#god that's not even getting into Mesmer as a class and how it fits him like a damn glove

[sidereon-spaceace]

I am kissing Guild Wars 2 directly on the mouth for letting me make my boy with all his design elements

[juneknight]

obsessed || 2

Part One

About this: college au. dorm room!marc/fem!reader. Oral sex (f receiving) No I don't edit or proofread my works, thanks for asking!

Immersivity: reader is given no overt physical description and no name. Details about her figure/body could be assumed based on the fact that she wears a pair of Marc's stollen pajama pants. It is referenced that she comes from a sex-negative household. Any further details which hinder your immersive experience are welcome to be pointed out to me.

-

That’s how he gets you sitting ramrod straight on the center cushion of the couch, knees pressed so tightly together that not even the holy ghost could come between them, both hands covering your face. Marc sits cross legged at your feet, laughing at you. With your eyes covered, he can let his face relax from its cold, neutral expression into one of mesmerized fondness. You have that effect on him. You melt him into something liquid and soft. 

God, he’s a fucking idiot. It’s hard enough living with you now; how is he meant to go on the way things have been once he’s had a taste of you? How is he supposed to listen to you gargle in the bathroom knowing he’s had his mouth on you? His excuse—being pent up and craving pussy—is thin enough for him to see through. Marc’s been jerking off plenty enough at night (and in the shower, and anytime you’re in class and he has the dorm room to himself), and he’s had a handful of opportunities that could have opened the door for sex though he hadn’t followed through with them.

Because he wants you. 

“Come on,” he says, tapping your shin. His eyes linger on the way his pajama pants fit you. You don’t even fucking know what it does to him to see you prancing around in his clothes. With your eyes covered, he feels safe enough to reach down and palm his cock which is aching beneath the denim of his jeans. The little bit of friction helps and hurts all at once. “Spread ‘em.” 

“I’m shy,” you bark at him. 

The naivete would be a turn off if he didn’t know you better. In the majority of situations, you’re far from inexperienced, and he has never known you to be shy in the classroom or at parties. But after many nights similar to this (spent talking about anything and everything), he knows that you grew up in a household where sex was viewed very particularly. Those long-ingrained doctrines have been difficult to unlearn, no matter how much you want to. 

“Hey,” he says. “Just be honest with me. Don’t say yes just because you think I want to. If you don’t want to, then I don’t want to.” 

You lower your hands. “It’s not that I don’t want…to. I’m just scared.” 

Scared. Marc tends to have that effect on people; he’s been told that he’s too deadpan, too intense, too cold. You aren’t the only one holding on to a less than stellar childhood. Even though you had skirted a safe perimeter around him for the first few days you’d shared classes together, you’d been quick to see something in him that others hadn’t. Something that Marc didn’t even see in himself. Always though the fear comes creeping in, the fear that you’re afraid of him. 

He has to know—whether it hurts or not, he has to know. “What are you scared of, baby? Me? Me…accidentally hurting you like that last guy did?”

“No,” you rush to assure him. His shoulders lower but jaw remains tight. He isn’t sure if he believes you. “I know that you wouldn’t hurt me. And you’re probably a lot more careful than that other guy was. I guess I just…don’t know what you’re getting out of it. What if you think I’m disgusting?” 

“I literally spent fifteen minutes earlier waxing poetry about eating pussy. If you think I’m not going to thoroughly enjoy myself, then you’re wrong, and for what it’s worth—you could never disgust me.” Honest, too honest, Marc, some voice warns from the back of his mind. He lifts one hand to let it rest below your knee, gently clasping your shin. “If you want it, I want it. Let me make this good for you.” 

You let out a shaky sigh. His heart pounds when, marginally, your knees begin to open. Marc lets his thumb drift down from the top of your knee down and inward, breaching the newly open space and rubbing your leg softly through the flannel pajama pants. “Okay. What should I do?”

“You should probably take your pants off.” Then, he thinks about it. “No, wait, just stand up. Let me take them off of you.” 

Then you’re standing, calves pressed against the couch cushions when Marc doesn’t move back to give you any room. He’s eye level with the crotch of your pajamas. Glancing up at you, he’s surprised to see your eyes already on him, wide and unblinking, staring down at him with something akin to amazement. The moment is almost enough to make his head spin. Here he is, on his knees for you, about to undress you and put his mouth on you. 

His hands come up and rest at your waist, thumbing at your hips until he sinks his fingertips over and beneath the waistband of the pajama pants. He lets his fingers brush against the top elastic band of your panties and you shiver above him. 

And god help him. God help him because—

“Remember when I said that when a woman is really wet, you can smell her?” he rasps, pulling his thumb free to trace a vertical line from the waistband down towards the top of your mound, stopping just centimeters above where your clit must be. Feeling like he’s about to be torn apart, Marc leans in and nuzzles against the crotch of your pants. He inhales sharply the smell of you. The smell of you wet for him. “Fuck, I love it. Fuck, fuck. Can I take these off?” 

You nod, but that isn’t the enthusiasm he wants. 

“Can you say it?” 

You clear your throat. “Yes. You can take them off.” 

With all the care of handling crystal, he peels them from your hips and slips them down your thighs, eyes tracing the newly exposed skin before zeroing in on your panties. They are a pale lilac, cute and sensible compared to some of the other pairs he’s seen in the laundry hamper on the rare occasion that he lifts the lid to put his own clothes inside. He clenches his jaw trying to hold himself back from leaning in and pulling your panties down with his fucking teeth. Gentler than he feels, he guides your hips back until you sit heavily on the couch. With care, he slips the pants off of your feet and brushes them aside, kneeling up onto his knees and then resting back on his heels. 

“Open up,” he murmurs, staring at your cloth-covered cunt. “Spread your legs for me.” 

You do. As soon as your knees spread just a few handbreadths apart, Marc groans, a punched-out sound. The crotch of your panties are soaked a darker purple, clinging to your cunt so that his eyes can just barely trace your folds. 

“Holy fuck, look at you,” he says. “You’re so fucking wet, aren’t you? Look at this.” 

Both of your hands fly up to cover your eyes. He makes an unhappy sound in the back of his throat. You crack open your fingers an inch so you can look down at his raised brow. “Don’t hide from me. I want to see your face. It will help me know if I’m doing something wrong. Or something right.”

Fighting what must be your instinctual urge to hide, you lower your hands to your sides and clench them into tight fists. You’re being so brave for him, for yourself. Marc drags his palms up and down the sides of your calves, relishing the cool softness of your skin and trying to ease your tense muscles. 

“Tell me what he did wrong,” Marc says, breath fanning across your bare thighs. “How did it hurt? I don’t want to do anything that might hurt you.” 

“‘m sensitive,” you grumble. 

Marc breathes a laugh. “Yeah, it’s your pussy, I bet it’s sensitive. How sensitive, though? Was it too much when he was using his tongue? Or was he using his teeth?”

“The tongue was fine,” you say, speaking about it the way you might a mediocre appetizer you’ve been served at a restaurant. Marc holds his jealousy in a tightly closed fist. Now isn’t the time to be jealous of some young boy who couldn’t even make you feel good. Now is Marc’s turn.  “But he—oh my god, I hate you, I can’t say this shit out loud Marc.” 

“Tell me,” he murmurs, unable to help leaning in to press the softest kiss against your knee. Your chest hitches at the contact, a movement his eyes track but his mind doesn’t understand.

“He was…”

“Was…” 

“Sucking on me. On my clit. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if I wasn’t so anxious. If I was turned on like, at all.” 

“Consider it noted,” Marc says, refusing to pat his own back by pointing out how turned on you seem right now. Then with gentle pressure (to give you plenty a chance to refuse him) he coaxes you to spread your thighs wide and then wider. 

“Shouldn’t I take off my underwear?” you ask.

“Not if you might be too sensitive,” says Marc. “Come here. Slouch down.” 

You shift around, but not nearly low enough for his liking. So he slips his hands beneath you, cupping your ass and pulling until your cunt is at the edge of the couch, inches from his waiting mouth. The squeal you give has him pursing his lips to keep from laughing. His strength always seems to surprise you.

Gazing up at you, he waits for you to nod before he turns his head and lays a soft kiss on the tender skin inside your thigh. Above him, you exhale shakily. The feeling of your skin beneath his lips has his head buzzing. He begins dragging his mouth upwards, his kisses growing ever-more open mouthed until he is blatantly tasting your skin. His eyes flicker shut as he inhales noisily, the scent of your arousal making his cock twitch. He switches thighs. 

A sound slips through the back of your throat, something high and breathy. A whine. Marc’s eyes flash open at the sound, flickering all across your face for any hint of pain. But he doesn’t find it. If anything, you look fucked out: mouth parted, eyes heavy lidded. He hasn’t even fucking touched you.

I can do this, he thinks. I can make you feel good.

He softly sucks blood to the surface of your skin until you can’t seem to sit still, thighs tensing beneath his mouth. When he opens his eyes, your panties are even wetter. Enough teasing the both of you, he thinks. He shifts and drags the tip of his curved nose up the seam of your clothed cunt, nudging so softly against the apex.

“Oh my god,” you mutter above him, sounding about as wrecked as some of his past partners did when he was already finished with them.

He’s losing it. He can feel it, the threads of his control fraying beneath the sharp edges of his desire for you. Never does he think that he wouldn’t be able to stop if you asked him to or if you gave any indication that you weren’t enthusiastically enjoying his work, but he wants to make sure that you know you’re in control. You’re in control of him, no matter how consumed he appears. 

“If you want me to stop, you say the fucking word okay?” he rasps. His lips brush against your underwear and come away faintly sticky with slick. He doesn’t even let himself lick it from his lips, not yet. “And if I’m not stopping fast enough for your liking, gouge my goddamn eyes out, you hear me?” 

He waits until you give a frantic bob of your head. Then he licks the flat of his tongue up the soaked crotch of your panties. It’s hard to tell who groans loudest. You taste good. His jaw aches the way it does when he sucks on something sweet, mouth salivating. He laps at you again and again, careful not to be too forceful. Your thighs clench tight around his head and he has to pull them away and pin them open wide to the couch so that he can move the way he wants to. 

“Is—am I—” Marc begrudgingly opens his eyes to see you struggling to speak. He struggles to keep his gaze on you. The taste of you in his mouth, the feel of your warm skin beneath his hands, the serenity of this moment all has his eyes wanting to roll back. It takes a herculean effort to pull his mouth from you, to lay his head on your thigh taking deep breaths through his nose while waiting for you to collect your thoughts. You finally manage to ask: “Am I—gross?”

Marc blinks. “Are you gross? Baby who the hell hurt you?”

It’s your turn to blink down at him. “What?”

“Who in the fuck has put you so deep inside your head that you can’t see I’m sixty seconds away from cumming in my pants because you taste so fucking good? Because you smell so fucking good? Because you sound so fucking good? You know what. Don’t answer that—” Marc reaches backwards towards the coffee table, finding the flier he’d written on earlier: HOMETOWN DICK is scrawled there. He slaps it on the couch cushion beside you along with the capless pen. “—write it down if you can and I’ll get to them later.”

He lets saliva pool on his tongue before his next lick of you. Between his spit and your own slick, your thighs are wet and sticky, panties soaked. He can’t help but reach up to tug upwards at the waistband just a bit, just so the fabric rides up flush against your pussy so he can see every last curve and fold of you. The stimulation of the fabric must feel good because you whine—honest to god whine, your pelvis giving the most adorable little arches as you try to decide whether to press into the stimulation or press away from it so that his hand draws the fabric against you tighter. 

Marc has to let go to keep your thighs spread as they try to creep in closer to his ears. His eyes are shut as he laps at you with long, firm strokes, alternating directions, doing his best to be gentle in case you’re as sensitive as you think. Periodically he glances up to make sure you’re okay, and that is when he notices the way your hands are clenched into fists, shaking with the force you’re using to keep them still. He reaches out. Your fingers are cool beneath his, and at the first touch, your hand opens up, blossoming like a flower so he can lace your fingers together. He smiles against your pussy—he hadn’t intended to hold hands, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to turn it down. 

“Put your hands in my hair,” he says. He gently shakes his head from side to side letting the flat of his tongue rub against your clit. Your gasp makes your chest heave, fingers clamping down around his. Fuck, yes. You just need something you can pull on. “C’me on, baby, you can get rough with me.” 

Your eyes are wet, wide as you shakily move your hands to his hair. The feel of your fingers in his curls is divine. His lashes flutter. “Yeah?” you breathe. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“Hurt me, baby, I love it, okay?” 

You tug a little. His cock jerks where it’s still confined in denim. “But what if you need to breathe?” 

“Don’t care,” he says. “Drown me in your pussy, I do not fucking care. Okay?” 

“Ma-arc,” you whine, thighs spasming. “God Marc, please—” 

He groans, pausing to lap at your thighs, to clean up the mess he’s making. “Please what, baby? I’ll give you anything, just ask for it.” 

“Just—don’t stop, please—” 

And he doesn’t. He has no plans to. Not when his scalp is alight with the way you pull at every new movement of his tongue, not when you’re so fucking vocal, whining his name and little pleas and nonsensical strings of words that will forever echo in his brain. He doesn’t know how you manage to touch yourself so quietly at night when you think he’s asleep, when the only indications he gets that you’re touching yourself at all are the little shifts of the bed, the way you hold your breath before you cum, and (sometimes, on nights when you must be really, really worked up) the occasional wet sound of your fingers slipping over your clit.

“Marc, ‘m gonna cum,” you gasp. 

Marc’s heart stutters in his chest. He finds one of his hands lowering, aching to press a finger or two inside of you so that he can feel the clench of your pussy when he pushes you over the edge. But that’s just another good reason why he left your panties on; the last thing he needs is to push your boundaries in the heat of the moment, to lose his head and maybe take a liberty that would hurt you. He lets his thumb press against your soaked panties though, notching itself against your entrance even through the fabric. His jaw aches, legs numb from where he’s kneeling on them, but nothing could stop him now. Nothing. 

He focuses on the aching little knot of your clit, letting his tongue rasp over it until your back bows off of the couch, your breath stuttering and then stopping altogether the way he’s already so familiar with. Your fingers spasm in his hair, nearly losing your grip and then you’re pulling him closer, his nose pressed into your pubic bone, thighs shivering and shaking while you give a short cry. 

You came. You are cumming. Because of him. For him. He can feel the way your entrance spasms beneath the firm press of his thumb, and he lets himself imagine how that would feel around his cock. There’s no harm in just thinking about it. If thinking it were a sin, Marc’s soul would be lost long ago. 

Just as he expects you to come down, he finds you doing the opposite. 

“Don’t stop, don’t don’t, please, I can cum again—can I? Please—” 

Marc lets out a broken moan, nodding his head. Fuck it does things to him, hearing you beg, hearing you ask him for permission, like he has more of a say when you cum than you do. But you are pushing him back suddenly, and he jerks away as if he has been burned, eyes wide—had he had a time-slip? Had he missed something, some indication that you really wanted him to stop and not continue?

But all you do is shift your hips up, hooking your thumbs in the waistband of your panties and wrenching them down over your thighs, knees, tossing them to the side. He pulls his eyes away from where he’s dying to let them rest so that he can look at your face: damp at your temples, lips swollen from biting them. Your chest is heaving, and out of the corner of his eye he sees your hands clutch into fists again, suddenly anxious, exposed—

Exposed for him. Because you wanted to be. Because you chose to be. 

Marc lets his eyes fall, takes in your swollen pussy, slick with your own cum, and not to get fucking philosophical, but he’s pretty sure that it’s going to change his life. He wants it. He wants his mouth on it. He finds himself being drawn in like your pussy is a fucking siren and he’s ready to dash his ship on the fucking rocks just to drown in it happily. He barely manages to stop himself at the last moment.

“Can I?” he rasps. 

“Please,” you groan. 

He swipes his tongue from your entrance to your clit. Your taste is so much more concentrated like this, a little salt and a little sweet. He can’t help but press his tongue inside you as deep as your pussy will allow, his head nearly spinning when he feels the way you clench down softly, like you’re trying to keep him inside you. Then there is a sharp tug of his hair as you drag him back upwards a fraction. 

“My clit, please, pleasepleaseplease—” 

His eyes nearly roll. Fuck, he loves when you’re a little bossy. He loves when you’re confident, loves to see you chasing what feels good without letting your insecurities get in the way. He takes your clit between his lips and sucks sweetly, letting his tongue flicker over it. Only a few moments have passed since your last orgasm, and it’s clear that you’re heading towards another with the way your nails dig into his scalp, your breaths coming more and more stuttered. Beneath your breath, all you can repeat is fuck fuck fuck fuckfuckfuck. 

This time when you cum, you shriek. The volume of it clearly surprises you because it sends you into trilling peels of laughter that have him grinning even as he struggles to focus on prolonging your pleasure, letting his teeth graze over you just to see the way your laughter cuts off and your back arches, a gasp pulled from deep within your chest. 

“Holy fuck, Marc,” you gasp wetly. “Oh my god. I want to go for a third. Can I?” 

“Fuck, you’re one of those girls,” he laughs breathily. “And you thought you were too sensitive. Yeah, baby. Three for three sounds good.” 

This time his jaw just can’t keep up. You don’t seem to mind when braces a hand against your lower tummy and lets his thumb rub the slick little nub. The exhaustion of your all-nighter has clearly caught up to the both of you. He nearly loses himself watching the way your thighs go lax, utterly relaxed in your pleasure. Your head tilts on your neck like you can’t keep it up straight. Your lashes rest against your cheeks as you breathe out his name and ask so fucking sweetly, would you put a finger in me?

“Need something to clench down on?” Marc wonders, resting his head on your thigh. “Is your poor little pussy empty?” 

“Uh-huh,” is all you can whisper back. “Feels good to have someth’n inside when I cum.” 

“I’ll bet it does,” he whispers back. Gently, so gently, he eases a finger into you. You’re burning hot, slick and soft. Your orgasms have you so relaxed around him, he immediately knows that you could take another of his fingers. Two seems to offer you the stretch you want, because your shoulders sag in relief, walls clenching around him. 

When you cum for the last time, Marc gets to feel it. Wrung dry as you are, your pussy does nothing but give soft little spasms around his fingers as he flexes them and rubs the slick textured walls inside you. Your thighs twitch, a low whine rising in the back of your throat as he overstimulates you. But he can’t help it. He wants every last moment of your pleasure. He wants to commit every moment to memory in case this is all he ever gets from you, in case after graduation you move away and it’s all he has left of you. 

When Marc pulls his fingers free, he doesn’t hesitate to tuck them into his mouth and suck them clean. Your eyes are shut, head reclining back against the couch, thighs still spread as far as he forced them open. Your poor pussy looks so sensitive, so fucked out and fucked open by him. 

The need rises up in him, a tsunami wave that blocks out the sun. He’s been ignoring his cock for so long—during what is without question the most amazing sexual experience of his life, no less—and now the desperation becomes almost a frenzy. He has to get to the bathroom so that he can jerk off, posthaste. He doesn’t care if it’s improper, doesn’t care if it’s all too obvious to you what he’s doing. 

Marc stumbles away from you on his knees, palms hitting the floor to keep himself balanced. He catches sight of his fingers, still wet from where he had sucked them clean, and a sound slips from the back of his throat: high and desperate. The little movement he’s made has brushed his cock against the denim and pushed him incrementally closer to that edge. 

“Marc?” 

The bathroom is right there—

“Marc—” 

—he can see it, see the door cracked open, see the silly little night light you put in there, the one that keeps him from constantly banging his hip on the sharp edge of the sink—

“Marc.” 

He has stopped his forward movement, he realizes. He has fallen to one elbow, his other hand fumbling at the button of his jeans, but his fingers are clumsy and exhausted and shaking with how badly he needs to cum, so he just says fuck it, just reaches down and rubs himself over the denim. The attention after so much neglect has him gasping wetly. He let himself lower the last few inches until he is laying on the floor, lets himself tip onto his back until he is looking up at the cheap fluorescent lighting doing his to jerk himself off through the restrictive denim—

And he sees you, sitting upright on the couch with your eyes on him, face slack. 

Yeah, he cums. Right then, looking at you, at the haze in your eyes and the hair plastered to your forehead. He cums so hard his eyes roll back, cums so hard that it hurts, cums so hard that he knows a little piece of his soul slips out of his body and will forever rest there in Dorm Room E12. There will be a monument there, useless though no less momentous for it, like Plymouth Rock or the Liberty Bell. It will let future generations know that this is where Marc Spector saw God. 

He lays there on the floor panting. Slowly your face comes into view above him. You’ve tugged your pants back on. 

“Are you…okay?” you ask. 

He holds up his thumb. 

The smile you give him is wobbly, and the next ten minutes the two of you spend cleaning up the apartment (after Marc ducks into the bathroom and changes his pants, thanks) are painful with how quiet you are. When you crawl into bed, you pull the blankets up so high that all he can see is your hair, facing the wall.

Maybe he should have known that this would happen. Common sense could have forewarned him that eating out your best friend might lead to some internal conflict. While it was happening, he would have told himself that no matter the consequences, it was worth it, but now he isn’t sure. He crosses to his bed, sheds his shirt, and is just about to slip between the sheets when he sees it: a neat little folded square of pale purple fabric, tucked just beneath the edge of his pillow. He pulls your panties free and clutches them in one fist, heart pounding. It had to have been an accident—except it couldn’t have been. You must not have done it on purpose—but then how could you have done it at all? He brings them up to his face and smells the scent of your slick. They’re still damp, for fuck’s sake. 

“Here lies Marc Spector,” he mutters. He tucks the panties beneath his pillow, mind already spinning about the implication of them. Already determined that he’ll give them back when they’re pried from his cold dead hands. Just as he pulls the sheets over himself, he sees the glow of the sun strike the wall through the window with the broken slat blinds. He plans to watch the sunlight move across the wall as it rises, but falls asleep within an instant.

[rizzyu]

▵▿— Discipline

— Doppio Dropscythe x fem!reader

Category: Very susggestive, just as you guys wanted, 18+ MDNI

Synopsis: You got a bit too bored in class and decided to tease your disciplinary boyfriend. But perhaps you took a bit too far…

CW: shameless reader frfr, palming, slight mention of erection, kissing

A/N: as a new scythekick, I believe there is not enough doppi fics on tumblr sadge

“Open up to page 256 and complete task 13 before the end of class.”

You mentally groaned. You’ve been stuck here in this boring hell of a history class for almost an hour and you believe that not a single word that left the teacher’s mouth was registered in your brain. The one thing keeping you from slamming your head against the table and fall asleep was the man sitting next to you: the disciplinarian from the student council, your boyfriend, Doppio Dropscythe.

Engulfed in unbearable boredom, a ridiculously risky idea popped into your head. Your lips curled up into a mischievous smirk. Why not have some fun? You leaned forward to whisper against his ear, your breath tickling his skin. “Pio-chan… I’m getting bored, why don’t you entertain me for a bit?” You hand travelled down his arm, fingers ever-so-lightly grazing his sensitive skin, before bringing your hand down to his crotch, palming him through his dark green checkered slacks.

A shock of electricity ran down Doppio’s spine, his eyes widened as he felt his cheeks heat up. “H-Hey we’re in class right now…” Doppio’s gaze scanned over the other students in the room, making sure nobody knew what was happening between the two of you. You leaned so close that your lips brushed against his skin, causing his breath to hitch. “And? Let them watch. It’s better than listening to this painfully boring class for any longer.” You moved your free hand up to the vast plane of his chest, feeling his heat seep through the fabric of his clothes. Doppio snatched your hand away, his ears dusted a bright shade of pink. He briefly opened his mouth, yet he was too flustered to speak.

“What’s wrong Pio-chan? Cat caught your tongue?”

God your endless teasing is driving him insane. You retracted your hands and turned your attention back to the workbook in front of you, pretending as if nothing ever happened, leaving the poor man all flustered and yearning for more. His trousers became tighter and he abruptly crossed his legs as a poor attempt to hide his growing tent. Doppio took a few deep breaths to try to calm himself down. Damn how was he supposed to continue class work after what just happened?!

The school bell rang, signalling the end of the class. You packed away all your books and got ready to leave the classroom with your friends, but then—

“Y/N can you stay back in class with me for a moment?”

Just as you were about to leave, that familiar deep voice called you to you. Your heart immediately started thumping fasting in anticipation and adrenaline. You were in big trouble with Doppio and you knew it.

“I’m sure you know what I held you back for.”

The classroom was empty except for you, him and the heavy tension in the air. Doppio stood in front of you with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He has never been like this to you before, and the new experience was filling you with eagerness and anticipation. You had your head hung low, hiding the smirk plastered on your face.  

A slender finger came down to hook under your chin, lifting your head up, forcing you to look Doppio in the eye. You wouldn’t help but be mesmerized by his eyes. The way the green and gold of his eyes fit perfectly together… The way those gorgeous eyes of his would gleam… Without a word, Doppio snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you closer until your lips collided with each other. The man didn’t even give you time to think before sliding his warm tongue into the cave of your mouth.

Your mind was hazy and all you could focus on was how his lips were on yours and how his large hands roamed all over you, sending shivered down your spine. You hadn’t even noticed, but Doppio already had you pushed up against the classroom wall, leaving you nowhere to escape. He hooked a hand under your knee and wrapped one of you legs around his waist causing your uniform skirt to ride up ever so slightly as he pulled back just enough to whisper against your swollen lips. “Don’t think you can get away from what you did in class, darling”

“Doppi wait—” There was no time for you to speak before he pulled you forward by the collar into another heated kiss. His hand began trailing up and down your leg as you desperately clung onto his clothes, balling the fabric of his magenta coloured sweater into tight fists. Doppio’s face was flushed and his lips were red and swollen as he looked at you with dark, hooded eyes. He leaned up against you until his lips brushed against your ear, just like what you did to him before.

“Be a good girl and face your discipline alright?”

what's with all the sussy fics recently u ask? it's a phase

[sowoozoo-7]

Love, Lust & Litigation | Ch 1

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem Reader x Namjoon

Genre: lawyer!AU, coworkers to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut

Rating: M (18+) whole fic, this chapter PG-13 (for language lol)

Warnings: some swearing in this chapter, nothing explicit

Word Count: 4k

Summary: Unfortunately, you have developed a massive crush on your new boss. Even more unfortunately, your equally attractive coworker is also harboring massive crush on your boss. AKA Jungkook and reader both pine for big, sexy brain Namjoon. 

A/N: Phew! Here she is! The first chapter of my first fic. This has been slowly chewing away at my brain for the last few months, and I finally decided to say fuck it and write it. I don't know anything about law or lawyers other than what I've seen from movies and read in books so I'm sure I've gotten something wrong, but whatever, it's my own alternate made up universe.

Anyway, I’m new to all this — longtime reader, first-time poster — so I’d love feedback if you have any! Hope you like it ~

mlist | ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 3 | ch 4 | ch 5 | interlude | ch 6 | ch 7 | epilogue

Two hours into your new job at Bang and Associates, and you’ve already made a fool of yourself.

The first couple of hours went smoothly. Check-in with HR was all standard forms, waivers, and NDAs, and the view from your new office is killer. 

Though your new boss and the other associate on the litigation team are at court for the morning, you get to meet two of the paralegals on your team, Jimin Park and Hoseok Jung. They look like they just stepped out of a menswear ad, in their fitted suits and slicked back hair. You'd normally be wary of office workers who look a little too put together, but you get the sense that they’re going to be good coworkers from the few minutes you spend talking to them, both good-natured and quick to share a laugh. 

It’s when they’re giving you a tour of the office that your heel slips on a set of marble stairs and you find yourself briefly experiencing flight. You decide flying is overrated when you land on your ass and bounce down several steps. One of your shoes takes its own trip and lands a few yards away. You sit on the steps, frozen for a minute, with your bare foot just out there for the world to see. 

“Oh my god,” says Hoseok as he rushes down to the step where you landed. “Are you alright?” 

You’re quiet for a moment while you deliberate whether or not you’re going to cry. It’s inevitable that you’ll cry in front of your coworkers one day, but looking around, you see everyone else in the atrium glancing over at the absolute idiot who fell down the stairs on her first day. 

Not the day to cry, you decide. First impressions and all that. At least you wore a pantsuit today and not a dress.

“I think I’m okay,” you say with a rueful smile. “Just a bruised ego.”

Jimin retrieves your shoe and hands it to you with a sparkle of laughter in his eyes. “Another one bites the dust." It’s not malicious, you don’t think.

“He means that you’re not the first to slip down the stairs,” says Hoseok. “We think the janitors are polishing them extra to get back at all the asshole lawyers.” 

You limp for the rest of the office tour. 

***

You get sent to the courthouse after finishing the brief admin in the office to shadow your new boss, the firm’s superstar. 

Namjoon Kim is mesmerizing.

You have heard of his reputation — how could you not? Top of his class with a winning streak unmatched in the industry — but you have yet to see him in action. 

He lives up to his reputation. 

You sit at the back of the courtroom, trying not to put too much weight on your bruised ass, watching as he delivers his closing statement.

His voice is deep and measured, drawing everyone to the edge of their seat to hear every twist to the argument he’s crafting. You pity the opposition. They went first with their closing statement and now they’re squirming in their seats as Namjoon takes down every argument, point by point. The jury hangs on to his every world. 

Maybe it’s the way he carries himself, with a quiet confidence and authority, maybe it’s that he’s built like a tree and looks like a dream in his pinstripe suit. Whatever it is, you get the feeling that working under a beautiful genius is going to be some kind of Dantean torture. 

“Thank you, Your Honor.” 

You blink, realizing it’s over, and you watch as he goes to sit. Silence hangs in the court room in the brief second it takes the courtroom to snap out of their Namjoon-induced daze. The room shuffles as everyone shifts back in their seats. The closing formalities continue, with the judge sending the jury to deliberations. 

“Court is adjourned.” 

The room rumbles with a flurry of activity as everyone goes to exit. You hurry to catch Namjoon — you want to introduce yourself to your new boss as soon as possible — but you get lost in the shuffle of people filing out. By the time you catch up to him outside, he’s giving a press interview on the steps of the courthouse. 

You wait on the outskirts of the small crowd that’s gathered. Deja-vu hits as you watch the reporters lean in to hang on to his every word. He takes the questions with grace, and even a little humor, and smiles at a joke one of the reporters makes. 

Dear lord. He has dimples.

“Spectacular, isn’t he?” 

A young man stands next to you, smirking as if he knows how much you’re fangirling over your new boss. You recognize him as the second attorney at the defendant’s counsel table. The remaining member of the litigation team. 

If you weren’t so preoccupied with Namjoon, you’d be mooning over this man instead. His just-messy-enough-to-show-he-doesn’t-care hair frames his face in waves. An eyebrow piercing and a lip piercing glint in the late morning sun. Tattoos decorate the back of one of his hands. He would look like a punk kid up to no good, but you can the tell the suit he’s wearing costs more than your monthly rent. Jesus. Is everyone in the office just a walking GQ campaign?

“Excuse me?” 

“Namjoon,” he says with a smile that changes his expression entirely, from a little rakish to boyish in its delight. “I call it the Namjoon Effect. No one’s immune. I think it’s the dimples.” He puts out his hand to shake yours. “Jungkook Jeon. I’m th—“

“The other associate on the litigation team. I know.” You shake his hand and introduce yourself. “Looking forward to working with you.” 

“Ah, I thought it was you. Jimin texted me to look out for you today.” 

The impromptu press conference breaks up and Namjoon ushers his client down the stairs. 

“Come on, I’ll introduce you,” says Jungkook, flying down the steps. You follow at a slower pace, the twinge in your hip reminding you of your fall earlier that day. Still, you try to strike a confident stride in your heels. First impressions and all. 

Namjoon pats the roof of the private car he has bundled his client into and straightens as Jungkook claps him on the shoulder. 

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about any type of evidence to the press.” 

Namjoon raises an eyebrow. “The PR team said that. I didn’t agree to anything. Besides, it’s the same evidence we presented at the trial, just in a different light. Even if we have a less-than-favorable verdict, we’ll still have the public on our side.” 

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Why do you even bring me with you?” He sees you and gestures you over. “Namjoon, may I present your latest lackey.” 

“I resent that,” you say, mock-frowning and pointing a finger at Jungkook. “But you’re not wrong.”

You introduce yourself to Namjoon and shake his hand. It’s warm and firm. You hope yours isn’t cold and clammy. “Pleasure to be working with you.” 

“Pleasure’s all mine. I’ve heard great things from your former boss,” he says with a smile. There go the dimples again. He glances at his watch. “Shall we discuss our caseload over lunch?” 

You feel a little thrill at being included in the “our.” Bang and Associates have a reputation for working on some of the most high-profile cases in the city and you’re ready to dig your greedy little fingers into the cases. 

“Cat’s Pajamas?” asks Jungkook. He doesn’t wait for an answer. “I’ll drive.”

Namjoon sighs as Jungkook turns to walk towards the garage. “He always weasels his way into lunches. I swear he’s a never-ending pit,” he says with a note of fondness for the younger man. 

Cat’s Pajamas is an airy bistro just a few blocks away from the offices. There’s a sizable lunchtime crowd, filled with self-important business people taking their clients out to lunch. Jimin and Hoseok meet your group at the restaurant. 

You wince at you sit down, rubbing at the side of your hip. The bruise you expected from the fall is developing faster than you thought. 

“Are you okay?” Namjoon asks. 

He and Jungkook look at you with concern.

You wave them off. “Just a bruise.” 

Jimin shakes his head. “The marble stairs have claimed their newest victim.” 

“Ah,” says Jungkook with a knowing nod. “I almost broke my wrist when I fell down those stairs a couple months ago. It’s practically a rite of passage at Bang and Associates at this point.”

“Looks like you’re already part of the team,” says Namjoon, lifting his water glass in a toast.

***

The rest of the day passes quickly.

You return to your office to find a stack of documents already on your desk, with a sticky note from Hoseok on top. Welcome to the team!!!! it says, with a big looping smiley face next to it.

You slip out of your heels and bring your legs up under you as you settle into your desk, a routine study position that has followed you from college through to your professional life. There’s nothing you like more than finding your way in the maze of paperwork and laying out your trail in court. You lose yourself in the legalese, getting familiar with an ongoing case that Namjoon mentioned over lunch. 

Jungkook pulls you into his office when you’re returning from the bathroom to strategize about the case. His office is exactly the same as yours, with enough space for two guest chairs, a large desk and a set of bookshelves crammed with leather-bound law books. And, your inner petty competitor is pleased to see, the view is also almost exactly the same. Of course, he has a slight advantage because he’s worked here longer, but you have the same job title, the same office. You’re almost on even footing. You’ve noticed a competitive streak in him, and you’re excited to play against it. It’s only going to make you a better lawyer. 

The “quick chat” turns into an hour-long discussion and you decide by the time you leave his office that you’ll head home at normal close of business hours. You’ll be staying late anyway as your caseload grows. 

You’re surprised to find a brown paper bag on your desk, one of the simple gift bags you can find at the drug store. Inside, you find a get well soon card with a cartoon of a man on a hospital bed in a full-body cast with a thermometer coming out of his mouth and an ice pack on his head. Inside, it reads: 

Even though your welcome to Bang and Associates was a painful one, I’m very happy to have you on the team and I look forward to working with you. Now you know to avoid the stairs :) 

-Namjoon

Inside the bag you find a bruise balm and a travel size pack of ibuprofen. Warmth spreads through you, pleased at the gift. There’s another layer to that warmth, a feeling that you don’t want to examine too closely, because he’s your boss, and you suspect (no, you know) it's inappropriate to feel that towards your boss. 

Later that night, though, as you’re applying the balm to the colorful bruise on your hip, you can’t help but think of his dimpled smile.

***

“You’re babying me.” 

You’ve won your first case for Bang and Associates. Your client, a rich young widow who married an older man for love, was the sole inheritor to his massive fortune. His children, some older than the widow, were upset that they got nothing in the will. As you worked with the client, you got the sense that she was genuinely sad about her late husband’s passing. Not that it made any difference. She was a paying client, and you had to represent her regardless, but it made rooting for her easier.

“I thought it was for sure a trick case and that there would be something to trip me up in the prenup, but it was so straightforward.” You’re in the elevator with Namjoon heading up to the office. He was present at the trial, to keep an eye on you to make sure you lived up to the promise of your initial interview.

He shrugs. “It’s nice to start off with a win. You’d be surprised with how many people don’t prepare or get wrapped up in how things should be and completely flounder.” He pats your shoulder as the elevator dings open. “You did good today. Good prep, good execution.” 

He nods a goodbye and heads to his office without looking back. You head to yours at a slower clip, your shoulder burning where he touched you. You feel warm overall anyway, knowing you did a good job, but the praise still feels good. A little too good, maybe. 

Over the next month, the cases get harder and harder, and you have to pull out the most obscure references from your time in law school. You start spending more and more time at the office, racking up insane amounts of billable hours. You have a permanent cup of coffee at your desk and you change into your fuzzy slippers you brought from home to give your feet a break from heels whenever a new case file lands on your desk for review. 

At least you’re not the only one pulling crazy hours. The rest of the litigation team often stays late. You fall in quickly with the guys, cracking jokes over the Nespresso machine you all hover around. They were wary of you at first, an unknown entity coming into the equation, but you proved worth after the second night you stayed late and cracked the key piece of a case buried in ancient tax laws. They treated you to drinks at the local watering hole afterward. The biggest reward though, was getting a small dimpled smile and a thumbs up from Namjoon before he called it a night.

It helps that your boss stays late with the rest of the team. Every time you come to him with a tricky case, without fail, he gives brilliant insight or a nudge in the right direction, giving you advice on where to look for the answer.  And when he goes to his fancy client dinners, he’ll always bring something back to the office when he inevitably stops by the office on his way home. You can’t say no to a good takeaway creme brûlée. 

One Friday afternoon, Namjoon pulls everyone into a meeting a half hour before close of business. “It’s been a tough few weeks. You’re all going home at five today.” He holds up a hand when the team starts to protest. “I’m going to be at Silver Spoon for happy hour. Drinks are on me. You don’t have to come, but you can’t stay here.” 

“I have too much work to do,” Jimin says with a pout. 

“I’m firing you if you don’t leave at five on the dot.” The good-natured threat falls easily from Namjoon’s lips. “That goes for all of you. Wrap up what you need to.” 

You spend the rest of the time cataloguing what you need to finish Monday morning. Usually you’d work Saturdays too, but with the promise of an early weekend, you decide everything can wait until open of business Monday. Well. Maybe you’ll work on that memo from home over the weekend, but everything else on your to-do list can wait. 

You join Jungkook and Hoseok at the elevator bank three minutes before the hour. 

“Think he’s gonna make it?” asks Hoseok with a laugh.

You check your watch. “Two minutes left. He’ll make it right at five.” 

“He’ll be two minutes over,” says Jungkook.

“I think five over,” says Hoseok. 

“Loser buys the nachos,” you say. They both shake on it.

Jimin runs into the elevator bank just as the clock ticks over to five. You pump your fist in victory while the other two groan. 

Jimin leans over to catch his breath. “I thought I wasn’t going to make it.” 

He straightens just as Namjoon rounds the corner from his office.

“Glad I’m not losing any of the team today.”

“And I get two sets of nachos,” you say, getting into the elevator behind the rest and pressing the button for the ground floor.

“Hobi gets the nachos. I’ll get the wings,” says Jungkook.

Jimin looks back and forth between you two, a confused pout on his face. “What did I miss?”

***

Silver Spoon is all leather and dark wood. Namjoon leads the way to a large booth in the back, waving to the bartender behind the gleaming wooden bar. 

“You know everyone,” comments Jungkook as you all pile into the booth. It ends up with Namjoon in the middle, you and Jungkook flanking him, Hoseok next to you, and Jimin next to Jungkook. 

“I’ve been working in this area a long time. It pays to get to know the people working at your favorite haunts.” 

Namjoon drinks whiskey, neat. Junkook orders a pint of the house craft beer. Hoseok has a glass of red wine, and Jimin has a double straight vodka. You get an elderflower spritz, light and refreshing in the unusually hot fall afternoon. 

The conversation deteriorates to work talk, as it usually does among coworkers. The nachos and wings follow the drinks, and everyone digs in. They’re good, just the right amount of elevated to make the price worth it, but not so fancy that the bar food is unrecognizable. 

Silver Spoon fills up as the finance bros and hedge fund managers who work in the area trickle in. You recognize a few former coworkers, and you raise your glass to them in a toast when they wave hello, but you don’t attempt to engage further. You don’t care to reconnect with them. The cutthroat, backstabbing environment at your last firm is what made you leave in the first place. Bang and Associates hires ambitious lawyers, but fosters a workplace that manages to keep the ones that are ambitions without the cattiness, encouraging a collaborative work environment over individual hotshot lawyers. You're settling into your new workplace just fine, thank you.

Namjoon gets a call shortly after the third round of drinks, and Jungkook and Jimin shimmy out of the booth to let him out so he can take the call in private. 

Hoseok picks up where the conversation left off, brainstorming where to start to research a tricky case. Jimin interrupts him before he can get a full sentence out.

“Uuuugh,” he says, dragging his hands down his cheeks. “Can we talk about anything but work?” 

“Please,” you say. 

Jimin looks at you with a mischievous grin and pops his chin onto his hand. He calls your name in a singsongy voice. “Are you seeing anyone?” 

You snort into your drink. “Do I look like I have time for a relationship?” 

“It’s amazing what you can get up to in our limited free time if you have some determination,” mutters Hoseok with a sidelong glance at Jimin. 

“Jimin is slowly working his way through the office,” explains Jungkook.

Jimin crosses his heart with his finger and holds a hand up. “All above-board with HR, of course.” 

“Doesn’t mean you haven’t left behind a trail of broken hearts,” says Hoseok. 

“They all knew what they were getting into when they consented to the relationship.” 

“Or lack thereof,” says Jungkook with a snort. 

Jimin turns to look at him, eyebrow raised. “Speaking of lack of relationships, still hung up on Namjoon?” 

Jungkook turns an impressive shade of red. “Stop, I’m not—“

“Ever since he broke up with his ex-girlfriend, he’s had this massive crush on Namjoon,” Jimin tells you.

“Shut up!” 

“We all see how you look at him,” says Hoseok, not unkindly. “Stars in your eyes when you think he’s not looking.”

So you hadn’t been imagining that. 

Jungkook’s only response is to chug the rest of his pint. 

“I don’t blame you,” you say, then freeze as three heads whip around to look at you. “What?” you ask, voice squeaky.

“Not you too,” groans Jimin. 

“What?” You hope the heat creeping up your face isn’t noticeable in the low bar lighting. “I have eyes. He’s attractive. You can’t deny that.” 

“And smart,” says Jungkook morosely. 

“And kind and he’s a good leader. I’m surprised you guys aren’t also harboring secret crushes,” you say, as if they’re the idiots for not having a massive crush on their boss. In reality, it’s terrifying to say these things out loud, everything you’ve been thinking over the past month you’ve been working at Bang and Associates. 

“Unfortunately, I’m straight,” says Hoseok. 

“And disgustingly in love with his fiancée,” sneers Jimin. “It’s actually sickening to see them together. She’s super pretty and an amazing dancer — you’ll see at the holiday party— and you really want to hate her but she’s also really nice on top of all that.” He takes the rest of his drink in one shot without a wince. You’d think he was sober if you hadn’t seen him down his vodka doubles like they were water. “And I’m not straight, but I know a lost cause when I see one. Namjoon’s practically married to his work. There are other men and women still waiting to be added to my bedpost.” He waggles his eyebrows in an exaggerated imitation of a leery cartoon character. 

“You’re disgusting, you know that?” 

“Thought I don’t know about Namjoon.” Jimin continues like he didn’t hear Jungkook’s comment. “I don’t think he’s married, because I’ve never seen a ring, and I’ve never seen him flirting or taking anyone home after drinks. No dates to company parties.” 

“Maybe he’s asexual,” says Hoseok. 

“That would be a shame because I bet he’s got a big d—“

Jungkook interrupts Jimin with an elbow to his side. He sits up straight, and you follow his line of sight to see Namjoon coming back to the table. They move out of the booth to give him his spot back in the middle. 

“Sorry about that. What are we talking about?” asks Namjoon as he settles in, just an inch closer than he had been sitting before. The intoxicating spicy smell of sandalwood that you’ve come to associate with Namjoon fills your nose and you suppress the urge to take a deep breath. 

You and Jungkook exchange guilty glances over the table. Jimin heaves a dramatic sigh, thankfully drawing Namjoon’s attention away from you two. 

“We were just bemoaning our single status. Not Hoseok, of course.”

“I’d be surprised if you all have time to date, what with the hours we’ve been pulling.” 

“How do you balance it all? Work, a social life, dating?” The question falls from your lips and you wish you could shove it back in your mouth. Jungkook kicks you from the other side of the table, and Jimin looks impressed that you actually asked the question. 

Namjoon lets out a hollow laugh. “I’m the wrong person to ask.” 

You exchange glances with Jungkook again. Does this mean he’s single? 

Before anyone can ask a follow-up question, a group of lawyers from the (mostly) friendly competition approach the table to make small talk. You want to shoo them away like pigeons so you can continue the conversation, but you busy yourself with your drink instead. 

Your coworkers disperse soon after, with Hoseok slipping away to go home first, red-faced and quiet. Namjoon talks to a group of his law school classmates by the bar. 

As the evening progresses, it’s painfully obvious to you now that Jungkook is mooning over Namjoon. You’d had your suspicions before, but after the conversation from earlier, the not-so-subtle glances make you cringe a little. You hope you’re not that obvious too. 

Not that Namjoon’s presence stops him from chatting up sone of the women who join your table. They work in the advertising firm a few floors below you, and you’ve gotten friendly with them over the past few weeks. The petite woman with the swishy blonde hair touches him a little more than necessary. 

You and Jimin exchange looks when you both clock her hand on Jungkook’s bicep for the third time in as many minutes. 

Jungkook and the blonde head out together not too long after. Good for him, you think, not getting so hung up on Nmajoon that he can’t focus on a different pretty face for the night.

When it’s just you and Jimin left at the booth, he leans in a little close. “What do you say you and me head out?” 

You laugh in his face. “I’m not going to sleep with you, Jimin.” 

He takes it in stride, and stands with a wink. “If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.” 

He blows you a kiss before zeroing in on one of the finance bros who’s been looking over at your table for the past hour. He won’t know what hit him once Jimin is done with him. 

You don’t bother trying to pull someone at the bar, choosing instead to slip away without any fanfare. Though you’re no stranger to one-night stands, you’re looking forward to sleeping in and you can’t be bothered with the logistics of a hookup. Tonight, you have a date with your bed, and your bed only. 

The air has a bite to it as you step out of the bar, and you pull your coat around you as you hurry to the curb to your Uber. You settle into the back of the car as the driver pulls out into traffic. 

You can’t help but feel kinship with Jungkook, what with both of you lusting after the same ill-advised man. The city lights blur by and you let your eyes unfocus.

You wonder what would happen if you were the last three people left in the world. Would he go for you or Jungkook? In your buzzed state of mind, you think you really wouldn't mind sharing.

©sowoozoo-7 2023

Please do not copy or repost. I do not crosspost anywhere else.

[moonlit-midnight]

Reminiscing on A Warm Summer Day

Characters: Azul Ashengrotto.

Genre/Trope: AU, Romance, Married life, Enemies to Friends, Friends to Lovers.

Warnings: GN!Reader, failed attempt at rom-com. Set in the real world and Azul is human.

—

Every time you reminisce how your relationship started with the love of your life, it sends you into fits of giggles and giddy laughter.

You and Azul didn’t start on good terms.

You were school rivals who always competed in obtaining first place in exams, winning in sports and competitions, and perfecting class projects.

You were class president and Azul was your assistant.

Unfortunately, both of you often argued and differed in opinions which resulted you in not accomplishing the tasks which class representatives were supposed to do. Well, most of the time.

Both of you had sworn that you would remain rivals until you graduated, but God had other plans.

★ —

For three years straight during high school, you and Azul were seat mates.

No matter how many times you begged to exchange seats with your classmates, they wouldn’t budge because seeing you and Azul stuck with each other was honestly hilarious.

Knowing that you two couldn’t stand one another, the teachers took the chance to pair him with you every time there was a class project, in hopes you would get along and make peace one day.

Funnily enough, that was exactly what happened.

Azul secretly loved being around you. 

Despite your chaotic personality, you had a calming presence, and the silver-haired boy felt at peace being with you.

You secretly enjoyed doing your school projects together. 

Despite Azul’s cold and aloof demeanor, he was a good person, warm and patient.

After six years of intense rivalry since middle school, your relationship with Azul took an unexpected turn. 

It surprisingly bloomed into a wonderful friendship.

You were inseparable friends, always supporting one another and enduring together the ups and downs of the roller coaster called life.

Somewhere along the way, during your final year in university, romantic feelings came into the picture. 

Even after becoming a couple, your friendship remained strong and unwavering.

★ —

“What got you giddy like that, darling?” The thirty years old Azul glanced at you adoringly as you stood beside him in the bedroom’s balcony.

“Reminiscing a tender recollection from the past.”

Your giggling came to a halt as you showed your phone to your husband.

The bright screen showed a video of you and Azul, taken fourteen years ago when you were seventeen.

It was during junior high when the school had a culture festival.

You and Azul broke into a petty argument over which color you would paint the banner of your shared booth.

The scene was an absolute disaster.

In the middle of your argument, you unintentionally splashed yellow paint on Azul’s white sweater which happened to be a precious gift from his mother.

In return, Azul chucked blue paint on your shoes, the color you hated the most.

Ironically, in the following years, blue grew into the color you loved best because it was the same shade of Azul’s mesmerizing eyes and it was also the color of the ocean, the place you both loved very dearly.

“Who took a video of us sneakily?” Azul laughed softly, handing back the phone to you.

“Jade and Floyd. Who else did you expect?”

“But of course. Your cousins who always had a knack for mischief.”

You laughed gleefully in response.

It might be a disastrous incident, but it was a tender old memory on a warm summer day.

[i-mybrunettelady]

Let's hear it from your guardians (7, 8, 9, 10 for 'em) 👀

MY GUARDIANS!! MY BELOVEDS!!! I don't repeat classes often - I only have two mesmers and two guards, but that's bc the additional mesmer and guard are ported from other games so the classes were the best fit for them. That being said, let's get into my guardian children <3

nika is also my ported wol and his canon jobs (drk, mch and brd) are my best attempt at recreating guardian in that game :)

7. what are the convictions that keep their guardian magic burning?

nyra: her selfishly selfless goals and dreams; her belief in herself and her own abilities and her god-complex. she is an inverse paladin that way; instead of serving a greater being or a deity or a goal, she serves herself and her ambition with the same zeal.

nika: i'm not quite sure if he has magic in the same way nyra does (she is a caster, too) or if he just has enough to detect that there is magic and not really cast any of his own. but speaking of him in general, he has little to no general convictions. yet he is also ambitious and wants to be known in the world, primarily for his music. that's what he's protective of. that's as close as he gets to having any convictions.

8. do they focus more on healing and protecting their allies or on incinerating their enemies before they can do harm?

nyra: she isn't much of a healer, even if she can use some healing magic, but she is on the front lines and makes sure to take hits for her allies. she loves a good thrill of battle, she is in charge, she likes showing off; even if i play her mechanically as a tanky dps, in my heart of hearts she is the tankiest of tanks + dps.

nika: oh he goes for the kill! he uses guns and longbows, so he likes taking his enemies out long before they can even approach him, but he isn't afraid of cleaving them in half either. it's just that he prefers ranged combat. he also fits the mold for deadeye as well in this regard.

9. how much do they rely on their magic in combat? could they still be effective if they were stripped of their guardian powers?

nyra: gahh i love this question bc it's my hc that over reliance on magic is 100% a mistake that a guardian can make. nyra's case is pretty interesting here; she didn't have magic until she was 15, and during personal story she was learning how to manipulate and shape light so she used more of her raw, physical strength. following heart of thorns, where mordremoth slashed her shoulder really badly (so bad that it was barely saved) she swung in the other direction and used magic a lot more bc she couldn't be as effective with raw physicality as before.

now she has a canthan-made aid for her shoulder, like a compression sleeve with jade tech beneath her armor, that allows her to use her shoulder to its old extent as long as she's wearing it (she's not wearing it outside of combat, though.) that allows her to find a balance that she wasn't able to before, and while she is a talented magic user, taking that away wouldn't take much from her efficiency on the battlefield, as long as she has her jade tech aid.

nika: he relies very little on magic as he doesn't have much of it, and is so much more efficient without it.

10. What’s their fighting style like? (ranged, defensive, aggressive, etc)

nyra: as per previous answer, she went from melee to ranged to a mixture of melee and ranged. these days she likes to be up close and personal again, same way she used to be ten years ago, but she isn't as aggressive about it as she was back then. instead, she is defensive, with more strategic attacks that take her enemies out faster, as opposed to just going for aggression for its own sake.

nika: ranged + aggressive :)

[someone-ds]

Totally insufferable is what he is. But God am I just drawn to insufferable men.

He walks with his chin up, clothes worth more than two of my paychecks combined, a kick in his step, and a smirk across his clean-shaven face that would bring any woman to her knees.

He has mastered the art of a souverain aura. He has had a thing for getting the rise out of me since day one. And how I hated his guts, ohh how I hated everything about his stupidly handsome face. He is smart I’ll give him that, almost as smart as me. Our professor has grown fond of our rivalry, instigating heated discussions and making us meet heads every lecture. I love a challenge and mmh how delicious of a challenge he is. Our eyes meet more often than I’d like. He watches me, in return I watch him. I cannot help myself. When he talks my ears perk up, the corners of my mouth curl up, and my eyes usually roll because of his awful trash talk. I fall victim to his charm and wit. I wish to sink my teeth into his throat and mark him as mine. He talks and talks to try and get a reaction out of me. Over the summer he has apparently forgotten how much fun it is. So he does it all the time. Was sich liebt neckt sich what loves that teases

And tease we do. He drives me crazy, he makes me wild. I want to just shut him up with my lips, he brings the worst out of me. And he loves that. God how he saviours my annoyed eyes and angry huffs. He feeds off it. It’s almost animal-like how we prey on each other. He drives to Germany every weekend, he’s from there. Something I tease him about constantly. the way he says certain words makes me cackle. ‘What was that? What did you just say, sorry I didn’t get it?’ ‘Ugh, how do you guys say that??’

My hometown is on his way to his hometown. So, he mentions every other Monday when he comes back to class. On Friday it so happens that instead of going getting off a stop later than he does; I get off at the same time as he does. We’re going to his apartment, in a building with a porter, community kitchens, cinemas, gaming rooms, saunas, and pools. It is straight out of a fucking movie. The walk up to the apartment he talks about the area, his feet and mine falling into sync. I am awestruck, cranking my neck up to see all those beautiful skyscrapers that surround us. It feels like I’m in a totally different city, a feeling that will continue to grow the longer you spend in his bubble. We walk into the rotating doors, and the portier watches me closely and asks me what I am doing here. ‘She’s with me’ he barks and goes up to him. He signs some paper and scowls the man for his rude behavior to his guest. I stand awkwardly to the side. A warm feeling in my stomach. ‘She’s with me’ echoes through my head. Strangely it sounds lovely coming from his lips. There is a tablet in front of the elevator behind two glass doors he used a keycard for us to pass through. He punches a number in, I’m too distracted to see which one. I scan the walls and the floor. We go in. The elevator is spacious and weirdly has no buttons on the inside. There is a red LED indicator telling us which floor we are on. ‘Wait, which floor do you live on again?’ He lowers his head a bit, I can hear the smirk on his pretty pink lips when he says ‘The 23rd’ My jaw drops. Then my head falls back, and a nervous laugh leaves me. I’ve never been this high above the ground before. My knees buckle a bit. He squared his shoulders and stepped out before me. He casually strolls the corridor talking about the VIP features he has; I pay him half a mind. More interested in my surroundings, the carpet and the wall, and the decorations. We go through the gaming lounge. ‘It’s a short cut’ he says and winks. I’m still awestruck and too mesmerized by everything to even consider mocking him for the cheesy line delivery. We are on the 23rd floor of a luxury apartment complex and all I can think about is how much I do not fit in here. We get to his door, it’s the last one in the hallway. He goes in. I stay two steps behind him not sure if I should come in or wait until he’s done grabbing his bags. ‘Come in, I’m sorry it’s so messy… I rarely have people over’ he says the last part more quietly. ‘Should I take my shoes off?’ is the first thing that leaves my mouth. He looks down at my feet and then just shakes his head no. ‘Nah you’re fine, doesn’t matter’. His apartment is smaller than I thought it’d be. A small kitchenette, and a queen-sized bed with a TV in front of it. A small desk and a beautiful dark blue velvet couch. The bathroom is off to the side down a small corridor. But what gets me is the view. The floor-to-ceiling windows and a terrace that wraps around the whole apartment. He opens the door for me and rushes off to pack his bag while I stand quietly by the door. I walk around trying to get a feel of who he really is. A postcard by his bedside table and a picture of the family dog tell me he misses home more than he lets on. I get it- I think to myself. On his desk are two bottles of Dom Perigon 2010 and 2008. A small but heavy Porsche Trophy with his dad’s name on it. A small frame with a family picture around a table in a restaurant. He has his mother’s eyes. I wonder if anyone has ever told him that. I venture out to the balcony. The wind has my curls flying all over the place. I feel like a little kid giggling out there. I look over the city that I have come to call home for the past year. It looks completely different from up here. I feel like I’m on a different planet altogether. ‘How much do you pay for this?’ I say as I step over his clothes that had fallen from the clothing line. ‘1200€ without the garage, it’s 100 more with’ he says nonchalantly as if that’s not more than I make in 2 months.

My knees buckle again. I’m a bit dizzy, the wind and the adrenaline from being up so high are making it worse. I go back inside. I see an elegant black suitcase in the corner of the room. ‘Wouldn’t it be funny if that was a Rimowa suitcase?’ I think to myself. Those things are stupidly expensive. I go look at the black leather nametag with his Initials carved into it, I turn it over and of course, it is a fucking Rimowa suitcase. ‘You’re so fucking predictable.’ I shout in his general direction. ‘Is it true that you get lifelong insurance on these things and if it breaks, they provide you with a different one until yours is repaired?’ ‘Yeah, that’s true, I mean I paid 2,3k on that. That’s the least they can do.’ He changed his clothes and puts his driving shoes on, I bite back the remark about how only old men have dedicated driving shoes. We’re back at the elevator. We go from the 23rd floor to the -2nd floor in less than 30 seconds. We walk around the parking garage and the trunk of a black Q5 opens on its own as soon as we round the corner. He puts his bags inside, shuts the trunk, and walks over to the driver’s door. I’m still looking at the car. The plate with his name and lucky number on it sits proudly on the car. Gobsmacked. What the hell… I get in. The plush leather seat is nice, soft, and smooth. I feel like I’m in a Rocketship. I look around and every second that passes the more in awe I am. He reverses out of his parking space and off we go. His car is so high that I can’t really see over the hood. We drive out of the garage onto the busy streets of Vienna that are beginning to feel more like fucking Miami. He has a panorama roof that slides open, and he puts his hand out the top. The other rested comfortably on the leather steering wheel. ‘Be honest how many times have you stuck your head through this?’ He laughs and shakes his head. ‘Never I just put my hand out like this.’ It is weirdly attractive; he looks expensive and by association, I do too. And that feeling is growing on me. I have been in some car accidents and get nervous being in cars with people I’ve never driven before, especially young rich guys with a car that has 250 horsepower and an inflatable ego. ‘You’re not going to drive like a crazy person, are you?’ ‘I drive more than 500km in a week and have been for over a year, I’m better than most drivers. You’re safe with me don’t worry.’ He turns the music on and I relax in my seat. I then say something about being so high up in the air. He presses some buttons on the little touchpad in the middle of us and I can feel the hind tires lift and the car rising. Then the front tires, I watch as the hood of the car rises while we stand at the red light.

What. The. Fuck? He just lifted us 10cm off the ground. This is so intoxicating, I feel drunk. Bubbly and happy. More from the nerves but also from the sheer ridiculousness that this boy is. He drives us out of the city, and I relax in my seat. We talked about the car how much it cost and the upgrades he got. He starts singing along to the song that is playing. The sun is slowly setting and a strip of light slices through his eyes vertically leaving a honey chocolate strip in his eyes. I ask him how loud the music can get, and he puts it up all the way. And again, I feel like I’m not in Vienna and not with my academic rival but with a friend in Miami. The roof is open the music is loud and good, and I am getting used to feeling like I’m above the rest. The conversation goes from the car and his apartment to his dad and grandparents. His dad is a professional horse rider and owns a hotel that belonged to his grandparents. They own 35 horses and have like 5 luxury cars. He has a younger brother who lives with his mother. His parents are separated. He used to watch his dad on TV and cheer him on. ‘He was home for a day or two a week and then traveled for 3 weeks, I never saw him.’ ‘Did you miss him?’ I ask quietly. It seems like he loves his dad a great deal. ‘No’ his face crunches up a bit, tilting to the side. ‘He was never there so how could I even miss him?’ That breaks my heart a tiny bit. I ask about his mother. ‘Oh, she works in IT’ he says, and I can tell he is embarrassed. ‘Oh, that’s so cool what are you on about?’ His brother has a Michelin-star restaurant named after him. He has to come by every few weeks to walk around and say hello to the guests. The image of that makes me chuckle. I am still mostly looking up at the panoramic window that graces the roof of his car. A pleasant conversation is held with good music coming through the speakers. The wind makes my hair fly around. I feel free.

He drops me off at my house, and I shut the door not before wishing him a safe trip.

He is insufferable and mean. But he is a good guy. Not that I would know what that means. Good guys were never my type.

And over the weekend my mind kept going back. To the feeling of freedom.

[petrockadventure]

"Wait! What's this cute rock doing here? Look at it's cutie lil' eyes! Oh my god!"

Amanda picks you up. Her hands are large, tanned and she wears pink nail polish. What an icon. She's also warm. You enjoy her touch.

"Oh my god!" Angela squeals when Amanda shows you to her.

"I don't know if I'm allowed to, but I'm taking it!"

"Yeah, who's going to miss a rock?"

You're slightly offended by Angela's remark but you also can't blame her. Humans know nothing about the magical world of rocks, after all.

"I'm still going to do some videos with Spence," Amanda tells Angela. "But I will walk you to your car."

"You're the best," Angela beams up at her - way up - and puts her arm around her friend's waist. Amanda still holds on to you.

"So, how is the dating going?" Amanda cuts right to the chase.

"Well, I had one last night!"

"No!!"

"Yes!"

"How was it? Who was it?"

"They were a very nice person, but I got more friend-vibes than anything." "Ugh, don't you hate when that happens."

"Aren't you best friends with your husband?"

"True. But on top of our best friendship, he also makes me blush and my heart races whenever he flirts with me."

Angela sighed. "I want to have that with someone. Can't you tell me how I get someone that makes me blush? Give me some kind of roadmap."

"Or you could just be a happy single? Look at Ian, he is happier literally every single day! The dude is glowing."

"I love our dad, he's getting fit too! And wears cool clothes, who even is he?!"

The women giggle.

"But please, you gotta help me out Amanda."

"I'll think about it," Amanda winks and ruffles Angela's hair. They've arrived at her car. "Good night my dear."

"G'nite!"

~

Amanda walks back to the Smosh office. Twilight falls, adding a soft pink hue to the otherwise uninteresting surroundings. She puts you in her shirt's front pocket.

"Welcome, Amanda, to the BEST game night you have ever had!"

Spencer, a sweet looking guy with curly hair and a boyish beard looks at her with a determined smile.

"I could not be more ready!" Amanda shakes her head slowly. It's something she does when she actually does agree.

"This game is going to be right up your alley: it has magic, it has murder, it has teen girls being angsty!"

"Wow, that's me!" Amanda laughs, her voice like a bell. Spencer's chest and brows rise in jubilation.

As they sit down and start a live-stream, Spencer looks at Amanda with a look that can only be described as mesmerized. And who can blame him, really.

"So you're Max, a photography student," Spencer sets the scene for Amanda.

"Wow what is this weather?!"

"Try to navigate, this button is for walking forward.."

"I got it, right oh she's so cute! Why is she walking through a storm?!"

As the game progresses, Amanda and Spencer complement each other perfectly. Amanda doing most of the voices, Spencer smoothing over any gameplay-related problem so there's zero hiccups or pauses in the story.

"HOLY SHIT! Wha-"

"Yeah, your back in class again!"

"But that girl just got killed! Oh my god, does this mean we can save her?!"

Amanda's enthusiasm makes Spencer's heart swell. They both totally forget the time and finish the entire first part of the game in one sitting.

"Wow, you picked the perfect game, that was amazing Spencer."

"Thank you, it's what I do." And he was right.

"See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, good night. Wow, it's late."

~

Amanda drives home over a dark highway, then takes a turn at a rickety road that leads up a hill, all the way to her house. Walking inside, she takes you out of her pocket.

"What a day, my little friend," she says. "What a day."

She places you on her night stand and gets in bed, her husband already asleep.

Once you hear her gentle breath steady, it's time for some magic.

What vibe do you inspire?

Love

Friendship

Nothing

[miamoo27]

Hustlers

This Saturday, my boyfriend and I went to New York City to see a show. On our way there, we took the Lincoln Tunnel. The whole time we were in the tunnel, he blabbered on about “Men in Black” and the scene when they drove on the top of the tunnel with that Elvis song blasting. Honestly, if you put me in a car and we go into the city, I won't listen. I will be too busy watching and observing everything. Later on the way home, I was thinking of a thousand different stories to tell for this class. It was only when I passed my favorite building that I settled on this one. He asked me if I would be uncomfortable telling it. I said, “when have you ever known me to be uncomfortable” he responded, “only if you are in crowds.” Thank god this class isn't a crowd. 

Every Sunday, my father would take me to Greenwich Village to visit my half-sister or go to the Guggenheim museum. My brother never went because he had Lacrosse practice or was with friends. My mother was separated at the time from my father; besides, even in the past, she never went because she hated my half-sister. I was a 13-year-old girl with dreams of becoming “Gossip Girls” Blair Waldorf.  Instead of going to 5th ave and eating croissants, we went to Greenwich Village. When my parents graced each others’ presence in the same house, there was always fighting and alcohol, so going to the city with my dad was the only time I would spend any quality alone time with him. 

I remember waiting for my father’s arrival on my porch with my greasy skin and hair pulled back in a bun. My bangs never looked clean despite scrubbing the shit out of them with Herbal Essence. My armpits always smelt no matter how many showers I took or how much Degree Sport deodorant I applied. My eyeliner smudged, making me look like a raccoon, and my pants never fit me correctly (an issue that has followed me into adulthood). I waited with my knocky knees, rubbing them nervously. My mother usually gave me a dirty look behind my back as she muttered some Italian curse words that either only some tiny village in Italy could understand or she made them up entirely. I watched as my dad's red Jeep pulled up. 

I hopped up into my dad’s car and could still feel the beaming tension from my mother on the stoop of my house. I was ready to embark on the 40-minute drive to my sister’s apartment.It was the same drive I would take to go anywhere out of my small town. Nothing new. My dad would play 107.1. He thought that was the “cool channel.” He would sometimes take the top off the jeep, but I would complain my hair would become a mess. He seemed happy, like I said before, despite his failed marriage and failed wife. 

Once we were on the bridge, I liked to look backward at New Jersey, watching Fort Lee disappear in the distance. I didn’t mind what was in front of me because if I turned my head forward, I’d see all of the apartment complexes of Washington Heights beautifully placed on the rolling hills of the Manhattan cliffs.  The ride to the city was overstimulating and beautiful like some urban carnival ride with flashing lights and weird smells. Going from suburban tranquility to the hustle and bustle of the New York streets always intrigued me. I recall finding myself on the edge of my seat, eagerly awaiting the next sight. Sometimes we would see dogs playfully fighting or colorful displays of road-rage insanity. My dad would change gears and try to have a conversation with me at this point. I was too mesmerized by the whole experience I would answer him in a few words (or sometimes less). I only went with you for the ride. I welcomed any opportunity to leave Jersey and see New York. 

There was one particular building I fell in love with. Hustlers. To go to Greenwich Village, we always took the West Side Highway, where I would get the chance to see boobs on a huge sign right off the road. I had no boobs at the time and still don't which is the reality of my experience of being a woman. Sometimes you do not get huge boobs. Sometimes you do.  Despite the building being a hot spot for lonely men (no judgment), the architecture was alluring. A portrait Banksy painted also was on the side of the building. Looking closely on the left side while driving, you could see a "gentleman" pouring flowers on the ground. I wasn't staring just to see Banksy. I also was looking at the girl with crystal blue eyes and huge boobs staring at me. A new girl was on the billboard every month. I did not know if I wanted to be them or if I wanted to be with them. They all had straight, silky hair and huge boobs (always huge boobs), and I wished I could go inside the cement building, say hi to the gentleman with the flowers, and see one of the girls. Staring was a risky choice with two homophobic parents, though.  

When I would stare at them with my father sitting next to me, my cheeks would light up. I would feel my body getting hot with embarrassment and wish my father was not in the car. I knew what my feelings towards the billboard meant because I had the same for men. The questions running through my 13-year-old mind made me nervous that I would always have a stomach on our way back from the city. And I would avoid eye contact with the next girl on the billboard when we went back into the city. 

But my boyfriend didn't care. On Saturday, when we drove past Hustlers, we looked at the girl. Instead of being embarrassed or keeping my thoughts to myself. At 22, my parents may have no clue about my wondering eye for the same sex, but the person I love does, and he embraces it. With love, I accepted that part of myself. 

[viviennevermillion]

aubade [n.]

notes: 5th repost because this website literally hates me and removed this post from the tags which I hope are fixed now. rubs hands The song in the story is "Her Voice" which is sung by Prince Eric from the Little Mermaid Broadway Musical, it has she/her pronouns in the song but it'd work with any gender so I rewrote the lines to fit the gn!reader. If you want to you could imagine Azul singing it for you in this story. This absolutely does line up with my headcanon that Azul passionately sings musical numbers when he thinks no one is listening. I can honestly can see him actually have that voice.

aubade [n.]: a love song sung at dawn; dawn serenade

contains: Azul x gn!reader, a very flustered Azul, Azul in his octopus form, reader has magic in this

warnings: none

It was 7am, a godforsaken hour in the morning, in your opinion, and you had barely slept that whole night as you were trying to do a week's worth of homework, starting in the middle of the night. Procrastination seemed like it'd be fitting to be one of the modern world's cardinal sins and you were now suffering from god's punishment which came in the form of a headache, eyes that didn't want to stay open and the question how you'd survive the day without consuming an unholy amount of caffeine or dramatically perishing on Professor Trein's table. Why didn't I do these tasks earlier? I didn't even have to deal with an overblot this week...

So for now, since sleeping was out of the question, you had decided to spend your last couple of hours before class taking a flight across the Isle, which was technically not allowed but Crowley had given you a key to the broom closet "for emergencies" and this was quite obviously, at least in your eyes, an emergency. You had at least gotten rid of your headache thanks to the nurse in the infirmary and spending some time flying, knowing you could fall to your death at any given minute, surely should wake you up. In a way you could understand Azul and his attitude towards flying.

Ah yes, Azul Ashengrotto. The guy you were hopelessly in love with since the day he almost knocked you out with a tentacle while screaming "I can't do this anymore" only to later sob and want to withdraw to his octopus pot. A horrible moment to pick for realizing your feelings for somebody, really. If anyone would ever ask you about this, you vowed to just say it was love at first sight when he picked up your pen in the hallway or something.

Not that you'd ever tell him anyway. He'd probably just try to scam you or use that information to his advantage in some other way. You looked over the landscapes below you and noticed the ocean at sunrise reminded you of Azul's beautiful eyes. I really should stop thinking about him every time my brain isn't busy with class, overblots or Crowley's horrible management of his school..., you thought to yourself as you decided to land on the beach and take a quick break there. It was a secluded part of the beach that you had found a couple of weeks ago and that was pretty hard to get to if you didn't swim or use a broom.

You were about to sit down in the sand and watch the sunrise as you heard a voice coming from further along the beach. You decided to walk towards it, curious who was singing so beautifully at this early hour.

"Somewhere there's the one who's like the shimmer of the wind upon the water, somewhere there's someone who's like the glimmer of the sunlight on the sea, somewhere there's the one who's like a swell of endless music"

You almost gasped in surprise as your eyes laid upon Azul, sitting on a rock near the shore in what appeared to be his true form. He was simply mesmerizing.

"And their voice, it's sweet as angels sighing; and their voice, it's warm as summer sky; and that sound, it haunts my dreams and spins me round until it seems I'm flying"

You didn't dare disrupt him, as you feared he'd stop and try to disappear into the ocean. You couldn't believe he detested this form as much as he did. He was beautiful. If only he could see it. If only he knew you loved him.

"Strange as a dream, real as the sea; if you can hear me now, come set me free"

He finished his beautiful serenade, slowly turning around. "Come set me fr- EEK", he shrieked as he saw you and it looked as if he was about to fall off the rock if his tentacles didn't cling to it. He was about to scoot off into the sea when you walked towards him.

"Azul, no no no, wait!", you called out to him and he realized that if he wanted to get out of this situation it was better to confront you now and offer you some deal you couldn't refuse. As long as no one ever found out about this, maybe he'd be fine. He grabbed the potion he had placed beside the rock and frantically downed it, turning back into his human form not shortly after. His shoes and socks were wet from basically still standing in the water and his legs were shaking as if he was standing on his feet for the first time. He just hoped you wouldn't notice.

"Please forget you've ever seen that form", he told you, trying to sound as composed as possible as he walked back to the shore, "I can offer you a deal-" "I think you have such a beautiful voice", you marveled at the song you just heard him sing, "I could listen to you sing for hours. And I think you're actually really pretty....in both forms I mean"

He almost choked on his own spit and hid his face behind his hands, blushing furiously. "You're making it worse, you know that?", he pouted. You let out a small chuckle. "Really what do you want so you don't tell anyone about this? And to never talk about this again in general", he picked up his glasses and put them on. You insisted that you didn't want anything but he didn't back off.

"Fine", you said, "I suppose there is something. But only if you want. If not, I'll pick something different." He gestured for you to go ahead. "How about we go out sometime. As like....you know....a date?" Azul stared at you in shock. "Wait wha-" "I want to go out with you", you said, this time more clearly, cursing yourself whilst knowing your bravery or more accurately, recklessness, definitely came from the sleep deprivation. Azul needed a moment to process what it was you had said. "Uh, I- I suppose we could arrange that", he cleared his throat and reached out his hand to you, "to seal the deal." You smiled at him. "How about we seal it with a kiss?", you suggested.

A blush once again crept onto Azul's face and he just nodded while trying to avoid looking into your eyes. You stepped closer to him and pressed a sweet, soft kiss to his cheek. "I never thought we'd have a deal I like one day", you chuckled and gently brushed a strand of his still wet hair out of his face. As you left the beach that morning, you could see Azul looking after you and you could have sworn you've seen him smile to himself when you told him you were looking forward to your date with him. I do too, y/n, more than you know..., he thought.

[lilahisntsadanymore]

Hi!! I read you were taking dps x reader requests, so I was wandering if you could write something fluffy for Todd, and maybe if from his pov. Thanks, lots of love<<3

Hello! Thanks for the request. You didn't specify if you want male or fem reader so I wrote it gender neutral, I hope this is okay:) also this is my first time writing it from a character's pov instead of Y/n's, I hope I didn't fail hahah and this takes place after the play, but Neil didn't die etc

Oh and the poem in this fic is mine, I don't really like it but I didn't have any that would fit this fic so I wrote this one really quick.

Words count: 1k

Tw: none

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Carpe diem, Todd

"My friend from the theater comes to our meeting tonight," Neil announced when we were back in our room after classes, "you'll have a chance to get to know them better."

"What do you mean?" I asked when I noticed a smirk on Neil's lips.

"Don't act like you don't know that I know. I saw the way you look at them."

"Was it that visible?"

A few days ago we went to see a play Neil acted in. He did an amazing job, but someone else caught my attention. Their name was Y/n, but that's all I know. I wish I could have talked to them, but I just couldn't gather myself to do it.

"Obviously! I swear your eyes turned into two little hearts when you saw Y/n."

I felt my cheeks heat up. Oh no, was I blushing? Most likely. I turned my head in an attempt to hide it.

"Hey, don't worry, I'm not making fun of you, Todd."

Neil is the last person I'd accuse of making fun of me. Or anybody in general. He is always so kind.

"Don't be ashamed of it! Don't tell them, but Y/n told me they liked you too."

"Really?" I looked at Neil, as a smile made its way on my face.

"I wouldn't lie about that."

To be honest, it made me feel better. There was this moment when Y/n came up to Neil after the play to tell him something. I don't really remember what, I was just looking at Y/n and didn't pay attention to what they said. What I paid attention to were their beautiful y/e/c eyes and that amazing smile they sent us while saying goodbye. I was truly mesmerized. When Y/n looked at me it was like suddenly getting a bucket of cold water poured on me. In that moment I realized I shouldn't have been staring at them, so I looked down. Did Y/n think I was looking at them too long? What if I didn't blink? Honestly I can't recall blinking. But humans blink automatically, so it's normal I don't remember it even if I was blinking, right?

I had been quiet for a while now, thinking about that situation. Neil's voice made me come back to the current moment.

"Carpe diem, Todd!" He exclaimed. "Ask Y/n out tonight, I believe you can do it!"

"Okay, yeah, alright, I will!" I smiled, but a few minutes later I sat on my bed regretting this decision.

How was I supposed to ask Y/n out? 'Hey, I know we don't know each other, but would you like to go on a date with me?'? No way, that would scare them off. Maybe I should wait for Y/n to make the first move?

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

I found out a way to ask Y/n out. Or rather make them realize they can feel free to ask me out.

I waited impatiently for the night, but it came quick. Me and the rest of the boys managed to sneak out like usually. Y/n was waiting for us near the building of our school. Then we all rushed to the cave.

Y/n looked so beautiful. From what I was able to see in flashlight lights, that is. I managed to say hello and Y/n said it back. Their voice was so sweet and soft. Oh my God, I fell hard.

Another night, another meeting started. We all gathered in our usual spots, Y/n sat next to me. I was happy about it, but it also made me nervous.

"Who would like to read first tonight?" Neil asked when he finished the 'opening' of our meeting.

I felt my heart speed up, I could hear my heartbeat in my ears. This is my moment. Now or never. Carpe diem, Todd, carpe diem.

"I wrote a poem." I announced, causing the rest to look at me in surprise.

"Oh, that's awesome!" Neil cheered. "We all would love to hear it."

I stood up and walked to the spot Neil stood in. My hand reached to the pocket of my pants to pull out a page ripped out of a notebook. It was a bit crumpled, my hands were shaky and I was very nervous, but I managed to read my poem out loud.

"I know we have met recently,

But you made my heart skip a beat.

Darling, I fell for you,

And I hope you feel that way too.

Too nervous to admit,

So this is it.

I'm writing this poem with love,

And with hopes you'll know

That it's about you, my new obsession.

The secret is no longer in discretion."

I hid the paper back in my pocket.

"Todd, your poem is very good." Someone said, I didn't really care who.

"Thank you." I said. My eyes searched for Y/n. I calmed down when I noticed a smile on their face.

I went back to the spot I sat in, next to Y/n. Did they like my poem? I hope they realize it's about them. What if they thought it's stupid? I shouldn't have showed it off. If Y/n wasn't scared off already, they will be now.

"Your poem was nice." Y/n whispered suddenly. I looked at them, our faces only a few inches apart.

"T-thank you." I stuttered. Thank God there wasn't enough light to reveal me blushing.

"The person you wrote it about is very lucky."

"Actually... it's about you, Y/n."

"Oh, really?"

Y/n probably thinks I'm creepy, I have to explain everything now. But, how to explain it? Thankfully all the others weren't focusing on what we were talking about.

"Yes, but don't think I'm creepy, or something. I know we barely know each other, but you stole my heart and-"

I stopped explaining when I felt Y/n's hand on mine, squeezing it. My heart fluttered, when I felt Y/n giving me a light kiss on the cheek.

"I loved your poem and I'd love to get to know each other better." Y/n whispered.

[goofyhoffy]

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook × reader

Genre: romcom

Word count : 3.4 k

Warnings : fluffy, swearing, angst, anxiety attack, smut, kinky, abusive language, mention of hickey, sexual harassment, yandere, love, sex, romance, licking, bullying, misunderstanding, one shot, rudeness, humiliation.

Summary: Gone for the last fairwell party where you meet the nerd kid Jeon Jungkook. The rudest boy who hates the popular kid like you. But then something changed and make you fall for him.

Author note: smoky fanfic for some smoky peeps . Share your opinions.

( ◜‿◝ )♡( ◜‿◝ )♡( ◜‿◝ )♡( ◜‿◝ )♡( ◜‿◝ )♡

"You're not going to attend the fairwell party, _____" your mother said. Tonight there is your first year fairwell party at the restaurant. Everyone is already so excited and planned about tonight. But your heartless abusive mother detains you from going.

"Why, that's so cruel. It's my first college fairwell. Everyone will be there. Let me go." You gasped at your mother. She with her eyes wide open signed you to stop your mouth.

"Be at your room till I come back from our ladies get to together. I'll be late, so close all the door. And be at your room. Don't think of going anywhere. Understood." Your mother shouted and leave the house for the party.

You close the door and shouted at the top of your lungs. You're so annoyed that your abusive mother never let you go anywhere. She's so mean that she goes everywhere without letting you go. But you also know your tricks to go there.  You know  the fairwell party gonna be lit with kids on the bars and restaurant all around. As early as your mom leaves you dressed up in your short silk black dress with your long curly hairs open. Match up with some smokey eyes and pencil heels. Afterall you're the most popular kid there, so you have to go there. But you never want to go cause the people around there are so mean and a bully to others.

Though you never get bullied but you felt bad for others. The better you know that the college guys are the meanest and cruelest. You're also so soft hearted that you fear of speaking up for them. Only for this reason you keep hating other and never went to any of the colleges parties. Even everyone insisted you so much. But today there is a sudden urge to attain the party. Because of your bestie since birth. Because of him you're going to the party. The season last party. Your guts are telling you that something big is gonna be happen with you. Something fun gonna be happen.

You waited at the front door for your bestie to pick you up. You checked the time it's already 9 pm and you need to came back by 2 am or else your mother gonna kill your ass of. It's drizzling outside , soft rains are always your favorite but today you don't have the time to appreciate the nature beauty. But you have to kill the party the fullest. You were just waiting.

"Babyygirl, come on! Get inside this beast." Suga shouted at the high pitch. You glad to see your bestie after waiting for them so long. He along with some other guys ride in a black open Jeep Wrangler. You got astonished to see the big Jeep. You walk upon the Jeep and gulped.

"We're going in this?" You questioned.

"Yes baby, now don't waste your time. And get your ass on this." Suga giggled. You get on that open Jeep. Suga helped you too. The Jeep started and all your hair dances in the air. The moonlight along with drizzling cloud make the sky look beautiful. You're feeling so alluring the whole journey.

When you stepped inside the restaurant,  it was nothing like that. It's filled with smoke and known people faces. Kids are drinking , smoking , dancing and making out. As soon as you step in, the focus shifted to you. Everyone started to making cheers, noise with your name. Some people said "look ___ is looking damn hot." "Her ass! I can die for" "can I fuck her only for today" "she wear this dress to show her big cleavage." And some girls there bitching "why this slut is here?" "God! I thought she died. Now who gonna see me." "I need to cover my boyfriends eyes, or else this whore gonna seduce him."  Everyone is just objectifying you. Only for this reasons you  hate to attain any party. All of them only gonna blame or body shames you.

Hearing all of this you squeezed Suga's hand in shame and murmured "Suga can I go home. This place is not for me." He instantly feels that you're feeling uncomfortable. He grapped your hand and shouted "hey people, look! If anyone gonna open their mouth to spite any bad words to ____. I'm gonna make their college life a hell. So shut the fuck up." Suddenly everyone looks downwards and keep on doing their things. Afterall Suga have hype on the college because he's the captain of the basketball and all of the college kids are afraid of him. This is the perks of having a scary bestie.

"Thanks. Today I'm not gonna interrupt you more. So, now you can have fun. I will also find someone to have fun." You sighed to Suga.

"Shut your thanks, babygirl. I'm always here for you only. If anything happens you can  just call me. I will be here around." He said and walked inside the bar.

Being a popular and good looking girl isn't a great thing. People only notice the worst side of you. You're thinking only this things and make your way to the near by open area on that Place. There's no one. Only you and your loneliness appreciating the cloudy night weather. Even though you have Suga as your bestie,  he also can't always look after you. Apart from him, no one was there as your friends. As you interact really less.

Standing there for so long your eyes trail down to a huge postures sitting down the couch. Black leather jacket, high black boots, smokey black eyes, dark gelled hair with tattooed neck a boy was sitting at the couch. You side eyed at him for a better view. He was drawing something. You peek into the painting you saw it was the soothing sky he was drawing. You again trail your eyes to his full muscular body. But you were unable to see his face as he head downs to draw. You just want to look at his face.

For quite a long there,  he said nothing to you. As only both of you're there you thought of asking him. "It's looking like you're painting this beautiful sky." You asked. The boy looked up to your face. His dark glowing eyes look straight into you. It was a known face too. His baby face isn't matching his devil body postures. You mesmerized to his beauty.  You tell you heart you know him, but never noticed him. He was Jungkook, Jeon Jungkook. The nerd kid who always sits at the last bench but tops the class. Who never spokes to anyone. Who's always so lonely when noticed.

"Yeah. I guess you have eyes." Jungkook scoff. But one thing more he's the rudest. Never in his life he talks to anyone in the straight face. Because of that he never have friends. You rolled your eyes.

"I also have mouth but I guess it's best to shut. People are so mean here." You said.

"Huh! Afterall meanest than me. I'm the one who haven't talk about your tits and ass in the whole room here." Jungkook smirked

"Better for you to not open your mouth. I'm only trying to start a conversation with you politely. But you -" Jungkook intrepputed you.

"Yes, I'm the one who shut your bullying mouth. You popular kids always thought we nerds are piece of shit. But we aren't. We aren't even not care for you to answer back. But see today I did." Jungkook again smirked.

"What? I never bullied anyone. Actually you're mad or anything to start a verbal fight here. Do your shitty work, you're good to be alone. Now, I got it why no ones talk to you." You chuckled devilishly.

"I don't make fake friends like you or I say friends with benefits. Huh!" Jungkook giggled.

"Friends with benefits? What do you mean. You totally ruined my mood. Just fuck your life with this shitty attitude you fucking nerd. I'm good to go." You shouted at him and walks towards the bar.

But suddenly,  Jungkook dropped all his drawing book at the floor and runs towards you and grapped you wrist from the back.

"What do you think? Where you're going? " Jungkook said.

You got confused by his actions. "Wait. Why the fuck you touched me? Get off me." You screamed at him. And he instantly released your hand from his grip.

"Cool, using women card huh. See you soon babe." Jungkook smirked turns to devilishly chuckled.  You just get off from there.

Soon you go inside the bar. Asked the bartender to give you some cocktail. He handed over to you. You sit beside a group of creepy men who were keep staring at your thighs. You were getting super uncomfortable because of  that. They're laughing, talking shit about you and your dress. But the limit crossed when one of guys handed over a page to you.

'One night stand! Money as much as you want.' Your blood started to rush over those guys.

You just want to slap them in the face. You hate how the whole fairwell night is turning into a nightmare for you. You never want to come here. You're cussing Suga for insisting you to come.

You grumbled the paper and through it on there faces. But then one of the guys started to touching you inappropriately around your thighs. You don't know what to do. Your anxiety level is getting on peak. All the men covered you and started touching you inappropriately. Out of fear you just sit like a piece of stone.

But then only Jungkook shouted at the group of men around you. His muscular body fitted his leather jacket perfectly. "You creeps,  just get off from her."

One of them says "who is she? Your si-"  Jungkook intrepputed them.

"Yeah, she's my fucking friend. Get off from her." And he grapped your hand and take you aside.

"Just kept your fucking dicks in your pants. If I ever see anyone of you to humiliating any girl. I will cut your penis off. Understood. Fuck off now." He shouted at them. And all of them just leaves the bar.

You're still in a sense of shock. You never believed this happens with you. Room full of air-conditioned but still you're sweating like crazy. You got your first anxiety attack after certain long. Your hand are trembling and tears down to your eyes. You still sense less what's going on.

"You're okay?" Jungkook asked with his baby voice.

You didn't answer anything. You just hugged Jungkook so hard. Nothing in your mind just you hugging him to get some heat and strength. Tears rolled down your eyes stopped to get his presence. He hugged you back and patted your back smoothly. Slowly the terror lives you.

"It's okay. Don't worry. I'm here. You're save." He said.

"I'm here to get your back. Calm down. Your makeup gonna ruin." He scoffs.

"Keep your mouth open. Or else i- " you cut him off.

"I'm okay. Thanks." You gasped.

"Want to have some fresh air outside?" He asked.

"Let's go. I can't breathe here anymore." I sighed. I grapped his wrist and fetch him to outside.

It was storming outside and slow winds crossing over my face. It felt so soothing to go outside and breathe some fresh air. I looked at Jungkook and felt so guilty for misunderstanding him earlier. His baby face just melts my heart. He's a purely the kindest and most helpful. I still regret why I never talked to him on the first hand. Well, I  always have an eye on him for his tonned body. But the behavior always drive me crazy. The way he looked when he was angry at them. His veins hands with silver rings. And those messy dark hair sooths my heart. I once again fall for his kindness,  generosity and smartness.

"Thanks but sorry." You looked at him.

He gazed at me "nothing to thanks me but take care of yourself. A girl should keep her mouth open for herself. Never depend on anyone else other than yourself. You're your own security. Understood."

"Your words are always so deep. But again sorry." You apologized

"Well, I'm sorry too for being rude. I don't mean to but -" you cut him off.

"But nothing. Just end those shitty things. I really liked how you saved me. I promise that from now onwards I will take care of myself." And you smiled at him.

He caressed my cheeks and smiled too. "I always thought you're mean but I was wrong. You're such a sweetheart."

"I know, people assume mean things about me. But at my surprise you're too a darling. But your words are full of sarcasm just like you." You  said.

He giggled at my words. Then you gazed at his eyes and caress his dark long hairs which was covering his baby face. You touched his hairs. You feel a sudden arousal to find him. He was different and amazing. You realized he have something you are finding since a long. He get stumble too with your touch. He felt like he got goosebumps to your touch.  You both keep staring to each others eyes for so long.

But then Jungkook broke it and scoff "your touch gives me goosebumps. Don't be so touchy or else something wrong gonna happen." And you giggled hard at him.

"Okay, I'll give you space." You scoffs.

As you both walk down to a group of boys having tons of beer. The whole area beside them smells like alcohol. You felt like trying some alcohol.

"Want to try some beer?" You asked him.

"Sure. Let's compete who can have more alcohol in their blood tonight." Jungkook smirked to me.

You both took one can of beer and gulped it at one shot. It was so refreshing and taste weird. But alcohol are meant to be tasteless. Jungkook goes for another one and so do you. You both keep on finishing the beer cans one by one. You're so into the competition that both of you crossed all the limits. Just drinking and laughing. After having enough can beer you were just pretending that you're drinking. But you were fully drunk. The alcohol is all over your body. Your dress got drenched with beer. On the other hand, Jungkook keep on going with the beer. Drinking and drinking but not stopping. He's the actual nerd kid who have a super big competitive ass in anything.

"Stop you dick. I can't drink anymore. You win. Cool!" You screamed in annoyance.

"Winner. Yeah. I knew it. No one can win from me." Jungkook yelled.

You made a annoyance face and said "look at my dress, alcohol is all over my body. It's drenched me. I smell like alcohol."

"Are you telling me to lick the beer from your body! Huh?" Jungkook grinned. He's totally drunk. He lost all his senses and so do you. Both are drunk and alone.

"Would you lick me if I say! Huh?" You giggled.

"Just say and I will lick you all up from head to toe baby." He smirked. And walk up to you and licked your neck.

"Stop it. I'll clean it myself." you pushed him kiddingly and ran towards the washroom to clean all the mess up.

At the water basin, you got some tissues and clean all the mess. From neck to your torso where all the beer spilled. But there also Jungkook followed you from the back.

You suddenly feel someone touched your back. You looked back and realized Jungkook is hugging you from behind. Locking your hands and softly kissing your ears. His warm huge body fits you finely. The alcohol fragrance along with his cologne smells it's so sexy. You don't want to leave him and not either tried to get out of his grip. He makes you so comfortable with his body all over you. That's feels so calming and horny. You want him to eat you.

"I said I'll lick you clean. You don't need to clean yourself." Jungkook softly said.

He then smoothly take your open hair aside and kissed your neck. It's feels like you're the last person to eat in this planet. He spins you and now you're facing him. He's so close to your face, you can feel his hot alcoholic breath on your face. He kissed you again all over your neck and beyond leaving some purple marks on your fine white body.

"Don't you want to clean by me! Huh?" Jungkook smirked.

"I-I yes, I want." You said in a shaky voice.

He hovered over you with his lips. Licking neck to chin and then he stopped. He looked into your deep pale eyes. You meet his eyes. His eyes speaking that he will made you watch the heavenly stars today. Without any second thought he kissed you in lips. You deepens the kiss with your tongue into him. His pink juicy lips taste so fine.  He bit you on your upper lips which make it more loving. Then his one hand goes under my dress while the other is still there to deepens your lips. You put your hands on his long dark gelled hair. You both are caressing each other. Deep moans under Neath the breath was changed. Before going out of breath you broke the kiss and you both breathed so heavily.

He lifted you on the top of the water basin of the washroom and touched your inner thigh. A little moans let out from your mouth. His cold long fingers when touched your warm fizzy thighs it's giving you thrills. You spread your long legs further directing him to devour you inside. The hot make out already make you so wet that you can't resist. He pulled the hem of your dress and looks at the most beautiful site at that time. His eyes were glowing to meet with your small pussy.

"You want?" Jungkook asked me before putting his hands further.

"I want you to fuck me. Made me see the stars tonight." You softly screamed.

Jungkook getting the signal to proceed he touched your wet pussy over the panties. But the panties are already drenched of your cum. He gulped and smirked leaving your panty at the floor. He tilted you aside and thrust two of his finger inside of you. His cold veiny long fingers when get inside you, it gives you thrills. You moan his name. He gently thrust each of the finger inward. You already can see the stars.

"Jun-Jungkook!" You moans

"You want more?" Jungkook asked.

"Jun-Jungkook. Yeah. I want you to be inside." You screamed in pleasure.

He gently keeps on going with his fingers all the way. You lift up and you can see the budge on Jungkook jeans. You unlock his belt and put his jeans off. His big member is already waiting for you. Your eyes glowed up to see his big huge dick. You stroke it and it's already having a Boner. Jungkook stops and looked at your eyes.

"Are you sure that you can take my member inside you! Huh?" He smirked.

"Can't wait more to have you inside me. I want your fucking dick to tear my fragile pussy." You growned.

"Then let's just fuck you, ______" Jungkook moans.

You spread your legs further and he put his tip of the cock inside you. He's teasing you but then you thrust him in. His huge cock perfectly fits your pussy. He started to thrust fast and fast. He's moaning your name at high pitch. And you want him more and more. His hips are thrusting hard into you. You see all the colours of the stars. Jungkook made you realize the pleasure. It's get so heated that at last he thrust your g spot. You feel relieved.

"I'm going to cum, Kook." You said.

"I want you to cum on my fucking dick!" He exclaimed.

You cumed in his dick and all over his shirt. Your white liquid is all over the place. He smirked and gently took you off the water basin.

"Did I licked you well, ____?" Jungkook murmured.

"Yeah, I want you to lick me every day, Jungkook." You said softly.

He gently put your clothes on and you wear them. He also did the same. And he kissed your forehead and patted with love.

[sundaysundaes]

Before Our Story Began

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader | Smut, Fluff | 7.4k | College AU Summary: The popular new kid at your campus has this habit of raising his eyebrows when he flirts and you just realized that maybe you have a kink for it.

It has the same setting as my previous Mark Lee X Reader’s stories (Our First Time and Drunk Antics) but if you’re not into Mark (I’m not judging but what is wrong with you) you can just skip those two because this story can be read separately. 

Before dating the socially-awkward, yet utterly adorable Mark Lee, you have had your fair share of relationships that are now reduced into the form of awkward friendships. Your last boyfriend was Lee Donghyuck—who also publicly known as Haechan—and that fact does not sit well with Mark, because well, they were the best of friends. They still are, but it feels like they’re walking on thin ice whenever you’re in the picture so you try your best to stay away from your ex just to make sure everything is all right with the three of you.

Which is quite weird, knowing how close you were with Haechan before.

It was weird in the beginning, but fate really did play a major role in your relationship. You were in your second year of college and you’d managed to pull yourself together by that time, though you hadn’t really made any real friends yet. You weren’t aware of Mark’s existence either at that point, though he probably had with him being your long-time secret admirer after all. You were too busy trying to adapt to the new college and dormitory life, as well as trying to keep your grades up, that you could barely spend some time socializing with people. Project partners and study buddies were really as far as you could go with the term of friendship during your first year.

Your relationship didn’t exactly start as friends with Lee Donghyuck. Even though he had made tons of friends since his orientation days in college, you were certainly not one of them. You didn’t even know he existed in your world, and neither did he. Younger than both you and Mark, Haechan shone like the sun almost in every aspect of his life and unlike you, people had surely noticed that because he was academically smart, physically good-looking, very social and adventurously funny. It didn’t take long before he became popular at your campus. So popular, in fact, that you heard chatters of his name when you walked down the campus’ hallway with your textbooks in your arms. You had only known his name but not his face, so you didn’t really feel nervous or overly excited like any other girls would’ve probably had when you accidentally sat next to him during public speaking class and saw that he had a silly note stuck on his back, pressed against his black hoodie.

“Hey,” you called, loud enough for him to hear but quiet enough so the people around you wouldn’t notice. “You’ve got something on your back.”

The boy was young, and he had the smoothest golden skin you’d ever seen on a boy. You would probably kill to have his perfect sun-kissed skin. He had slightly chubby cheeks and a mop of dark brown hair with bangs falling over his eyes. He was slouching forward in his seat with his arms draped over his table, staring lifelessly at the board. His lower lip was jutting out in boredom and slight annoyance, reminding you of a five-year-old boy missing his favorite cartoon. He threw a glance to the side, looking at you with big, chocolate brown eyes, and his eyebrows raised in question.

“What?” He asked and you pointed to the back of his hoodie with your pen.

“I won’t judge if it’s the kind of thing you’re into,” you said, “but I don’t think placing a note behind your back with the words Spank Me, Mama, written on it is the best way to actually, you know, get it.”

He blushed and he blushed so hard that it made you think huh, he’s kinda cute, but you buried the thought right away. You had promised yourself to focus better that year. Falling head over heels for a fellow student on the first day of your new term was not the right way to do it.

“Right, thanks.” He struggled with the note, reaching behind his back as if his skin was on fire. You were about to help when he finally snatched the paper and read the words under his breath, eyes widening in shock.

“I assume that’s not your handwriting?” You were amused but tried your best not to tease him so much.

He did this pout that actually kind of fit his face, probably because he still had that baby face going on. Most of the guys you knew would look immensely disgusting if they pulled that kind of pout. Take your brother, Johnny, for example. Even the thought of him doing that already made you feel like punching your fist against a wall.

“I would weep myself to sleep if my handwriting was this bad,” he grumbled and you smiled secretly to yourself. He turned to you, an awkward grin painting his face. “Sorry, my friends are assholes. Do you happen to know a swamp nearby where I can dump dead bodies without being found out?”

You nod. “I know a place but it’s no longer free, though. They charge you, like, ten thousand won per body. Which is why I’m broke.”

His timid grin grew into a bright smile, probably feeling quite elated that somebody shared the same type of dumb humor as him. “I’m Lee Donghyuck.” He sneaked a hand under a table and you took it for a handshake, answering him with your name. “Thanks for saving my life.”

“Most welcome. You can save me back later when I have the words spank me, daddy, glued to my back.”

“So your friends are assholes too?”

“It’s what people have in common these days, I suppose.”

But when your professor spoke louder to make sure he didn’t any other noise in the room except his own, you had to cut your conversation short and only threw small grins at him every now and then.

When the class ended, you both parted ways with nothing more than a small wave of a hand and a casual, “Well, I guess, I’ll see you later.” You thought it would be too weird to get even friendlier than that, and he probably did too. You admitted that he was cute, but not cute enough for you to ditch your next class and make out with him in the nearest parking lot. You thought you were going to see him again soon anyway, probably the next week when the same class started.

And you were right, but you wished you weren’t because Donghyuck came back to your class the following week looking like a full-course meal.

Donghyuck probably had his hair cut short somewhere on the weekend and it looked absolutely fucking perfect on his head. His bangs were no longer hiding his eyes, and it was clear to you then that Donghyuck with his forehead seen, combined with those thick beautiful eyebrows and mesmerizing round eyes, were really something to behold.

He didn’t notice you were already in the class when he walked in, with his bag slinging on one shoulder. Some rowdy boys were shouting at the back of the room, “Haechan-ah, over here! Saved you a seat!” And Donghyuck grinned at them, waving his hand before he walked toward their seats and you thought Lee Donghyuck is Haechan?! That Haechan?! And mentally slapped yourself on the face when the flashback hit you. You had the chance to talk to one of the most popular boys in school and you talked about swamp and dead bodies.

Absolutely fucking perfect.

After you managed to collect yourself, you couldn’t hold back this urge to sneak a few glances to the back of the class, trying to catch a glimpse of that beautiful forehead of his—which you realized by then that you had some kind of a kink for it—without having him notice you.

But he did. He did notice every time you tried to secretly stare and he reciprocated each time with a smile, raising one of his eyebrows almost dangerously seductive at you and you thought goddamn if that wasn’t the sexiest thing I’ve seen in my twenty years of living I don’t know what is.

You offered your best effort to stay fucking calm despite everything that had been going on in your head, waving one hand at him with a small—hopefully not creepy—smile on your face. You immediately turned around right after, swallowing your breath, and tried not to vomit because your stomach felt like it was about to lurch out of your mouth. It wasn’t really an unpleasant feeling; it was just kind of new to you and you loathed the way your heart was slamming against your ribcages.

Okay, you mentally calmed yourself, get a hold of yourself. No need to panic. He’s just another cute boy, with a cute haircut, and a cute smirk, and a cute forehead and—

You really didn’t like where it was going.

When the class ended—and you didn’t learn a thing about it—you shoved your iPad back into your bag and let out the loudest sigh you had ever made in your sorry life.

“Bad day?”

Haechan’s voice was next to your ear and though you only jerked slightly on the outside, most of your soul had actually gone to heaven—or hell, from all those dirty thoughts you had about him during the last two hours of that lecture.

“Yeah,” you cooly replied. Thank God, your voice didn’t betray you. “My swamp is full again. I have to start looking for a new place.”

AM I SERIOUSLY TALKING ABOUT ANOTHER FUCKING SWAMP—

But Haechan was laughing about it, not too much but the amusement on his face was genuine. “It’s cute that you remember our previous conversation.”

“It’s cute that you do too.”

“Well, actually, that’s what I’ve been thinking about for the last week,” he told you with a smirk on his face. You dared to bet on your life that he was flirting with you and you were about to scream out of joy but you reminded yourself to play it cool.

“I don’t think it’s a conversation worth remembering,” you commented nonchalantly.

“Not if I had it with anyone else.”

You almost fell from your seat. “On second thought, it was a pretty interesting conversation, what with the—”

“Noona.” He suddenly leaned close, laying one hand on your desk to prop his weight. There was that smirk again—the one with his eyebrow raised. “I’m trying to flirt with you and ask you out on a date, if you haven’t noticed.”

Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth and you could hear your own heartbeat in your ears at that point. You had thought about it—about him asking you out—but your imagination did not do justice on how smooth and confident or how goddamn attractive he looked in real life. “Oh.”

“Oh.” He imitated, smirking a bit wider and you were dazed with how bright he shone. “So, can I take you out for lunch? Not anywhere close to swamps full of dead bodies, I swear.” Then after a small pause, he added, “Unless, that’s what you’re into.”

“Shut up,” you retorted, standing up and gathering all your belongings into your arms. “You’re paying.”

He laughed softly to himself, trailing after you with a cheeky grin on his face. “This swamp thing could be our thing, though.”

“Shut up.”

***

Haechan was not one to take it slow, you remember, which is way different from how Mark does things with you.

It wasn’t like Haechan was overly aggressive—as far as boys go, he was pretty normal about the whole dating and sex thing—but he really just head straight to the point whenever he had something in mind, whether it was by a sudden change of topic in your conversation, or acting it out directly with his body.

While Mark tends to plan things, Haechan just did everything out on a whim. You could be talking about science fiction movies at a cafe at one point, and ended up with having your clothes soaked with water by the next few hours because he suddenly felt like the day was too hot and jumping into the campus pool fully clothed was a good idea. You weren’t sure why you’d said yes to all of that when you just barely knew him but Haechan could be very persuasive. So dangerously so, that you would probably say yes to anything.

It was on your third date when he suddenly bent his head down and cut you in the middle of your sentence with a kiss. It was only a small peck, a quick pressing of his plump lips against yours, but it still managed to literally stop you from breathing for a good couple of seconds.

“Sorry,” he said, pulling away with his eyes still staring at your lips. “I was… distracted.”

You knew it was lust in his eyes and you were familiar with yourself enough to know that you usually preferred to have your first kiss after you knew the guy for a certain amount of time. But Haechan—the way he sometimes stared at your lips for a millisecond while you were talking, or hugged you for a few seconds too long before you parted ways—really made you feel special. Made you feel… wanted. And it had been a long time since someone made you feel that way.

So it really didn’t come too much of a surprise that when he dipped his head down to kiss you again, you responded with as much passion as he emitted. You didn’t care that both of you were still standing in the middle of your co-ed dorm’s hallway, though it was empty from how late it was. You had your fingers tangled in his hair as you tiptoed and leaned your entire weight to his body, making him inhale sharply and curl his fingers around the fabric of your dress.

“Again,” he breathed when you pulled away for a split second and immediately brought you back to him again. Haechan had one arm around your waist and another one holding your face, angling your head to the side so he could kiss you deeper.

Haechan was a good kisser—so frighteningly so that it made you feel conscious of how inexperienced you were compared to him. And with the way his hands were moving around your body, you could tell that things were going a bit too fast.

“Haechan—”

The hand that you laid on his chest to give you both some space, was brought over your head as he pressed your body against the door of your room. He kissed you harder, almost knocking your head against the wooden surface, and you could taste the flavor of the lollipop he had on his way back to your dorm. His scent was intoxicating in the best way possible, numbing your mind from thinking how this could probably end up in a bad decision.

“Haechan-ah, wait,” you gasped against his mouth, and when he did, pulling away from you for a few inches to catch his own breath, you noticed that even if you managed to stop him, you probably wouldn’t sound very convincing.

It was really fortunate that although Haechan was a man of passion, he still had the patience to make your consent his priority. “Too fast?” He asked, warm breath fanning against your lips and you really wanted to just close those few inches between you and be smothered with his kisses again.

So you did, and you could feel him smirking into the kiss. The way he slipped his tongue between your mouth made your knees buckle underneath your weight so you clutched onto him as if you were hanging to dear life. Haechan formed this low grunt at the back of his throat that made your skin tingle in delight, knowing that you had that kind of effect on him.

But really, something still didn’t feel right.

“Do you want to stop?” He asked, noticing how you fidgeted uncomfortably under his touch. He looked like stopping at this point would be the last thing he wanted to do but he still gave you the space you needed.

You nodded your head slowly at his question. Haechan looked like he had to put his best effort to gain control of his body and move away from you, and you could totally relate at that point, actually. You weren’t really sure why did you even stop him before. It just felt like the right thing to do but at the same time, it was the last thing you wanted to do.

“Haechannie—"

“I’m sorry,” he said, taking a step away from you and releasing you from his hold. You were surprised by the fact that you almost fell down to the floor when he wasn’t holding you.

“No, don’t be—it was, umm,” You cleared your throat. The collar of your knitted sweater suddenly felt too tight. “It was good.”

“Good?” Haechan asked, smirking as he raised an eyebrow and you thought fuck there’s that look again and you cursed inwardly a few more times for feeling so whipped for his little, seductive eyebrow raise. “I thought that was more than good, Noona.”

“Probably for you,” you wanted to tease but you could hear your voice crack at the end.

“Oh, really?”

And he kissed you again because he never wanted to lose his game. He knew he already had you wrapped under his fingers; he just wanted to make you succumb to him. To have you say how amazing his touches really felt on your skin because he was just that kind of a guy.

And he was winning. Your reaction was exactly the way he wanted you to be, arching your back under his touch, pressing your chest against his, tongue darting out to taste the inside of his mouth better and longer.

“No, wait, timeout.” You pushed him away again and you noticed that his hair was a mess from the work of your fingers and weirdly enough, it only made him ten thousand times hotter.

“Noona, you’re torturing me.” He whined against your shoulder, playfully biting the skin over your clothes. “Do you want me to stop or not?”

Haechan had the habit of whining when things didn’t go his way. It was immature and it would probably look childishly annoying on someone else, but it only made him  that much more adorable. Still annoying most of the time, but always adorable.

“I’m sorry.” You were torn between feeling bad or laughing about it because my God, look at that pout. “Maybe a five-minute break? I could make you some coffee. My roommate is away for the weekend.”

He sighed, the pout on his lips grew even more apparent. “You’re inviting me to your room? At this hour? After this?”

“I’m not going to have sex with you tonight, Lee Donghyuck, just to be clear.”

“Which is the more reason why you shouldn’t be inviting me over then!”

You laughed because his voice was becoming quite high-pitched. “Are you so incapable of using your brain instead of your dick?”

“Noonaaaaa~” He threw his head back in exasperation, which gave you the chance to ogle at the column of his throat. “Seriously, is torturing guys at the end of a date your sick hobby or something?”

“Look, if you stay over, we can still make-out.” You throw a smirk at him, unlocked your door and pushed it wide open. “And I make the most amazing coffee, trust me.”

“Fine,” he exhaled, walking into your room with a suppressed smile on his face. “And I’m only here for coffee, nothing more. Making-out with you is just a bonus.” And you found yourself giggling like a child as he cradled you into his arms and pushed you down to your bed because you both knew, it was the other way around.

***

About a month later, a similar situation happened again and there was no getting out of it.

It started with Haechan coming over to your room on a Sunday afternoon. Your roommate was staying over at her boyfriend’s place again for the weekend, so you had the room to yourself for the entire day. Haechan came unplanned and he’d brought his MacBook with him because, “I know myself well enough that I’d end up playing Overwatch instead of working on my assignment, so could you please be a responsible adult and force me to do my work even if I start crying at your feet?”

Haechan was always the dramatic one in your relationship but you nodded your head and let him in. You brought over some snacks and made him coffee like usual—which he always replied with, “Noona, I don’t want to sound like an ungrateful boyfriend but this coffee tastes like shi—” but was always finished with a pillow smacked to his face, a form of your courtesy.

You were working on your own papers too, sitting on the carpeted floor with your back pressed against the foot of your bed and a MacBook resting on your lap. Your textbooks were sprawled all over the place, and Haechan was lying down on your bed, head falling over the edge. He was looking at his phone, his thumb running up and down the screen.

“Noona?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m bored.”

“Aren’t you supposed to work on your assignment?”

“Finished it already.”

You threw a look over your shoulder, glancing to see him lounging on your bed as if it was his own. Haechan already had his MacBook closed, and was looking at you upside down with a completely bored look on his face. You knew he was smart, but you didn’t know he was that smart when he really put his mind to it.

“Well, that was fast,” you commented.

“No, you’re just doing it painfully slow.”

“Well, sorry for not being as smart as you,” you mumbled, even though you weren’t really annoyed about it. Haechan  huffed and walked closer, sitting closely right behind you, and trapping you between his legs.

“You’re the smartest girl I’ve ever met, though,” he said, wrapping his arms around your waist. “What are you working on exactly?”

“I don’t even know, honestly,” you sighed, leaning against his chest, dropping your head on his shoulder. “You wanna order some take-out?”

“Can I eat you for dinner instead?”

“Was that a sex joke, Lee Donghyuck?”

“Could be, if you’re interested.” You could see him wiggling his eyebrows from his reflection on your standing mirror. Both of you looked adorable, if you could say so yourself, wearing a matching white shirt (though not on purpose) and enjoying each other’s warmth with Haechan’s arms wrapped protectively around your figure. You sighed as you admired the sight of Haechan’s features in the mirror.

“Have I told you how sexy you look with your hair pushed back like this?” You asked, reaching out to touch some of his strands and he followed your gaze, looking at his own reflection in the mirror.

“Huh.” He seemed surprised. “It’s the first time you said that actually. What else do you think is sexy about me?”

“Promise you won’t get cocky about it if I tell you?”

“Can’t. You know how I am.”

You sighed but you succumbed to his wish. He praised you from time to time, it was only fair for you to do the same. “The way you dance.”

“You saw me dance?”

“Hm-hmm.”

“When?”

“That time when we went to Jaemin’s party. You were dancing to Billy Jean.”

“You saw that?!” He was flustered, scarlet painting his cheeks and ears. “That was—I thought you were in the bathroom!”

“Well, I was going to but then I saw you and kinda had to stop and stare for a little. You dance more with your hips than with your hands, do you know that? It was kinda hot.”

And just like that, the flabbergasted look on his face was immediately replaced with that Godforsaken cocky smirk again. “Were you turned on back then because of me?”

“A little. Or maybe I just really had to pee.”

“You should’ve said something, you know.”

“And then what? Have sex with you in Jaemin’s room? No freaking way.”

“We could’ve used my car. My hips could do so much more than just dancing, you know.”

“You’re disgusting.” You elbowed him slightly on the stomach to stop him from giggling, before you focused back on your MacBook. “Now, shoo, my boy. Mommy’s gotta work.”

Haechan had his chin on one of your shoulders. “But Noona~”

“I’m studying.”

“I’m bored~” He whined like the baby that he was, nuzzling his nose against the crook of your neck and you flinched slightly when his breath tickled your skin. “Can we make-out? Please pretty pleaseeeee~”

“Give me half an hour to finish this real quick—”

“Noonaaaaaaa~”

“What?” You were trapped between laughing and acting annoyed about it. “I seriously need to study. Didn’t you tell me to be a responsible adult for today?”

“You could also be a responsible adult by making-out with me though.” He chuckled to himself. “We could do adult things if you—”

“No,” you firmly stated though your smile kept on appearing on your face. You pushed a palm against his cheek, playfully shoving him away. “Now, go away, Dongsookie, I really have to study.”

“Fine,” he exhaled loudly against your shoulder and you could practically feel his pout growing on his face. He didn’t let you go, though. He kind of just sat there behind you, still circling his arms around your waist as he lazily stared at the words you were typing on the keyboard. You had trouble concentrating with the way you could feel every time he took in a breath from how close his chest was pressed against your spine but eventually you got the hang of it.

You were already working on your third page when Haechan suddenly had his lips on the side of your neck, lazily suckling on the skin until you could no longer ignore him.

“Haechannie.”

“Hmm?”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m playing a game,” he murmured against your skin, licking at the soft skin before he nibbled at it with his teeth. “It’s called how fast can I distract my girlfriend from working over a stupid assignment instead of spending time with me.”

“But I am spending time with you, though.”

“You know what I mean.”

And you had to bite your lip because he had a certain kind of pressure on his words that made your skin tingle in anticipation. His lips were soft but scorching hot as he drew bruises on your skin and it felt so good and dangerous at the same time. It was like standing on a bridge made of glass, both exciting and terrifying.

“You know what I think is sexy about you?” He quietly asked, one hand running down your body, slipping under your shirt and hovering dangerously close to your bra. “The way you say my name when we kiss,” he continued, adding a soft moan when he latched his lips around your earlobe.

You shivered, feeling heat growing on your cheeks. “Haechannie—”

“Yes, like that,” he chuckled, his voice suddenly became deeper. “You’re so sexy, you’re driving me insane.”

You tried your best to ignore him, you really did. But the second he had his warm mouth against your lips, his fingers grabbing your face almost forcefully to turn towards him, you just lost it and you found yourself crawling into his lap, tangling your legs around his waist and moaning against his mouth as he was against yours.

“Noona,” he sighed when you kissed down his neck, as if your every touch was a gift that he craved more and more. He shuddered slightly when you had your hand under his shirt and as if you just pushed the wrong button, he suddenly picked you up by the waist, shoved your textbooks away with one swipe of the back of his hand, and laid you down on the carpeted floor in one swift motion.

“If you keep doing that,” he breathed out heavily, eyes glazed as he stared at your kiss swollen lips. “I won’t be able to stop, even if you beg me to.”

You weren’t sure what came over you but you found yourself hooking your fingers around his necklace and brought his face down, whispering, “Then don’t stop,” directly against his lips.

It was all rush and passion and Haechan was not wasting even a second away before he began to undress you, removing each clothing very easily and you secretly wondered just how many times had he done this before from how smooth he unclasped your bra with one flick of his finger.

He pulled his shirt over his head, his silver necklace hanging loosely around his neck. “Tell me if I’m being too fast,” he said, before he climbed on top of you, throwing the piece of clothing away without a care. Your heart jumped at the sight of him, knowing how this could lead to something more but couldn’t really stop him. Not with the way he had his hands reaching down from the valley of your breasts, down to your stomach, his fingers brushing above the hem of your jeans.

His kiss was always breathtaking, to say the least, but it was a bit different this time because it felt like he was losing control of himself. His kiss was almost forceful, his teeth roughly nibbling at your lower lip before he moved down your chin and found his place in the crook of your neck again. His hand was on your chest, cupping you fully with his palm and let out this sexy groan when he felt you gasping his name against his mouth.

“Fuck, you’re just doing that on purpose now, aren’t you?” He hissed, eyes clouded with lust. He peppered kisses down your chest, lips hovering above your nipple when he said, “You’re being cruel, Noona.” You were tugging at his dark locks when he placed it between his lips, sucking at the sensitive spot, and you tried to hold back your moan but failing every time.

Haechan was giggling to himself, his tongue flicking around the bud. “The way you’re reacting to me is so cute. I didn’t know you were this sensitive.” He ran his tongue across his lower lip, staring at you like he wanted to ravish every part of you, which he probably did. “You’re so goddamn cute.”

“Haechannie.”

“Yeah?”

“I won’t be needing that kind of commentary ever again in the future, thanks,” you uttered, trying your best to focus on his touch and not his words because Haechan could be annoyingly talkative sometimes.

He chuckled again, moving along to land a few kisses on your stomach. “If you’re that sensitive here, how sensitive will you be if I touch you right over…” He trailed a finger down from your belly button to the edge of your underwear. His eyes twinkled gleefully before he rubbed your clit over your underwear. “…here?”

You gave your best strength to stay sane but Haechan’s giggle over your reaction only tortured you even further. “Stop playing around,” you hissed under your breath, pretty sure that you were blushing from ear to ear.

“Playing?” Haechan grinned tauntingly, “I’m being pretty serious, though.” He spread your legs, kissing the inner part of your trembling thigh before he hovered dangerously close to the point you could feel his breath down there. You couldn’t help but gulp in anticipation and Haechan knew that. He knew how much you wanted him to take off your underwear and eat you out like it’s his last meal.

But of course, being the little fucking devil that he was, Haechan only threw you his usual smirk and said, “You know I’d do anything for you, right, Noona? You just gotta beg for it.”

“No way.”

“Otherwise, I wouldn’t know.” He faked a pout. “I’m younger than you, you know. I need you to teach me these things.”

You reciprocated by kicking him right on his abs because as desperate as you were, there was no way in hell you were going to grovel at his feet, begging for him to please you. “All right, all right, I’m sorry, geez!” Haechan said, laughing as he successfully dodged two of your first kicks. Soon after, he grabbed your moving legs, carefully placed them on his sides and ran his hands slowly from your legs to your thighs. He took a long glance at your body, sighing like it was some kind of beautiful torture for him to take. “You don’t even realize how hot you are, do you?” He leaned closer and grabbed you by your chin, locking both of your gazes together. “Do you even know how hard I am right now because of you?”

It was a rhetorical question, clearly, because you could definitely tell how hard and hot he was pressing against you, even if his jeans and your underwear were still on the way.

“God, just—” you gasped when he slipped a knee between your legs, pressing it against your core. “Just stop being a fucking tease and fuck me already, Donghyuck.”

And he grinned against your skin. “Fucking finally.” You heard him say under his breath, before he carried you in his arms and moved you to the bed. It felt somewhat scary, how fast he was being, because you had only experienced sex once and it was the painfully awkward kind of sex with your high school boyfriend and you didn’t really have the chance to practice it with anyone else while it seemed to you, at this point, was clearly not the case for him.

Haechan had his eyes on you, all half-lidded with lust and passion, as he unbuckled the belt of his jeans and you had to gulp at the sight. He didn’t really have six-pack abs like Jaehyun—considering your boyfriend was quite an athlete during his senior days—but his shoulders were broad, his chest was toned, his stomach was lean and his skin, as it glistened slightly with sweat, was just absolutely breathtaking.

“Enjoying the view?” He asked, and you knew how he’d always been cocky in his entire life, but he’d never been this cocky. “You’re practically drooling.”

“I am not,” you retorted but you lacked confidence. Haechan grabbed a condom from the pocket of his jeans before he climbed back into the bed with his jeans unbuttoned.

“Why do you already have a condom with you?”

“Because I came prepared.”

“I thought you said you wanted to study.”

“Among other things,” he grinned against your lips and shushed down your next protest. “I will be studying your body, if you give me the chance.”

“That was so lame.” But even your insult couldn’t mask how nervous you sounded, especially when Haechan was settling himself between your legs again, fingers hooking around your underwear.

“Final chance if you want me to stop, Noona,” he said though it felt like it was almost impossible for him to stop. “I’m serious. After this, I won’t stop even if you cry.”

You swallowed your breath, heart thrumming loud against your chest. “Just do whatever you want,” you answered, almost too quiet for even your ears to hear but Haechan’s eyes gleamed in anticipation.

“That’s my girl,” he said, grabbing your thighs and spreading your legs apart before he leaned in to taste your mouth again. “I’ll be gentle, don’t worry.”

You realized you were holding your breath when Haechan wrapped the condom around his length and he had his eyes on you before he pushed in, asking with an unexpected low voice of his, “Ready?”

But he did not wait for an answer and you found yourself hissing when he pushed in, slowly at first and suddenly all at once. You twisted your fingers against the bed sheet, biting your lower lip because it hurt trying to adjust to his size and Haechan was a little bit lost in his own thoughts, muttering, “Fuck, you’re so tight,” under his breath, slightly throwing his head back out of pleasure. “Noona, you’re so fucking tight. Do you know that?”

He leaned closer to you, chest pressing against your breasts as he mouthed against the skin of your shoulder and slowly began to move his hips. “You all right?” He asked, making eye contact after a while and you shakily nodded your head, though the pain was still there. “Then I’ll move faster.”

You almost hit your head against your headboard when he suddenly picked up the pace, thrusting into you hard and deep; it knocked the breath out of your lungs. “Haecha—” you could barely speak at that point, arms clutching tight to his back, nails raking against his spine.

“Fuck,” he uttered between heavy breaths as he sat on his knees, holding both of your legs in the air, almost splitting your body in half and pushed deeper. “How the fuck do you feel this good, I—” he ended his sentence short, kissing your ankle instead, his eyes never leaving yours. “I wanna keep you—you’re so pretty like this, Noona—so fucking pretty—”

Haechan was always good with his words but at that time, he was making incoherent noises at the back of his throat, jumping from one sentence to another as if he was thinking about several things at once and he was running out of time.

“Haechan, wait—s-slow down—” You placed a hand on his shoulder, tears forming in your eyes. “You’re moving too fast—It hurts—”

Haechan was unfocused, but the last two words that slipped from your mouth brought him back to reality. He stopped almost immediately, looking at you with eyes searching your face. “Does it hurt?” He asked and you nodded, your body shaking a little bit. His gaze softened, cupping your cheek in his hand before he slowly pulled out of you. “I’m sorry, come here.” He cradled you into his arms, sitting down on the bed and helped you climb into his lap. “Maybe if we do it this way,” he said, wiping a tear from your eye with his thumb, “You’ll feel better?”

You could feel him twitching below you, the tip of his cock pressing against your folds. Haechan stayed true to his promise, he wasn’t going to stop even if you cried and that’s fine because you didn’t want him to.

“Take your time,” Haechan said, smiling gently in a way that was so not him that it made you feel weird. You could tell that he was trying to keep himself calm and composed even when all he wanted to do was to fuck you senselessly.

He pushed inside again, but let you take control of the pace this time. You slid down slowly, wincing slightly at the friction but it no longer hurt as much. Haechan was staring at you the entire time, unconsciously licking his lower lip when you slowly began to bounce on his lap.

“Kiss me,” he demanded and you did, sharing his breath and his moans, and tangling your hands in his hair. When he felt your body relaxing against him, he grabbed you by the waist and suddenly thrust forward, making you gasp and clenched your legs together.

“Fuck,” he moaned under his breath, hissing at how perfect you felt around him. “Noona, you can be mad at me as much as you want after this but for now let me just—” he groaned, furrowing his eyebrows at the feeling of him sliding in and out of you. “Just let me fuck you the way I want.”

And you found yourself thrown back to the bed with him thrusting into you deep and raw, faster and much more forceful than before. His nails were sinking into your skin from how hard he was holding you by your hips, keeping you still as he rocked his hips forward as hard and as fast as he liked. Expletives were falling from his lips between his low grunts and breathy moans and you couldn’t help but sob a little at how strong he was going. It felt painfully amazing, and you knew your body wasn’t making any sense, and it surprised you when your orgasm hit you like a wave, just a few seconds before he reached his. You honestly never thought that something so painful could also bring this much pleasure and you wanted to be mad at him but you couldn’t even find the energy to keep yourself up.

You fell down to the bed with Haechan toppling on top of you almost immediately, chest heaving fast as he tried to bring back some air into his lungs.

“Holy fucking hell,” he said, breathing heavily at the juncture of your neck. “That was so good. This is probably the first time I—”

“Haechannie.”

“Oh right, shit!” He immediately jumped away, giving you some space and gently placed his palm on the side of your face, checking your condition. “Are you okay? Are you hurt somewhere? Noona, I’m so sor—Yah!“

You pinched him by the nose, glowering at him with the little strength you have left and you didn’t let go even if he was tapping frantically against the back of your hand, asking for time-outs before you broke his bones.

Well, he said you could be mad at him all you want. It was time for him to face your wrath and it was not going to be pretty.

***

It wasn’t long until your name became a famous topic to discuss around the hallway too and it felt weird yet exciting at the same time, because it was true. You were dating Lee Haechan. And no matter how many times you had to convince yourself that it wasn’t solely your imagination, it still felt unreal.

Because Haechan was shining like the sun, and you couldn’t really shine as bright.

It suddenly felt like high school all over again when you’d once dated the Prom King, Jung Jaehyun, where people always talked behind your back, making comments about your face, or your body, or your attitude and how every aspect of your life did not fit the legendary high school prince that was Jung Jaehyun. It had gotten so much into your head that you had to break up with him, and hating yourself for over a year on how weak you’d become.

Dating Haechan was similar but different in the way he treated you. Jaehyun was too kind, not really saying anything back to anyone who said awful things about you and instead, just told you to not pay any mind about it. Haechan was much braver in saying the things that came to mind, so whenever he heard people talking trash about you, he would come up to them with words laced with venom. It was kind of childish, the way he got worked up rather easily, and even more childish when he continued to pout and fume about it even after a whole day had passed.

“Seriously, I said I’m fine,” you once said to him, entering his Hyundai after he opened the door for you.

“Well, I’m pissed off,” he said, unconsciously closing the door a bit too hard, making you flinch slightly. He walked to the other side of the car, sinking to his seat behind the wheel and exhaled loudly.

“Haechannie.”

“What?” His tone was still a bit harsh, but you knew he didn’t mean to shout at you.

“Thank you for defending me,” you softly said, reaching out for his hand. “But at this point, you’re gonna be mad with literally everyone and anger does not look pretty on you.”

“But aren’t you pissed, though? They literally have no business whatsoever to—”

“I know.” You squeezed his hand. “Look if it gets worse, we can always plan out something. There’s this perfect swamp I know outside of town.”

And Haechan couldn’t help but smile. Maybe he was right, that swamp thing could really be your thing. “You and your stupid swamp,” he muttered, shaking his head in amusement as he grabbed your face for a kiss. “Can we have sex at your place today?”

You sighed. It was always like this when it came to him.  “Sure, why not.”

Because certainly, you weren’t complaining.

***

[the-magicians-blue]

I don’t know if your requests are open or even if you take requests but if it anyone of these things then you can ignore me or message me you can’t make this requests!

How about a Mirio x reader head cannon where the reader is his crush and has been for a long time. One thing about the reader is that she’s missing one of her legs and has a prothetic one. Nothing bad happened she was just born like that. Mirio doesn’t know about this because she hides her fake leg so flawlessly and is able to walk and fight just fine! Until they get into dorms and the reader starts to wear her normal clothes. Once Mirio sees her prosthetic leg he instantly gets worried and is like “WHO DID THIS TO YOU!?” it’s until the reader explains that she was born without one of her legs is when he calms down. Now he’s in awe, the reader’s ability and combat skills even without a leg is amazing to him! Now anytime you get a new prosthetic Mirio is the first to hear about it!

Hi! This is honestly the sweetest thing ever omg.😭However I am gonna change that last part a little because I know some disabled people don’t like people bringing up the fact they are able to do things despite their leg (inspiration porn basically)

A/N: as someone who isn’t disabled I am aware that I could possibly end up writing things that aren’t completely accurate for having a prosthetic (I definitely did research before writing this so this is to my best understanding). If I have inaccurately portrayed the prosthetic community in any way please let me know and I will adjust this post accordingly

7:45pm

Tamaki is honestly at his wits end when it comes to Mirio’s crush on you. He just would. Not. Shut. Up. Every day it’s “Man, y/n looks so good today,” or “Did you see that!? Only y/n can pull of an amazing move like that.” He was like a little kid before he started speaking to you, staring all day then running off when he gets caught. When he finally does talk to you he’s completely mesmerized by you. After he got over his initial nervousness he spoke to you any chance he got.

When everyone moved into the dorms he had came over to see if you wanted help settling in. When he came in he saw you cleaning your prosthetic, getting rid of all the sweat so you wouldn’t get an infection. Miro instinctively ran into your room. “Y/N oh my god what happened!? Who did this to you!?” After calming him down you explained that you were born this way and that he didn’t need to go avenge you in anyway. You never said anything about it because you didn’t want people thinking they had to accommodate for you or have your classmates treat you like a child. He stared for a moment and the only thing that came out of his mouth was “You’re amazing…” You huffed a bit, slight sassing him. “Why because I can do what everyone else can but with a prosthetic?” Mirio shook his head blushing. “N-no thats not it, I just think you’re amazing in general…”

When you’re dating Mirio is your biggest cheerleader. He’s always hyping you up on your more down days. When you’re in his dorm together he always keeps his desk chair free for you so you can take the prosthetic off and take a break from it but still be able to move freely around his room. He also keeps pain medication close by for when you start having nerve pain or when your prosthetic doesn’t fit any more and your waiting to get a new one. Eventually you were even able to get some enhancements on your prosthetic to help with your quirk (thanks to the support class) and Mirio was the first to know. He loves watch you grow as a hero and seeing how excited you get when you get new enhancements or how relieved you look when your prosthetic fits just right makes him so happy. He loves you so much.

[robinofgothamcity]

♡ starting prompt: “were you ever going to tell me?”

♡ pairing: dick grayson (S1 YJ Robin) x fem reader

♡ lyric inspiration: “take a ride up to Malibu, I just wanna sit and look at you, look at you. what would it matter if your friends knew? who cares what other people say anyway.”

♡ note: not checked for grammar or spelling mistakes 

both you and Dick walked out of Gotham Academy, laughing at some stupid joke he made as the two of you walked to the nearest coffee shop. the two of you religiously bought coffee and hung out every Thursday after school until it was time to head home.

you and Dick, unknown to each other9, had commitments to the YJ team and usually had to meet the team later in the night and today happened to be one of those days. 

you really weren’t in the mood to go out for a patrol tonight but on Saturday, you had accepted to be Dick’s date to the winter formal Gotham Academy was holding and you had to excuse yourself from patrolling duties for the night. 

you knew Diana would have no issue in you missing for one night but the team on the other hand would probably throw a fit for it. 

whenever there was time to lounge around, you usually hid behind a domino mask and a beanie to cover your hair. your uniform on the other hand was very much like Wally’s. it pulled over your head and covered some of your face and most of your hair so it went unnoticed by everyone. 

you were very similar to Robin in that aspect. the two of you hid your identities extremely well and no one outside of your mentors knew who you truly were. Wonder Woman had especially emphasized that a kid still in school should not reveal their real identity and if you wanted to once you turned 18, you could, but until then, she made you swear to never reveal who you were.

“what has you in such deep thought?” Dick asked, giving you a smile. you shook your head, “nothing. just stuff with school,” you replied. Dick had saw the bruises and cuts on your legs that you tried to hide, “you have more bruises?” he asked. 

“I told you my MMA training went hard last night,” you exclaimed, “I had a partner that was double my size and she nearly wanted to kill me,” you tried to joke. 

you could tell that Dick wasn’t believing what you were saying, “but you shouldn’t be the one to talk! you have a gash running down your arm! don’t think I didn’t notice,” you retaliated. he immediately tried to explain himself, “acrobatics is an intense hobby!” he replied. 

you gave him a look before shoving him playfully onto the grass. Dick pushed you back as the two of you finally arrived to the coffee shop. you put your bag down in the booth before meeting Dick at the line. 

“just be careful! those cuts and bruises look intense,” he said a bit more seriously. you squeezed his arm in agreement, “of course but same goes for you. the gash on your arm looks pretty deep,” you stated, running your finger on the now healing gash. 

he paid for both of your drinks and the two of you made your way to the booth and took out your books. 

you had befriended Dick when he first arrived to Gotham Academy. since he was the adopted son to Bruce Wayne, everyone wanted to befriend the son of the man who ran Gotham with an iron fist. you on the other hand had to befriend him because you were the captain of the Mathlete’s team.

that was the club Dick first wanted to join and although he didn’t know exactly how to join, he saw that you were in his AP Calc BC class and saw the jacket you carried around with the medals you on won on it. he quietly followed you to the auditorium that day and scooped out the team before embarrassingly introducing him and explaining why he wanted to join.

you instantly clicked with him and tried him out for the team for a few days when you realized that he was probably the second smartest on the team. he won a plaque on his first round of tournaments and gained honoree status not long after. 

“god, I feel like Brunner is killing us with the amount of work he’s giving us,” you growled into your textbook, “does he not realize that people have lives and jobs?” you continued to complain. 

Dick shook his head, “not like he cares. he’s just a bitter old man who wants to make us suffer,” he admitted. you laughed, accidentally choking on your coffee by the comment, “it’s true! he knows everyone is excited about the formal so he probably piled on work to make us suffer,” Dick continued. 

you threw him your paper as he quickly dodged it. the two of you worked through the worksheets until you felt your communicator go off. you discreetly looked down and saw that Kaldur was calling everyone to Mount Justice for a new mission. 

“hey Dick, I have to go,” you admitted a bit sadly, “my mom wants me home to babysit my niece and she needs me home in a few minutes.” Dick nodded understandingly, “yeah, Bruce seems like he needs me home too. see you tomorrow?” he asked, “of course!” 

the two of you practically darted in different directions as you ran to the nearest zeta tube location. it was inside of an old building as you quickly discarded your uniform, putting it inside of your bag as you pulled on your other uniform. 

as soon as you arrived to Mount Justice, you saw everyone crowding around the table that Red Tornado was explaining the mission at. you stood next to Kaldur and Connor, flashing them an ‘i’m sorry for being really late’ smile. Kaldur patted your shoulder as the table shut off after the instructions were finished. 

“so, the pairs are, Wally, Artemis and I, Connor and M’Gann, and ( your name ) with Robin,” Kaldur explained, “since both of you know Gotham Academy well, the two of you will be patrolling inside the school while Connor and M’gann gather the information we need from the teacher.” 

you and Robin high-fived, quickly getting on the motorcycles and racing towards the school. you weren’t particularly close with Robin but when the two of you were a team, it was nearly impossible to stop the two of you. the chemistry when you both fought together didn’t go unnoticed by anyone and Kaldur tended to pair you up together when he knew Wally and Robin would goof off the whole time. 

“so, you go to Gotham Academy?” Robin asked. you nodded, “I do! I had no idea you went there,” you replied, “I wonder if we’ve ever met each other,” Robin joked. 

you gave him a look, “please, I doubt it. I get the sense that you’d probably be really popular and I am the farthest from that,” you admitted. Robin gave you a look, “trust me, I am not popular. are you in any clubs?” Robin asked. 

a part of you screamed to tell him but another part of you told you no, “I am but for the sake of keeping my identity a secret, I would rather not say,” you said empathetically. Robin waved your off, “no, I completely understand. the Bat would kill me if he found out someone knew who I was,” you couldn’t help but laugh, “yeah, Wonder Woman would lasso me into another dimension if I did the same.” 

once the two of you parked your motorcycles into the parking lot and sneaked your way inside. you both landed by the auditorium and started to walk around. 

the patrolling went by with mild conversation. since you had to inform Kaldur about both of you coordinates every few minutes, that was probably the only time you spoke up. it wasn’t until you passed the glass shelves that held all of the Mathlete trophies that you made a sudden stop. 

“do you know someone on the team?” Robin asked, gulping his nervousness down a bit. “yeah, I have two friends on the team. one of which I think I like,” you admitted sheepishly. 

Robin gave you a smirk, “oh, tell me! tell me! I want to know!” he exclaimed excitedly. you shoved him against the wall, “no! because if you know him? then you’re going to tell him!” you whisper-yelled. Robin waved you off, basically begging you to tell him, “fine, if I tell you then you’re going to have to swear that you’ll never tell him,” you stated. 

he nodded as you discreetly opened the glass door and took the photo out, “it’s Dick Grayson. he’s so....” you trailed off not knowing to what to say as you stared at the photo mesmerized. Robin remained silent, standing as stiff as a board, “really?” he whispered. 

“yeah, is that an issue?” you asked, a bit surprised by his reaction, “no, not at all. plus, I can’t even lie, the person I’ve been dying to ask out is also on the team,” your eyebrows fluttered to confusion as stared at him, “I told you who my crush is so it’s only fair you tell me!” you said. 

Robin shook his head no, “AH! nope! you’re telling me! I told you my crush on Dick and now you have to tell me! plus, I didn’t know you were gay,” you said off-handedly. Robin stared at you now in more confusion, “I’m not? not that there would be an issue with that if I was but regardless, where did you get that idea?” he asked. 

you held back your laugh, “I mean, the team is mostly guys unless you have a crush on her,” you pointed to yourself jokingly. Robin didn’t say anything as the silence basically answered your question, “wait, do you have a crush on her?” you asked a bit more seriously now. 

“yeah, it’s her. she’s in a few of my classes and my god, she’s gorgeous,” he said “everything I look in for a girl.” your heart stopped dead in it’s tracks as Robin’s communicator went off indicating that Connor and M’Gann got what they needed. 

you hadn’t said much after Robin had confessed his crush to you. you had no idea that it was going to be you who he was and although now you were dying to know his true identity, you knew you shouldn’t even bother with it. plus, Robin probably felt the same way you did when you confessed your crush on Dick. 

after all of you told Red Tornado the information, you quickly departed from the team, telling them you had to be up at 6:00 to get ready for school. Robin could tell that after he admitted his crush to you, you felt a certain way about it but if anything, he should be the one weirded out. you had a crush on him! but considering your identity was sealed shut, he would never know who it really was that liked him unless he figured out your true identity. 

the next morning, you woke up and put on your uniform as you ran your fingers over the burgundy colored gown you were wearing tomorrow. you were beyond excited to be Dick’s date to the formal and you had to be at his place at five to catch dinner before the dance. 

once you made it to school, you greeted Dick with a smile, “mornin’ Grayson!” you said happily. he responded by putting his arm around you with the same amount of excitement you had, “what has you so excited today?” he asked. 

“nothing! just something you shouldn’t worry about! how was your night?” you asked. you felt Dick’s body go stiff as he tried to conjure up some lie, “fine! Bruce had me doing some work for Wayne Enterprises and it practically put me into the grave,” he joked. 

the two of you walked to your math class, slumping immediately into your seats as the morning announcements went off. you were doodling in your notebook as Dick kept muttering to himself about something you couldn’t quiet understand. 

throughout the entire day, you could sense that Dick’s attention was not exactly spot on. his mind seemed to be on cloud nine and once the end of the day came, he had a bunch of theories written inside of his notebook about ( your hero name ) and who could she possibly be. 

“Dick, you’ve been off all day!” you said now a bit annoyed, “is something wrong?” you asked again. he shook his head no, “no, I’m more than okay! just excited about tomorrow is all,” he replied. you nodded, “me too! I’ll be at your house around five so we can eat dinner and head to the dance,” you mentioned as you saw your mom pull up. 

“see ya tomorrow!” Dick exclaimed. 

+

first thing Saturday morning, your mom shook you awake. she said that your stylist would be here any minute to get your hair/makeup done and you needed to shower before then. 

you quickly hopped into the shower while you pulled on some pajamas for the time being. as soon as you got out, you brushed your hair and teeth before walking to the living room to see the stylist preparing her things on the kitchen table. 

“ready love?” she asked sweetly. you nodded, “ready as ever!” you replied as you sat down. 

the time she did your hair, you were making small talk until you heard a knock on the door. your mom mentioned she’d get it and went to the door. when she got back, she was holding a bag of food. 

“I think Dick sent you food,” she joked as she read the note, “oh yeah, it was 100% him,” she said as she showed you the note. 

“can’t wait for tonight! your favorite from Scouts is inside of the boxes.” 

“aw, how sweet of him!” your stylist said, “yeah, he’s one of a kind,” you said not realizing what you were saying. your mom could see the love for him in your eyes and swooned silently. 

after your hair was done, you had basically devoured the food before your stylist got to work on your makeup. this time, it didn’t take as much time. by the time she finished, you had about an hour to put on your dress and do the finishing touches to your look before you had to leave. 

the dress was short from the front as it got longer from the back. it kind of dragged but that was what made you fall in love with it in the first place. you pulled the dress from your closet and had your mom help you zip it up as she put on the necklace she wore the day of her winter formal on you. 

“you look amazing sweety! let me take a few photos before we head out!” 

you rolled your eyes playfully as you posed a few times. after you and her got into the car, you made your way to the manor. you had been there countless times and knew the gate code by memory by this point. you had messaged Dick that you were outside and saw him in the suit he was wearing. 

“wow, you look gorgeous,” Dick whispered, taking you in. you tried to shake off the compliment but you couldn’t as both Alfred and your mom told you to hold still as they took photos. it wasn’t long after that Bruce came out, introducing himself to your mom and instantly making her swoon, “I’ll see you tonight,” she told you as she gave Dick a look, “take care of my daughter,” she stated, now more seriously. 

Dick nodded nervously as Alfred led you into the dining room where the dinner was plated and ready to eat. it didn’t feel like a date as eating with Dick was not uncommon. this time, you both were just dressed extremely fancy. 

Alfred had made you steak and the two of you basically downed it like starving caveman. you and Dick made sure that you didn’t stain yourselves as Alfred informed that the car was warmed up and ready to take you to the dance. Dick had excused himself to the bathroom as Bruce stood in front of you. 

you gulped nervously as he basically towered over you, “please continue making my son happy,” was all he said before leaving back upstairs. you didn’t even get a chance to respond as Dick walked in and basically pulled you towards the car. 

the formal was already going when the two of you arrived. you could hear the music blaring from outside and in order to get in, you had to pass the ‘paparazzi’ Gotham Academy set up. you two annoyingly took the photos that were being taken by people from the yearbook team and entered the auditorium. 

you smiled at Dick as you both found a few of your mutual friends and sat down with them. the night was one you knew you weren’t going to forget as Dick had his arm around you the entire time. you could feel him squeezing your shoulder every time he noticed someone checking you out. 

“I love this song!” you exclaimed, hearing ‘New Light’ by John Mayer playing, “wanna dance?” he asked. you instantly nodded and walked onto the dance floor. 

“Oh I want a take two. I wanna break through. I wanna know the real thing about you so I can see you in a new light.”

the two of you danced, a bit closer than you intended but not that you were complaining. 

song after song came and it wasn’t until you heard a beep going off when you realized what was happening. it was the teams communicator indicating that Kaldur wanted everyone at Mount Justice again. you sighed knowing if you didn’t answer, you’d probably get berated for skipping out. 

secondly, you had told Kaldur unless it was an emergency, not to contact you so it must’ve been urgent if he was. you stared at Dick who was standing by the table, staring at something when you realized you had to break the news to him. 

“hey Dick, there was an emergency at home and I need to leave like right now.” you felt tears pricking your eyes as you just wanted to tell the team to fuck off for ruining your night with Dick, “it’s okay! Bruce called me just now and said something happened to Alfred and I should head home,” he said. 

you sighed in relief as you told him you hoped everything with Alfred was okay and you’d see him on Monday. it now had dawned on you that your spare uniform was inside of Mount Justice and you would have no time to get the one from your house. 

the only thing you had on you was your domino mask which you knew would make due until you changed into your uniform. you found the nearest zeta tube and teleported to Mount Justice. 

your hero name rang off through the telecom, catching everyone’s attention. you had slipped on your domino mask but your worst fear thus far came true. everyone was surrounding the zeta tube which you came from and saw your hair. 

“wow, you look great,” Connor and Wally murmured to themselves. Kaldur slapped them in the head as he stared at your apologetically, “I know tonight was your night off but Rob isn’t here either and we both need you for this mission. some of the league is on their way and we need their approval before we go save the kids who are being held hostage,” Kaldur explained. 

you heard Robin’s name ring through the lair as he ran in with urgency. you looked from Kaldur and stopped dead in your tracks when you saw him. it took Robin a few seconds to look at you but when he did, it was like he saw a ghost in front of him. 

behind his sunglass and your domino mask, it was like a stare off. you felt like the wind was knocked out of you and held onto the table to catch your balance as Robin just stood in place. 

“uh is something wrong?” Wally asked seeing your reactions. both you and Robin were stunned into silence as you didn’t know what to say. Batman, Wonder Woman, and Superman’s name now rang through the lair as they entered the main floor. 

they couldn’t help but wonder what was going on as a thick silence was hanging in the air. both Batman and Wonder Woman immediately realized the situation and looked at each other as they put two and two together. the two of you, unintentionally revealed your identities to each other, and Batman more than Wonder Woman knew the two of you were going to be together tonight but what he didn’t expect was that the two of you were going to the lair dressed in the outfits you both wore to the dance. 

“Superman will accompany you on the trip. ( your hero name ) and Robin will stay back,” everyone looked at Batman as Wonder Woman nodded and grabbed you by the shoulder, Batman doing the same with Robin, “why? what happened?” Wally exclaimed. 

“nothing that concerns you Flash, now follow Superman’s orders,” was all Batman said before taking you two into an empty room with Diana following behind you. 

as soon as the door shut, you stared at Dick, his mask now off as you did the same. you didn’t know how to feel. your crush, your best friend, someone you loved dearly this entire time was also on the team and you had no idea what to do. 

“so, as you can see we have a situation. both of you know each others identities and it’s best we keep it between each other. she now knows my real identity and will remain the only one who does know.” 

Diana nodded, “the two of you now hold each others biggest secret and I think it’s best we both leave so you can talk it out,” she mentioned as she escorted Batman out of the room to leave you guys alone. 

Dick stared at you as he tried to read your expression, “all this time we left each other for stupid reasons, we were meeting each other again, just in our different identities?” was what he said. you nodded, “were you ever going to tell me?” you whispered. 

Dick walked up to you and held you close, “truthfully, when the time was right and with the bat’s approval, I was. everything I’ve ever said, tonight, the night we patrolled school together, everything! I meant it. you’re my best friend. you’re also someone I want to keep by my side together,” he finally confessed. 

you stared up at Dick before doing the one thing you always wanted to do. you leaned up and kissed him deeply. he was completely taken back but kissed you back. your arms wrapped his neck as he brought you in even closer. 

“wow, this was not how I expected the night to go,” you murmured against his lips, “for sure but I mean, we have the lair tonight and it’s completely empty. I want to give you that final dance of the night,” he said as he grabbed your hand and led you to the main floor again. 

you stared at Dick and took his hand as he swayed you to the song you first danced back at the formal. 

“take a ride up to Malibu, I just wanna sit and look at you, look at you. what would it matter if your friends knew? who cares what other people say anyway.”

[gohyuck]

pairing: best friend!mark x reader; some neighbor!jaemin x reader

genre: university!au, angst, slight smut

word count: 4.7k 

warnings: unrequited love ft. oblivious mark, sex that ends in crying, general heartbreak because what else would it be

playlist recs: heather - conan gray, cayendo - frank ocean, i found - amber run, fools - troye sivan, from here - kafka tamura, drive safe - rich brian

I still remember Third of December Me in your sweater You said it looked better On me, than it did you Only if you knew How much I liked you

“I fucking hate frats,” You grumble, dabbing furiously at the front of your shirt with a crumpled napkin. There’s red - remnants of what you think must be jungle juice - scattered across the yellow cloth of your top, and you just know it’ll remain stained for eternity. “This cost, like, ten bucks at Walmart! I don’t have that kind of money to throw away, you know.” 

“That’s just an hour’s worth of wages from the bookstore.” Mark, your best friend, points out, handing you another napkin when you exhaust the one in your hand. There’s mirth in his eyes and the threat of a laugh underlying his tone, but the warning glare you throw at him has him putting his hands up in surrender instead of making fun of you. 

“God,” It’s only when someone pushes past you, opening the door behind you to get inside the cursed party house you’d been so quick to rush out of, that you realize just how cold it is outside. The warmth emanating from the inside of the house you feel against your back is short-lived as the door slams shut, but the damage is done: you’re already hyper-aware of what you don’t have. “God, it’s freezing, what the hell?”

“This is literally an end-of-semester party,” Mark, ever perspicacious, points out, adding insult to your injury without a second thought. “It’s early December. Be glad it isn’t snowing.”

“I’m in a t-shirt,” You only whine in response, ignoring everything your friend has said. The night hasn’t gone your way, and if Mark wasn’t here with you you wouldn’t have come at all. Unluckily for you, Mark Lee is popular amongst fraternity circles on account of being Jaehyun Jung’s hometown neighbor and friend, so you find yourself attending parties intermittently. If you could say no to Mark, maybe you wouldn’t smell vaguely of vodka and artificially flavored fruit punch right now.

“I’m in a t-shirt,” You repeat, ignoring any and all thoughts of your best friend you’re having, as always. “And it’s wet which is making me even colder. I hate it here.” 

Mark only rolls his eyes, though you’re surprised to see him shrug off his windbreaker before pulling his black sweater over his head to reveal a thin white shirt. He hands it to you wordlessly before pulling his jacket back on and zipping it up, and when you only stare at the piece of clothing he’s given you, he has the audacity to laugh. 

“I’m tired of your complaining,” He explains when your gaze meets his, though he jovially knocks his shoulder against yours when your eyes narrow momentarily. “And besides, you always look better in it than I do. Before you ask, I’m not cold anyways, so it’s all good.”

You don’t miss the comment about you looking better in it than he does. For a moment, just a moment before you pull the proverbial wool over your eyes and black polyester over your head, you imagine that he actually means it. He does let you borrow it an awful lot, after all: it’s in your dresser half as often as it’s in his. 

“I wasn’t going to ask,” You huff out a lie, putting an arm through before pulling the rest of the sweater on. You’re immediately met with Mark’s cologne, and you pull his sleeves over your hands into sweater paws on habit. His clothes are always just a little long on you. “You’re like a human furnace.”

“Whatever dude,” Mark rolls his eyes again, though there’s fondness evident in them. “Come on - I’ll walk you back to your place.” He loops his arm through yours in a way you’ve gotten dangerously used to, dragging you away from the Nu Kappa Theta house. 

He keeps his word, leaving you right in front of your door. When you go to take off his sweater, he stops you, telling you that there’s no rush to get it back to him. A quick hug and a short goodbye later, Mark is walking down the hallway, hands shoved into his jeans’ pockets. You watch as he gets to the stairwell, so desperately wanting him to turn back.

He doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t - you aren’t Heather. You fall asleep in his sweater hours later, still drowning in his cologne. Come morning, you fold it neatly and place it in the bottom drawer of your dresser, out of sight and out of mind. 

But I watch your eyes, as she walks by What a sight for sore eyes Brighter than a blue sky She's got you mesmerized While I die

You still remember the first time you’d seen her. It was mundane, really - she’d sat next to you during your first Computing class of the semester, and you’d introduced yourself to her and found her to be a sweet girl, the kind of girl people like being around. There wasn’t anything past that - the two of you went on with your lives, sometimes making idle conversation in class. You hadn’t thought much of your meeting with her until later.

Far more importantly, frankly, you remember the first time Mark had seen her, even if he doesn’t remember it himself. You’d been lounging under a tree, Mark’s back against the bark while you had your head in his lap. He’d been rambling on and on about something Donghyuck had said during their intramural dance team’s practice when he’d stopped speaking mid-sentence, forcing you to turn your head to see where his eyes were leading him. 

Heather, in a pleated skirt and a beige sweater over a pristine white button down. She’d looked positively radiant while standing in the grass and laughing with friends, the sun shining brightly directly behind her. Mark, feeling your eyes looking up at his slack-jawed expression, had unfrozen eventually, raising a hand to scratch at the nape of his neck out of embarrassment. He’d been about to launch back into his story - this time likely punctuated by glances over at the other girl - when you’d interrupted him before he could begin.

“Her name’s Heather,” You’d told him, mentally kicking yourself even as you spoke. Who tells the love of their life the name of someone they’re obviously ogling? You hate the value you place on your friendship with Mark almost as much as you hate the fact that you’re in love with him. “She’s in one of my classes. She’s really nice, if you’re into that.” 

“Of course I am,” Mark had muttered then, ears burning red. “Why wouldn’t I be into nice people?”

“You spend all your time hanging with me and Hyuck.” You’d pointed out, reaching a hand up to poke at his chin. He’d flicked your fingers away from him, though he’d immediately grabbed your hand right after, holding it tight for a moment on impulse and as if to show you he’d never really hurt you. 

You’d wished the constant Mark-inflicted ache you’d felt - feel, still - was physical. 

“You’re nice, dude,” Mark had insisted then, finally looking down at you. You’d felt suddenly insecure then, realizing that the angle you were at wasn’t the most flattering. There was no way you could compete to Heather, not with your disheveled hair and eyes that pierced through Mark like arrows. You’d wrapped your arms around yourself in insecurity and Mark had thought nothing of it, only continuing to speak. “You’re nice enough, at least, when you aren’t kicking my ass. Hyuck is… a thought best left for another day.” 

You’d laughed then, and Mark had responded in kind. The rest of your break between classes had been spent like that: talking and laughing with your favorite person, irreplaceable by all accounts. 

If he hadn’t chanced glances at Heather throughout it, you might’ve been able to consider that he found you irreplaceable in the same way you found him. 

Mark hadn’t been subtle then.

He isn’t subtle now. 

Why would you ever kiss me? I'm not even half, as pretty You gave her your sweater It's just polyester, but you like her better Wish I were Heather

Mark asks for the sweater back the day before you leave for winter break. Your flatmate is staying back - has research to work on through Christmas - so you’re free to visit your parents back home, and although you dread all the questions you’ll be asked, you can’t help but feel the slightest bit excited. 

“I’ll drop by and pick it up before I head out, then,” Mark says, voice still warm as ever even as the phone makes him sound the slightest bit tinny. “What time is good for you?”

“I’ll be at the bus stop by 5,” You respond, phone between your shoulder and your ear and heart between your mouth and your chest as you pull his polyester sweater out of your dryer. “Come by any time before then.”

He drops past your place a little before 4, eyes sparkling when he tells you that Heather only lives about a half an hour away from him, so he’s taking her with him on his drive home. You muster the brightest smile you can when you tell him how wonderful that is, all while handing back the sweater that smells like your own detergent for now but you’re sure will soon smell like Heather’s perfume. 

A week after seeing Heather for the first time, Mark had, by chance, joined your university’s Literature Club, not knowing that the girl who’d stolen his breath was a member. He’d had the same sparkle in his eyes when he’d regaled his first conversation with her to you, talking for ages about her opinions on The Picture of Dorian Gray and Slaughterhouse-Five. They’d clicked immediately, in his words. Two fitting puzzle pieces. 

You’d bawled like a baby into your flatmate’s arms once your best friend had left your apartment that night, feeling entitled to the tears after so many hours of half real (you truly were happy for him) and half fake (you truly were sad for yourself) smiles. 

It’s been three months since then. Heather and Mark aren’t dating just yet, but they’re an inevitability. You remind yourself of that after Mark leaves, sweater in hand and a promise to text you once he gets home sliding off his tongue. 

He messages you a picture - a selfie of him and a smiling Heather - five hours later, a ‘we’re home safe!’ text accompanying it. It isn’t a surprise to you that she’s wearing the black polyester sweater in the photo, but it still stings nonetheless.

Mark had said you look better in the sweater than he does. Heather looks far better in it than you do. 

When you reach your own home, you’re not alarmed to see Jaemin, your next-door neighbor who’s home from his own school for break, sitting at your kitchen counter and eating grapes out of a plastic bowl. His parents and your parents are great friends, and you’ve always gotten along fairly well with him. His hair is dyed a light blue, gelled back slightly to show his forehead, and he smiles the same cheeky smile he’s had since his sophomore year of high school at you. Jaemin’s always been breathtakingly handsome, always been as good looking as he is just good. He’d been a decent friend to you when you’d lived here, close enough to tell secrets to but not so close that he’d reveal them to anyone. 

Jaemin had been your first kiss way back when, had been your first time barely after that, and you allow yourself to see the purely sexual tension that still exists between the two of you. You feel nothing but friendship - maybe just acquaintanceship - for him, and he for you. It’s perfect. 

When both sets of parents go out for dinner, unable to drag the two of you out with them, you pull Jaemin up the stairs to your childhood bedroom to ride him frantically as if you’ll never feel this good again. He coaxes not one but two orgasms from you, cool hands roaming your body and nails raking gently over your thighs. Jaemin fucks up into you when you can’t move any longer, when your thighs shake from overwork, and he doesn’t complain, not once. 

He pulls you down to him, bites your shoulder hard when he cums, spilling into the condom he’d managed to get on in the rush to be inside of you. When you don’t pull off of him afterwards, instead only beginning to sob quietly into his shoulder, he’s kind enough to run his hands over the span of your back to soothe you. 

“That bad, huh?” He jokes, not letting you go. His hands are warm now. You shake your head adamantly even as you know he’s kidding before muttering a ‘it’s not you, it’s Mark’ into his skin. 

“Did you just ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ me?” Jaemin questions, this time more confused than anything. You shake your head again, your tears glistening against his collarbone as you pull away enough to look him in the eyes. 

“Mark. It’s Mark,” You say, swallowing the lump in your throat. You’ve never voiced it aloud before - that it’s Mark. That it might just always be Mark. Jaemin’s okay, though - Jaemin won’t tell. How could he? He doesn’t even know Mark.

Your childhood neighbor stares at you, though not unkindly, for a long moment before nodding slowly in understanding and pulling you into his chest once more for a tight embrace. He doesn’t ask any questions - you assume he just gets it. 

Jaemin manages to finger you to one more climax like that, with you curled up in his lap and your head against his chest. He murmurs sweet nothings that really mean nothing into your ear as he does, and you find that you could get used to this. You won’t, but you could. When you cum again, you only whimper and moan, incapable of forming words. 

Mark’s name is on the tip of your tongue, and even though Jaemin would understand if you say it, you don’t. You can’t tempt yourself with a reality that isn’t available for you. It would be too cruel.

By the time your parents and Jaemin’s parents get back home, you’re wearing a sweatshirt you hadn’t been wearing earlier, mainly to hide Jaemin’s bite mark. You hug your neighbor goodbye, and he whispers a ‘it’ll be okay’ into your neck before pulling away, giving you a soft version of his devilish grin and waving before leaving with his mom and dad. 

Maybe it will be okay someday, but for now, God, how you wish you were Heather. 

You only text Mark back right before you go to bed, a quick ‘damn, guess i’ll have to hire a better hitman next time. for you, not for heather, she’s lovely’ before you rest. Is she at his house, her head against his chest as they talk about books or movies or whatever they talk about? Or is she on her way home right now, wishing for more time with Mark? 

Your sleep is dreamless that night, despite the thoughts of Mark and Heather, Heather and Mark that run through your mind constantly. It’s the one stroke of luck you have. 

Watch as she stands with Her holding your hand Put your arm 'round her shoulder Now I'm getting colder

You sleep with Jaemin intermittently during your break, finding quite quickly that he’s very willing to solely be a receptacle of your pent-up urges catalyzing. It’s hard to have sex with people at school because you’re always aware that Mark could be waiting at your apartment with food when you get back, or that he could be texting you while you’re getting laid. With Jaemin, you can truly push Mark out of your mind, if only just for a moment.

It’s good that you find a momentary respite in your childhood neighbor, because once you’re back on campus, it feels like the universe is purposefully tugging your stars out of their alignments just to torture you. 

The weather still leaves much to desire, and although it isn’t as cold as it had been in December, you still carry a hoodie around with you wherever you go. They’re easy to pull over long-sleeved shirts and sweaters; after all, Heather’s always pulling Mark’s favorite forest green hoodie over the familiar black sweater that she wears. 

Before, it had just been you, Mark, and occasionally Hyuck getting together and hanging out. At restaurants, you and Mark would sit on the same side, sharing appetizers while Hyuck actively guarded his food from your roaming hands. Now, when you go out to eat, you sit beside Donghyuck, Heather right across from you with her perfect smile and kind eyes while Mark sits right beside her, leaning back with his arm thrown over the booth behind her easily. 

She’s genuine: when she asks about your hobbies, your likes, your dislikes, she truly wants to know. It’s good of her: after all, you’re one of the most important people in Mark’s life. You figure she must know that, the closer she gets to your best friend, the closer she should get to you. 

You appreciate it. You also hate it. 

When Heather gets up mid-lunch to go to the bathroom, parting from the three of you for the moment with a dazzling grin and an airy laugh that makes Mark visibly redden, the boy she’s wooing turns to you and your other friend, eyes full of hope. Donghyuck arches an eyebrow even as he knows what the other man is about to say. 

“Man, isn’t she literally the best? There’s something between us, right? I should ask her out?” Mark’s running a hand through his hair as he speaks, a nervous habit he’s had the whole time you’ve known him (freshman year Intro to Film, he’d spilled his cold coffee all over you and panic-offered you his black sweater to wear as a cover-up and, the rest, as they say, is history). 

“She’s on the higher end of the cool spectrum, yes there’s something, and it’s your life, dude, I can’t tell you who to date or not date.” Donghyuck responds before you can, and you catch him darting his eyes over at you in mild concern as he speaks. You haven’t told him about how you feel about Mark, but you’re sure he’s known for some time. He’s nothing if not deductive. 

Mark rolls his eyes, mutters something about Hyuck always being the bare minimum amount of helpful, and then looks you directly in your eyes, waiting for your verdict. In that moment you know that he’ll seriously consider whatever you say, that if you don’t like Heather, he’ll do his best to dislike her too. Friendship above all else.

The word friendship leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, even if you value it so highly. 

“Ask her out,” You finally say, the corners of your mouth quirking up together. The smile you wear doesn’t reach your eyes, but Mark’s too elated to notice. Under the table, Hyuck gently rests a warm hand against your knee for a split second, a show of ‘I’m here’ that you’re grateful for. 

Before you can continue speaking - what would you even say? - Heather is sliding back into her seat, back from the bathroom. You can’t very well talk about her while she’s there, so you close your mouth inconspicuously, watching as Mark puts his arm around her shoulders rather than against the booth this time, pulling her just a little closer to his side. 

You’re wearing two layers of clothing, but the air suddenly feels freezing. Donghyuck casually hands you a fry off his own plate, not keeping his food all to himself for the first time ever. 

You accept it, even though it’s cold by now. Bleakness added upon bleakness changes nothing.

But how could I hate her? She's such an angel But then again, kinda Wish she were dead, as she Walks by What a sight for sore eyes Brighter than a blue sky She's got you mesmerized While I die

He asks Heather out a week later with a bouquet of flowers you help him pick our just hours before his trek to her apartment. Donghyuck comes over the night of your florist trip - your flatmate had left for a trip the night earlier, leaving you a tub of ice cream and a pile of 80s movies as a placeholder for human comfort - and holds you for hours, not saying anything as you sob through The Breakfast Club and Ferris Bueller’s Day Off and Stand & Deliver. 

“I w- I wish she didn’t exist,” You hiccup into your friend’s shirt as he rests his chin on top of your head. “And then I feel awful because she’s just so nice. She’s always so nice. He likes her because she’s so nice.” 

“It hurts worse when they’re nice, especially when you’re also nice,” He murmurs into your hair, pulling you closer into his chest. “Because then you can’t plot ways to get revenge without ending up being the asshole.”

“The jilted ex,” You agree, though it only causes you to cry harder. “Except I’m - I’m not even an ex.” 

“Someday, you’ll be glad that you aren’t one of his exes.” Donghyuck assures you, and you know he’s right so you say nothing else, only wrapping your arms tighter around him. The healing process for your heartbreak starts then, as you stain your friend’s thin shirt with your tears and he rubs soothing circles into your back. Your heart might just sew itself back together. 

The single stitch holding the halves of your heart together rips easily when Mark brings breakfast to your doorstep the next morning, obvious hickies dotting his collarbone once he pulls off his white pullover. The sight alone makes you feel like your lungs are airless and will forever remain so, and you realize that you’ll have to start healing all over again. 

Still, you welcome your best friend into your apartment for breakfast like you do every Sunday morning, right before he goes to Church. Mark’s bought bagels today, from the café at the end of the block, and once he’s prayed like he always does before eating he spreads strawberry cream cheese all over one half of his bagel while talking about how well his ask had gone and thanking you for your floral expertise. 

“I just thought they looked pretty,” You shrug, mentally begging for him to stop relating you to any aspect of his relationship. “No need to thank me.”

“I’ll always thank you, dude,” Mark says with ease, licking cream cheese off of his thumb. “You’re my best friend.” With this, he finishes off his breakfast, stands up from his chair at your breakfast nook, and wears his pullover again. 

“Gotta pick Heather up, she said she wants to come to Church with me,” Mark says, and your heart twinges at how quickly she’s been introduced to the more intimate aspects of his life. You say nothing, only smile and nod, and Mark thinks nothing of it. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“We literally have a class together.” You scoff, doing your best to banter with Mark like you always do. He rolls his eyes at your statement, though his grin never falls from his lips. 

“I’ll see you,” Is all he says, before leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek. He’s halfway out your door before he turns back - turns back like you’d always wished for him to - and calls your name. 

“Yes?”

“You really did do me a favor by helping me with the flowers,” Mark says, giving you the most grateful smile you’ve ever witnessed. “She said the bouquet had all her favorites. I don’t know how you do it. You’re a lifesaver. Love you!”

With that, he’s out the door, and you can only watch as it slams shut behind him, trapping in his last two words as they curl around you like currents, pushing you deeper into the water that’s drowning you. It’s platonic, of course it is, it always has been. Still, you believe that if you never hear those two words together again, you might be all the better. 

The bouquet had all of your favorites, too. 

You need to stop wishing you were Heather.

Why would you ever kiss me? I'm not even half, as pretty You gave her your sweater It's just polyester, but you like her better I wish I were Heather Wish I were Heather Wish I were Heather

It’s a little less than three months later when you’re out shopping by yourself at the local mall, in desperate need for some winter clothes before the next year’s winter starts. Everything’s on sale now, and you’re not one to pay extra money for no reason at all. You’re sitting through a rack of jackets when your phone vibrates, and you fish it out of your pocket to find that Mark has texted you four images, accompanied with a message asking ‘which one should I post O.o’. 

They’re all of Heather in that black polyester sweater - the one you used to wear often - at an ice skating rink, and you assume Mark’s just gotten home from a date. She’s grinning brightly at the camera in the first picture while finishing tying up her skates. In the second one, her back is to the camera and her head is turned to the side, her hand holding onto Mark’s as she leads them across the rink. She’s looking right at the camera in the third one as well, eyebrows raised sportingly as she sips hot chocolate from a styrofoam cup.

You tell Mark to go with the fourth one: a candid of her just stepping on to the rink, eyes wide but smile even wider. Her head is turned, though she can’t see that her side profile is being captured. She’s beautiful without effort in a way you refuse to find in the mirror, and you know the fact that Mark has even taken a picture of Heather without her posing means he wants to cherish every memory with her. It’s sweet, and you tell him so. 

You pocket your phone before reading his response, doing your best not to let his earnestness affect you. Mark is a good man, and Heather is a good woman. They’re good for each other, and you’re good for both of them as a friend. 

As you turn around to inspect another set of for-sale winter clothes, this time on a table rather than a rack, you realize that, over the past few months, you truly have done your best to try and move on. It had been slow at first, yes, but by throwing yourself into your studies, taking time for yourself, and hanging out more with Hyuck and your other friends - though not less with Mark - has done you good. The ache has weakened, the stinging has stopped, for the most part. You’ve killed almost all of your Mark-related hangups or fixations, almost all of them except… 

You rest your palm on top of a light blue sweater - cotton, not polyester - and run your thumb over it, exhaling slowly and blowing air out through your barely-parted lips as you do. It’s pretty, and your size, and you’re in need of one, and the one sweater you used to wear the most isn’t available to you anymore. 

Jaemin’s words from months ago echo in your mind: ‘it’ll be okay’. You grab the sweater and make your way to the cashier’s counter, suddenly not needing to buy anything else anymore. 

The breath of air you take upon leaving the mall, sweater in bag in hand, feels like the first one you’ve taken in a while. As you settle into your car and turn the ignition key, placing your purchase on your passenger’s seat, you’re hit with a realization that you didn’t think you’d ever have. 

It’s all okay...

And you’re starting to no longer wish you were Heather. 

Why would you ever kiss me? I'm not even half, as pretty You gave her your sweater It's just polyester, but you like her better Wish I were..