working?” he huffs. “did you talk to her like i asked you to?”

“yes, of course i did!” you eagerly insist. you would never lie to beomgyu — well, not about this, at least. your secret feelings are another story.

“then why does she keep rejecting me?” he huffs. you wish you could answer him. truly, you do. you scramble for the right words, but you sincerely can't wrap your head around her logic, or lack thereof.

he’s still waiting for an answer, though, so you think back to the recent conversations you’ve had with soobin, and you realize there’s only one plausible conclusion.

“she just doesn’t know you enough, beoms. if she knew how you really are and how much you like her, she wouldn't act this way; but honestly, she probably thinks you’re just messing with her,” you explain, and you hope beyond hope that he doesn’t take it the wrong way. you don’t want to hurt his feelings by suggesting that his (newly) former playboy ways could be ruining his chances with her.

beomgyu’s feelings, of course, are not hurt. in fact, he just feels more annoyed than anything else. it’s really fucking irritating how he can’t seem to get a read on her or her intentions. she likes him, he can definitely tell, so what’s the problem with him having a messy past? it’s clear that it doesn’t bother you. well, it does, but in a different way. you’d forgive his previous transgressions in a heartbeat if it meant that he’d look your way, so why can’t she be the same? but then, he supposes that comparing someone as lovesick as you are to a normal girl is a bit unfair.

but why are you so lovesick? it’s obvious that he’s handsome and funny, so falling for him is only natural, but your devotion is on another level. not only that, but you’re devoted in spite of the fact that he clearly wants nothing to do with you. in all honesty, it’s almost like you love him even more when you see him chasing after somebody else... then suddenly, the solution is clear. he has to make her think he doesn’t want her; and the easiest way to do that is to pretend he’s interested in someone else. in the same vein, who better else to pretend with than one of chaewon’s closest friends? you’re absolutely perfect for the job.

beomgyu’s demeanor goes from irritated to self-satisfied, and it puzzles you to no end. maybe he figured out a way to show his true feelings for her? but then why is he looking at you with such intensity? he’s never looked at you this way in the many years that you’ve known him. wait, did he realize something? please, god, don’t let that be the case. you really don’t think you can —

and your train of thought is stopped when beomgyu strides over to you and locks the door behind you. you look up at him with confusion in your eyes before you finally register what that intense gaze of his really is: predatory.

suddenly, his lips are on yours and you’re holding back a squeal. your eyes widen as he cups his big hands around your cheeks and pulls you in even closer. he tastes like alcohol, which is to be expected, but there's a certain uniqueness to his taste that you can't really put into words; and you’re able to taste it even more as his tongue enters your mouth. you groan at the action, and surprisingly, he does, too.

you always assumed kissing beomgyu would make you feel like everything was finally right in the world, and it does — it really, sincerely does — but there’s also a certain spark you were not anticipating. something a lot more fiery, and it shoots straight to your core as your tongues tangle together lasciviously. beomgyu seems to know this, and he smirks into the kiss before trailing his warm mouth down your neck. you gasp at the sensation, which just makes him laugh.

his hands have traveled from your cheeks to your chest, one staying there to grab at your tits while the other one carelessly finds its way up your skirt.

“so wet,” he whispers in awe when he rubs his fingers against your soaked panties. “is this all because of me?” you feel your cheeks warm and you’re stammering out your next words.

“w-well, i —”

“is this all because of me?” he repeats, and you give him a feeble nod before covering your face in shame.

“cute,” he snickers, and your previously warm cheeks are now scorching to the touch.

he moves your panties to the side and rubs against your sensitive clit, which sends pulsations through your entire body, but that’s nothing in comparison to how you feel when he presses a finger into your dripping hole.

“you’re so tight,” he whispers, lust clearly written all over his face at the prospect of being in your pussy relatively soon; but he wants to enjoy this, he wants to enjoy the way your face screws up as he presses his finger so deep, he’s hitting places previously untouched. he slowly pulls it out, grazing your most sensitive spot with ease before adding another digit in, making you almost groan from the stretch. you bite your lip to avoid making such a sound, but beomgyu pays your attempted discretion no mind as he starts to hammer his fingers into you at a brutal pace.

it doesn’t take long for you to come undone around his skilled fingers, and once you’re done pulsating around him, he takes them out for a taste.

“so good,” he remarks, and though your breathing is heavy and your eyes are hazy, you still have it in you to feel embarrassed. he takes your smaller hand in his and leads you to his messy bed, carelessly sweeping every loose item — a t-shirt here, an old cd there — off of it in one go. he lays you down and hungrily licks his lips once he strips you down until you’re fully unclothed.

you’re feeling extremely small in this moment. you know beomgyu has had his pick of the litter when it comes to women, so you can’t help but wonder how you fare in comparison to the literal bombshells he’s been known to take home. mostly, though, you wonder how you compare to chaewon, as awful as that sounds. if you really think about it, there’s no comparison to be made, really. she’s her, and you’re you. what else is there to say, honestly? still, you’re comforted by the thought that you are the one underneath him right now, not her, and he does not seem disappointed in the slightest if the tent in his jeans means anything at all.

before you can think too much about it, he’s practically tearing his shirt off and you can’t help but stare. his torso is lean and a little paler than the rest of him, probably due to the lack of sun. objectively speaking, he’s no greek god or anything similar, but to you, he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. if he notices your awed reaction, he doesn’t say anything or really care, because he is simply too busy studying how perfect you seem to look under his dimmed lights. again, he is delighted at the prospect of being inside of you very soon.

he unzips his jeans and slides them, along with his boxers, off of his slim thighs and you can finally see him completely. his cock is a red so deep it’s nearly purple, with evidence of his lust leaking out of its flared tip. you’ve heard a lot about beomgyu’s physique from stories, his and his hookups’ alike, but nothing prepared you for the real thing. you’re not a virgin or anything, but you’re still unsure of how you’re meant to fit him inside of you. and you have no idea how you’re supposed to approach the subject.

beomgyu does not seem to understand your internal battle, though, because he wastes no time in lining himself up with your entrance. before he pushes in, though, he drags his cock along your soaking wet seam just to coat himself in your slick. when he feels he can’t take any more of his own teasing, he begins to push in.

“j-jesus christ!” he exclaims as he tries to push his tip through your entrance. “are you a virgin or some shit?”

“nngh — n-no! i-i’m not. i’ve — mmh — i’ve had boyfriends before,” you say as best as you can while dealing with the feeling of him literally fucking you open. you’re worried he’s not enjoying himself in light of his outburst and his decidedly strained expression.

“god, s-so tight,” he drawls. “feels so goddamn good.” he draws his hips back before pushing in again, further this time, and his words of praise seem to comfort you somehow, because he’s able to sheathe himself completely in you.

he groans when he feels your gummy walls wildly contracting around him — unsure of what to do with the pleasurable intrusion and working tirelessly to simultaneously push him out and pull him in. you, on the other hand, feel nothing but full. you’re so full you ache, so after a few moments of adjusting, your watery eyes are filled with an insatiable sense of pleading.

“you okay?” he asks, actually somewhat sweetly.

“y-yes — ah — i just feel w-weird,” you say. “feel so — fuck — full.” your seemingly innocent words drive him to the brink of insanity, so with reddened eyes, he grabs your hips so hard, you know he’ll leave marks in his wake, and without warning he begins drilling into you.

his thrusts are not calculated or intentional in any sense — they’re rough and fast and show his desperation. why he’s so desperate, he has no idea. beomgyu is sleazy even on a good day, so women come a dime a dozen, but he feels an unquenchable need he feels will only be satisfied if he continues to fuck you like a man gone mad. so he does.

your breasts bounce with every thrust and while he wants to grab one, his thirst only makes him want to go even deeper in you, so he employs his hands to manhandling you into a mating press. the new position has him going even deeper, and you can feel him hitting your cervix with each nasty snap of his hips. tears at the sheer feeling of being overwhelmed spring in your eyes and you have to clamp your hand over your lips to keep from crying out.

“let me hear you,” he pleads while gently moving your hand from your mouth and not-so-gently fucking you like a breeding whore, and he’s not sure if he’s saying it because he wants to make sure chaewon hears or just because he desperately wants to hear you for himself.

“fuck!” you exclaim, tears flowing freely down your cheeks. “s-so big!”

“oh, sweetheart,” he rambles, “who were you fucking before? they didn’t deserve this tight little pussy. they didn’t fuck you like you deserve to be fucked — like a good little whore.”

“‘m n-not a whore,” you tearily insist, somehow convinced that he means his words. you’re not completely inexperienced, but you’re not a whore, right?

but your innocence only makes him wanna ruin you more, claim you completely.

“you’re taking cock so well, but you wanna tell me you’re not a whore?” he snickers meanly, and you feel so delirious, you find yourself agreeing with what he says.

the lewd sounds of skin meeting skin and the sharp knocking of the headboard fill the room, and the heat you feel building up inside of you has you seeing stars. beomgyu pulls you in for a sloppy, wet kiss as he finally lets one of your legs down in order to snake his hand against your clit, which he languidly rolls in the midst of his pistoning in and out of you.

“are you gonna come for me?” he asks as his lips part from yours. “are you gonna come all over my cock?”

“y-yes, please,” you sob. “wanna come!”

“then do it, baby. let go for me,” and with the way he’s rolling your clit while fucking into you, you can’t help but comply.

he hisses when he feels you contracting around him, tightening up even more than before and pulling him in impossibly deeper. that’s all it takes, really, before he comes undone himself and sprays his thick, hot load into your spasming pussy.

he collapses on top of you, and both of you take a few moments just to catch your breath before he pulls out of you with a wince. he’s absolutely enthralled by the way the mix of both of you two’s cum leaks out of you as soon as he does so. he’s almost tempted to swirl it back in and plug you up, but his rational side stops him before he can do anything he’ll regret.

“are you on the pill?” he asks, and you nod.

“good, go ahead and get a plan b, too. just in case,” he says with a quick kiss to your forehead, and you nod with a delirious smile even in spite of his pedantic words. you’re just so happy you got to sleep with him, be closer to him.

“oh, i almost forgot to actually tell you,” he laughs. “i think fucking you will make chaewon jealous. i think we put on a pretty good show tonight, don’t you?”

and your heart and your hope and your dignity shatter like nothing else.

“y-yeah,” you try to reply with a laugh, but it sounds more forced than anything else you’ve ever heard in your life. “it was a really good show.”

“you slept with him?!” soobin asks, and he seems beyond frustrated. if you had the guts to look him in his eyes, though, you’d notice just how much hurt is in them.

“y-yeah…” you mumble, face downcast.

“why? why would you do that? you’re just going to be even more hurt!” he exclaims, and you shrink into yourself even more, not out of fear, but out of pure shame.

“i don’t know! it all just happened so fast, a-and i, i don’t know, i just couldn’t stop myself,” is all you manage to say. soobin groans at your words.

“you do realize that getting over him is going to be even harder for you now, right?” he asks, and you finally look up at him for a second before looking back down and nodding, and it’s almost like you’re a child who got caught doing something they knew was wrong.

“i know, and i’m sorry,” you mutter, still struggling to make eye contact, but soobin catches your timidity and his gaze is softened as he pulls your face up to look at him.

“you don’t have to apologize to me,” he sighs. “i’m just worried about you, you know?”

“i know, i know. but i’m still really sorry.” and you don’t have to elaborate on why that is because you both know that he’ll be the one helping you pick up the pieces when this situation inevitably breaks your heart even more than it’s already broken, if that’s even possible.

“it’s alright,” he says, pulling you in for a hug that’s so warm and kind you almost burst into tears. “you’ll be alright. i’m here.”

this is a bad idea. soobin would yell at you if you told him what you’re up to, but you don’t want to think about that right now. all you want to think about is how much better you’ll feel after you get your secret feelings off of your chest. up until now, the fear of rejection has made you too afraid to tell beomgyu how you really feel, but things can’t get much worse than they are at present, can they? it’s only been a few days since your hookup with beomgyu, but your love is eating you alive and you doubt that you’ll be able to hold it in for much longer.

things will probably go badly, and he’ll probably be completely blindsided, but the thought of continuing to lie to beomgyu’s face hurts more than anything else ever could. even more than the pain you feel every day that he unconsciously hurts your feelings. maybe this will ruin your friendship, but you love beomgyu, and he loves you, even if it’s not in the way that you want. all you can do is hope that your friendship is strong enough to overcome this.

with that mindset, you find yourself at his doorstep on this particularly cool summer night. you know he’s home because you can hear the faint sounds of whatever movie he’s watching emanating from his door. before you can lose your nerve, you begin to rapidly knock. before long, you hear the shuffling of feet nearing you, and you almost bolt then and there, but he’s quick to open the door when he realizes it’s just you.

“what are you doing here?” he asks, agitation apparent. oh god, were you interrupting something? what if he was working? what if he was sleeping? you should've texted before just showing up unannounced.

“i-i’m sorry, are you busy?” you ask sheepishly.

“... no,” he says after a slight pause, and he opens the door to let you in. you sit yourself on his couch, posture ramrod straight due to how fucking uncomfortable you are, and you try to steady your breathing as you fiddle with your fingers.

“is this about chaewon?” he asks, breaking the silence, and your heart aches at the trace of hope in his words.

“n-no, nothing like that. i just —”

“is there any update on that?” he cuts in before you can even get your words out.

“oh, um, not really,” you reply before remembering that something has happened, but you’ve been so out of it, it genuinely didn't occur to you to tell him. “wait, actually, she mentioned that you seem different lately, but she, uh, she’s still… well, to be honest, she’s —”

“what? she’s still what?” and there’s no patience for your rambling to be seen.

“she’s still not interested in dating you,” you mumble, unable to look him in the eyes when you say it. he’s completely silent after your words, and when you do finally gather enough guts to actually look at him, you really, really wish you had just kept your face down. because he’s pissed.

“are you fucking with me? she really said that?” he asks, and you nod.

“why didn’t you tell me earlier?!” and you feel so disoriented at the way things are unfolding that you can barely croak out a reply.

“i-i forgot.”

“you forgot? jesus christ, if it’s not about her, then why are you here?” he seems angrier than you’ve ever seen him, but his words get you to finally remember what you’re here for.

“i just… i needed to talk to you,” you say pleadingly, looking into his eyes as you try your hardest to give yourself the strength to be honest with him.

“about?”

it takes all of the courage in your poor little heart to choke out your next words.

“beomgyu, you know, for the longest time, i’ve —”

“i know,” he impatiently snaps. you’re unsure of what he’s referencing, but you do know he has no idea about the feelings you’ve kept hidden for so long.

“no. no, you don’t know, actually,” you argue, brave face on, but voice shakier than a leaf. “i just need to tell you that i —”

“that you love me? i know, that’s what i just fucking said,” he sighs irritatedly. “why else would you help me? ‘cause you love me so much, right?” he knows it’s wrong to take his frustration out on you, but you’re so pathetic, you make it too damn easy. you’re the perfect outlet for him to unleash all of his anger.

“you… you knew? this entire time?” you ask incredulously. you feel like you’re suffocating in the face of his callousness and disgust, and the room feels smaller than it did before.

“i mean, yeah. it was kind of obvious,” he muses. your cheeks feel so hot you’re sure you’re on the brink of immolation. it was obvious? if it was obvious, then why did he keep you around in the first place? because you’re useful when it comes to helping him get his dick wet?

“so… so why did you…” you trail off, still finding it inconceivable that the beomgyu you know and love could possibly know about your feelings; and not only are they unreciprocated by him, which you could understand and respect, but they’re nothing more than a fucking joke and means to an end. the end in question being burying himself into other women.

“why did i act like i didn’t know? because i don't feel the same way,” he answers, and you already knew it and knew it well, but that doesn't make it any more digestible to hear.

“y-yeah, but you — how could you still sleep with me? how could you do that to me?” you ask, lips wobbling and voice cracking. you can't believe this. you won't believe this. you have to be misunderstanding something somewhere. there's just no way this is it.

“because it was easy,” he says with a shrug, and your heart shatters into a million pieces.

because it was easy.

easy. what a funny word. you don’t think you even fully comprehend what it means in this context, actually. easy, easy, easy, but what part of this has been easy for you? every day, it’s like you’re killing yourself by trying to twist into what he wants you to be. a friend, a confidant, and now, even a lover. but lover is being too generous, isn't it? because he does not love you, not even as a friend, and this discovery becomes clearer and clearer as you think back to every time he’s shown you just how little he cares.

soobin’s litany of warnings come back to haunt you with a vengeance.

he’s just using you.

he’s garbage.

he’s just gonna hurt you.

and though you know soobin will take no pleasure in being correct, you can't help but dread the “i told you so” you know he will never be mean enough to say, but will inevitably think.

“i thought we were friends,” you say incredulously, dread and anxiety pooling in the deepest recesses of your heart. “i thought you cared about me”

and he doesn’t shrug or anything because he doesn’t really need to, but he might as well seeing as how it clearly makes no difference to him. and this is finally how you come to understand that beomgyu is just as bad as everyone says. maybe even a little worse. and he will continue to act like a sociopath for as long as you let him.

“i-i love you, i really do. but no fucking way. i won’t sit here and let you treat me like shit,” you declare, tears flowing down your cheeks so quickly and steadily you’d probably be unable to wipe them away even if you tried. luckily or unluckily, you don’t even have the strength to find out.

“you’re going to regret this,” you whisper, and it’s said with such certainty that for a moment, he almost believes you. almost, but not quite.

either way, you’re booking it out of his door before he can even reply.

this is everything beomgyu ever could’ve asked for. chaewon is sitting next to him on his bed, eyes dark with lust as she unceremoniously grabs the end of her top and tugs it off. she's beautiful, no doubt about that, but he feels more and more like something is incredibly wrong.

she leans in to press her lips onto his, but he flinches, scooting almost imperceptibly further away from her on the bed. she falters for a moment before sighing and crawling on all fours to situate herself between his legs. she begins to unzip his pants and tug on his waistband before he frantically stops her.

“w-what are you doing?” he asks, voice shaking.

“blowing you, what does it look like i’m doing?” she replies with a roll of her eyes. “i just wish i had known you wouldn’t be into kissing or, like, actual foreplay, but whatever.” she continues her movement to pull his pants down before he stops her again.

“what’s wrong?” she asks curiously, before finally realizing that he is, to what would normally be his eternal shame, completely soft. her mouth drops in shock, and in another universe, beomgyu has enough energy to care. but not in this one. in this one, his eyes are teary as he feels an implacable sense of dread he can’t seem to shake off.

“oh god,” she says with conviction, pulling herself back up and running one hand through her hair. “i knew this would happen.”

beomgyu, on his part, looks somewhat out of it, but her words bring him back to earth.

“knew what would happen?” he asks tentatively, sniffling for reasons unknown to him while he tries not to let his tears run over his waterlines.

“i knew you’d act like this because of her,” she says begrudgingly.

his eyebrows furrow for a second, not because he doesn’t already know who she’s talking about, but because he doesn’t understand the correlation between you and the situation he presently finds himself in.

“think about it,” she says slowly, condescendingly. “who do you trust, like, actually? and i’m not just talking about with getting girls, but with everything.” beomgyu is silent as he tries to comprehend what she's saying, but he’s nothing if not slow on the uptake in regards to human emotion.

“oh, beomgyu, come the fuck on,” she sighs in frustration. “i mean, when you were stressed about that presentation for your job, who did you call? yunjin told me all about it. she said you spent hours reciting a 15 minute presentation to the girl you supposedly don’t give a fuck about.” ah. he remembers that night, actually, and he remembers it well. he called you in a panic, so you brought over some dinner because you knew he was stressed, but he was so wound up that you didn’t leave and even insisted that he practice with you in order to give him feedback. he spent the whole night repeating the same speech over and over again, but you sat patiently and encouragingly as he repeated the boring, inconsequential drivel to you. you never complained, not even once, and you didn’t ask him for any compensation in the form of him doing something — anything — similar for you, either. even if you had, he realizes, he wouldn't have given any to you, anyway.

“that’s…”

“and that’s not even all of it. who’s the first one you look for when you walk into a room? and when something good happens, who do you tell first? not anybody else, and i know for a fact that it’s not me, never will be,” she says bitterly. every new point slashes at his heart and ego.

and suddenly, things start making sense, albeit in the worst possible way. beomgyu loves you. his trust and dependence on you all make an awful sort of sense, but in a way, it’s relieving to finally be able to put a name to this feeling. his eyes still feel hot, but not so much because something feels wrong, but because things finally feel right for the first time in forever. he loves you, has loved you, and will continue to love you.

her words resonate with him so deeply, she can read it all over his face. it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that he finally understands, but he’s still missing an important fact. the most important fact, even.

“yeah, i guess you finally get it now. you have feelings for her. and the worst thing is: you treat her like shit.” his eyes widen and the tears that were just threatening to escape are completely let loose. how could he only come to this realization after he already effectively stomped on your heart and your pure intentions? after you’ve made it clear that you don’t want anything to do with him anymore? and he has nobody but himself to blame, really; he practically shoved you away over and over and over again.

“i-i didn’t mean to —”

“sure, of course you didn’t,” she says with a sarcastic smile. “whatever makes you feel better for fucking over the girl who’s been in love with you for years.”

beomgyu may not know much about the inner workings of interpersonal relationships, but he does know he needs to see you, and he’s smart enough to understand that he needs to apologize.

but beomgyu has never apologized for anything in his life — not unless you count the times his mother made him grit them out as a child when he would objectively do something wrong, but this is another matter entirely. nobody will be holding his hand as he does it, and he’s not even really sure where to start. but he knows he has to try.

surely there’s a better place to try than at the bar where he currently finds himself, but then, there’s no time like the present. not to mention that he has a sneaking suspicion that you're avoiding all of your mutual friends’ get-togethers for the sole purpose of avoiding him. if the blocking of all of his socials wasn’t enough, the blocking of his phone number certainly was.

it’s not necessarily fate’s fault that he finds himself here, either. he heard from a friend (chaewon) that you’d be here tonight. he sees you from across the bar looking lively and chatty, and he prays that the good mood you seem to be in will help soften the upcoming conversation with him. to his luck, you step out of the bar to take a call, so he slides from his seat with an open beer bottle in tow, and follows you outside.

your back is turned, and he doesn’t quite hear what you’re talking about over the phone, but he does catch a giggle and a name, soobin’s, and it makes his heart ache. when you hang up, you turn to head back into the bar, but you’re met with his figure.

“h-hey,” he says, and he wants to smack himself for the casual greeting he still managed to fuck up.

your eyes widen for a moment before they go blank, and you’re pushing past him without a response.

“i need to talk to you,” he says, voice trembling as he grabs the back of your elbow, which you snatch out of his grip like his touch is poison.

“about?” you ask curtly, barely even deigning to turn your head to look at him. you have never been so hostile towards anyone, let alone him, and it's making him spiral.

“i’m sorry. i’m just really, really sorry,” he desperately apologizes. you’re silent for a few moments as you turn to completely face him with your arms crossed, and he’s trying his damndest to read your expression, but he can’t quite make it out.

“okay… and?” is all you say in response, and he fumbles over his words at your nonchalance.

“a-and, um, i —”

“you know what?” you cut in with an impatient sigh and a wave of your hand. “i don’t care anymore. you’ve said enough.”

“but i —”

“i don’t care, beomgyu.” and his name is said in such disgust that it sounds to him like it’s a chore for you to spit out. you’re about to turn and reenter the bar when his next words come tumbling out.

“i think — i know — i love you,” he says urgently, and your previously unreadable gaze turns into one of pure, sheer amusement. you’re so amused, you laugh, even.

“what the fuck are you talking about?” you say between giggles.

“i-i didn’t realize it before, but i talked to chaewon, and she even said that i’ve probably always felt that way about you. i know i didn’t show it, but i really do love —”

“okay, just stop. stop it right there, beomgyu. i’m only going to say it just this once, so listen carefully, okay?” you ask, and he fervently nods.

“okay. you don't know the first thing about love.” and he goes to interrupt you, but you don’t let him. “loving somebody means you put their feelings above your own. what the hell would you know about that?”

“i’m… i know i was wrong, b-but i —”

“beomgyu,” you say exasperatedly. “i’m so glad you’re finally reaching enlightenment, and i’m so happy i was cannon fodder for you to use to get there. but i just really, really don’t care anymore, okay? do what you want with whoever you want, but don’t bother me about it anymore, alright?” and he’s so stunned he can’t even form words, but you just shake your head and prepare to leave again. unconsciously, he goes to grab you again, which you consequently dodge, and he thinks this is the most rejected he’s ever felt before realizing it’s not over yet. it’s only truly over when you grab his bottle from him and splash its contents across his face before throwing the bottle back into his arms and leaving for good.

part ii: cardigan

beomgyu can’t tell if his eyes are stinging from the alcohol you splashed in his face or from the sheer humiliation he feels. maybe from both. probably from both. either way, tears fall as a result. he probably looks like a madman as he stumbles along the concrete on his walk home from the bar. he still has the beer bottle you shoved at him in his hand, and luckily for him, there’s still enough in there to help him get a little tipsier than he already is. he needs it, too, because your words play like a broken record in his head.

you don’t know the first thing about love.

do what you want with whoever you want, but don’t bother me about it anymore.

each and every word feels like you knew exactly the right thing to say to pierce his heart, but he knows better than to think you cared enough to think about it to the point of choosing them so carefully. no, the words you said were what you really felt at the moment. you didn’t even have to try to hurt him, you just had to tell the truth. somehow, that hurts even more.

he replays the entire debacle in his head and tries to think of what he could have said differently. to be honest, there are a lot things, but he has a feeling that no matter what he said, you would’ve reacted the same exact way. if he really thinks about it, maybe some small, ugly part of him hoped you’d forgive him as easily as you have always been wont to do, but it's clear to him now that he was just being delusional. maybe he was still under the impression that you’d be as easy to please as ever, but with how repulsed you seemed to be by his words, his touch, him, he has no such expectations anymore.

he now finds himself at an impasse. where does he go from here? you made it clear that you’re done with him, but he still loves you. you don't want his love anymore, so where is that love supposed to go? the only person he feels like he can ask no longer wants to speak to him. he’s unsure if he wants to turn to you because you’d understand, or just because you’re the only person he trusts.

needless to say, the walk home from the bar is a long one, indeed. one filled with pensive silence, save for the steady sound of swigs being taken from his bottle and the occasional sob.

most people in your friend group have no idea what transpired between you and beomgyu, but the smart ones, like taehyun, know something must have happened by the way you avoid hangouts in which beomgyu is present like the plague. he doesn’t pry when you bail, though, for which you are thankful. a few weeks pass before you have the epiphany that beomgyu has already ruined enough, and you won’t let him ruin your friendships, too.

when you show up to taehyun’s for his celebratory house party in lieu of a promotion at his job, everyone cheers when you walk through the door, which makes your cheeks heat up, and you feel so relieved that your friends are still the same even when it feels like it’s been an eternity since you’ve seen them. taehyun pulls you in for a hug, and you eagerly reciprocate it.

“glad you made it,” he grins.

“i wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you say with a smile, which just makes him beam even more.

you’re pleasantly surprised to note that beomgyu is nowhere to be seen, and you relax for a bit before falling into the familiar rhythm that is being with your friends. you missed this. you missed them. and it seems like they’ve missed you just as much if their excited chatter is anything to go by. you were, admittedly, a little tense when you first came in, but all of that melts away as you join in on the banter and pure fun that is being with the people you love the most.

although beomgyu is nowhere to be found, soobin still never leaves your side. he watches the door like a hawk, and you feel at ease with the knowledge that he’s beside you regardless of the outcome. so what if beomgyu shows up? you belong here, and you have soobin and the rest of your friends with you. knowing beomgyu like you do, his passing fancy has almost certainly ended and he will ignore you like the son of a bitch that he is.

with this notion in mind, you are not at all prepared for the way the aforementioned boy slams taehyun’s front door open and drunkenly stumbles in. the room gets quiet after he does so, and everyone stares as he scans the room with blank, reddened eyes. when his gaze catches yours, you break eye contact almost immediately, opting to turn to soobin with what you hope is an unbothered look, not to keep up any pretenses with him, but because you don’t want anyone other than him to know how uncomfortable you are. in turn, he grabs your hand and laces his fingers with yours, giving your hand a small, reassuring squeeze, and he does not move to unlace his hand with yours even after he does it.

while you’re trying to be discreet, beomgyu is anything but as he continues to stare at you with a dumbed out look on his face. the intense atmosphere is only broken when taehyun stands up to greet him with a side hug and a pat on the other boy’s back.

“hey, gyu. i’m happy you’re here,” he says.

“mm,” beomgyu replies, eyes still never leaving you and lingering at the way you and soobin have your hands joined, and taehyun’s casual side hug turns into him having to support beomgyu’s weight as beomgyu almost falls over while standing.

“you’re really fucking drunk,” taehyun murmurs with a wrinkled nose as he smells the alcohol on beomgyu’s entire person. “c’mon, you can relax in my room for a bit.”

beomgyu can only nod as he leans on taehyun for stability and walks towards taehyun’s room. his gaze on you only breaks when taehyun shuts the door behind him, and if your friends didn’t know that something odd was afoot with the two of you, they certainly seem to know now as they look between taehyun’s room and your awkward figure.

“you okay?” a soft, sweet voice whispers. you turn to soobin and muster up a forced smile and a nod. his hand is still holding yours and he soothingly brushes his thumb over your hand in order to try to calm you down. somehow, it actually kind of works.

you’re here. beomgyu thought he may be hallucinating or something just because you seem to haunt him everywhere he goes now, but he knew it was the real thing when he saw how uncomfortable you were. he knows this because in his delusions, you’re either flatout rejecting him or, in the good ones, you’re forgiving him. those are the ones he likes the most, but he hates the sobering aftermath when he realizes they are, in fact, only figments of his imagination.

so now he sits on taehyun’s bed in a daze as he focuses on the door. you’re so close that his heart physically aches in yearning as it insists on closing the distance between you two, but taehyun’s sharp look stops him from doing anything too terribly stupid.

“this has got to stop,” taehyun halfway pleads, halfway scolds.

“what does?” beomgyu asks dumbly.

“showing up everywhere drunk as hell,” he replies. “look, i don’t know what’s going on, but i know it has to do with her, and i know you’re probably — definitely — in the wrong.”

beomgyu has enough shame to hang his head and purse his lips in response.

“i don’t know what you did, i don’t know what you said, but whatever it was, i know you’re not making any of it better by getting fucked up every night. stay in here, sober up, and only come out when you’re ready to act like an adult.” and with that, taehyun stalks over to the door before shutting it behind him.

beomgyu is not stupid, but he’s not exactly emotionally intelligent, either; so while taehyun’s words sting, they’re not enough to pull him out of his pity party. all he seems to care about in this moment is being next to you, but he remembers the scene of your hands locking with soobin’s. are you seeing each other now? that can’t be it. the heart does not move on that quickly, but maybe yours did. maybe you buried your feelings for him as deep as they could go in the face of the seemingly repulsive confession of love he gave to you. maybe you belong with somebody like soobin, who’s so gentle and caring. soobin definitely listens to you, cherishes you, treats you gently. maybe beomgyu didn’t exactly understand it before now, but he really understands it at this moment: soobin loves you.

maybe, in a way, he always sort of knew. maybe he felt some sort of sick satisfaction at the way you kept your eyes trained on him while soobin was training his eyes on you. maybe he felt some 12-year-old boy kind of pride at the way you seemed to put him before anyone else in spite of such a viable prospective suitor, but any contentment he may have felt is flushed away at the anxiety of you having somebody so good right besides you — somebody who is obviously much better than him.

do you feel the same way? no, even before that, are you okay? he knows he hurt you really badly. are you still hurting? he wants to know. he has to know. so before he can talk himself out of it, he’s stumbling towards the door.

things are still pretty tense when taehyun walks out, but they begin to calm down after everyone asks if beomgyu is alright and taehyun answers in the positive, and you think you might just be in the clear before realizing things are never that easy. beomgyu stumbles out of the door and his gaze immediately locks on you.

“hey,” he says a little too loudly. the room is quiet, and though he didn’t say who he was addressing, it’s obvious it’s you with the way he’s staring so intensely.

“hey,” he repeats even louder this time. to his chagrin, soobin is still next to you, but that doesn’t mean he can’t slide into the open space on the other side of you. of course, propriety would say that he shouldn’t, but propriety means nothing to beomgyu at this moment. not when he’s so drunk he smells like rubbing alcohol, and not when he’s so openly desperate he looks like a man gone mad.

with no grace to be seen, he plops down next to you, and even through your clothes and his jeans, his legs against yours still feel like they burn you. you try to move to avoid his touch so aggressively that poor, large soobin is squeezed into the armrest even more; and it’s all for naught, anyway, because beomgyu just scoots himself even closer.

“how’re you?” he slurs, and though everyone tries their best not to seem like they’re eavesdropping, they most certainly are. no matter how hard they try not to stare, their gazes keep flicking towards the two of you and their voices are a little more hushed. you’re beyond embarrassed, but beomgyu doesn’t seem to mind their looks one bit.

“beomgyu…” you whisper exasperatedly, accepting your fate as the spectacle that you currently are and trying to nip it in the bud with your obvious distaste for the situation.

“i jus’ wanna know how you are,” he says desperately as he senses your clear rejection, but to his eventual regret, he doesn't stop. you try to keep your voice low as you say your next words.

“good. look, i really don’t wanna do this with you right now. i have nothing to say to you and you don’t have anything to say to me that i actually want to hear, so i think it’s best if —”

“but i told you i love you!” he exclaims, and everyone around you ceases to pretend that they aren’t listening. how can they even pretend when he’s quite literally yelling? you don’t notice a thing, though. you’re too absorbed in the melodrama unfolding before you, in which you are in the starring role. “i… i jus’ love you so much, i —” and before he can get out his next words, you’re swiftly standing up with soobin in tow and thanking taehyun for the invite while shuffling out of the front door.

beomgyu is devastated when you leave. he takes to walking outside to taehyun’s balcony as he lets tears roam freely down his reddened face. he thinks he’s alone before he hears somebody opening the door and shutting it behind them.

“do you seriously still not get it?” chaewon sneers.

“get what?” he sniffles, and she lets out a long-suffering sigh before she gets out her next words.

“you love her, right? and you miss her?” she asks slowly, as if he’s so stupid, he wouldn’t understand her if she said it any other way.

“of course i do,” he snaps, not appreciating the condescension in her tone, but all the bite is lost in translation because he looks nothing short of pathetic as his tears steadily fall.

“right. you love her, you miss her, you want to talk to her. you, you, you. it’s still all about you and what you feel, but what about what she feels?” she asks, and he falters at her words. “all you’re doing is making things hard on her, and i can promise you that this ‘woe-is-me’ shit you’re doing right now isn’t gonna change her mind.”

he thinks back to how you acted when you loved him — how you bent over backwards to try to conceal your feelings so as not to inconvenience him. how everything you did was to make life easier on him, no matter how difficult it was for you. yes, you loved him, but you did it in a way he could accept. you did things his way, and for so long; and all he’s done in return is demand your love in his way, yet again.

“so what do i do?” he earnestly asks. “how do i get her back?”

“... after what you've done to her? you don't,” she answers after a pause, and he deflates at her words. she’s right, of course.

he thinks about how he’d feel if you treated him the way he treated you. he feels like his heart is dying in his chest just at the memory of you rejecting him, but to be rejected so cruelly? what do you even do with yourself then? he wonders how people live with that kind of hurt, but then, you did it for so long and were even able to paste a smile on your face as you did it. he remembers when he thought that you were a horrible actress because of how he could still see through you despite how bothered you obviously were by his actions, but only now does he understand how much resilience it must've taken. somehow, it just makes him miss you even more. makes him love you even more.

beomgyu is a pervert. a sick-in-the-head, nasty, freakish, bottom-of-the-barrel, lowdown, dirty pervert. that's the only way he can accurately describe himself in this moment, and the guilt is strong, but not stronger than his need to let this dream play out the way he wants it to. and the way he wants it to goes like this:

your naked body is splayed across beomgyu’s bed as you watch him undress with watery eyes.

“i need you, gyu,” you whimper as tears threaten to fall.

“shh, baby. lemme take care of you,” he whispers as he lines himself up with your entrance.

you brace yourself by locking your hands around his neck as he pushes in, and you both groan as your pussy struggles to take him in. it’s so real, he feels you spasm around him like it did on the night you spent together, and he knows he’s a goner.

he lets you adjust for a few moments before slowly pulling out, then thrusting himself back in again. each stroke feels like heaven as you cry out with every movement. he grips your hips, but he tries his best not to hurt you when he does it. you’re far too precious to leave marks on, after all.

beomgyu gets lost in the feeling all too quickly. he wants to be uncharacteristically gentle, but the feeling of you squeezing around him makes his eyes redden, and before long, he’s drilling into you.

“‘m close!” you cry out.

“me too, baby,” he whispers, and the feeling of you clenching around him as you come is enough to send him over the edge. he spills himself into you with a broken moan.

“i love you,” he says desperately as he tries to catch his breath. but even in his dreams, you don’t reply.

soobin has always been sweet, but ever since the beomgyu incident he’s been even sweeter. he shows up to your place with your favorite snacks and never asks any unsavory questions. he takes your calls in the dead of night when he’s clearly been trying to sleep. he holds your hand when you start to space out.

at first, it was easy to chalk it all up to what best friends do, but as the physical intimacy begins to increase, you start suspecting that something deeper is going on. you are not a cruel person — you’re not the type to pretend not to see something so clear when it inconveniences you (unlike a certain someone). so when soobin places your head on his shoulder during a movie night, against your meek disposition, you ask him a very simple question.

“binnie, do you like me?” and you don’t quite have the courage to look up at him while you ask him, opting to stare at the screen before you.

“yeah. yes, i do,” he replies, and while you would rather continue to avoid eye contact, you have enough respect for him to sit up and look him in his eyes.

“i’m so sorry,” you say, because what else can you say?

“i know. i know you don’t feel the same way, you don’t have to tell me,” he answers with a soft, forced smile.

“i don’t wanna hurt you.”

“i know you don’t.”

“what can i do?” you ask sincerely.

“i… i don’t need you to do anything. if you need me, you have me. if you don’t need me, you still have me,” he tells you.

“that’s not fair to you.”

“then just give me some time,” he replies. “i’ll get over it if you just give me some time.”

“okay,” you nod.

“are you sure you’ll be okay?” he asks, still as concerned about you as ever. as if you’re not breaking his heart.

“i will be,” you lie. regardless of whether he believes you or not, he nods and gathers his things before leaving.

you are, in the most crass of terms, pissy drunk. your sticky situation with soobin is one for the history books, if you do say so yourself, and you lack the proper vernacular at the moment to express just how awful it is. who knew your best friend on this planet had secret feelings for you? well, it seems like everyone, actually, because as you confide in your friends, none seem to be particularly surprised. it appears that you’re the last one to find out.

of course, you’re only able to deal with the revelation by visiting your favorite bar. against your better judgment, you go alone. usually, you’d ask soobin to come with you, but you can’t do that with the way things are right now, which just makes you feel even worse. you’re on drink number three (or four… or five…) when an unknown man slides into the barstool next to you. you don’t quite catch his name, but you know you’re not interested in him, or, well, anyone at the moment. you’re far too distracted by your current circumstances to even entertain the thought of another man right now, but even as you deny, deny, deny him, he doesn’t quite seem to get the message.

your vision is blurred as you try to hint to him for what must be the umpteenth time that you’re not looking for anything at the moment, but he still doesn’t understand, and you’re starting to feel every ounce of alcohol you’ve consumed until now. you place your head in your hands as you try to keep the room from spinning, but it doesn’t seem to help, and you can feel his hand squeezing your upper thigh. you’re not the most assertive person at the best of times, and you are certainly even less so in your drunken state, so you’re trying to gather your bearings to reject him once and for all when you feel an arm sliding around your neck.

“there you are, baby. who’s this?” a baritone voice asks rather loudly, a voice you’d recognize anywhere. beomgyu’s. your gut reaction is to push him off and cuss him out, but even with your delayed reactions, you’re able to register that he’s trying to help you out as you lock eyes with his hesitant brown ones.

“gyu,” you say with what you hope is a believable smile.

“you’re taken?” the man asks disappointedly.

“yep,” you reply, and he scoffs before pushing out his barstool so abruptly, the chair squeaks before storming away.

“are you alright?” beomgyu asks quietly.

“‘m fine,” you tell him as you rip his arm off from your shoulder. “i don’t need your help.”

“i know!” he exclaims a little too desperately. “i-i know that, i just —” but the universe smacks you across the face as you begin to gag, alcohol choosing now of all times to rock your stomach with a vengeance. you begin to try to scramble off of the stool, but you’re so drunk, you’re having trouble even standing up.

without any prompting, beomgyu hurriedly pulls you up and places your arm around his shoulder before hustling you to the bathroom. you don’t even have time to close the door behind you before you’re hunched over the toilet and choking vomit out of your throat. beomgyu slams the door behind him and rushes over to your pitiful frame before shushing you and rubbing circles into your back in an attempt to calm you down. in turn, you bat his hands away without even condescending to look at him when you do it. his heart stings, but he realizes it’s not about him as you lurch forward and continue to empty your stomach.

when you’re finally finished, you feel a wet paper towel gently rubbing the sweat off of your forehead, then it travels down to your lips where vomit still pools around them. beomgyu intently cleans you up without saying a word.

“a-are you alright?” he asks meekly, and as if only now registering that it’s him, you push his hands away and say your next words.

“i thought i told you i didn’t need your fucking help. i hate when people make me repeat myself, didn’t you know?” he winces at your harsh words and sharpness of tone.

��i… i know. i’m sorry. i just thought that you might want somebody with you. i’m really sorry.” and even through your drunken stupor, you know he’s not just apologizing for his interference. but you don’t care.

“and why would i want you?” he’s silent at this before finally replying.

“you know, when you told me i’d regret it, i didn’t really understand what you meant; but i understand it now. i’m really, really regretting it. i should’ve listened to you,” he says softly with tears brimming in his reddened eyes.

you’re at a loss for words at this. what do you say? what can you say besides “i told you so”? somehow, that doesn’t quite do the sentiment justice.

part iii: betty

after vomiting, you actually feel like you’ve sobered up quite a bit, but you’re still not speaking, which beomgyu takes to heart.

“i can’t — i’m just really, really sorry,” he brokenly sobs in the face of your silence. “so sorry.”

“i know,” you reply after a pause, and you do know. you didn’t before, but his pathetic actions and demeanor have shown you that he means what he says. your acknowledgment of his repentance just makes him cry even harder, though. because it doesn’t seem to have changed a thing.

“i was a bastard. i was so fucking awful to you when you were just trying to help me, and i didn’t know what i had until you were gone,” he continues, quite openly sobbing at this point. he looks like a man gone mad as he cries in the public restroom of a bar, but what's the point of trying to keep his cool now? maybe this way, you’ll understand just how much he means what he says.

but you’re the victim. you’re the one who should be crying her heart out at the moment. you didn’t even do anything besides reject him after he’s been continuously rejecting you and treating you like gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe for years. why does he get to cry and get what he wants? what about you? you want to hold onto this injustice, but the way he crumbles in front of you makes your heart soften. no matter how angry you may be, you can't help but try to reason with him.

“beomgyu, i know you’re sorry. i really do,” you sigh, and your tone tells him everything he needs to know, but he still hangs onto every word as if they’re the most important things he’ll ever hear. still, he feels dread at what you have to say next tugging on his heartstrings.

“but it’s just not enough. you treated me like i was garbage for years. you used me and my feelings, and tossed me away whenever you wanted.” and he withers even more with every word. “and i let you do it because i loved you and i thought you didn’t know how i felt, but you fucking knew what you were doing; and you still slept with me while knowing how i felt about you. how can you expect me to forgive you for that?” you ask, and it is not completely rhetorical. you seem to be searching for an answer, but he doesn’t have one. he never did. if he could figure out how to justify any of his actions, he would, but he can’t seem to come up with anything even as he scrambles for a response.

he knows he's losing you, so why not just be honest? as a last ditch effort, he lays everything out on the table.

“you said you loved me,” he says. “m-maybe, if i can be better, you’ll love me again. i can be good for you, i-i know i can. so if you just —”

“beomgyu,” you interrupt, though not maliciously. you seem to have some level of patience for him even in spite of everything. “i still love you. love was never the problem.” and he can’t help but feel a shred of hope bud in the wake of your words, but it’s killed in its crib at what you say next. “but that’s just not enough anymore. the way you’ve been feeling for the past few weeks is how i’ve felt for years. i bet you can’t even imagine that — i don’t even want you to imagine that, actually. it just hurts too much.”

and while you just said that you didn’t want him to, he can’t help but envision exactly that: the feeling that he had when you were with soobin multiplied exponentially. and for so long. and with different people. that same pain over and over and over again with no reprieve besides for the hope that someday, if you’re lucky, you might have a chance. someday, maybe any day, but probably not any time soon. to live like that and for so long, just thinking about it makes his heart ache and his stomach churn.

“do you understand me now?” you ask, and gone are the traces of resentment and disgust. your gaze is only filled with pity. somehow, that makes him feel even worse.

“y-yeah,” he says breathlessly with an inhale so sharp, it’s as if he’s in physical pain, all the while trying desperately to gather his bearings and to look and sound like a functioning member of society. he fails in light of his constant stream of tears. “i, um, i get it now.”

“okay,” you say softly. “i’m going to call yunjin so she can pick me up. can you get home safely?” this is it. you don’t have to say it, but he knows that you two will never speak again after this. what else is there to say, after all?

“i can.”

“good,” you smile, and he tries his best to smile, too, but he doesn’t quite make it there. “goodbye, beomgyu.”

“goodbye,” he whispers shakily, and he looks so profoundly devastated that you wish you could comfort him, but you know it’d just make things worse; so without another word, you leave him alone as you prepare to call yunjin.

beomgyu doesn’t know how long he spends in the wake of your absence, but he cries until no more tears will leave his eyes. when he's all cried out, eyes swollen and face red, he leaves the bar in a state of borderline delirium. your words echo in his unstable state of mind, and he realizes that even when you had every right to treat him like the scum of the earth, you were kinder than he could ever reasonably expect for you to be. it seems that you still gave him more than he ever deserved. as always.

things with soobin have stayed in an odd sort of purgatory for weeks now, but unfortunately or not, life goes on, so you don't have the luxury of ruminating on it as much as you probably need to. you don't reach out very much for fear of unwittingly making your circumstances with him even more difficult for him to move past, but that certainly doesn't mean that you don't miss him. still, you prioritize his feelings in the matter over your own and patiently await the day where he finally feels comfortable enough to be friends with you once more. he forgoes most of the gatherings that your friends arrange, and it's like a knife to the heart every time.

as for your situation with beomgyu, you deliberately try to push that out of your mind as frequently as humanly possible. you feel like things have ended on the best note you could ever ask for, and your friends know better than to bring him up around you, so you figure that ignorance is bliss. old habits die hard, though, and you find yourself wanting to check on him, but you remind yourself that that’s not your job anymore — and it never should have been in the first place, really, which is enough to stop you in your tracks on the bad nights where you want nothing more than to reach out. you reason with yourself that he has friends, so there’s no need to concern yourself with him.

but you miss him. you miss when you were stupid enough to believe that he didn’t know about your feelings. you wish you could go back and erase your love for him so you two could go back to just being friends. what he did was unforgivable, you know that, but you still miss all the times he made you laugh. still, that pales in comparison to all the times he made you cry, right? that's how you should look at things. that's how you will look at things.

as it is, you’re perfectly fine with never speaking to him again. at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

“are you okay?” taehyun asks in a hushed tone. he hasn’t seen beomgyu in over a month now, but beomgyu finally agreed to come out with him after taehyun said he missed him. now, they are seated in a booth at the dimly lit bar just down the street from taehyun’s place.

“y-yeah,” beomgyu replies with a forced upturn of his lips as he sloshes around the non-alcoholic drink in his cup. after the last time you saw him, he decided to ditch alcohol for the time being. taehyun was right about him needing to act like an adult, and he just knows that if he were to get even a drop of alcohol in him, he’d come crawling back to you, probably to your disgust.

“good,” taehyun sighs in relief. “i was really worried about you for a while there, you know? everyone was.”

“i know,” beomgyu answers perfunctorily. everyone has been worried about him and has said as much. well, pretty much everyone except for you.

“are you ever gonna talk about what happened?” taehyun carefully probes, which causes beomgyu to cease all actions and stare blankly at his cup — liquid still gently swishing back and forth.

“nothing happened that you probably didn’t already guess,” beomgyu says with a derisive smile. its sentiment is not directed at taehyun, however, but at himself.

“that doesn't mean i don't want to hear it from you,” taehyun replies.

with a sigh of defeat, beomgyu begrudgingly recounts his circumstances with you, sparing no details. at first, taehyun's eyes widen every so often, but after a while, his face relaxes into something somber and resigned. when beomgyu is finished, his gaze remains locked on taehyun’s face, searching for any semblance of a reaction, but he remains stoic.

“well?” beomgyu asks impatiently.

“well, what?” taehyun says after a moment, and he's tempted to just leave it at that, but after looking into beomgyu’s pleading eyes, he realizes that he needs to say more. “you fucked up, but you know that already. i would say that i can't believe you did that, but if it's you, i can believe it,” he sighs, and beomgyu really wishes he hadn't pressed taehyun for more, because he feels smaller and smaller with every new word.

“i know. i’m a piece of shit who doesn't deserve her. i never did,” beomgyu relents, feeling completely helpless. he wasn't expecting comfort or anything like that — he doesn't deserve it, but he's still hurt by taehyun's words, regardless of their validity. they just further confirm what he already knows.

“yeah, you're right,” taehyun agrees with a nod, and beomgyu deflates even more, if that's even possible.

“is… is she okay?” beomgyu asks timidly. he's been too afraid to ask about you, but now that taehyun knows the truth, it seems pointless to beat around the bush.

“not really,” taehyun says with a twitch of his lips.

“why not?!” beomgyu exclaims a little too loudly. taehyun hurriedly shushes him before glancing around the bar to make sure nobody’s attention has been drawn to the two of them.

“why not?” beomgyu repeats, voice lower this time, but urgency just as palpable.

“i don't know. i think something happened between her and soobin, but neither of them will talk about it. i'm sure you can guess what happened, though,” taehyun sighs. and he's right. beomgyu can guess, but he can't quite believe it. you must've rejected soobin, but why? why would you reject someone so perfect for you? does it have anything to do with him?

beomgyu can’t shake the feeling that your situation with soobin has something to do with him. he knows he’s being vain, he knows he’s being selfish, but he can’t help but hope. he doesn't tell anyone about this, though, for fear that reality will be much crueler than he can cope with. he tells himself he's perfectly content with living with said hope and deluding himself into thinking he still has a place in your heart, but he can't control the way his mind wanders to places he scarcely dares to dream of these days. dreams where you miss him, where you still think about him, where you forgive him play out in a number of ways, but in the end, they're nothing more than, well, dreams.

as much as some would like to avoid it, gathering for taehyun’s friendsgiving party is inevitable. no matter the circumstances, nobody can quite justify missing out on your friend group’s collective tradition. you try to steel yourself for the potentially awkward encounters with soobin and beomgyu, but you can’t help but worry about potential “what if’s”. still, you decide to be as mature as possible. if you see soobin, you'll make light conversation before excusing yourself if he seems uncomfortable. if you see beomgyu, well, hopefully he'll just ignore you as you've ignored him.

when you arrive at taehyun's, you greet everyone as usual. honestly, as awful as it sounds, you're pretty relieved to see that neither soobin nor beomgyu have arrived just yet. you drink just enough to take some of the edge off, so when soobin comes in, it's not an earth-shattering event. when he greets you, you're prepared to just leave it at a cordial, somewhat distant conversation, and he seems to be on the exact same page. he says hello and performs all of the necessary niceties before wandering off and getting himself a drink. it hurts your heart that this is what your friendship has been reduced to, but you know it's what's best at the moment. you don't want to unintentionally hurt him by insisting he push his limits by being with you.

you try to shove this out of your mind, and you're talking to yunjin about nothing in particular when beomgyu walks through the door. you can’t help but look up when he enters, but you will yourself to look away while plastering a smile on your face you already know isn’t believable in the slightest. mercifully, he doesn’t do anything other than wave at you and yunjin before getting lost in the hustle and bustle of the party.

you think the worst of the night is over, and you calmly go through the motions of your friendsgiving traditions as if everything is fine. after dinner, you find yourself sitting alone, wondering if you should just hang it up and go home a bit early. before you can do that, though, you notice soobin approaching your spot on the couch.

“hey,” he says a little unsteadily as he plops down next to you, no doubt a little tipsy from the drinks he’s had.

“hey,” you shyly reply with a smile.

“how are you?” he asks.

“i’m okay,” you answer, trying to maintain your composure. “what about you?”

“better,” he says before hesitantly continuing. “i miss you.” your heart soars, but it also somewhat aches.

“i miss you, too,” you tell him honestly. he smiles, albeit very softly.

“how are things with beomgyu?” he probes.

“as good as they’ll get, i guess.”

“so not very good, huh?”

“no, not very good,” you say truthfully.

“well, why don't you just cut the bullshit, then?” you're very clearly taken aback by his words. you're even actually offended that he could casually say such a thing.

“what are you talking about?” your tone is more defensive than bewildered, but he just looks at you with knowing eyes that make you feel microscopic.

“you know what i’m talking about,” he argues. “this whole fucked up charade that you two are performing isn’t fooling anybody, so why even try?”

“he doesn't deserve me,” you scoff. “he can't just treat me like shit and get away with it because he's sorry now. he needs to pay for what he's done.”

“and who are you punishing by doing that? him or yourself?” you're, again, surprised, so you don't quite know what to say in response.

“i know you. i know what you want, and denying that doesn't do anything but hurt the both of you. you might as well get what you want. maybe he doesn't deserve it — i'm not really sure, but don't you want to try, at least? with how desperate he’s been acting, i don’t think he’ll hurt you again.” you seriously ponder his words, but the main conclusion you come to is that soobin is still so, so kind. he had — or has — feelings for you, but he still wants to see you happy. you don’t have to say anything, though, because it seems like he understands how grateful you are just from your smile.

he pulls you in for a hug, one so warm and loving you can't help but melt into it. you could cry at how relieved you are that you two will soon overcome the awkwardness and distance. it seems he wasn't one of your best friends for nothing. when you two break apart, you look up at him with a watery smile. before you can say anything, though, you register the odd look on his face. you look confused for just a second before he says his next words in a hushed, hurried tone.

“i'm doing this for your own good,” he whispers as he leans down and catches your lips in a tender kiss. to say you're stunned is an understatement, indeed, but the kiss ends almost as quickly as it begins, leaving you reeling.

“w-why did you —”

“i said it was for your own good, but it was kind of for me, too,” he softly chuckles. “maybe i want to punish him a little bit.” you don't really understand what he means until you follow his gaze and catch beomgyu in his line of sight. oh, you get it now. who knew soobin was such a sadist?

your conversation with soobin ends and you feel a lot lighter than you have in a long, long time, but his words leave you with more than enough to think about. you shake your head and go out to the balcony to clear your head. after a few minutes, you hear the door behind you creak open. you know it's beomgyu before he even says anything.

“so, you and soobin, huh?” he questions softly as he settles next to you, leaning against the railing. you glance up at him to respond, but his mirthless smile stops you before you can say a word.

“i’m happy for you,” he adds as sincerely as he can, and you’re not sure you buy that, but at the very least, he seems to want you to believe it. you're not really sure how to respond. you don't even know if you want to explain everything to him, actually, because you're still debating on whether or not you should forgive him. can things really be that easy? does he deserve your forgiveness? who's to say he won't just break your heart again? as you struggle with how to answer, he continues.

“i'm, um, i'm glad you found somebody. especially soobin. he'll treat you right — you deserve it,” he says before timidly rambling. “s-sorry if i’m overstepping, i just wanted you to know that; and, uh, if you ever need anything, i'm here.”

“need anything? like what?” you can't help but wonder aloud. now, this is unlike the beomgyu you've come to know. if it were, then he'd be throwing a fit trying to get you to change your mind so you'd be with him instead of soobin.

“l-like, if you need advice or something,” he earnestly answers, somewhat surprised you said anything at all. “or if you just want to talk or complain or anything. whatever it is that you need, i’ll be here. i owe you that much after all you’ve done for me.” you look confused for a moment before you answer him.

“i didn’t do those things so you’d owe me, beomgyu,” you tell him, and his heart flutters against his will at the use of his name.

“i-i know, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean it like that. s-sorry. i just want you to know that there’s someone who wants to be there for you, especially since you were always there for me, but even if you weren’t, i would still want to be there for you,” he nervously replies.

“why?” you quietly ask, and that actually brings a wistful smile to his face.

“because i care about you,” he says, voice dripping with sincerity and solemnity. what he really wants to tell you is that it's because he loves you, but it's clear that it's the wrong time. he can't just dump his feelings onto you again — that would be wrong since you're obviously involved with someone now. if it were the old him, he'd do it with absolutely no regrets if it meant that you'd come back to him, but he can't do that to you. he can't just steamroll over your wants and feelings like he's always done.

“but why?” you question persistently. he never saw anything of value in you before, not outside of how he could use you, so what’s so great about you now? you just can’t understand it. his sincere smile turns wry, teeming with a sense of self-mockery as he whispers his next words.

“because you're amazing. you're everything anyone could ever want.” anything i could ever want. he doesn't have to say that last part, because you can already hear the meaning of his words. just because you can hear it, however, doesn't mean you understand it.

“i never thought you, of all people, would think that,” you say honestly.

“i know, but that's my fault, not yours,” he replies. you purse your lips in response, mulling over your options. you could just walk away right now and go back to ignoring beomgyu forever. it's what he deserves, you reason. he humiliated you in a way like none other, and nobody would blame you if you never let that go; but you look at how hard he's trying, and your heart softens. maybe you want to give it a try. maybe you'll get hurt again, but with how desperate he is, you really don't think so. still, you can’t let him get away with it so easily. you just have to make sure his feelings are pure.

“i know you still have feelings for me,” you say after a long pause, and his face reddens in shame, feeling like his ugly heart that he was desperately trying to conceal has been exposed. he supposes this is the way it should be, but he doesn't want to guilt you into anything, so he chooses to remain silent in his humiliation. “if it were like before, you would just tell me that. why is it different now?” you continue. well, that's it then. he should be truthful and say what he wants to say, and unbeknownst to him, what you want to hear.

“because your feelings should be more important than my own. that's what you do when you love somebody,” he chokes out. “you taught me that.”

you're quiet for a long, long time. too long, in fact. so long, he thinks it's time to call it quits and suppress his unrequited feelings for you until he feels them no longer. he can't imagine a world where he successfully does so, but for your sake, he should try. before he can say his goodbye, though, you speak again.

“okay,” you sigh.

“what?” he asks confusedly, eyebrows furrowed.

“i said, ‘okay’. don't make me regret this,” you tell him before grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him down to you. your lips softly meet each other and his eyes widen in sheer shock, though he doesn't resist you. his breath is labored when you finally part, eyes hazy with his lips red and swollen.

“w-what are you — i thought — why are you —”

“i'll give you one chance,” you interrupt. “if you fuck up, it's over. do you understand?” he takes a second to process your words — but it's just a second — and his eyes well up with relieved tears when he understands. he dumbly nods in agreement, too afraid that if he speaks, no intelligible noise will come out.

“good.” the corners of your mouth curl with a ghost of a smile, and you're prepared to leave it at that as you pull away from him; but like a dog, he earnestly chases after your touch before pulling you towards him, lips meeting yours again. the kiss is hungrier this time — more insistent, but he doesn't push his luck. eventually, he parts from you, leaving you both panting. his tears, which he was previously holding back, now flow from his eyes with no resistance.

“thank you,” he says gently.

“for what?” you ask, head a little clouded from the kiss, but he just shakes his head with a smile. you will never understand just how grateful he is for the mercy you’ve shown him, but he’ll try to show you how much it means to him.

things go slowly after that — you do your best to ensure that they do; and beomgyu, to his credit, tries to oblige. you’re not official or anything like that, but you let him take you on dates, and he’s always trying to woo you in one way or another. he sends flowers when you work, he shows up to your place with food and drinks, he texts you every morning asking how you’ve slept. it’s everything you could have ever asked for, and you can really see how hard he’s trying, but when kisses become heated, you always pull away before things can go any further. beomgyu tries his best not to show his dejection, but you always end up apologizing before he adamantly insists that he’s more than okay with it. you appreciate his understanding because every time you think about going any further, you can’t help but remember the indelible scar that his previous betrayal left upon you.

christmas parties at beomgyu’s, much like friendsgivings at taehyun’s, are a tradition within your friend group. now that the tension with soobin and (most of) the tension with beomgyu is no longer there, you find that you’re actually really excited to gather again. you have no intention of revealing the nature of your… circumstances with beomgyu to everyone, though, and beomgyu will never say it for fear of making you uncomfortable, but it makes his heart ache. he can't really blame you for not wanting to be tied to him, but that doesn't soothe the pain in his chest.

secret santa takes place without a hitch. that is, until you open up your gift, which is a necklace with a pendant of a silver sun, and it is revealed that soobin got it for you. it’s not the most expensive gift in the world, but it is uncommonly sentimental. many write it off as a pretty, but ultimately meaningless piece of jewelry, but beomgyu instinctively knows it’s because of how so much of you resembles the sun. how could he not understand? you’re warm and nurturing, but it’s unsettling to realize that you’re not his alone. he tries to tell himself that it's not the end of the world, but when soobin turns you around and gently clasps the necklace for you before smoothing out your hair, he can't help but feel like it is. that’s enough for him to excuse himself to his room, but you’re far too preoccupied with gushing over how much you love the gift to soobin to really notice.

when he enters his room, he sits on the edge of his bed, placing his head in his hands with a groan. he shouldn't be feeling like this. he has no right to feel like this. you had already taken the time to explain that you and soobin are just friends, and you stressed that he’ll have to be okay with that fact if he wants to be with you, to which he eagerly agreed; but he can't help but think that it's only a matter of time before you come to your senses and leave him to be with soobin for good.

you two aren't even technically official, and your hesitance to be classified as such to your closest friends only shows him just how much you want that to continue to be true. what if he's just a pit stop in yours and soobin's love story? that seems like the most likely outcome. he can just see it now, you and soobin laughingly recalling your tumultuous history to your future kids. is beomgyu being dramatic? probably, but that doesn't stop his mind from running wild. why would you choose to stay with him when soobin, who's been devoted to you since the beginning, is right there?

the door to his room opens, and he whips his head up in hopes that it's you coming back to him, so he can't hide his disappointment when he's greeted by chaewon’s figure shutting the door behind her before she plops down beside him. his mood turns even more sour than it already was when he sees her.

“if you're here to laugh at me for how pathetic i am, i don’t want to hear it,” he says bitingly. she’s quiet for a moment, as if she’s digesting his words, before she nods.

“you’re right, you are pathetic,” she deadpans. his temper flares, but before he can lash out, she continues. “you look stupid just sulking here because your little girlfriend got attention from another man.”

“h-how did you kn—”

“she may be subtle, but you definitely aren’t,” she snorts.

“oh,” he defeatedly replies with a laughably crestfallen look.

“doesn't feel good, does it? seeing the person you love with somebody else,” she asks snarkily. “it’s one of the worst feelings in the world, if you ask me.”

“and what the hell do you know about that?” he spits. chaewon is one of the most spiteful and bull-headed people he knows. he can't imagine her being too broken up about supposed unrequited love.

“because that's how i feel when i look at the both of you,” she says matter-of-factly, as if she didn't just drop the bomb of the century. he knew that she was attracted to him, obviously, but he never knew her feelings ran any deeper than that. he sputters as he looks at her, but she cuts him off.

“i know you didn't know about my feelings, for real this time. i guess i'm a better actress than her, or maybe you just never cared enough to find out. whatever it is, i know it's hopeless, so you don't have to tell me.”

“i'm sorry,” he murmurs, but she just shakes her head.

“thanks, but your apology just makes me feel worse,” she scoffs. “i don’t need or want the pity of the most pitiful person in the world.” her words are undeniably harsh, but he can register the amount of hurt in them.

“i'm still sorry,” he says. “i know how you feel, and i know it's really hard. i'm sorry for never noticing.” his sincerity makes her calloused heart soften.

“yeah, it's hard; but for what it's worth, i think she loves you, too,” she tells him.

“i really hope so,” he replies with a sardonic smile before it melts into something more genuine. “thank you for telling me about your feelings. i'm sorry that i don't feel the same way, but i hope you find somebody who does.”

“thank you,” she says, more sincerely this time. “friends?” with this, she extends her hand for him to shake. he smiles at her gesture as he complies.

“friends.” hesitantly, she pulls him into a hug. he’s stunned for a second before patting her back in reciprocation. he can’t love her, but he can learn to appreciate her, which he has never done, even with all of her help. maybe he’s becoming a better person because of you.

as if on cue, the door opens the moment that thought is fully formed. he’s relieved to see you for the split second before he realizes how this must look to you. he madly breaks away from her in a haste.

“it's not what it looks like!” he exclaims, and chaewon tactfully rises and scurries out of the door before shutting it behind her, but you remain silent and rooted to your spot.

“i swear! it's really not what it looks like,” he says pleadingly as he stands and grabs your hands, which you promptly smack away.

“i just fucking knew this would happen,” you spit. “i won't give it up to you, so you turn around and pull this shit — is that it?”

“n-no! seriously, we’re just friends! she told me that she had feelings for me, but i rejected her, and we said we would just be friends,” he desperately explains. “i swear to god i would never do that to y—” he wants to continue, but the way your shoulders shake as you put your head in your hands stops him in his tracks.

he hurriedly embraces you as he hears muffled cries escape your lips.

“i’m so sorry, please don’t cry. it wasn’t what it looked like, i promise,” he says as soothingly as he can muster, but that doesn't seem to stop your tears. he feels more and more helpless as you continue to break down in front of him, so he resorts to saying whatever he can think of to calm you down.

“i’m sorry, it’s all my fault. i never should’ve touched her. just don't cry, okay? i hate seeing you cry,” he whispers as he draws circles on your back, pressing you closer to him. after a while, your sobs die out and your breathing becomes more steady.

“a-are you okay?” he timidly probes. you stare at him with eyebrows furrowed for a bit before you slightly nod. he purses his lips before continuing.

“are you going to leave me?” he whispers, and he regrets asking as soon as the words leave his lips.

it's okay if you're only indulging him in this would-be relationship because you pity him. it's okay if he's just a pit stop in your love story with soobin. it's okay if he turns out to be nothing more than a momentary distraction from the actual love of your life, just as long as you stay with him for as long as you can stand it. why would he question his place in your life? why would he ruin a good thing by making you tell him to his face that you don't want him? he should've just waited for you to figure it out on your own instead of forcing you to confront the true nature of your feelings for him.

when he’s met with nothing but your pensive silence, he speaks again.

“i-i’m sorry i asked. i, um, i understand,” he adds defeatedly.

“no,” you croak.

“n-no? what do you mean by —”

“no, i won’t leave you,” you declare, a little bit more confidently this time.

“you won’t?” he asks doubtfully, taken aback by this sentiment.

“do you want me to?”

“no! i-i just can’t believe it. why would you stay with me?”

“because i think you love me. do you?”

“of course!” he exclaims.

“then will you show me? how much you love me, i mean?” you ask.

“h-how do you mean?”

you look up at him and pull him by his collar so his lips meet yours, and his eyes widen before he melts into the kiss. he feels like he’s floating as you move your lips against his, but he groans when you softly tug his hair, which allows you to snake your tongue into his welcoming mouth. that’s enough to replace the floating feeling with one of pure need. when you part, you're both gasping for air.

“are you sure?” he seemed so lost in the feeling before, but he looks nothing short of timid right now, endearing you in a way you previously thought was impossible.

“yes.”

he gulps and guides you to his bed, firmly gripping your hand as if he’ll lose you if he doesn’t hold onto you. carefully, reverently, he begins to undress you, making sure not to be too rough, juxtaposing how crass he was the first (and last) time you two did this. when you’re fully undressed, he shamelessly takes the view of you in. you subconsciously feel embarrassed and start to cover yourself, and he gently, but firmly, takes your arms and pulls them away from your shivering frame.

“don’t hide from me. you’re beautiful,” he whispers, before ducking down and pulling you in for a heated kiss. it’s still gentle, but there’s more fire behind it than usual. eventually, he breaks away and quickly rids himself of his clothes, contrasting greatly with the tenderness he showed you as he took yours off. when he’s finished, he kisses you again. this time, though, he doesn’t just stop at your lips, and he trails hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck before he pushes you down onto the bed and finds his way down to your aching pussy.

he plants kisses on your open thighs until your legs are trembling and your core is glistening with anticipation. greedily, he takes one experimental, flat-tongued lick from your pussy and groans at your taste. he starts slowly — licking stripes until his movements become a series of alternating between this and more focused licks to your folds and clit. eventually, he takes one of his fingers and prods at your weeping hole before pushing it in to the knuckle. he curls and teases until he finds your sweet spot with little effort.

“o-oh,” you sigh, but before you can get used to the feeling, he slides another finger in and repeats his movements, softly sucking on your clit as he does it. beomgyu tries to show restraint, he really does, but you taste so good that before long, he’s practically hammering his fingers into you while he licks and sucks on your lower lips. you’re no match for his skilled tongue, so you’re falling apart more quickly than you’d like to admit. you hold onto his hair for dear life, tugging a little harder than you probably should, but you’re in no state to control your harshness as you reach the end.

“gyu, i’m gonna — oh, shit — i’m coming! i’m coming!” you cry as your legs buckle, tightening around his head against your will. he doesn’t pull away, however; he just lets you cage him in between your thighs as if he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world. as you come down, he laps up your cum and removes his fingers to directly stick his tongue in your clenching hole. you think you might have to pull him off of you due to overstimulation, but he (reluctantly) does it himself before you can quite get there.

he makes no move to clean himself up, and his expression is one of pure bliss, as if you were the one who just gave him the best oral of his life and not the other way around. he pulls you in for a heavy kiss, and you taste yourself along with the sweetness that is beomgyu. he tries to be patient, but he can't help but frantically line himself up with your entrance, poking and prodding his tip against your still-spasming hole as he takes one of your hands into his own while using the other to guide himself into you.

“is this okay?” he nervously asks. you nod. with a strained breath, he slowly begins to push into you.

it's a struggle to push himself in, meeting resistance as you clench around him, pussy trying desperately to accommodate his length. your hand tightly grips his as you feel the almost unbearable stretch, and he soothingly caresses his thumb over your finger, shuddering as you take him in inch by inch. it feels even better than the first time, somehow — you're even warmer and wetter than before. with labored breaths, he tries to keep himself from coming early as he feels you contracting around him. when he’s finally completely sheathed in you, it's like puzzle pieces fitting together; things seem more right than they have since, well, the last time you two did this. you stay like that for what must be a long time — just feeling each other in an act of pure intimacy as you both heave out labored breaths.

“are you ready?” he whispers, and after a few seconds, you nod. he shakily pulls out, feeling your pussy struggling to keep him in, and takes a deep breath before piercing you in one fluid motion, scraping against your g-spot with ease. you whimper at the sensation as he pulls himself out before ramming back in again.

“relax, baby. i know you can take me. you were made for me,” he says soothingly as he sets his pace. he tries to take things slowly, but it’s difficult when it feels like you’re sucking him in with every thrust. his words comfort you, and before long, you're melting into his touch.

“so good,” he groans as he repeatedly hits your cervix. “you’re so fucking perfect.” all you can do is moan in response, feeling so detached from reality that the only thing chaining you to it is the way he’s fucking you. your grip on his hand tightens until you’re sure his fingers are numb, but he makes no move to stop you. he even leans down to plant a kiss on your lips, which was meant to be mostly innocent, but it quickly devolves into your tongues and teeth clashing against each other as he snaps his hips into yours. you feel more than full as he stretches you out and pounds into you so deeply, you feel him in your stomach. you can only be described as lightheaded as he hits the deepest parts of you relentlessly, and you feel yourself getting closer to your climax — causing you to let out an animalistic whine.

“shh, baby. i’ve got you. just let go, okay?” you have no choice but to oblige when he continues drilling into you. you couldn't stop even if you wanted to. it's only a few moments before your eyes are rolling backwards as you mercilessly clamp down around him. the feeling of you tightening on his length pushes him to his own end, and he moans out “oh, g-god, i love you,” while he spills himself into you, shuddering as he does it. you feel his hot cum flooding your insides, eventually leaking out of your aching cunt as he slowly thrusts it into you. you stay like that, just joined together, for a long while.

with reluctance, he pulls out of you. you're both silent as he collapses on top of you and mindlessly toys with your hair.

“i love you, too,” you whisper.

“w-what?” he shoots up and stares at you in disbelief, scanning your face in earnest.

“you heard me,” you reply.

“can you — can you say it again? please?” your purse your lips before responding.

“i love you, too.”

he doesn't mean for them to, but his eyes well up with tears. he grabs you and flips you on top of him before locking his arms around you. your head rests comfortably against his chest as he pulls you closer and closer, nuzzling his cheek onto the top of your head.

“i can't believe this is real,” he whispers between his tears, and you can't stop yourself from smiling at the sheer amount of awe in his tone. “i'll be so good to you, you won't believe it.”

“okay,” you chuckle, in spite of yourself. what can you do other than believe him when he's so damn desperate?

notes pt. 2: finishing this has most certainly been an uphill battle. i was writing like a few sentences a day for the longest time. still, i hope you all enjoyed this. i love you very much, my friends. also, please let me know what you thought about it (as long as it's not mean!)

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permanent (sfw/[n]sfw): @lonelybutterflytae @cherrycolaberry @midwinterblizzard @everythingvirgoes @sooberryworld @20-cms @inkigayocamman @hyueika @boba-beom @vicurious28 @blossommi @lickingan0rchid @katsukis1wife @binniebakery @notevenheretbh1 @shymexican @that1sadgrl @archoive @paegesoobin @buttercreamerie @ifwtxt @softesyoongi @serenityism00 @fairfootedflekk @kyanmeai @definitelynotherr @hyunj00 @taehyunluvrs @m00gyu @denleave1088 @hwanghyunjinismybae @bmo-bri

for the hope of it all: @calssunflower @wildernessuntothemselves @pluslandminun @enhasrii @vixensss @pagetammgyu @tyongluvs @aduh0308 @11thenightwemet11

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bigassmoth · 2 months ago

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Sebastian feeling a mix of jealousy and confusion when you and Ciel get along well. He knows you arent going to eat Ciels soul so he doesnt have to worry about you- but Ciel shamelessly keeps badmouthing Sebastian around you.

Doing all he can to monopolize your time. It doesnt help that you treat the boy favorably, always advocating for him to have more sweets and games. You inquire Ciel about all kinds of things, you work to pull him out of his shell until he begins to conserve with you. Your attention and curiosity is a luxury that Sebastian has never received. The hot stone of jealousy sits in his chest when you treat him with polite reservation. Ciel will send mocking looks at Sebastian. Unfortunately, the young lord was perceptive and had caught onto the demons interest in you. The emotion may be closer to envy than jealousy as Sebastian never had your complete attention in the first place.

But, he cant help but be puzzled by your behavior. It cant be "motherly instincts"- you are not the boys mother and you arent attempt to parent him in the slightest. Sebastian doesnt know what has compelled you to be so protective of the boy- for free. His guardianship is entirely conditional, as it should be, but your loyalty manifested without any cause. Moreover- Ciel is partial to you yet maintains his aloof attitude. He pretends to not be listening when you talk- but he remembers every detail. He is dry and snappish at your most inconsequential comments, but is the most relaxed when you are near. Ciel considers you the most dependable- yet hates to have your assistance. Sebastian is used to the contradictory behavior of his young lord but what surprises him is the seemingly endless well of patience you have. Unlike most of Ciels close companions, you have a functioning brain. He struggles to understand why someone as clever and observant as yourself puts up with such behavior. Not that he will ever tell Ciel this- as the moment the young master makes a mistake his faithful butler will be there to take care of you it.

The worst moments are when you do approach Sebastian first- because it is always to talk about Ciel. "Has he been eating? Sleeping?", "Im worried he is inside too much", "How can I help with his birthday celebration?"

The two feelings intertwine. Why do you care so much when you get nothing but the young lords prickly attitude in return? Why are you stand by someone who is always pushing you away? Why does Ciel reach for you, who is weak and ignorant to the powers of the supernatural and fatal? Why does Sebastian stand on the outside and feel like he is staring at a puzzle with a completed border and nothing inside? How does he get the pieces to complete the picture?

#sebastian michaelis x reader #ciel phantomhive x reader

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jadeshifting · 7 months ago

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— UNIQUELY CHARACTERIZING YOURSELF ( SMALL, IMPORTANT DETAILS )

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

GROUNDING THROUGH DETAILS OF THE SELF

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justifiably, so much focus in scripting lies in who you’re friends with, who your s/o is and what experiences you have together, your house and your belongings—but what about you? not just superpowers or your vast ocean of clothes (way fun), but the littlest details of the self. let’s talk about grounding yourself in this new reality. are you glitter-dusted nail polish that catches the light, or someone with chipped black nails because it’s chic that way? does your laugh sound like a giggle, or is it that obnoxiously loud cackle everyone secretly loves?

in a similar vein to why there’s often a focus on scripting imperfections (realism, grounding, etc) these small, “whatever” details are just as valuable in the same way. you’re anchoring your energy into this version of you, “i’m here, I exist, and i know myself inside-out.” you’re not just some flat character with a Pinterest-worthy life; you’re layered, real, and unforgettable. these little things? they build your presence and make you magnetic in any reality (which you’d be anyway bffr)

HOW DO YOU SMELL? WHAT FLAVOR IS YOUR CHAPSTICK?

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what’s your vibe in this reality? are you wafting off warm vanilla sugar with a hint of cinnamon, or are you giving off expensive oud and a mystery nobody can place? your scent is a defining extension of your personality, babe, and it sets the tone for everything

chapstick—don’t brush off the details. classic cherry, elegant honey pear, or something wild like coconut-lime mojito? it seems small, but trust—this stuff pulls you deeper into your desired reality because it’s so you. smelling like the softest cashmere or tasting your own minty-fresh lip balm is an everyday, arguably mundane thing that is absurdly easy as a tool to connect you to this version of yourself, and by extension the reality that version of yourself originates in

when you can feel how your lips taste or how your perfume clings to your skin in this new reality? you’re no longer daydreaming, you’re living it. besides, being the central character to your entire narrative doesn’t just come from looking the part—smell it, taste it, own it.

TRYING ON DIFFERENT IDENTITIES

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(maybe a less compellingly whimsical reason, but something i’m championing for nonetheless.) switch it UP, babe—WHY NOT? one reality you’re in streetwear with an absolutely leveling glare, and in another you could be cottagecore princess snow white who bakes pies and writes love letters. you DON’T have to stick to one flavor when you can sample the whole menu! think of it like a cosmic dress-up game.

while it’s easy to find comfort in a familiar and ideal version of yourself (pick out a reality where i’m not violently off-putting in a very strange way but beautiful enough to excuse it. i’ll wait), EVERY version of you has something to teach, and a plethora of things you can learn from them.

it’s not about locking yourself into one box. it’s about experimenting, playing, and experiencing all the endless versions of you that you have access to (infinity, thanks)—whether that’s sipping matcha in Florence or running barefoot on a sandy beach. shifting isn’t just moving into a different reality; it’s stepping into endless versions of you.

THE SUM +/=

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don’t gloss over the seemingly inconsequential details of the self. if you’re asked about someone you love and know intimately, you probably wouldn’t be like “they have tons of clothes and make so much money” (if they do, good for them tho), the first things that come to mind would be “smaller” (read: everyday things, as a result—MORE important.)

“they talk in their sleep, it’s so funny when we have sleepovers” “they always say yes when someone asks them for help” “they have this one necklace that they wear every day” “they love this one specific poet, they can practically quote her from memory” “they wear gold, not silver”

small things. it isn’t characteristics like bravery, sense of humor, and kindness that serve as the only three blocks to build a linear vertical tower of identity. it’s tiny qualities and characteristics and mannerisms, each seemingly the size of a grain of sand, that compound into the beach that is your identity. don’t gloss over them !! don’t be shy to envision the tiniest things about yourself.

much love !! xx :^)

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

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s0s1mple · 3 months ago

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Caught My Eye - Lee Heeseung

Random Prompt:

“I saw you around my home. I couldn’t help but want to take you.”

Random Member: Heeseung

TW: General yandere behavior, stalking, sexual fantasy, kidnapping

Masterlist

Heeseung liked girls. A lot. Liked looking at them, liked flirting with them, liked fucking them and then moving onto the next one that caught his attention. Really, he considered himself a bit of a sommelier when it came to women. He tasted a bit of each, easily worming into their hearts and pants with some well-placed touches and bright smiles, before spitting them right back out and searching for the taste he really craved.

Unfortunately, Heeseung had yet to find that flavor of girl. The ones he slept with were nice, sure. Hot, sexy, cute, take your pick. But they lacked that wow factor, lacked that special something that would have him actually jonesing for a second fix. Heeseung wanted to know what that was like; what was it that made people choose each other? That made them content to stick with one another and sample each other over and over and over. The whole concept frankly sounded boring to him. Inconceivable.

Until he saw you.

Heeseung wasn’t fully sure what it was about you that had drawn his attention. You weren’t particularly interesting, from an objective standpoint. You dressed normally, comfortably, no shorts to draw his attention to your legs or v-neck to pull his gaze to your chest. Your face was… attractive, he guessed. Pretty average though. The sort of face he knew he’d normally see and instantly forget.

But none of that seemed to matter, because the second he saw you passing through the alley that ran between his house and the apartment complex next door, his brain felt like it had downloaded a computer virus. Like it’d completely shut down and rebooted itself with all new code. Gone were the preferences he’d had before, all vague ideas of what he wanted in a partner suddenly replaced with oddly specific adjectives. All of it pertaining to you, the stranger who seemed to like cutting by his property for a shortcut to the library.

He felt like he was defective. What the fuck was going on? Why was it that every time you passed by his kitchen window, your lips pursed as you bobbed your head to music, he stopped what he was doing and watched you. Whenever you appeared, he felt like he’d fallen into a glue trap, his attention so solely stuck on you that everyone else felt hazy.

And fuck, he couldn’t even escape you in his everyday life either. He’d be busy working, his focus entirely on not accidentally crushing his fingers, before all of a sudden his mind drifted to you. What were you doing? What did you do in your free time? What kind of things did you like? Did you have parents? Siblings? A boyfriend? The thought made him irrationally annoyed, for some bizarre reason, which in turn made him even more annoyed. Lee Heeseung didn’t get pussy-whipped, especially when he hadn’t even been in said pussy.

And boy, if that didn’t give him an idea. What if he just got whatever the hell this was out of his system? Surely that would clear all this bullshit out of his brain and leave room for his usual routine once more. Yeah, that would totally work.

So next time Heeseung saw you, he rushed out his front door, fully intending to ‘accidentally’ bump into you and turn his charm up to eleven. Surely it couldn’t be that hard to get in your pants, right?

But as he accidentally-on-purpose bumped into you, false apologies spilling from his lips, he paused. His plan faded from mind. You were looking up at him, easily matching his perfect white smile with a slightly crooked one of your own, eyes crinkled. His heart stuttered. He stared at you, eyes wide, and it became him who did the stammering. “A-Ah, sorry about that…”

“No worries!” You were already moving on before he’d even finished, the interaction so seemingly inconsequential to you that he was sure you’d already begun to forget. It made his skin itch all the more. Why was it that you could care so little, could exist without reciprocating the infatuation in the slightest. It was so fucking unfair. So unfair. His fingers clenched. For the first time, Heeseung felt off balance.

He hated that feeling. Despised it. Lee Heeseung wasn’t nervous, wasn’t led around by some dumb crush sinking its teeth into him. That wasn’t who he was.

He needed to regain control.

Truthfully, Heeseung hadn’t known what that might entail. First he’d thought about resuming his attempt to sleep with you, but the idea of a pump and dump had made his mind violently uncomfortable for some bizarre reason. Then he tried ignoring you completely, even installing shutters on his kitchen windows. Then he’d tried simply learning more about you, an attempt to sate his curiosity by following you routine through the city. Then, as you passed by his porch like usual, his arm was suddenly wrapped around your middle, palm pressed flat against your mouth. In a couple smooth motions, he was yanking you up the porch steps and dragging your kicking, thrashing form into the house.

“Shh, shh! Shut up!” His brain, slowly realizing what the fuck he was doing, began to blare out ringing alarm bells. His arm shifted up to wrap around your throat, anything to stop your jerking, and he pulled hard. You were soon gasping into his palm, breath warm and hot and making Heeseung inexplicably hot himself, but to little avail. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you fell limply into his arms. “Fuck.” Heeseung stared at you for a long moment, dimly registering that he’d just picked you up and taken you. More prominently, he registered his lack of concern about the matter.

Worrying, probably.

Nothing stopped him from hauling you up into his bedroom. Nothing stopped him from tying your hands to his headboard with that cheap bondage shit he’d once thought looked so tantalizing on the girls he’d brought home. All of a sudden, the idea of someone other than you laying there in them felt somehow disgusting. Like the mere idea that they could compare was an affront to whatever god was out there. Because surely that was where this obsession had come from, right? So out of the blue like this, so all-consuming that he was cooing over your passed out form like one of those whipped boyfriends he was so disgusted by. Nothing stopped him from grooming your hair back, marveling at the feel of your skin, wondering if the rest of your body just as soft. Nothing stopped him from licking his suddenly dry lips as he traced a palm over your hip.

God, it was going to be so good when you gave into him. The sweetest flavor he’d ever tasted- one that would pull him back over and over and that he found he didn’t mind double-dipping with. As you blinked awake blearily, confusion and fear seeping into your eyes, Heeseung’s mouth stretched into a blinding, charming smile.

“Hey there, sleepyhead. Feeling alright? Sorry about all this, but I saw you around my home.” He leaned in closer, chuckling at the way your shoulders pulled in. Cute. His voice dropped to a soft whisper. “I couldn’t help but to want to take you for myself.”

Reqs are open, feel free to drop in and say hi :)

#yandere enha #enha x reader #yandere enhypen x reader #enhypen x reader #yandere #enhypen #lee heeseung #lee heesung x reader #Yandere Lee Heeseung #reqs open #enha

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itsclydebitches · 1 year ago

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By this point we’ve all seen a hundred “Lucy had a crush on Cooper Howard and doesn’t realize he’s the Ghoul” takes (which feed me during the hiatus, thanks), but just for the lols I’d love to see the reversal: Lucy hates this guy.

Cooper Howard is her personal White Whale. Lucy hate-watches his films and nit-picks every scene like someone is paying her caps to do it. Whatever the opposite of a blorbo is, that’s Cooper. She woke up one day and chose violence against this 200 years dead actor in particular… but, you know, in a PR approved, Vaultie kind of way. Why the hate? Who knows. Probably a combination of her dad showing her Cooper’s debut film right when she hit that tween age where liking what your parents like is soul crushing and the fact that if she didn’t have this emotional outlet she’d probably explode. It’s the one (1) thing goody-goody Lucy is irrational about and Norm takes endless pleasure in it.

So she’s traveling with the Ghoul, right? Not a whole lot to do while traversing the Wasteland, especially when your companion is blatantly ignoring you and the pip-boy isn’t picking up any radio signals. So when Lucy is able to open that wound again she starts talking about her dad. The books he liked. Jokes he told over dinner. His favorite pair of socks. Silly, inconsequential things that don’t touch on the weight of his betrayal.

Eventually, Lucy talks about the movies they used to watch.

Eventually, Lucy is comfortable enough—and bored enough—to segue into epic rants about Cooper Fudging Howard. For hours. Nothing escapes her passive aggressive, couched-as-constructive-criticism bitching. Not his acting (“Really, he’d benefit from learning a gesture other than sticking his hands in his belt”), not his looks (“Who decided to put him in those pants in Master of the Ranch? Although, Dad says Howard is the one who requested them…”), not even his unintentional impact on the family (“I swear if Dad makes me watch A Man and His Dog one more time…”).

All the while Cooper is walking a few paces ahead. Seemingly stoic.

Actually losing it.

What’s he even supposed to do in this situation?? He hates himself, but not like that. Cooper doesn’t have any desire to talk to Vaultie (that’s a lie. He’s good at lying to himself), but suddenly he wants to turn around, finger held aloft in the air (hers), and correct everything coming out of her mouth—whether he truly disagrees or not. Hands-in-belt is a classic cowboy pose. He loved those pants.

Cooper is Struggling™ and they haven’t even hit the strip yet.

Bonus points: Somewhere along the line they get together and Cooper starts angsting over whether Lucy will leave him. Not because of the radiation damage, or the murder, or the cannibalism, but because if she ever finds out he’s Cooper Howard she’ll absolutely abandon ship. Or kill him. Either option seems likely at this point.

Lucy: Are you ever going to tell me your name? Cooper, literally in bed with Lucy post-coitus: …That’s a little personal, sweetheart

#Fallout #the ghoul #Lucy Maclean #ghoulcy #Cooper Howard

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physalian · 1 year ago

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How to Make your Writing Less Stiff 4

Let’s keep this train rollin’! This time less down to line edits and more overall scope of your narrative

Part 3

1. Foreshadowing

Nothing quite like the catharsis of accurately predicting where something’s going to go. It doesn’t have to be a huge plot twist or a character death, it can (and should) be little things that reward your audience for paying attention. Double points if it adds to rewatch/re-readability.

Example: In The Dark Knight, this exchange happens:

Harvey: “You’ve known Rachel all her life.”

Alfred: “Oh, not yet, Sir.”

You won’t think anything of it on your first watch. Alfred is just making a witty joke that throws Harvey off. Watch the movie again, when Rachel dies, and it becomes some incredibly dark foreshadowing. Turns out Alfred has, actually, known Rachel all her life.

2. Chekhov’s Gun

Chekhov’s Gun is a narrative concept where a seemingly inconsequential element introduced at some point in the narrative (a gun) must “fire” by the end of the narrative. Sometimes this element leaves audiences uneasy or anxious, because they know something bad must come of it. Sometimes they think nothing of it until it’s about to fire and you get a one-two punch of the realization that it’s about to hit, and then the impact of the hit. It helps create tension, and tension is incredibly important (if you want a whole post of my take on it, lmk).

It also helps your narrative look more cohesive, where nothing is left on the table. Your set-ups and payoffs leave no threads dangling.

3. Repetition

The Rule of threes can apply on a micro and macro scale. I like doing lists of adjectives in threes, (e.g. My cat is soft, fluffy, and adorable) because the cadence and the flow of three is something we’re familiar with in spoken language. We like three supporting examples for an argument. Any less doesn’t feel strong enough, any more feels like you’re trying too hard. This is not a rule it’s a suggestion.

On a grander scale, you can look at the script of Curse of the Black Pearl for a masterclass in macro rules of three, like three parlays. Doing this helps your narrative look more cohesive and like every detail is thoroughly interwoven and nothing is coincidence. Your audience will get to the third instance and mimic that DiCaprio pointing meme—they will absolutely notice.

4. Motifs

Motifs as well, beyond threes, help. Colors are a huge one. For example every time you mention the color purple, you could attach it to an emotion, or a character, or an important plot beat, like how leitmotifs work for character themes in movies and TV shows.

Obvious examples in film are like lightsaber colors or dressing up the good guys in white and the bad guys in black. I did this whole post about color in fiction.

It’s a lot of other things too. Weather elements and times of day, or specific inconsequential objects popping up over and over again, like birds, or litter, fallen leaves, clothing items. Whenever the narrative mentions them, the author is trying to clue you in on some subtext within that scene.

—

My new novel is here!!! Do you like supernatural fantasy? How about queer vampires? How about acespec characters? Then Eternal Night of the Northern Sky is for you!

#writing #writing advice #writing a book #writing resources #writing tips #writing tools #writeblr #foreshadowing #chekhov's gun #motifs

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dreameyess11 · 5 months ago

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𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒅; 𝑰 𝒇𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒊𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆

Carlos Sainz x Reader

You’re sitting across from him at a quaint café, the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the soft chatter of nearby tables. The light catches in your eyes as you lean forward, animatedly sharing a story about your latest adventure. Carlos chuckles at your enthusiasm, but it’s the way you tug your sleeve up absentmindedly to adjust your watch that catches his attention. It’s such a small, inconsequential motion, but for some reason, it makes his heart skip.

It’s not the first time this has happened. He remembers the time you helped him organize his chaos of a travel bag before a race. You didn’t complain, didn’t even ask—just smiled and dove in, folding shirts and tucking socks into corners as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He’d stood there, arms crossed, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips as he watched you. It wasn’t about the bag. It was the way you hummed softly while you worked, the way you made even the mundane feel special.

And then there was that night at the paddock. He’d invited you to join his team for dinner after a particularly grueling day. You’d laughed with them like you’d known them forever, making jokes, listening intently, drawing everyone in with your warmth. It was the way you casually asked him if he’d gotten enough rest, your tone soft but firm, your concern genuine.

Carlos didn’t understand it at first. He chalked it up to admiration, respect, appreciation for someone who felt like a constant in his otherwise hectic, unpredictable life. But then there were the little things, the moments he couldn’t ignore. Like the time you’d fallen asleep in the passenger seat during a late-night drive, your head resting against the window, lips slightly parted. He’d turned the music down instinctively, not wanting to disturb you, and caught himself stealing glances at how peaceful you looked.

Or the way you laughed—not the polite, reserved laugh you gave strangers, but the full-bodied, uninhibited laugh that made your eyes crinkle and your head tilt back. He realized he wanted to be the reason for that laugh as often as possible.

It hits him one evening when you’re both walking through a park, your hands stuffed in your pockets to keep warm. You pause mid-sentence to crouch down and pet a stray dog that’s approached you. Carlos watches as your face lights up, your voice soft as you speak to the animal. The way you care, the way you notice the small things—it’s like you see the world differently, and he realizes he doesn’t want to see it without you.

“Do you always stop for every dog you meet?” he teases, his voice light, though his chest feels heavy with the weight of unspoken words.

You glance up at him, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Only the ones that look like they need a little extra love,” you reply.

And that’s when it clicks for him. The little things—the small, seemingly insignificant details that make you who you are—they aren’t so little after all. They’re everything. And as you stand, brushing off your jeans and meeting his gaze, Carlos knows. He’s in love with you.

#fanfic #carlos sainz x you #formula one x reader #f1 #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #cs55 #imagine

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salethe2 · 1 year ago

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I’ve seen a lot of takes on this scene, and honestly they’re all so interesting, so I decided to give my perspective.

Okay, starting with Armand’s costume, which Carol Cutshall absolutely nailed. Here’s what she said about Armand’s costume design:

—“One of the things about Armand is he is so ancient and so powerful that he always presents himself as very open. Whereas some of the other characters are very covered up, he’s always very open because he really doesn’t see anyone as a threat to himself. He didn’t have any predators or any reason to be on guard, or be armoured.”

Personally, I find this design choice fascinating because, despite being a predator at the top of the food chain, vampires like Armand, especially as a coven leader, would normally need to remain vigilant. Yet, he’s completely at ease, even surrounded by other vampires.

I mean, look at him here. Sure, it’s not the deep, open V-neck shirts he wears in the interview scenes, but his outfit is still loose and open. And he’s literally surrounded by a group of vampires he knows are plotting against him. He even has his back to said vampires and yet, he’s not the least bit nervous in either situation!

Even with Daniel, he’s not nervous or afraid because he doesn’t initially see him as a threat.

So, if Armand isn’t scared of his own coven—a bunch of vampires ready to kill him at the first opportunity—or Daniel, who could potentially expose all his manipulations, then why on earth does he go into full armor mode to meet a seemingly inconsequential human he’s never encountered before? He’s literally in a turtleneck, shielding his most vulnerable area for crying at loud!

A for body language—honestly, Assad Zaman deserved an Emmy for this scene. We see Armand being aloof, a little suave and condescending, employing the whole, “I’m a four-century-old vampire; you’re just a lowly human” tactic. It’s like he’s sizing her up, wanting to understand who she is while simultaneously aiming to provoke her, curious to see how she will react.

As for his questions, he frames them in the way you might expect a coven leader to interrogate a human he’s about to turn. Questions like, “How will you survive? Are you okay with killing people and being a monster?” It almost seems like he’s trying to make her reconsider her decision to turn, but it’s all a facade.

Because the question he really wants to ask is the last one, and when he finally approaches it, his entire demeanor shifts.

He sheds the suave demeanor and shifts to a more serious tone, embodying what Louis describes as his "post-apocalyptic look." He towers over Madeleine, gazing down at her in an attempt to intimidate. At this point, Madeleine's expression turns genuinely nervous, perhaps even frightened—and understandably so. Yet, she holds her ground. It's then that Armand poses the crucial question he had come specifically to ask.

“And what will you do in a few decades when she throws herself into the fire? Because she will.”

Now, why does this question seem familiar? It’s because Armand has previously made a similar statement to Louis. He had forewarned Louis that Claudia’s mind was bound to deteriorate over time. Now, Louis tearfully countered that Armand couldn’t be sure of this, yet part of him probably recognized the truth in Armand’s words, which likely contributed to his emotional plea for Armand to look after her.

Armand realized then that Louis, despite his deep love for Claudia, lacked the resolve to keep her grounded, effectively sealing her fate, which seemed all but inevitable by that point. He even assigns Claudia the role of Lulu as a way to infantilize her and further break her spirit—almost as a test to gauge Louis’ reaction. Unfortunately, Louis does nothing about it, while Madeleine clearly recognizes it for the manipulation it is.

And what does she do next? Madeleine quickly gets Claudia out of that outfit and into one more fitting for her. By doing this, she threatens Armand’s plans without even realizing it.

It’s also interesting to note that the only time Armand is ever truly angry with Claudia is when he sees her with Madeleine. This reaction underscores the threat he perceives in their bond, disrupting his control of the situation, and here is why.

When Armand posed the question to Madeleine about what she would do when Claudia throws herself into the fire, her response was:

“Or maybe she won’t. You don’t know. Maybe I’m what she needs to survive.”

And the way she meets his gaze as she says this marks a shift in their conversation. Throughout their entire conversation, Madeleine often looks away and breaks eye contact, but not in this moment. Here, she meets his gaze head-on. Even though she is clearly nervous, and likely a bit scared, she holds his gaze because she is sure of her words. This is a powerful moment where Madeleine not only asserts her belief but also turns the tables—now, it’s Armand’s turn to feel uneasy.

Of course, you don’t see it in his face, but it’s evident in his body language. The way he becomes closed off, his hand fidgeting, and his gaze fixed ahead as if deep in thought. He doesn’t even refute her.

Even with Lestat, when he warns him about Nicky, Armand doesn’t stay silent; he confidently affirms his insights, and Lestat—of all people—clearly believes him. But with Madeleine, it’s a different story. He goes silent, not uttering a word in response. He doesn’t attempt to persuade her because he recognizes that her mind is made up, her resolve unshakable. But perhaps the words that really hit home for him were “You don’t know.” This was probably the words that sealed Madeleine’s fate because the last thing you want to say to a master manipulator and control freak like Armand is that they don’t know something. Because now, all of a sudden Claudia’s death isn’t a certainty anymore and he can’t just sit back and wait for her to lose her sanity. He must take matters into his own hands now.

Anyway, one might think that Madeleine and Claudia leaving, thereby leaving Louis all to Armand, would satisfy him. After all, one of the first things he asks Claudia and Madeleine is if they’re considering returning to Paris, and you might assume Madeleine’s answer pleased him. However, her answer doesn’t satisfy him, not after what Madeleine says soon after.

Madeleine’s words confirm that Claudia indeed loves Louis, and because Madeleine loves Claudia, she persuades her to return to Paris despite her obvious and valid disdain for the city. This revelation proves to Armand, even if they leave Louis, Madeleine and Claudia will always remain a significant part of Louis’s life. For Armand, this is intolerable. To him, Claudia is a dangerous manipulator and a competitor of Louis’s attention.

So even if they all lived happy, separate lives, Armand’s nature is such that he cannot live with the doubt and fear that Claudia might draw Louis away from him. Having been abandoned too many times in his life, deeply wounded by those closest to him, and left behind for others, he cannot risk experiencing that pain again.

Thus, in that moment when he speaks to Madeleine in the apartment, he decides that both she and Claudia need to be eliminated. I believe this was the real reason Armand was there under the pretense of turning her. He needed to evaluate how much of a threat Madeleine posed to his plans, and upon realizing she was basically a live grenade, he knew he needed to act swiftly to get rid of her. Because as long as Madeleine is present, so will Claudia, and as long as Claudia exists, Louis will never truly belong to Armand.

#iwtv #amc iwtv #my take on S0206 #interview with the vampire #thank you for listening to my rant #iwtv armand #madeleine #Madeleine was the person Armand really feared #Love her for that #interview with the vampire book spoilers #amc interview with the vampire #assad zaman #give Assad Zaman an Emmy for this #analysis #Interview with the vampire analysis

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dollfacefantasy · 10 months ago

Text

FROM MY MOUTH TO YOURS ♡

pairing: light yagami x fem!reader x naoya zen'in

summary: light yagami is not gay. he has a girlfriend. naoya zen'in is just a special case.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, oral sex (m receiving), anal, fingering, threesome, mlm, misogyny, internalized homophobia, infidelity & cheating

a/n: people say bring back crossover fics... bring back silly fics... so i did... my masterpiece... picture of naoya by @ sso_s__ on twitter

Light felt as though he was looking into a funhouse mirror right now. The man that stood across from him in the alley resembled him in so many ways. The blonde hair swept into pointed bangs, the seemingly permanent scowl curled onto his lips. Even this guy's way of standing matched his own.

But there were also strong differences between them. The other man's hair ended with black tips. Shining silver studs pierced his earlobes, complimenting his pretty face. His golden eyes were even framed with inky liner.

Light could never imagine looking so stylish. He'd always relied on his natural looks to impress those around him. Never had he thought about enhancing his appearance with hair dye or jewelry or makeup. That stuff should be of no concern to a god. Light decides who lives and who dies in this world. Not if he wants his eyes to have winged tips or be double lined. Still, he felt a draw to it for some reason.

He'd been walking back to his apartment when Ryuk warned him something strange was lurking up ahead. Expecting a shinigami or at least another death note owner, he crept forward on guard. But all he found was this guy, who despite his striking appearance, seemed normal. The only thing of any significance was the way he was staring back with confusion.

"Can I help you?" Light asks, the words tasting hesitant on his tongue.

"Where am I?" the other man is quick to respond, clipped and expectant.

Light blinks at the question. "Are you lost?" he responds without answering the question.

"No," he replies so fast it seems automatic, "Well... sort of."

Strange. Light pulls out his phone and flips it open, thumb ready to dial a number. "Is there someone I could call for you?"

The other man's eyes catch on the device, examining it with a combination of curiosity and dismissal.

"What do you have that old thing for?" he scoffs. "Haven't seen one of those in a while."

A frown pulls at Light's lips. Sure, the phone wasn't the most modern model, but it wasn't that old. For someone needing help, this guy had an attitude about him.

"I know it's not like the new touch screen ones they have out now, but it works for me," he says flatly with a shrug, "Now did you have anyone who could pick you up or give you a ride home?"

Despite his attempt to move the conversation forward, the stranger still seems stuck on Light's choice of electronics. His brows have furrowed together, a gleam of bewilderment taking over the golden flecks in his irises.

"You know they have ones that can flip open with a touch screen. Why don't you get one of those? I doubt that thing can even play a video without burning a hole through your hand."

Light's eyes narrow at the other man.

A flip phone with a touch screen? Why would this guy feel the need to tell such an inconsequential lie? Does he think I'm stupid? Was this a prank or a test of some sort? But for what? He's tested nothing but my patience so far.

He shakes his head after thinking to himself, still undecided on the motives of this pretty boy.

"I don't need it to play videos. I have a computer for that. Do you want me to call someone for you or not?" he huffs.

"It's 2018, phones are computers. Why restrict yourself?"

"Don't tell me you don't know when you are either," Light retorts.

"What?"

"It's not 2018. It's 2012."

This guy glances across the alley as if he's suspicious. Of what, Light has no clue. He wasn't the one loitering around a dark alleyway as the sun went down, getting into arguments with strangers about the year and flip phones.

He almost rolls his eyes but sighs instead. "Look, I don't have all night. I'd be happy to help you, but if you don't need anything, I really should get going."

In the first bit of uncertainty from this man, he pauses. "Could I go back with you to your apartment?"

Light's brow quirks up. "I don't think that's a good idea. I don't know you, and my girlfriend wouldn't be too happy about me bringing a stranger home."

A sneer even more severe than the one he'd given before takes over the man's features. "Please. Why would I be interested in thieving off someone carrying around a flip phone? My life is much more lavish than your own, I just don't want to wait around in an alley while I decide what to do."

Light feels his own arrogance boiling within, begging to bubble over and show itself. But before he can defend himself, this guy keeps talking.

"But, if you let your girlfriend decide who is and isn't allowed in your apartment, I doubt you'd be much help to me anyways," he says.

"She isn't the one who decides, but I don't want to deal with her getting upset because I brought some random guy home."

"You make it sound like she'd be jealous," the man smirks, a hint of teasing in his voice.

The words knock the wind out of Light. He audibly sputters.

Why would she be jealous of a man? She knows I'm not gay. It would be pointless. Why would this guy even suggest that? Does he think I'm gay? There's no way. Is he gay? He's playing at something. He wants to rile me up so I'll let him come with me. But why? I'll go along with it just to see what he wants. If anything goes wrong, I have the piece of the death note on me. All I need for that is...

"What's your name?"

"Naoya Zen'in," he answers smoothly, "And yours?"

"Light." No way he was giving away his full name to this guy. He didn't know if he had a death note of his own on him. "I'll let you come with me, Naoya. But as soon as you get yourself together, you're gone."

"Works for me. I doubt it will take long, Light," Naoya agrees and crosses the alleyway to approach him, "Let's get going."

The two of them walk side by side in silence down the narrow pathway between buildings. Silence fills the space between them. Light continues to ruminate on the previous conversation while Naoya trots with an air of smug satisfaction about him.

"So why were you even in that alley in the first place? And why don't you know what you're going to do?" the younger man asks.

"I'm not from here. Well the city, I mean. My family lives outside it. I just have to figure out what to do about getting there," Naoya says, answering the second question first, "Last night, they had a party, and those things can get kind of wild. I don't really remember how I got out here."

A simplified explanation, Light can tell. "A party? So were you drinking or something?" he inquires further.

"Something like that... my family is different than most. You can't really understand if you're not one of us. This is probably like a test or something."

"Testing your ability to call a cab or get someone to give you a lift? Sounds pretty pointless," Light says. This guy was so casually arrogant. It rubbed some part of Light in a way he couldn't explain.

"My trip home will be farther than you might think," is all the older man says back.

Another pause comes over them. The sound of their shoes on the pavement takes the place of voices. Looking down, Light notices their paces are in sync. He lags for a moment to disrupt that.

"So you were coming home from work?" Naoya asks, picking up the slack in the conversation. From the way he speaks, it seems as if asking others about themselves is foreign to him.

"Something like that," he shrugs. A sigh leaves him.

I should try to be social. To appear normal. If this is a test of some sort, I can't let him know he got in my head.

"I work on the Kira case. The investigation team aimed at discovering his identity," he tries again.

"Kira?" the other man asks. When Light turns and looks at him, it seems as though he had no clue what any of that meant.

"Yeah, Kira," he says. There was no way there were people who still didn't know about Kira. Not believing or agreeing was one thing. But not knowing was impossible. Not after the domination he'd achieved over the world since L's death.

"Am I supposed to know what that is?"

Light scowls and grumbles in irritation. It chips at both sides of his pride, even if he doesn't want to admit it. "Very funny."

"I told you my family lives far out of the city," Naoya defends.

"You'd have to be from another world to not know who Kira is," Light shakes his head, "Just follow along. We're almost there."

Naoya shrugs and continues on behind Light as they reach the final bit of the journey to his apartment. Thunder cracks in the cloudy sky above, indicating some rain would pour down in the coming hours. The wind was picking up too. Light pulls his jacket tighter around his frame and bounces up the stairs to his floor.

He pulls the key out of his pocket when he gets there and jams it in the lock. The door creaks open, and the both of them head inside. All the lights in the apartment are still off, meaning no one else has come home yet. Before doing anything else, Light slips his coat off and hangs it up along with his bag on the sleek rack fastened to the wall. He then drops his keys and wallet on the nearby wooden side table.

Walking further into the apartment, he clicks a light on. Once Naoya can see, he scans the place. It's much neater than he would've expected from a young couple. No belongings strewn over couches or chairs, no mail piling on the counter, or furniture that's damaged but yet to be replaced.

Light heads into the living room, so Naoya trails a few paces behind. It's modest but comfortable in here. A basic sofa and a plush set of chairs. A tv on the wall that was nice for the time. The kitchen in an alcove off to the side, and then a hallway towards the back which he assumed led to the bedroom and bathroom. The two of you even had a sliding door to a balcony on the wall opposite him. He could see the angry storm clouds brewing in the distance.

The first piece of evidence that this place is lived-in sits on the bookshelf next to the tv. Naoya's eyes linger on the object the moment he notices it. A framed photograph. Bordered by silver, Light and you. Your hand cupped beneath his jaw, fingers squishing his cheeks as you plant a kiss to his face.

"Is that your girlfriend?" he asks. He tries to sound neutral, but his natural disdain seeps through.

As if snapped out of his thoughts, Light's head whips in his direction. His eyes search for what Naoya's referring to, but once he sees, he nods. A simple gesture, no real pride in it.

"Yeah, that's her."

"She's pretty, I guess."

"Yeah."

"Have you been with her long?" Naoya asks and turns to face Light completely.

The other man sits down in one of the chairs, silently beckoning Naoya to do the same.

"Yeah, about... four years now."

"Is she the only one you've ever been with?" he asks as he sits down on the couch instead.

"Yeah. The only lasting one, anyways."

"The only one you've ever fucked?"

Light's cheeks fill with color at the question. First implying he was gay, and now this? What was this guy's problem? He sits up straighter in his chair, clearing his throat and smoothing out some wrinkles in his pants.

"That's really none of your business. You shouldn't be so blunt as a guest in someone else's home. Maybe your family never taught you that."

A grin breaks out across the other man's pretty face. "It's a reasonable assumption. You two live together. You're adults."

"Then why do you even have to ask?" Light mutters.

He's far too good at bothering me. Maybe I should try playing by his rules. Be blunt. Take the offensive. Find out if he's up to something.

"I'm just trying to figure you out," Naoya interrupts his inner monologue, "You don't have to get all defensive about it. Even if you're a virgin, I won't judge."

"I'm not a virgin," Light says quickly, putting that to rest before it can even become a debate.

In truth, his sex life with you was a sore spot. He wasn't a virgin - that was true - but that's not to say you two have sex often. A month had passed since the last time he'd been inside you. It was never bad... he just had more important things to do. He still cared about you, in a way. He always made sure to keep you safe. But he didn't have time for romance. Not while crafting a new world.

That had been a point of contention in your relationship for years, something you were constantly getting upset about. There was no way Naoya could know that from the thirty or so minutes they'd known each other though. So why was he asking?

"What are you even trying to figure out? Shouldn't you be more worried about getting home than what me and my girlfriend do in our alone time?" Light says, a bit snappier than before.

Naoya's grin becomes more fox-like. "I'm still thinking about that. Can I not wonder about you too?" he asks. When he receives no response from Light, he continues speaking. "I just thought it would make sense if you were a virgin. But it still adds up that you've never been with anyone else. That's why you let her have such a handle on you."

The words inflame Light, but he tries to suppress any reaction. "She doesn't have a handle on me. I handle her."

"Didn't seem like it when I asked if I could come over here."

Damn it. He got me there. What am I doing? I don't have to put up with this. I don't even know this guy. Who the hell does he think he is? I could have him dead in minutes if I wanted to. He should be on his knees- I mean bowing at my feet, thanking me for sparing his life.

Light's expression grows more agitated. "Well I do. I'm sure you think you're some kind of expert on this, but I doubt you've ever even had a girlfriend before," he fires back.

And Naoya laughs. He fucking laughs at him! Unbelievable.

"You're right, I've never had a girlfriend before, but I've been with tons of girls," he says.

Light rolls his eyes so hard, they're in danger of falling out of his skull. "I can't say I don't see why they didn't stick around."

"It's not them who make the decision to not go forward. I have no interest in having a girlfriend," he says simply, "Women are only kept around because God knew that men couldn't be burdened with the curse of bearing children. So he saddled women with that duty. That's their purpose. I don't understand why we have to pretend their existence should amount to anything more."

Silence fills the room after that mini-speech. Light had never heard anyone say anything so... like that. This guy's family really must have been out there.

"That's not-"

"It's the truth. Any man who says otherwise is lying or has been tricked into believing that he should love something so wholly beneath him," he continues.

Light doesn't even know how to argue with him when he seems so confident that he's correct. How did the conversation even get to this point?

"I can see it in your eyes, you know she's not your equal," he says and gestures to the picture with you on the shelf, "You don't have the connection with her that you have with even me, and I've known you less than an hour. She can't understand you."

The words are uncomfortable in Light's ears. They wriggle their way inside his head and wrap around his brain, squeezing and trying to push their sentiment onto him. Part of him felt it was true. Oftentimes, he didn't think you could understand him. Not from lack of effort, just as if it was something you're incapable of.

You'd whine at him for attention, pressing against his side on the couch in an attempt to get him to cuddle you. And he would sometimes, but not as much as you wanted. So your rants about his lack of affection never seemed to end. You never thought to look at it from his perspective. Always jumping to the conclusion that he didn't love you, never once considering that he just wasn't a physically affectionate person.

He still felt some guilt clawing at his stomach though, like he shouldn't be thinking of you like this.

As if Naoya can read his mind, he softens his words a bit for his next point. "I'm not saying you can't care about them - though, to be clear, I don't. But maybe you do care for your girlfriend. You just don't love her. She's a companion for you. Like a pet. Something that makes you feel needed."

"It's not that," Light says, "I know I'm needed. And I'm needed for much greater things than taking care of her. We've been together for a long time. And... we just... go together. I can't just get rid of her. Plus she can be useful sometimes."

Naoya nods, his brows rising into a patronizing look. Light hates it. Despises the assumption that he's weak for not hating you. It's just the truth, even when you drive him crazy and annoy him to levels he didn't think possible, he didn't hate you. He didn't feel passionate enough about you to hate.

He wants to talk about something else though; to leave this subject behind in favor of something that would put Naoya in the hot seat and make him insecure too. It's not his proudest moment, but he swings at the lowest hanging fruit he can think of.

"So... what's with the makeup and the hair? Did your dad not give you enough attention or something?"

Naoya laughs again, the winged tips of his eyeliner crinkling in amusement. "No. I'm daddy's favorite," he says, unaffected.

It stirs envy within Light, the way he could be so casual about being prodded at. He didn't get defensive at the implication or start stuttering and tripping over words. His jaw clenches as he tries to think of something else that could get to Naoya, but the older man beats him to it.

"You don't like it? Or are you jealous?"

He got him yet a-fucking-gain because Light freezes. He stares at Naoya, unsure of what to say.

"I'm not jealous. I was just curious. Most guys don't wear that stuff."

"I'm better than most guys," he says as if it's fact, "I could show you how to do it if you want."

"W-what? I can't- There's- I don't have any of that stuff."

"Your girlfriend doesn't have any makeup?" he asks, unconvinced, "It looks like she's wearing a lot in that picture."

"She does, but-"

"Then go get it, and I'll show you how. I can tell you want to. You may not like it, but you want to know."

And that was true. He was curious if anything else. That's what he tells himself as he rises to his feet and goes into your shared room. He sees you'd made the bed this morning before you left for work.

Your bedroom was visibly divided into two sectors. Light's was pristine. Clean without clutter, well-kept and functional. The made-up bed was the only part of yours that appeared that way. Pieces of your personality littered your nightstand. A pile of clothes he'd asked you to put away sat in the corner on the chair. And then in the farthest corner stood the vanity where you did your makeup.

He creeps over there as if you'd suddenly jump out from under the bed and scold him for even thinking about it. Looking down at the dark wood of the table, he finds that you're not very organized. A few different containers sit atop the surface, holding brushes and tubes of cream. You have a holder for your hair ties and combs. A rack for your perfume. Nowhere among these things though, does he find a black eye pencil.

Opening the drawers, he scans their contents. One is dedicated to eye shadow palettes, the next is filled with lipsticks and glosses. Finally the third has a thin, black stick tucked towards the back. He grabs it and returns to the living room where Naoya is still sitting on the couch.

Light makes his way over and sits on the adjacent cushion. He shoves the product into Naoya's palm, briefly getting a feel of how smooth the other man's hand is.

"Alright, sit back," Naoya says.

"What-" Light starts before his eyes widen.

Naoya climbs on top of him. He's straddling him. Everything in Light screams at him to push him off, shove him to the floor and rocket to his feet to kick him out of the apartment. His heart thunders in his chest, his breaths shaking before they can even leave his lungs.

He can feel the heat of the other man's body above his. This close, he can see his golden eyes in detail. They look like that of a fox's, cunning and sly.

His slender fingers curl over Light's shoulders as he adjusts. He huffs out a laugh, and Light can feel the heat of his breath fan over his face.

"Calm down. I just have to get close enough or else it'll come out crooked. This is the easiest position."

Light nods and clears his throat. He exhales slowly, allowing his awkwardness about the situation to leave him. It's fine. He's just messing with him. He'll probably leave right after this. It's just fun.

But if it's just fun, why do his eyes keep darting towards the door to see if the knob rattles with your arrival?

Naoya scoots a little closer, his pelvis pressing against Light's belly. The cap of the makeup tool pops off, and he tucks it into his pocket.

"You have nice eyes, Light. Deep brown. Pretty," Naoya mutters as his fingers come up to tilt his head back against the couch.

A loud pop of thunder echoes through the sky outside. Following it is the soft pittering of rain against the balcony. Light swallows hard. He feels an involuntary rush of heat creeping up his neck. He hopes it's not visible, but he knows his wishes haven't been granted when Naoya chuckles.

"Blushing from just that? Does she give you any attention?"

And that's the bad part. You do give him attention. Tons of it. So much he feels like he's drowning most days. You adore calling him pretty boy, to which he scowls every time and tells you to quit it. You love running your fingers through his hair and complimenting the smooth texture before he swats your limb away and rolls the eyes Naoya just praised. He wasn't pushing him away though.

The pad of his thumb sweeps over Light's cheek, assessing the space it'd be working with.

"Close your eyes," he directs, his voice the softest it's been since they met in the alley.

So he does. The rich chocolate brown becomes obscured by his delicate lids. He shudders suddenly, realizing he was in an extremely vulnerable position. He'd let this man lure him straight into a trap. If Naoya did have any ill intent, he could certainly act on it now.

But he doesn't. All that happens is the tender stroke of the pen along the edge of his eye. Naoya doesn't say anything while he works. Repeated brushes of the tip ghost along his lashes. He feels the wetness dragging up into a point in the outer corner. The other eye gets the same treatment, the process done for the second time on that lid.

"Open," the man above him purrs.

His lashes flutter up as his eyes come back into view. He's met with a wild grin across Naoya's face. His heart feels like it's stalling in his chest, like it's losing its rhythm, unable to beat right under the pressure of his gaze.

"Wow," he croons, dragging the back of his finger over Light's cheek, "You look good. Almost as good as me."

This time, the heat stirs in a different part of Light's body. He tries to shut it down immediately. Think of something else.

"Let me see how I look," he says. If he saw how goofy he looked, surely any feelings of desire would dissolve.

"You should've brought a mirror," Naoya taunts as he gets up. He grabs a decorative one off the shelf and brings it back to the sofa. Instead of taking the opportunity to return to his previous spot next to Light, he returns to his lap. He holds the mirror up in front of his own face, letting Light look at his own face staring back.

He blinks a few times, watching as his lashes flutter and accentuate the deep lines Naoya had drawn. They stretch down to his inner corners up in the direction of his temples. The urge to reject what he's seeing gnaws at him, but he knows he likes it. He can't deny it.

"So what do you think?" Naoya asks and puts the mirror behind him on the table.

"It's not bad. Better than I thought it'd look." He figures it's better to give a half-truth rather than a complete lie. Less ammunition for Naoya to tease him with.

"You shouldn't have doubted my talents," he teases, "Let me do the bottoms now."

Without leaving room for argument, he guides Light's head back to where it had been before.

"Keep your eyes open this time."

Just as before, he obeys Naoya's command. He looks at the ceiling. He didn't think he'd be able to quell the feeling between his legs if he looked into those gilded eyes. The way his pupils dart away, as if running from Naoya's own, makes his thought process obvious.

"You have such good features," he praises in a murmur, "Cute nose, defined cheeks, pouty lips. Pretty."

And with those soft words he feels himself start to fill out his pants again. He squirms, trying to adjust in preparation for the worst case scenario. Fuck, this was humiliating. The only bright spot was that Ryuk had made himself scarce as soon as Naoya climbed on top of Light, so he wasn't here to mock from the sidelines. That would be the only thing that could make this worse.

Or so Light thought.

Because then the hand of Naoya's that isn't applying eyeliner comes up to cup his jaw. His thumb rubs across Light's plush bottom lip. Back and forth, tantalizingly slow.

He chokes back a whimper, but there's no way to hide the dilation of his pupils. Naoya catches it, of course. It's obvious by the way he leans in closer.

"Your lips feel just as soft as they look," he breathes before lowering his head further and replacing his digit with his lips.

Light moans into the kiss. His eyes shut again, and he melts beneath the gentle touch. Naoya takes the invitation to move in further, scooting even closer on Light's lap. His ass lands on the other man's thighs, the heat of their bodies' melding into one.

Flicking his tongue over the seam of Light's mouth, Naoya deepens the exchange. He tastes the sweetness of his saliva, and feels the smoothness of their tongues brushing against each other. Their lips move slowly, exploring each other more than anything else.

Naoya pulls back for a second to glance down at his face. "Your girlfriend... she can't understand. None of them can. They don't know what it's like to be one of us."

Light hangs on every word, and then leans up to go in for more. Naoya reciprocates, dropping the eyeliner onto the couch to leave streaks Light would have to deal with later. Kisses turn into full blown making out. Naoya still manages to get a few words out against his mouth.

"They don't understand how to please. What feels good," he mutters as a palm slides down to palm at Light's solid bulge, "I do though."

His hips buck into the touch on instinct, a gasp leaving his throat in tandem. Fuck, that felt so good. What was happening? He wasn't gay. Light was sure of that. He liked girls. Well maybe not liked, but he was attracted to them. He had you. He didn't think about guys like this.

Even with Naoya mentioning you, the thought of you doesn't cross Light's mind until he hears the sound of your voice. The feeling of Naoya's lips on his own had him too distracted to notice the cue he'd been previously waiting for.

"What the fuck?" you cut through the fog of lust with your sharp tone.

It almost doesn't feel real, like the nonsensical part of a dream that lets you know it's just that. He turns his head to look at you, to try and explain what you walked into. His lips leave Naoya's, but that doesn't deter him from planting a few kisses on Light's throat before looking over at you too.

What to say, what to say, what to say? Fuck. He couldn't use the cliche 'it's not what it looks like.' But what even was the truth? He was cheating on you, but... it didn't feel like it? He gawks at you for a moment before making the first attempt at justification.

"I- um... I swear, just let me explain to you-" he starts, but it's like you don't even hear him.

You stomp over to the couch, rage blazing in your eyes. "Is that MY fucking eyeliner?" you ask, absolutely incensed.

It was one thing to cheat on you, but to use YOUR makeup for the foreplay?? A whole other matter entirely.

"Yes," he says and moves Naoya back onto his part of the couch.

He quickly realizes that decision was a mistake though when the outline of his stiff cock against his pants becomes visible for everyone in the room. The evidence of his arousal just seems to upset you more. Tears start welling in your eyes, and Light's mind scrambles to defuse this situation before it gets out of hand.

It wasn't so much you being hurt that bothered him; rather he worried you might do something irrational to get back at him. This was the part of your relationship he didn't want to admit to Naoya. You knew most of his secrets. Being together since the two of you were eighteen, you saw so much of him. Not only could you expose what you saw right now, you had the potential to ruin his life.

He considers writing your name down on the piece of paper he keeps in his pocket, but it was far too risky. You'd know what he was doing in a second, and you had a piece on you too. You could scribble out Light Yagami just as quickly. His only hope would be that you'd be so tempted to write him out a long, horrible death, that it'd give him the advantage of time over you.

But instead of testing fate, he decides to deal with the problem head on.

"Baby," he starts, forcing out one of the pet names you always begged him to call you, "Just listen to me, ok? You have every right to be upset, but just don't do anything irrational. I can explain what happened."

You stay where you are, body visibly rigid with anger. But you don't lunge at him or storm off, so that's a good sign.

Before he can continue, Naoya scoffs from behind him, sounding more annoyed by the interruption than anything else. "Women. Creatures of pure emotion."

That does set you off. "Who the fuck even are you?"

Light reaches out for your hand and guides you to sit on the couch next to him before this can get any worse.

"That's Naoya," he begins. He then gives you a summary of the last hour and a half, leaving out a few choice parts.

Your face slowly loses emotion and retreats into a neutral expression. It both worries him and settles his nerves.

"So are you gay?" you ask at the end of his story, "Is that what you're trying to tell me? Is that why you won't touch me?"

"What?" he says defensively, "No! I'm not gay. I'm just... is that really all you took away from that?"

You shrug.

Naoya chimes in from behind again. "You can't blame him not wanting to touch you on being gay. That just seems like the reaction any sensible person would have."

"Why the fuck are you still here?" you snap at him, "Claire's is probably missing their best customer, so feel free to leave."

"Light told you why I'm here," he smirks. He leans forward and rests his chin on your boyfriend's shoulder, looking at his face. "I think I was right before. She is jealous of me."

Light's pretty sure you're about to lunge over him and tackle Naoya through the sliding glass door, out into the rain.

"Stop," he says, shooting the other man a look.

He then grabs your hand and squeezes it, a gesture that's supposed to be reassuring.

"I'm sorry for putting you in this situation. You didn't deserve it," he says, speaking in his usual calm tone of voice, "You aren't the problem. I'm the one who felt the need to do this. I just have so much going on, and I feel trapped. I don't know where to go, so I went for the first sign of escape I could find. And that was wrong, I know. I should've just talked to you about it."

It was all what you wanted to hear, and you wanted to believe it so badly. He knew just how to play you.

"You don't have to leave though. You're important to me. You can be a part of this too."

"This isn't a porno, Light. I'm not just gonna drop my panties because you said sorry."

Your external rejection was a display meant to hide your feelings within. You hated that he wanted to continue whatever this was with this guy, but you were at least happy you had the option to be included. You wanted to believe that this was simply him getting swept up in the thrill of something new, but that he'd always return to the comfort of familiarity with you.

He reaches out and cups your cheek, pulling a little to scoot you closer. You follow along and inch over to the middle cushion.

"See? Obedient like a pet," Naoya whispers, nipping at Light's earlobe and pecking the skin beneath.

You shoot him a glare, but it does no good. He doesn't even look your way.

Light doesn't respond to the animosity. He focuses on walking the thin line between you and Naoya, keeping this situation balanced and you from exploding and reigning hellfire upon his life.

"Good girl," he mumbles. Another name you'd asked for before. He'd have to dial it back a little in a moment, or it'd be obvious how thick he's laying it on. "Just try it for me. You'll feel much better with us then you would be sulking alone in the bedroom."

You pause, taking one last moment of hesitation. Your eyes rotate between them as you consider getting up and keeping your dignity. Lightning flashes outside and thunder follows. You know you shouldn't do this, but you can't rid the part of you that wants to please Light. That wants him to care for you like you care for him. It's so deeply rooted, that it's easier to just give in than try and weed it out.

You nod your head.

His hand pulls you all the way in, connecting your lips. He's not as passionate as he was before, but you didn't get a close enough look to know that. In a way, he feels like he's mimicking Naoya's techniques on you. You sigh softly and shut your eyes, returning the affection in full.

On Light's throat, Naoya attaches his mouth. That strikes a spark within the younger man again. His lips float up and down the column, gliding over the tender skin with precision. It works a whimper out of Light, and that's when Naoya's hand creeps around his body and slides up his thigh. His palm finds his erection, which hadn't fully dwindled yet.

"Still hard, Light? You must want me bad," he taunts before using his teeth to pull at the flesh on his neck.

He moans, and your eyes flash with jealousy. You stare into the golden spheres, hating this man you barely even knew.

Bringing your lips down, you begin to work on the other side of Light's throat. You lap at his pulse point before attaching your lips and sucking a little mark onto the pale expanse. In tandem, your hand slides down his chest to rest on his thigh teasingly.

As if switching positions with you, Naoya rises to Light's lips. He resumes the kiss that you had interrupted. And even with your hand getting closer down below, he keeps his own cupped over Light's cock, like he's his instead of yours.

Light whimpers from all the attention on him. He sinks back into the plush cushions, and both you and Naoya follow along. His eyes droop closed, allowing him to just feel.

Without the visuals, he can still tell the touches of Naoya and you apart. Your lips are smaller, your touches more delicate. Your fingers linger and tease, coaxing a reaction. Naoya goes for what he wants, and what he wants is Light to squirm and whine. He paws and grabs, rough squeezes and harsh bites between kisses. He makes his heart pound and his head spin, struggling to keep up.

Before he knows it, a familiar hand is creeping up his shirt while one he doesn't recognize so well slides into his pants. He gasps as Naoya's fingertips make direct contact with his dick. They swipe at the sensitive tip, rubbing the ridge and drifting across the slit. His hips writhe, pushing him further back into the couch.

You huff. It wasn't fair. Of course you wouldn't be able to make Light feel as good when you only had access to his upper body. It was an unfair disadvantage, but you decide to try your hardest anyway. Your nails lightly scrape circles around his nipples, teasing the buds but not touching them just yet

His eyes snap open and dart to you. You'd never tried that before. "Wh-what are you doing?" he asks.

"Nothing, baby. Just trying to make you feel good," you whisper.

You didn't understand how you touching his nipples earned him questioning you, but this guy he'd known for two hours could hold his balls in the palm of his hand without a shred of hesitation. You just decide to silence your annoyance by leaning in to kiss him again.

Naoya had left Light's lips in favor of pushing down the man's pants and watching his cock leak and drool. Shimmery beads of precum oozed out of him with each firm tug to his cock.

"So much coming out of you already... we should get to the good stuff so you don't cum too early," he mocks with one last squeeze to Light's shaft.

He then stands up and removes his own clothing. You follow suit and do the same for yourself, not wanting to be unmatched.

At first, Light lazily watches the both of you, taking in the sight of your breasts and Naoya's toned stomach. But once Naoya's removed his shirt and discarded it to the floor, Light's eyes lock on the other man.

Silver piercings shine through Naoya's nipples, and it's obvious Light's never seen anything like it before. He studies them as though he's discovering something for the first time. His jaw doesn't drop, but it might as well have from how wide his eyes are.

You drop the rest of your clothes without much effort, annoyed by the lack of attention from your boyfriend. Meanwhile, Naoya takes his time. He peels off his pants, building the seductive tension with a measured pace.

Crawling back onto the couch, you nuzzle Light's neck like a kitten, cooing in his ear. "Need you inside me, baby. Want you so bad."

He nods vaguely, your words clearly going in one ear and shooting right back out at you. His eyes are still on Naoya, who's now standing there stroking his own cock to full attention.

You scowl. Of course, Naoya's length is as pretty as the rest of him. It's a good size with a proud head that makes even you crave a taste. He's well-groomed, everything about him, enticing.

He smiles at your boyfriend, arrogance written all over his face. "You can fuck your little girlfriend, Light. And she can get me ready for you."

Without a second thought, Light nods, and suddenly, he's much more invested in you. He guides you to lay back on the couch and gets to his knees at the end of you. Naoya takes up the spot next to your head, leaning against the cushions for stability.

Disrobing the rest of the way, Light lines up his dick to your entrance, faster than he'd ever done when it was just the two of you. He slides the tip in, grunting at how tight you are. Your slick coats him inch by inch until he's bottomed out.

Up top, Naoya strokes your hair and looks down at you with sinister intent. His cock awaits your mouth inches away from your lips.

"Use any teeth, and I'll make sure you have none left before I'm done with you," he says lowly.

Your eyes harden into a glare, but when the reddened head bumps your lips, you accept it. The shaft slides over your tongue to the back. The man above you lets out a groan and tilts his head back.

"Mmmm... she's got a good mouth," Naoya hums, "You teach her that, or is she just naturally such a slut?"

Light had been focused on rabbiting his hips against your center, finding some relief from how worked up he'd gotten. The words bring him back to reality. He looks up at the other man, taking a second to process the question.

"Oh... she's always been good at that," he says.

And it was the truth. You gave good blowjobs, and Light's favorite part about them was that they made you feel connected to him or something. All he had to do was sit back, close his eyes, and let you make him cum, and you wouldn't bitch about the lack of intimacy between you two.

He curls his fingers into your thighs harder, lifting them a bit so he has leverage to fuck into you harder. Sounds of your elicit activities fill the room. Skin claps against skin while you gag on Naoya's cock. Hips pump against your face, a hand cupped on the back of your head to make sure you take it all. You can barely breathe. Your nails dig into the cushions, and your body squirms more in an attempt to find some reprieve.

All Naoya does is laugh. He grins wider as he watches you struggle beneath him. His hand extends to paw at your breast and casually tweak a nipple, bringing broken whimpers from you in between the garbled groans.

"Look at you," Naoya coos. He doesn't even know you, but it seems he can't help mocking. "This is what you're good for, huh? Light's been too soft on you. Hasn't shown you your place."

The lack of oxygen makes the words roll over you like water. You keep sucking the best you can as Naoya fucks your face and Light pounds into your cunt. They both thrust with one thing in mind: their own pleasure. You're nothing more than a conduit between them.

Soon, that changes. Naoya pulls his dick from your mouth. It drips and gleams with your saliva. You inhale deeply, enjoying the fresh sensation of air hitting your lungs. He steps back and goes down to stand behind Light. His hands land on your boyfriend's sides, rubbing up and down the lean expanse of his torso.

"Feeling good? Is she tight?" he whispers as he kisses up the other man's neck, nosing at his undyed hair.

"Y-yeah," Light stammers. He feels like he's gonna malfunction.

His hips rock without error, seemingly unable to stop ricocheting into the warm, wet embrace of your pussy. Naoya scrapes his nails down Light's stomach and scratches at his v-line. His back arches and a series of whimpers pours from his lips.

"I bet you're even tighter."

Light's previously drooping eyes widen, and before he knows it, Naoya's hand has slid to his ass, fingers already prodding at his entrance. He whimpers again, trying to think of a question or a protest. This couldn't be happening.

But then it does. Two digits slip inside. And fuck, it feels so right.

Back and forth, back and forth. He maintains the steady rhythm while fucking you. From your angle, you're not totally sure what he's doing, so you let your head fall back and bliss out.

"That's right," Naoya breathes, "Fuck yourself back on my fingers. Stretch yourself out for the real thing."

And Light continues to do just that. Naoya keeps it at two fingers, never trying out a third. After he believes the other man's had enough practice, he pulls his fingers out, relishing the needy mewls Light makes.

He slots his wet dick between his cheeks before slowly pushing it in. Light has to stop for a moment. Give himself some time to adjust to the feeling of being full. A shiver sweeps up his body, and he clutches the dough of your thighs harder.

Naoya soothes the sensation by rubbing a hand up and down his spine rhythmically. Once he's calmed down, the same hand slides into his soft locks and grips hard. He yanks him, forcing his back to arch, and fucks into him harder.

You can clearly see what's happening now, but even if you couldn't, the loud moan Light lets out would have clued you in. He whimpers, still moving inside you a bit, but the movement of his body is more controlled by the force Naoya's using to pummel into him.

His eyes roll back and his jaw goes slack. He'd never felt anything like this.

"What'd I tell you? I understand," Naoya grunts, "You're never gonna be able to go back when you've had a taste of this."

Light shakes his head, though he feels so hazy, he's not sure if the motion is clear. As he becomes more used to the feeling, he starts to be able to move against you a little more. You reach a hand down and rub at your clit. Light didn't seem to be too concerned with getting you there, so you would ensure you made it yourself.

The extra stimulation on your clit makes you tighten up on Light's cock. He whines and bites his lip as Naoya continues fucking him mercilessly.

"You gonna cum? Fill her up while I fill you," he grunts behind him.

Light nods, body growing shakier as his orgasm comes closer.

Only a few more desperate swirls on your bundle of nerves, and you reach your peak. You spasm around Light, writhing on the couch beneath him. He can't take it, the feeling of Naoya battering a sweet spot inside he didn't even know he had combined with your walls trying to milk him dry.

With a whimper, his cock starts to spurt inside you. It kicks with each rope of cum, his hips twitching in between the two bodies on either side of him. His head falls back to rest against Naoya's sweaty shoulder. The other man's breaths feel cool on his own slick skin.

Naoya can tell he's cumming from how his body moves and takes it as an invitation to pump his own load deep inside of Light. He thrusts all the way in and lets loose, moaning as his release floods the other man. He fucks it in a few times, noting every little twitch or sound Light makes.

When all is said and done, the room is quiet. The only sounds are the harsh breaths leaving each of your lungs, and the tail end of the storm raging outside.

Naoya's the first to pull out, easing his cock from Light's hole. He watches a bit of cum leak out afterward and grins at the sight.

Light goes next, slipping out of you and crumpling down onto the sofa.

You stay where you are for the moment, just taking in what happened.

The silence feels awkward for you and tense for Light but satisfying for Naoya.

You need some time. You can't think while they're both sitting right there. Standing up, you stretch your limbs a little. You intend to just leave, but then your eyes catch on the black eye pencil from earlier.

Your eyes narrow at Light when you snatch it from the couch.

"You and your boyfriend better buy me new eye liner," you pout before turning on your heel and making your way to the bedroom.

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