#he'll still get experience but he'll play more

[ghost-proofbaby]

thinking about Eddie being so eager to kiss you all the time and he just gets a little too excited sometimes a little too rough and you bump into something and he cradles you while you giggle cause he can't stop smiling into his kisses

And sure maybe it's a little awkward and teeth knock against each other and he catches your lip in his teeth a little too hard but it's okay cause you're deliriously happy

And it's not about getting to the sex (not all the time anyways) but he's just so happy to have found a safe place to land and he's enthusiastic that he found someone who wants to kiss him just as much as he wants to kiss you

And this time he's not too much and his feelings aren't too big and he doesn't need to tone it down cause you're his person and he's yours

Okay bye ily

mouse. mouse get the fuck back here. MOUSE DONT LEAVE ME LIKE THIS

he's just so happy to have a safe place to land and this time he's not too much and his feelings aren't too big were daggers straight to my heart you come back here right now before i actually bleed out from needing this man so badly.

no but thats exactly it. eddie has spent so long jumping and toeing that line of either trying to cram himself into this bite-sized shape for the ones around him, and just exploding and pretending he doesn't give a fuck that he will never fit into anyone's cup of tea so he'll just make himself even larger, that when you enter his life he just doesnt know what to do about it.

because he starts with his regular tricks of being so over the top, so unbearable, and all you're doing is laughing and entertaining his antics. even playing along at times. and so he retracts a little, turning back into a quiet boy who will shrivel up until he's invisible or easy to love (whichever comes first). but then that doesn't work - and to be truthful, he doesn't even know what his mind's end goal is here because why is he trying to push you away so desperately? - and he's just at a loss. you want him on the thundering days, where he makes his grey clouds everyone's problem and all his lightning is blinding and sporadic. you want him on the quiet days, where the downpour is no longer a roar but a soft drizzle, a bit more silent and a bit more bearable but still there. and he can't tell if it's a joke - he can't decipher if your kisses amidst his rambles are sincere, if you're actually smiling at his jokes because you like him or you're too polite to break his heart. he can't see through those gentle hands you use to caress back his wild hair to be sure that the softest of touches are really just you, or some strange gloves of care that you're only simply wearing for now.

and then one morning, he wakes up, and you're still there, awake before he is and just watching him with so much love. feather-light fingers taking their time tracing over his tattoo on his chest and arms, not noticing he's awake yet as you smile so serenely at him. you're looking at him in a way that he's never really gotten to experience so vulnerably before - like he isn't a nuisance, isn't a mistake. like the universe has so intentionally dropped him into your palms, and you're so aware of how delicate he can be below the surface. and he just breaks.

"i love you"

he'd blurt it out, the first time he's ever said those words to you. it almost feels like the first time he's said those words, period.

he's said them to wayne, in their own way, both a bit stiff in expressing affection and skirting around those words whenever they can for a simply ruffle of hair or unexpected side hugs. he'd said them to his mom, a young boy with shining eyes despite it all, looking at her like she was the world because she was his world.

and... well. that's it. he can count the number of times he's said those words on one hand, and now he's said them to you, and all he can hope is you handle them with as much care as you've handled him.

he hopes you can feel the weight of his heart pressing down on them.

and he thinks you do, when you startle a little, looking up to his lips where those rough words had just fallen from in a cracking tone, and you take your time in awarding him with a smile that could save lives. cure cancer, cure sadness, cure the end of the world even. every cliche possible.

"yeah?" you'd whisper back, and his heart skips a beat, terrified that the next words you say won't be what he needs to hear so desperately. but they are. because of course they are. you wouldn't have been watching him sleep in that way if they hadn't been on the tip of your tongue, "i love you."

not a crash landing, but a soft-padded decent. a slow fall with a cushion to prevent broken bones and more invisible scars.

he kisses you then the way he was going to kiss you every day going forward: pushing forward recklessly, teeth and noses bumping a little, smiles making it nearly impossible. he kisses you like he's coming home after a long day, because he is.

he's home. no boxes in sight to fit into, no cups that'll overflow from all the fizzling feelings pouring out of his chest. you've got him, and he's got you.

[girlkisser13]

being married to choso kamo would include

• choso is incredibly serious about being your husband. he loves the title, loves the weight it carries. "my wife." "my husband." every time he says it, it’s filled with quiet pride.

• he didn’t use to think much about the future— until you. with you, he pictures years together, a quiet home, growing old side by side.

• choso values peace and routine. your home is a space where he feels safe, grounded, and truly at ease.

• your home is simple, cozy, and full of warmth. he’s not one for extravagant things, but he wants your space to feel comfortable.

• he wakes up before you most mornings, sitting by the window with a cup of tea, enjoying the stillness of the world before it wakes up.

• he likes keeping things organized. he doesn’t mind cleaning or cooking— it’s just another way for him to care for you.

• he takes care of small things for you without being asked. fixing things around the house, making sure you always have water before bed, placing a blanket over you if you fall asleep on the couch.

• he enjoys the little moments of domestic life with you. whether it’s folding laundry together, cooking side by side, or simply sitting in silence reading, he finds comfort in sharing these everyday experiences with you.

• he always makes sure you’re warm. he’ll drape a blanket over your shoulders, wrap his arms around you, and pull you closer on cold nights.

• he doesn't like loud, chaotic environments, but if you enjoy them, he'll go with you without complaint— just to make sure you're safe.

• he enjoys silence, but the most comforting kind— the type where words aren't needed, where you both just exist together, completely at ease.

• he loves having you close, even in quiet moments. he doesn’t need constant conversation— just being near you is enough for him.

• he's an excellent listener. if you need to vent about your day, he'll sit with you, nodding, offering quiet reassurances and rubbing slow circles on your back.

• physical touch is his main love language. he’s always reaching for you— holding your hand, resting a hand on your back, pulling you into his lap whenever he can.

• he gives the BEST hugs. 

• when he holds you, it’s firm, grounding, and completely consuming. he’ll bury his face in your neck, his arms wrapped around you like he never wants to let go.

• he kisses you slowly, deeply, and with purpose. every kiss lingers, filled with a love so strong it doesn’t need words.

• he’s not one for rushed pecks— he makes sure every kiss lingers, that you feel just how much he loves you.

• he loves playing with your hair. if you sit close enough, he’ll absentmindedly run his fingers through it, completely lost in the sensation.

• he's very aware of your emotions. if you're upset or stressed, he'll wordlessly pull you into his lap, letting you rest against his chest as he strokes your hair.

• he doesn't often say "i love you" outright, but he shows it in small ways— pulling you into his arms, making sure you're warm, bringing you your favorite snacks.

• when he does say it, it's quiet, deep, full of meaning. "i love you. more than anything."

• he finds comfort in your presence. when he’s tired, he’ll pull you onto his lap or rest his head against your shoulder, needing nothing more than to be near you.

• if you ever initiate affection, he gets flustered. he’ll blink in surprise, a faint blush dusting his cheeks, but he secretly loves it when you catch him off guard.

• choso has lost too much already— he refuses to lose you.

• he is incredibly protective. if anyone so much as makes you uncomfortable, his entire demeanor changes. his normally calm expression turns cold, his presence becoming a silent but terrifying warning.

• he positions himself between you and danger instinctively. whether it’s crossing the street or facing an actual threat, he will always shield you without hesitation.

• if you ever get hurt, even in the smallest way, he gets incredibly worried. he’ll inspect every scratch, tending to your wounds with a seriousness that makes you laugh. "it’s just a cut, choso." "it could get infected."

• he will never let you face danger alone. if there’s even a hint of a threat, he’s at your side instantly, ready to do whatever it takes to keep you safe.

• if you ever cry, he doesn’t ask questions— he just pulls you into his arms, letting you bury yourself against his chest. he’ll hold you as long as you need, murmuring quiet reassurances until you feel safe again.

• he never yells. even if he’s upset, he keeps his voice calm, steady, because he never wants to hurt you.

• if he’s wrong, he’ll admit it. he doesn’t let pride get in the way— his relationship with you is more important than winning an argument.

• if he hurts your feelings, he feels incredibly guilty. he’ll hold your hands in his, looking into your eyes as he quietly apologizes. "i never want to hurt you. i’m sorry."

• we LOVE an emotionally intelligent man.

• after an argument, he always stays close. even if you need space, he won’t go far— just in case you need him.

• if you’re upset with him, he gets quiet and withdrawn— not because he’s angry, but because he’s afraid he hurt you. He just needs you to reach for him, to remind him you’re not going anywhere.

• he takes care of you in every way he can. making sure you eat, making sure you’re warm, holding you close when the world feels too heavy.

• he never stops showing his love. even decades into marriage, he’ll still pull you into his arms, still hold your hand under the table, still look at you like you’re his entire world.

• to him, you are family now. you are the person he would give everything for, the one he will protect, cherish, and stand beside for the rest of his life.

• even if he doesn’t always have the words to say it, you will never doubt how deeply, how wholly, and how eternally he loves you. <33

[astracora]

EVER's Tool - Chapter 3

Characters: Poly!LADs x gn!mc, Caleb x gn!mc (Caleb POV/MC POV)

Warnings: Hurt/No Comfort, Angst, Talk of EVER Experiments and Torture, Violence, Gore, Spoilers for Caleb's story.

Word Count: 10261

Written: 6th February 2025

Notes: Established-relationship with gn!MC with all LADs, with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in. Unnamed MC, but using my personal MC's basic appearance and adjusted backstory. I take some liberties with what the game offers me. I got no notes this time, just a lil migraine that will not bugger off. Enjoy!

Now Playing: Ghosts 'n' Stuff, by Deadmou5

Masterlist AO3

<- Previous

Caleb has imagined and dreamed about the moment he reunites with you.

In some dreams, he knocks on the door of your apartment, waits impatiently for you to open the door. He knows you're home, so he would wait, as long as it took for you to open up. To see him.

He imagines your eyes widening, blinking at him, as he says he's home. Reaches a hand out to you, only for you to rush to him, arms open. Tears streaming down your cheeks, or hiccuping against his chest while he lifts you up into his arms.

Sometimes he dreams about holding your face in his hands, thumbs easing across your cheekbones. Marvelling over having you there again, after all the time he's had to be apart. Etching every part of you back into his memory, as though he could ever forget a single thing.

In some of his dreams, the ones he knows will never come to pass, he holds you as close as he can. Feel your body heat against his body. He sinks into it, remembers he's home, lets you soothe every ache and pain he'll ever have. His hand around the back of your neck, he tightens it a little when you lean back just to look up at him. Tears in your eyes, mismatched gaze holding his.

The pull of you is stronger than his EVOL could ever hope to be. He gives into every urge he's ever had in his life, every day dream, every yearning, every hope, everything he's ever wanted.

Kissing you, he imagines, he dreams about, but he knows it can never compare to the real thing. The warmth of you and the taste. Still, he sinks and he devours and he thrills. You gasp against his mouth, reaching up to him, and he responds by pulling you even closer. As close as you can get, without fusing into him.

Though he wishes you could. Live inside of him, or him inside of you. A world of just you two exists inside his mind, and he wishes for it in reality as well. He's hungrier now, more desperate.

Reminded every moment of the risk to you, the chance of losing you. The time he spent apart. Everyday watching you from afar.

His dreams have shifted over time, from the you he has spent so many years with, to the you he has seen through the lens. Arm lost because of EVER, scars over your skin, the metal of your right arm that matched his own.

Every change to you, he has ingrained in his mind's eye. Every ache, every pain, every loss, every time he had seen the pain in you. His hands aching to touch you, to ease it. To be your ally.

Instead he had had to watch, always distant, tied to the Farspace Fleet with chains he kept for you. Even as his heart cried out. Begged him to run, and keep running. Back to you.

So in his dreams, he soothes his hand over the metal as he kisses you, with his left hand. To feel every groove of your arm, to add it to his memories. He imagines you pulling back to breathe, and though it's a dream and neither of you need to, the look on your face, desperate and breathless makes it worth it.

He never gives you too much of a break though, pulling you back in. Years of craving and the attempt to satiate it.

Of all the ways he imagines reuniting with you… this is more a nightmare than a dream. As you stare at him, cool eyes stunned and wide. You bear EVER's crest at your collar, there's blood splattered up the side of your face.

As he steadies you with his hand, watching as your gaze flickers, he only gets the small warning, the flickering of your eyelids, before you fall. He swoops you into his arms, one arm under your legs and the other around your back, pulling you up against his chest. Holding you tight, clinging to you. "Pipsqueak?"

"It appears the hunting dog has run themselves into the ground. Take them somewhere to rest, please."

He looks up at the Professor, who gives a glance of disdain, and something else that makes Caleb's hackles feel like they're raising. He is barely spared a look as the man goes to leave the room, but as he opens the door, looking back over his shoulder, his sharp eyes narrow. "Make sure you keep an eye on them, I would hate to lose their loyalty and have to resort to tighter chains."

The threat hangs over his head, a reminder of the noose around his throat, of choices made. As he stands, holding you in his arms, he remembers how close to the beast you now are, and how he is all that stands between you and it.

He cannot give them a single reason to take your mind away, to get their claws into you more than they have. Now he has you back, he will not release you again.

—--

You're sinking, like you're falling into concrete.

It closes up around your chest, hardening, and breathing gets harder and harder. Forcing broken gasps out of your mouth, desperate for the haze filling your head to stop.

You can't breathe.

Darker.

Darker.

Go-

When you wake up, you're surrounded by white cold walls. Looming over you is an older woman you don't recognise, in a lab suit. Mask pulled up, glasses glinting in overhead lights.

You try to move, but your arm and legs are tied down.

No.

"Let me go." Rips out of your throat, tugging at the restraints. She ignores you, writing down on a clipboard.

"Day fifty, energy fluctuations-"

The yell turns to a snarl, "Let me go!" Your chest tightens, as you pull, thrash, struggle.

Your chest hurts, burning hot, and when you look down it's open. Red gleaming thing beating visibly where everyone can see.

"No." You try to reach out, hand pulling against the restraints to grasp at the threads of the white lab coat. "Please. You have to help me." You can feel the hot tears streaming down your face. The pain increases, a pressure in your head. You don't want to cry in front of her, you don't want to let her see it, not as she looks down at you.

Cool eyes, unconcerned with the fingers grasping at her coat.

"High levels. Still no indication of memory recollection."

Her hand reaches towards your chest, fingers covered in gloves, and no matter how much you try to recoil from the contact, you cannot get away.

It feels like your lungs are tightening, the wavering on the edge of your vision. The dimming. Flickering lights.

You stare up at her, as the static flickers, and a smiling face looks down at you.

"Gran, please. Help."

As you sink down under the darkness, the smile is gone, replaced with the blue mask, and she sinks her hand into your chest. The red glow illuminates it, and for a split second… before you fade away, you think about a far kinder woman.

Whose hand held your small one, and how despite not knowing her name, or who she was. You miss her.

—---

Caleb finds the room you have been assigned, it is empty and cold. There is nothing in it, no sign of life. No sign of you. He sees none of the plushies you often surround yourself with, no figurines on your desk, no books, nothing. The only thing that indicates it is yours, is the picture frame. He remembers you carving his name into it, so he'd carved a heart in afterwards.

Your face smiles back at him, head leaning on his shoulder, arm threaded through his. You have dirt on your cheek, and he remembers reaching up after the photo was taken to wipe it off. You'd grumbled about why he hadn't removed it before the photo if he'd known.

He'd never responded, just laughed at you, pouting at him.

He'd simply loved every part of you, no matter how you'd looked. Especially when you'd looked at him full of life.

As he rests you on the bed, Caleb goes through motions that are as deeply familiar to him as you are. Tending to wounds, taking care of you, protecting your body.

He remembers teenage years, wiping blood off your knuckles, stitching up wounds you didn't want to take to hospitals. Easing pain with warm hands and ice packs.

You had begged him many times not to tell Gran, to keep each injury a secret, to not let her see you with your heart wounded and your tear stained cheeks. Each time, against his better judgement, he'd hidden it. Sat with you, salving against torn knuckles, as you promised you'd be careful.

You rarely were, the moment you were released out of his grip, you'd run off to get into another fight. Coming up against anyone who was cruel or mean, or unfair to those around you. Arguing with your fists, full of fire and anger. Anger he knew you couldn't take out on the world that left you stranded.

He thinks about the scared kid, whose hand had taken his, then never let go since. Who hissed and growled and snarled at anyone coming too close. Who scratched every time you were pulled away from him. Hands reaching out to grasp at anything you could reach to keep.

Caleb has seen so much of you. Every memory he keeps safe and close to his chest, protecting it with all that he has. Locked where no one can ever reach it but him, and you.

From the terrified kid who never wanted to let him go, to the angry teenager who wanted to fight every problem, to the adult who faced straight forward, eyes full of fire.

You had relied on him constantly, seeking him out as a home ground. Telling him things you could never tell anyone else.

He thinks about the tears you'd shed after medical appointments, shaking, as you sat with the knowledge that you would never know how much time you had until it was too late. Every time your chest ached, you would worry, and so would he. It was never enough time.

There was never enough time, he'd been taken away from you and lost so much time. Watched as you sought comfort in others, as your safe harbour changed. Burned down, leaving you floating. Had to watch the landing pad change.

You'd built a home without him. His hand tightens on yours as he cleans blood off, the metal under his synthetic skin creaking. He eases it, before he can bruise your skin, or damage bone.

He removes your prosthetic in reverence, careful with it, despite the ache under his skin. He'd seen your prosthetic before, the same arm as his own, but when they had replaced it with the wanderer's claw… he'd sought out information, looked for the files.

Sensory feedback similar to his own, pain, but little else.

When he had teased you for copying him so much growing up, he had never wanted you to mirror him in this. There is nothing worthy or good about the twisted corrupt things they have done to you.

As he finishes cleaning up the mess, and putting everything away that he has used, before sitting at your bedside again. Picking up your hand in his own, smoothing over your skin with his thumb. The empty feeling of his right hand, at odds with the feeling of weight and heat in his left hand.

Your fingers twitch, and he thinks of a small sparrow in his palm. Something so small, and so fragile, that he fears every day that it will perish, or its wings will break.

He has caught you every time you have fallen, mended fragile wings, and watched you take off again. He never thought you would lose them.

Caleb has tried to clip them before, yearned to. Reached out with harsh hands to snap bone, only to pull back, to remind himself you are you when you are free. He does not wish to hurt you, he only ever wants you to be happy and healthy. Even if the reason takes you from him…

Still, a sick little voice in his head thrills at you being here. With him, within four walls. Your hand in his.

As you groan, eyelids fluttering, he releases you. Watching as you reach up to rub at your eyes, rolling onto your side for a moment with a groan.

"Pipsqueak?"

You curse under your breath, and he can tell the bruising he saw has caught up to your waking brain, with your hand, you push yourself up. Turning away from him to plant your feet on the ground, leaning forwards.

He calls out your name, moving off the bed to crouch in front of you. Hand hovering near your knee, unable to bring himself to touch you, now that your eyes are open. Mismatched gaze wavering before they focus on him.

Caleb sees recognition, but he has seen it before. Recognition in the awareness that you know him, but none of the weight of height of memory. He is a figure you know that you should know, a name you can speak, but there is nothing else there.

It is like being a child again, every time you had woken up in that shelter, tired and worn. Eyes that stared at him, tearful and unsure. You did not remember how you'd taken his hand that first time, promised him he wasn't alone. You did not remember every day he had spent with you, the paper planes he had made and flown around your head. You did not remember, curling up next to him to sleep, hands clinging to his clothes as though he would disappear if you did not.

You do not remember every moment, that as an adult he realises, was full of love.

You do not remember how much he adores you. Every incarnation, every version of you that comes through, every piece of you he sees.

That could never change.

You look up at him through your lashes, like you are waiting to be told off. Like you have broken something, or stolen cookies out of his stash. Like you have injured yourself and are waiting for him to tell you off.

No matter if you have your memories, those mannerisms never change.

You're guilty, and worried, and he can read you like a book. He can see through every mask you will ever wear.

He will always know you better than anyone else could ever hope to.

"I know Pipsqueak." He watches your eyes widen a little, sitting up so you can look at him properly. He watches your eyes dart around, and if he were not better at controlling his expressions, years of suppressing them, he would have blushed at the way you seem to commit him to memory. "You've forgotten, right?"

He watches you shrink back, your fingers fidgeting, before they scratch at your neck. He stops you, before you scratch it raw. Trying to ignore the way you flinch at the contact. The way your hand pulls back out of his grip.

It leaves an ache in his chest, faced with the startled look and raised hackles. It is not the first time, but every time he hopes it will be the last.

You exhale, fingers reaching out like you're looking for something, he does not know what. Only that you do not find it, and your hand pulls back. "You know?"

He lets out a sigh, and this time when he reaches out, it's to brush a strand of your hair that has grown far longer than he knew you ever liked it, back behind your ear. This time you do not flinch, just watch him carefully. Like he might hurt you. Like everyone else in this place. "Of course, Pipsqueak. I know."

I know everything about you.

I know every part of you.

I still need to know more.

His fingers brush your cheek for a moment, a second, like it was a mistake, a slip. He does not touch your scars, just feels the heat of your cheek with his left hand. The smoothness of your skin.

You pull back, standing up, shaking on feet and back away from him. "I need-" You back up until your back hits the door to your bathroom, hand reaching for the handle and shake your head, "Shower. I need-"

He watches you, as your eyes dart around the room, as your arm trembles, shaking at the handle.

"Go on, I'll wait." He assures, because he will. He will wait.

He has built you diaries and photo albums, he has answered questions every single day.

Who are you?

Caleb.

What are we?

The closest people can be.

Who am I?

My pipsqueak.

He will always wait for you.

You almost leave, before stopping, turning around to look at him, but do not speak. He watches your eyes, the wavering to the gaze. The fear he can read in the depths of your expression.

"I'm not going anywhere Pipsqueak, you're stuck with me." Always. No matter what happens. You're his home. Anyone would have to drag him, dead, from you.

Your eyes narrow, fang peeking out under your lip as you growl at him, "... stay."

He lets out a laugh, reaches out as you spear him with mismatched eyes, and pats your head. Wonders over how tangled and messy it is, uncared for, and he hopes you'll let him brush and dry it after. Though he's smarter than to push.

He does watch as you close your eyes partially, shrink under the pressure of his hand, scowling a little like a child. Sometimes he marvels, that even without your memories, you always have the same soul lurking under there. Reacting the same, acting the same, your words the same. Like you're carved out of stone.

"Alright, Pipsqueak. I'll stay right here for you."

You nod, brushing his hand away with the back of yours before essentially fleeing from him.

He closes his hand, opening and closing as the sensation of your hair through his fingers reminds him once again.

That he's finally home.

Even if he does have to forget that the walls have burned to the ground.

—---

When you remerge, your skin is still steaming and you've thrown an old shirt over yourself. Padding into the room, with a towel still around the back of your neck. He sees you stop for a moment, look at him, like you believed you would wake up out of a dream.

Like you'd forgotten he was real, and in front of you.

You hesitate, look at him, pulling at the end of your shirt. He knows how this goes, you'll try to think about what to say, and he'll wait until you can find the words.

Still. It's been a year.

It's been a year.

So he pats the space in front of him on the bed, and offers a smile he hopes resembles the same one he has given you for years. Though it feels rusty, year old ache to it.

You look at his hand, then at him, head titled just a little bit in question.

"You have questions, I can give you answers, but sit here. It'll take a while, and your hair is wet."

You step forward once, and then stop. He feels a little like he's coaxing that kitten from his childhood. Hand extended, with food, seeking out your trust.

"I'm not a child." You grumble, under your breath.

He fights back the laugh, memories overlapping, and he says exactly what he used to when you'd say it before, "No you're not, but I enjoy doing it. For me?"

Caleb watches your eyes widen just a little, and unlike in his memories, when you speak, it is a whisper, "Enjoy it?"

"Of course, Pipsqueak. It's been a long time. Let me?"

He watches the kitten step forwards, placing itself right in front of him, back turned. He tries not to focus on the scars he can see, deep jagged things. These are new, from your time with EVER.

Carved into your skin, like they're etched with a blade.

Instead, he busies himself with brushing, and drying very tangled hair.

On the first two passes of the brush, you flinch, pulling away carefully. Before forcing yourself to settle, not show him how nervous you are, how you want to flee.

He watches over your shoulder, as you twist fabric in fingers, thinking. Always thinking. Trying to find words for things you're scared to ask or say. He's watched you miss chances beforehand in conversations, busy trying to rehearse or think of words. Processing everything in that perfect head of yours.

"You're dead." Is finally mumbled, and his hands pause where he is threading fingers through strands, "They said you were dead."

He wants to make a joke, 'I got better'. He wants to be honest, tell you how close he got. He pushes both down, and lies.

He lies instead. "The explosion did a lot of damage, they didn't want to disappoint you if they couldn't save me. It was easier to tell you I was gone, until they were sure." It's not the first lie he's ever told you, it probably won't be the last. It still sinks like acid into his gut, to use the words of the people who hurt you.

"They said it was a year ago."

"It was."

"It took a year to save you?"

He can feel it, the raised hackles, the way you turn your head a little, to look at him out the corner of your eye. It is the look he has seen before, like you don't quite believe him, except this is sharp. Like you have a dagger in hand. There's months of mistrust to you, months of frustration.

You're waiting at the edge for lies and betrayal, hardened. You're there under the layers, he just has to draw you out.

"Not the full year," This is closer to the truth, "I had to recuperate." Had to be placed in the fleet. Play their game. Be a pawn. "It was…" A sigh, "difficult."

The dagger is lowered, and you settle back, "Difficult." It's not a question he knows, but he looks at you as you raise a hand to your residual limb, and he feels it. The acknowledgment, even if you do not know the metal under his skin. He knows you'd understand. If he tells you, you will look at him and understand. Even without your memories.

Emotions are far harder to forget.

"We were close?"

It doesn't feel like a question, because it is like asking if the sun rises, or the moon controls the tides.

You have always been, and will always be, the only port for him. His only weakness, and his only home.

"We were."

This time you fully turn your head, his hands falling away from you, as you look at him. Almost, eyes focusing just to his left, like he's used to. Never keeping a gaze for long. "Is that it?"

He laughs this time, as you grumble, the pout on your face one for the books. "What else do you want?"

"What exactly were we? What-" You swallow, and look away again, staring at one of the empty walls, "What was I like?"

His heart jumps, and he thinks it wants to shatter, to escape. The downcast look to your face, the shivering.

You've been alone here, without him. Without anyone but jackals that want to rip at you. No memories, no warm hand to lead you back to the answer. He has not been there to help you, to bring you home.

"We were the closest people could be," He abandons his hat on the side, extends his left hand, palm up towards you, "I knew you better than anyone else, we spent all our time together growing up."

You're cross legged in front of him, hand twitching in your lap, staring down at his.

"You were a troublemaker, constantly getting me to do things for you." He falls into the memories, images of you with dirt on your cheeks, hanging off him, asking for things, teasing him. "You enjoyed insulting me. 'Dummy', 'Stupid Caleb'."

"I sound unbearable." It's a broken whisper, and he sees you. Looking like you're waiting for him to leave, to look at him and see something to leave.

He will never have enough time to tell you all the ways he loves you. He can only try to reach out for you, and tether you to him again.

"No, whenever it mattered, whenever we needed each other, we had each others' backs. You've always been my home, Pipsqueak." You finally touch him, fingers tracing over the lines of his palm, before clinging to his hand.

He watches as you crawl over, and he feels you bury yourself against him. He freezes, but the heat of you against his chest is warm and melts him. Right arm, as empty as it feels, tugs you closer. Into his chest. You're trembling, and shaking but you won't cry.

There were times when you were younger, fresh and hurting from the weight on your shoulder, and refused to let yourself cry. He had often found you, hiding somewhere, shivering and shaking, fighting back all the feelings you couldn't put into words. The locations ranged, under your bed, in the closet, outside in a hollowed out tree.

Caleb has always found you, and he now can continue to do so.

You're so warm, and so right. He has held you so many times, and each time settles his heart, and unsettles it all in one. A feeling of perfection, and fear. The feeling of standing on the edge, of desperation, of all the desires he hides and keeps down. Even if they come to his fingers, each time he passes them through your hair as he holds you. Even if they bite his fingertips, when he brushes your skin carefully.

As your tremors subside, and your breathing calms, he carefully rearranges you, so that you're both lying down. You're clearly exhausted, drained, so you do not react at all as he wraps you in his arms again, cheek against the top of your head.

Your fingers twitch against his chest, where your hand is pressed over his heart.

It's a relief you're sleeping, because with every twitch, his heart skips. He can control many things but his traitorous heart, that is determined to share his secrets.

At least, when you wake up, he will be able to keep you safe from now on.

—---

When you next wake up, you find no weight of heavy nightmare on your shoulder. A brief reprieve from a surety you had grown accustomed to. Instead there is a weight around your hip, and warmth under your head.

Pillowed against Caleb's bicep, and wrapped up against his chest.

Caleb.

Alive.

You detangle carefully from the sleeping figure, who feels like a dream, and dress quickly. Grabbing your claw and reattaching it. Part of you yells to stay, to wake him up. If you ask more questions, find more answers.

Not to let go of someone who looked at you and still pulled you close.

Against every waking nightmare you had, of him being disgusted. Hating you.

Your hand raises to your hair, tugging through the strands that no longer catch at knots. Cared for, where you do not.

'You've always been my home, Pipsqueak.' You hadn't had words to respond to him, but they had clawed at your useless heart relentlessly. Tugging you to him like a pull you didn't understand. Need? Desperation? A desire to affirm for yourself how true it was?

Every day spent in the compound reminded you not to trust people blindly, there was nothing here worth protecting, besides yourself.

There was part of you that knew not to trust Caleb, not fully. Out of nowhere, like a gift wrapped in a bow, presented to you when you needed something to tether to ground. A show of kindness from an organisation that showed kindness to no one. It was pathetic and stupid and ridiculous for you to accept this.

You should, you know you should, pull away and push. There is nothing good to be found from letting EVER have their hand on your heart.

There is no joy to be found, in what will come to pass.

And yet.

And yet.

His voice is so warm, and so soft. He is all you have ever known you were once attached to. The only person with a memento that you hold close, in hope and in blind faith, despite the memories not being there.

He knew you had forgotten, without you saying anything. He looked at you and saw it, so surely he had to know you. Had to understand you.

Despite all that fear of the outside edges with knives and glass shards… you cannot deny that part of your heart steadied when he brushed your hair. That you felt less alone when you touched his hand. That you did not get chased by nightmarish shades through the abyss of sleep, while held by him.

There is a feeling, while staring down at him as he sleeps, your claw twitching, that reminds you that cruel tricks and illusions play a part in EVER's machinations.

That you are a working tool, that you work better when you are a loyal working tool.

It is a fool that knows the snake lurks in the grass, but still steps into the strands anyway.

You find yourself wanting to be a fool. Wanting to hold onto the heat of someone who does not see you as an experiment. Who smiles and laughs and comforts your heart without seeing you as a beast to hold the leash of.

You want to lay down at the fire of acceptance and find relief.

He is familiar, despite the empty part of your mind that cannot recall anything, and there is a small part of you… a tiny little voice that crackles through the static, that tells you, above all else, and without any doubt colouring it- that you can trust him.

Always.

—--

Leon's coffee is always burnt, always bitter. He has a collection of drinks that you raid every now and then, when you have to stomach his lab. He makes a pot, and then he forgets it, caught up in research. Everytime you pour a cup, you spill it on the side, hoping it stains and makes one of those veins pop out of his forehead.

You prefer the drinks in the cafe, even though you rarely ever get the chance to go to visit it. Kept caged, with just a moment's reprieve. The last time you had escaped, you had broken down in front of the crowd.

One of whom, you expect to see when you enter the lab, instead you only get greeted by Leon. Who does not look up from his research, but does speak when you pour a cup, purposefully missing, "It's too early for you to be spilling drinks all over my work surfaces, little bomb." As he says it, you look right at him, as you pour more over.

He does not look, but you decide it's probably satisfying enough knowing he'll have to clean it up later. Scowling, and tutting as he does.

You hold back the urge to spit for good measure, and down the cup, before refilling it. This time using sugar cubes he keeps, and spilling milk too.

It's a lot more tolerable, now that the burnt taste is covered up somewhat, as you sip, you move over to a desk and sit on it. The ache in your body is eased since you woke up, relieved by the heat of the shower, and actual sleep. "Where is your guest?"

"My guest? Actively avoiding me. He has not left the back room."

You can't say you're surprised, who would want to be in the viper's nest. He'd been attacked, kidnapped, and his family threatened. It's not even like you'd given him clothes, food, anything. Or maybe Leon had handled it when you left.

"Avoiding my prison keeper, who has the moral code of a rotten carrot? Surprising."

You look up as the man in question enters the room. He looks tired, dishevelled, he is wearing a new shirt, you note. Though it does not look like he slept. A smart move. EVER might want his talents, but it does not mean they would not force his use. Whatever they have to convince him, must be something special.

"I have no interest in hurting you, Doctor Li, the sooner you accept our offer, the better."

"As I have informed Carter, multiple times, I have no interest in working with you."

Sipping your coffee, you can't stop yourself from snorting. Forest green eyes focus on you, and the edges flicker.

'Darling.'

You shake your head, and force yourself to ground, clenching your claw and raising a brow. "You're a moral one, aren't you Doctor?"

"Should I not be?"

Raising your shoulder in a half shrug, you turn away, kicking your feet, "It won't last long."

"We'll see."

Leon stands, placing his documents in a drawer, and locking it behind him with his fingerprint. You watch him place his cup in the sink, glaring down at the mess on his side, "Little bomb, clean this up." He turns to look at you, over the rim of his glasses, when he realises you have no urge to move, he sighs and wipes down the worst of it quickly before heading to the door. As he pushes it open, he clicks his fingers, and turns back to look at you, "That reminds me, you have a new job, little bomb." Your grunt is his only answer, staring down into your cup.

You can feel the doctor's eyes on you. You pointedly ignore him as well.

"You're to guard the doctor."

This forces your head up, "I'm to what?"

"Guard him, keep him safe, keep him out of trouble." The last one is a warning, shot at Doctor Li, with a false smile. Who does not look back at him, and is still watching you.

"Why would he need-"

"I don't have the answers to your questions, you have your job, carry it out like you always do, little bomb."

A hiss rises out of you unbidden, but he leaves the room before you can throw your cup at his head.

You're reminded again that you don't have your dagger, that you cannot use its motion to soothe yourself. That you have even less to keep you stable when his sickening voice and the chain around your throat reminds you of your role here.

You don't know what to say, or do. You've been ordered to kill, ordered to kidnap, but never ordered to protect. You have never held something in your hand you weren't supposed to break.

Instead you fiddle with the segments of your clawed hand, bending them, even though you cannot feel it. It is an unsuccessful method to soothe. Just a reminder that the limb is nothing but a weapon.

"Are you alright?" The voice is soft, and warm. Too soft and warm to be aimed at someone like you. You know you look irritated, you can feel it. The same kind of frustration Leon always brings you, but this one you cannot soothe down or pretend as easy. It's harder to pull down the mask for your work, when you're out there, on a job. Doctor Li indicates your fidgeting, and offers the smallest smile.

Flinching back is your answer, huffing as you pull back, "What do you care? I'm your prison guard, remember?"

He nods, hand going to his chin as he looks down at your arm, "Did you take care of the lightning burns?"

Turning your head away, you cross your arms to hide it, even if the carapace rubbing against your flesh is an unpleasant sensation. "What do you care?"

"You were injured in front of me, and I am a doctor. It's natural to be concerned." You look at him, peering into warm eyes that hold something you don't really understand. Concern? Worry? Most of the doctors and scientists look at your injuries with glee or disdain. Either an opening for experiment and tests, or irritation with having to fix a tool. "Have you seen a doctor?"

"One's in front of me. Real damned nosy." It's not as biting as you want it to be, too confused by the man. Was he just that soft that he cared about everyone?

'He takes care of stray cats.'

Glasses pushed up his nose, small smile on his face, as he checked a cat's paw. His eyes glitter, and he laughs at the little creature as it bats at the lens of his glasses.

'You're a worse patient than-' Static and trembling. '-they avoid my advice too.'

A gentle hand petting behind small ears, as the little thing is released, only to scarper off.

'Seems I haven't yet won the local cats over.'

'Don't worry Doctor Li, he's just going to tell all his friends about the best, kindest doctor he'll ever meet.'

Warm hand in your right, sensation of skin against metal, hair brushed back behind ear.

'Is that so?'

"Darling?"

You blink, shivering and pull back from him as he reaches out. Dodging his hand and biting down on your lip with fang to centre on the sharp pin prick of pain, to ground you back down to this world. This place.

If this continues you might have to see someone… to fix what is wrong with you. Remove the shades of things you do not recognise.

Free you from ghosts.

"Do you often care about your kidnappers?"

"I cannot say I've had any, other than you. So, have you?"

You didn't, you want to say. Because it doesn't matter. Your arm works, it is fine, and that is all that matters. You need to replace your claw, but that's not you, just a replaceable tool.

"I'm fine, my arm is fine." It's not a lie, though, you realise. Your arm does not ache, the burns have left their mark, the lightning scars up your bared skin are clear, but there's a sheen over your limb. "I-" You think of Caleb, there when you woke up the first time, the blood removed from your skin. The aid kit on your bedside. It's a discomforting feeling really, to have been cared for… Something to fear.

Something to reject.

A tool has to be useful, not reliant.

That small little voice hums, however, that you did not have to deal with your wounds yourself. For the first time, since you started avoiding EVER's doctors. With their tests, and their scalpels.

He seems satisfied enough, perhaps he can hear the honesty, as tinged in confusion as it is, or perhaps he doesn't care enough to push. No, that's not right. You're unnerved to think anyone can care about their jailor.

You don't care for EVER.

You don't have the luxury.

"Do you have hot chocolate?" The question floors you, for a moment, and makes you blink at him. He is sat looking at the cup in your hand, "I don't hate coffee, but I'd prefer something sweeter."

"Are you insane?" Escapes you without your conscious attempt to speak, but he laughs. Another soft noise escaping his throat, eyes crinkling just a bit around the edges, and you fight back the shiver. "You've been kidnapped, kept in a compound-"

"I'm quite sane, or at least, reasonably so. I'm thirsty, however, and tired. Sugar will help wake me up."

Your first impulse is to tell him to be more careful of his teeth, that his dentist would question that line of thought. The second impulse is that you don't care what he does with his teeth… the third one reminds you that he is kidnapped, and wouldn't be seeing a dentist anytime soon.

You query why the first impulse even reared its head.

"Leon keeps some." You manage, but your tone is short, and you stand quickly, hoping off the table to raid the cupboard where Leon keeps his things. You busy yourself, hoping that the focus of doing anything else will take away the feeling of being unsteady.

"I can make-"

"Stay." You snap, relieved when he settles back down, not willing for you to snarl at him again maybe. Better he learn like all the others, that you're a dog with a short leash. For a reason.

There's nothing he can gain from warm eyes, and a soft heart.

You shove the finished drink back at him, and he carefully sips it. "Not even a single check it's not poisoned?"

"You were told to keep me safe."

"And you just trust that?"

"You take your job seriously, don't you?"

You shrink back, he isn't saying it to be cruel, you can tell by the serious look on the man's face. He's watching you in the same way the scientists do, analytically, but there's no fear in his eyes, just careful observation. Like he's trying to piece you together.

Being seen by him, makes your spine tingle, and you can't tell why. "Just drink, Doctor."

"Zayne."

"Doctor-"

"Zayne."

You huff, "D-"

"Zayne."

Glaring at him now, you bare a fang, but he's simply watching you. Relaxed, and even, and steady. You exhale, and turn your head away again, forcing yourself to not pout. You're a weapon, you're a tool, you're not going to be teased by a Doctor. Before you even open your mouth to try again, he tilts his head, "We're going to be stuck together, you may as well call me by my name, it is not as though it is a secret."

Seconds pass, and he does not move, doesn't sip his drink, just watches you, and you finally growl, "Fine, Zayne." The smile you receive is very fleeting, but it burns into your vision all the same. Like he's actually happy, or you're worse at reading people than you thought.

You can tell he is watching you as you both drink, quiet in the lab you hate.

"So you're going to keep me safe? From what?"

Your sigh is all the answer you can offer him for a while, what indeed. He is in the walls of a compound kept secret, he is EVER's white whale for their experimentations, you suppose, with how much effort they put into him. What could there be to keep him safe from? He's valuable.

From himself? Do they fear he'll do something reckless to escape them?

"Everything." You finally settle on, "That's my job now."

"You're not thrilled by it."

"Are you?"

"It's…" He rubs the space between his eyes, out of the corner of yours, and shakes his head, "Not ideal."

At least he's honest. Morally upright, kind and honest. You're just waiting for the other shoe to drop now. To see what really lurks in the doctor's heart.

"Why did you start working for them?"

You glare at him, baring fangs in a snarl, but he just watches you. Like your bark has no bite, like you're daggerless. Perhaps you are. Ordered to keep him safe, you won't raise a hand until that order changes. Maybe he's smart enough just to look past the empty threat.

You haven't been muzzled before.

"You ask a lot of questions."

"It's part and parcel with being a man of science, I suppose."

"Keep asking too many, and you'll get shocked like a mouse in a maze."

"Speaking from experience?"

Your eyes narrow, and the gold glow glimmers over your scarred hand, a clawing feeling up your back, and in your limb.

He does not back down, but his eyes soften, and he looks at you like he needs something. Answers? "Did you ask too many questions? Did they hurt you?"

You snap teeth at him, the noise loud, harsh in the four walls of the lab, "None of your business." It's shame that informs you that your eyes are close to tears. That you are becoming emotional against your will. That there is a deep discomfort in your heart. Too many questions…

'Who am I?'

'Why am I here?'

'Where are they?'

Your hand moves to your chest, rubbing at the space over your twisted heart. To try to ease the agony.

"I'm sorry." He offers, looking at where you have pressed your hand, and the look in his eyes causes yours to ache more. Like he's in pain too. Like as much as he wants answers, they won't ever please him.

You think you know the feeling. Too scared to ask them anymore. Too scared to learn you've always been this thing.

"You ask too many questions." You manage to grind out, but there's no venom in it. You just feel exhausted again. "They won't make this better."

"No, but sometimes you can understand, and find a better option." Your laugh is so empty at Zayne's words, you watch his hand twitch. It reaches out, and then is pulled back. "Or understand the situation you've found yourself in."

"Your situation is bad, Zayne. That's all you really need to know."

He nods, "That it is."

As your heartbeat settles and the feelings subside, he speaks again. Soft this time, like he doesn't really want to, "He called you little bomb?"

The bristling is instant, but you can't blame him for wondering. The name has hung off you like a noose since you woke up. A reminder that you are a weapon. Leon's favourite little test subject.

"I figure it's my short fuse, that gained me that one." You snap, then flinch, then pull back. "I don't know. It's been his name for me since I met him." You rest your cheek on your hand, and force yourself to relax, to be more controlled. To stop showing every reaction, even if you don't feel particularly capable of it, "Most of them call me Unicorn."

"Unicorn-"

"You. You called me 'darling'." You watch him, as his cheeks colour a little. Try to pick out the feeling. Understand, and the question is on the tip of your tongue. Why? Like every other time you debate stepping over that line, reaching out to understand others, to seek out answers. You had managed with Caleb, before you didn't want to know anymore.

You had been there, on the precipice, of understanding the world before this place. If there was one.

Instead you'd gotten scared.

Ran away.

Like you do again, as you watch the expectation on the doctor's face. As he waits, for what you have to say or ask. Like it matters.

"Call me whatever you want, though I might not respond." Is the way you finish it.

You think of Philip and the questions you keep wanting to ask about why he's there.

You think about the red eyed man and the way he looked at you, and the questions of why he reached out for you.

You think about Leon and the question of why he calls you a bomb.

Where are they?

Questions don't have a place here. They will only ever result in pain.

Zayne does not smile this time, not a small quirk, or eyes softening. He watches and he waits a little longer, like you'll add more, but finally nods, "Unicorn."

It feels wrong, and you can't explain why. You hate it, you always have. It bites at you like fleas. Discomforting. It does not feel like yours, it never feels like yours. You don't know if you ever had a name that felt like yours.

'Kitten'

'Starlight'

'Darling'

'Cutie'

'Pipsqueak'

Static and fractures and broken space.

'Little Bomb'

'Unicorn'

'EVER's Dog'

Overlapping noise and indecipherable interference.

When the man in front of you, had called you 'Darling', he had been warm and alive. You had, despite the agony, felt some semblance of home from it. Something precious, and something that fit better than 'Unicorn'.

Now, the voice has cracked and bled into the cold white labs, and the empty expanse of reminders for where you belong.

It's stupid to believe you have lost something that you have never had. Running from things or breaking them so you do not have to face them.

Too scared of the ghosts that haunt on the edges, like always.

You cannot be more than what you are.

"Other than guarding prisoners-" Startles you up, and you see the hand extend for you again, before it is pulled back. Like he's reminding himself not to touch you, but it pulls you away from the cliff's edge, and back to the room. As much as you hate the lab, the fear of the unknown is worse. "What else do you do?"

"You're the first I've guarded, I mostly kill my targets." You speak, too honestly, curated control slipping out of your grip as the world rights itself around you, and you avoid analytical forest eyes.

He doesn't seem to know how to respond for a moment, "I mean, hobbies, Unicorn."

You blink, "You want to know… about hobbies?"

"It's prudent to know each other, if we're going to spend this much time together."

"Not at all."

He ignores you and forges ahead, "If I cannot ask questions about EVER, then I can ask questions about you."

"Those won't help you escape." You're incredulous. He's foolish. You make a note to ask Raincoat if he has ever guarded a target before, and if they're all as ridiculous as Doctor Li. You're already inclined to say no.

"I have no intention of trying to escape, on the way through I noticed that all the doors use biometrics to allow exit and entry, and I doubt my own would grant me access."

So he is as smart as you thought when you first caught him. Brave, smart, and foolish. Or reckless. Softhearted? Hard to tell. Zayne Li feels like a mystery you don't think you have enough time to solve.

"So if these questions are not a risk to EVER, which I assume is your main concern, then surely I can ask them?"

"I don't care if you ruin EVER's day, Doct- Zayne." He raises a brow and you shrug, turning away, "Look, I just don't know what you're trying to achieve."

"Understanding. Asking questions, to gain answers. To understand. You, my situation, and what I should do."

You wait, but he does not speak, and when you turn your head to him, he is watching you. Like he has caught a scent, and you are prey. Though, you doubt the man has ever willingly hurt someone.

Warm hearted, despite the ice EVOL, huh?

"I don't… really have hobbies." You finally manage, toying with your claw again. Tracing fingers over the grooves left from the lightning, and catching your finger on the sharp carapace. "I train, I do jobs, and I get tested on."

You refuse to look at his face, because you don't want to see whatever this man thinks of it. You can already imagine. What else are you to do though? There's nothing else for you. Well…

"Sometimes-" You tremble at the edge as you look down at the cup to your side, "I go to this cafe in Linkon. It's not often, I can't leave often. The coffee is good, sweet. Not… not burned." You think about Destiny Cafe staring back at you as you stand at the window, itching and desperate. Some days you can enter, grab a drink, maybe some cake, other times the feeling of losing all the air in your lungs, the panic clawing at you, pulls you away. You stumble back, and you flee.

There are some days, where you see shadows next to your reflection, or you are drinking, and you turn to say something, to people who aren't there. Because you're alone. You're always alone. Then you have to leave, wrong. Like you don't belong, like to be there isn't right. Like you're trespassing on someone else's space.

An interloper in a dream.

Very, very rare days. You enter, and for a short fragment of a moment, you feel as though you're meeting someone there. Like you'll open the door and a familiar face will say 'took you long enough', and everything will fit again. Like all the broken pieces will be fixed. No longer tangled and shoved under skin that does not fit.

You wait for that day to be a reality, that all it will take is that one moment and you won't need to ask questions anymore, because the answers will be there.

It's that small bit of hope, you think, that EVER would want stamped out. That small fragment of your heart even the core cannot touch.

Memories don't work like that, though. You looked Caleb in the face and nothing fell back into place. You were not magically fixed, there was no song of angels, or the call of hope. You were still just you, except now you had a reminder that you were irrevocably broken.

"Destiny Cafe?" You stare at him, truly stare at him as he smiles. You don't know what it means, but the look in his eyes makes you turn away. Cheeks warm.

"Yeah, they're good. Good drinks."

"The macarons are-"

"Really tasty." You swallow, you want to curl up and in on yourself. Like if you make yourself small he will stop looking at you. The heavy weight of the doctor's gaze, seeing into parts of you, you feel bad for showing, and even the parts you have not shown. Like he sees and understands, and comprehends beyond anything else.

It's not unlike the way Caleb had looked at you, like even the things you don't say, pieces you together in his mind.

You wonder absently, if you are less capable of wearing your mask, than you thought you were.

How can they understand you, when you do not understand yourself?

"I like the strawberry ones. If you go again, try those." You blink at him, but he's level again, steady. Like he's shaken off a power of foresight, and released you from his tower.

"I… Alright." You respond dumbly, maybe Raincoat is right, and you need lessons on how to talk to people. Maybe that would make this easier.

You'd only ever killed your targets, then kidnapped one, and now you had to spend time with one. Would it be easier if you simply just never engaged with him?

No, Doctor Li is stubborn, you can tell that much. You think he'd simply wear you down, or engage you easily enough, or trip you up with how much faster his brain works.

You haven't held a conversation with another person for months. The closest you get is insulting Leon, or arguing with Raincoat. In all this time, you had never actually conversed with someone. Even Philip, you keep it short.

Are you supposed to ask about his hobbies now?

No, he's just a job. You cannot look at him and see a person, you can't be his friend. You can't do anything that a person would do, because your orders could change. He could be added to the list, and this time it would not be capture.

Doctor Li, is a target, albeit one you have to protect, and that is all. Until the moment that changes, you just have to keep him safe.

It is a growling stomach that shocks you out of your thoughts, you look at the doctor, who blinks and looks at you. You look down at yourself, and feel the ache in your gut, a reminder you can only starve yourself so long, and the EVOL's burn up energy more than you're used to.

"We should eat." He offers, trying to hide his amusement. You very nearly throw your cup at him, but decide against it. You can purposefully miss, but on the off chance you dent his skull, you're sure Leon would start yapping at you like a tiny dog.

You think you like dogs, but you definitely don't like Leon, so the urge to kick him would be great.

"Sure, yeah. The canteen should be open. It's normally emptier later in the morning too." You stand, taking his and your cup to throw it in the sink. None too gently, but they don't break. "Let's go."

"Eating at EVER's compound, certainly an experience Sylus would find entertaining." You hear Zayne mutter, when you look over at him, he is brushing himself down, and righting the cuffs of his sleeves. Like the way he looks will matter to EVER.

Though, they will end up his colleagues, so maybe doctor's care about impressions.

Will?… Might. You correct. Doubting ever more that this man will sell his soul. If for no other reason, than you hope he does not. That his warm eyes mean something, where everything here means nothing. It's a stupid, pathetic little hope.

"The food's not terrible. They care enough about making sure their scientists don't drop down to malnutrition." It's about the only thing they have going for them, you muse. Not terrible food, to counteract the terrible people. "Sylus is the guy, with the red eyes, right?"

Zayne blinks, and his hand twitches, you watch. He hesitates and then nods, "Yes, that's him."

Red eyes and static…

You don't say what you want to say, that he smelt like flowers, or his eyes burned you were they met yours. You don't say what you really want to say, that you're sorry. That you didn't want to hurt him. He wasn't a target, but you couldn't risk failing. That you hoped he was ok.

There's no real fear in the doctor's eyes, like he knows that the man is fine. You don't ask, or offer anything. What value do regrets have in the hands of the person who committed cruelty?

"I'm sure he'd hate to be here." You manage, but it feels as empty as you do. A comment about a man you do not know, who has seared himself into your memory, just like the Doctor has.

You're surprised when Zayne laughs and steps over to you as you head to the door, "He would find this whole thing a challenge. One he'd aim to win."

If that's the case, you're a little sad he wasn't on the list to be captured. If he was so driven to fight and claw, then perhaps he would bring this whole thing down. Perhaps he could finally put an end to it. To you.

It would certainly bring with it a relief, a quiet you want more than anything. No more questions, no more static, and no more agony on the edges of your heart. Maybe then you could shake off this guilt for the pain you'd inflicted on a man with silver hair across his chest, and the man with red eyes. Who had simply been too in the way for you to step around.

Like that alleviated it, or made it acceptable.

"He sounds… fun." You half answer, opening the door, only to walk straight into someone's chest.

A hand steadies you at the waist, though you quickly pull back from the contact, and you go to hiss but falter when a flustered and red cheeked Caleb stares down at you.

It is then you remember, you did not wait for him, you did not leave him a note, so used to being alone, and you disappeared. It had been a fear of yours when you went into the shower, and came back out to see if he was still there.

It is a new guilt that bites at you and makes you feel small. Like a child, caught stealing, you think. Fidgeting.

"You're ok." He exhales, and places his hand on your cheek, which you do not fight off. Though the contact feels scalding on skin that is so unused to it. "Maybe next time, Pipsqueak, you can inform me of any movement, so I don't think my injured best friend has gotten themselves into more trouble?" His thumb strokes your cheek bone, through black gloves, but the heat is still an inferno.

You want to speak, to say sorry? To tell him you're an adult, that you don't need him watching over you? To do something, anything, to focus away from the heat on your skin.

It is not you who breaks the quiet though, it is the doctor stood at your back, "Caleb?"

You step back, to release yourself, and stare at them both, at purple eyes narrowing at widened green, at a smile on a familiar face that makes you feel a chill down your back, so at odds with the comfort it had brought before. When he speaks, his voice is steady, but undeniably cold, with none of the warmth it had reserved for you in his worry, "Hey Zayne, it's been a while."

[shannonsketches]

something something foils moving in opposite directions Goku's always happy to seek and fight stronger opponents because he spent most of his life being the strongest guy in the room and Vegeta wants to be the strongest/is always exhausted to find stronger opponents because he spent most of his life having to navigate his survival around the whims of the strongest guy in the universe room and so Goku has a foundation of safety and stability and so spends his time craving challenge and adventure and Vegeta has a foundation of challenge and adventure and spends his time craving safety and stability and the overlaid section of their venn diagram is that the only way they know how acquire and maintain those things is through battle

[abyssalpriest]

Damnit lev lmfao. I was thinking about Shiva wearing corpse ash being resonant for other reasons, something about his relationship with the Bright Skinned Ones and death and whatever. No, no. More fucking importantly: Oh I wonder why Shiva is known for. you know. wearing bodies. his appearance is a mass of bodies joined together. yeah

[crookedteethed]

18+ - mdni

ᥫ᭡. how the rafe's fuck you.

If I'm being honest, Season One Rafe does not know how to fuck you properly.

Rafe's sexual prowess was lacking in technique and selflessness, his thick cock a mere tool for his own pleasure rather than a passionate conduit for his partner's (your) ecstasy.

With that being said, of course he thinks he's hitting that spot inside of you--I mean, the guys ego is bigger then his dick. And that's saying something.

You bite your lip, stifling a moan - not of pleasure, but of frustration. Rafe's hips snap against yours in a frantic, uneven rhythm as he chases his own release. His eyes are screwed shut, completely oblivious to your unsatisfied state.

"Oh yeah, baby, you feel so good," he grunts, his breath hot against your neck.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Instead, you wrap your legs tighter around his waist, angling your hips in a desperate attempt to get some friction where you need it most. But it's no use. Rafe's too focused on himself to notice your subtle hints.

Just as you're contemplating faking it to get this over with, Rafe lets out a strangled groan. His body tenses, then shudder, and he's coming deep inside of you, and you're still left panting like a bitch because you haven't come yet.

(honorable mentions: When it comes to fucking with season one Rafe, he will refuse to perform any oral on you--he thinks it's gross--this doesn't mean he doesn't expect blow jobs from you, though. Also, in season one, Rafe either pulls off the condom mid-fuck, or forces you to go on birth control just to fuck you raw.) 

Season Two Rafe, on the other hand? That's a whole different story. He just comes across as so fucking reckless when he fucks you, y'know?

He fucks so angry.

He's all raw energy and unbridled passion, like a storm you can't control but can only surrender to. When Rafe's hands are on you, it's electric - every touch sends shockwaves through your body. His kisses are hungry, almost desperate, as if he's trying to devour you whole.

There's an edge of danger to it all, a thrill that makes your heart race. You never quite know what he'll do next - pin you against the wall, throw you onto the bed, or drop to his knees in front of you. That unpredictability is intoxicating.

And when he finally enters you, it's with a forcefulness that takes your breath away. Rafe fucks like a man possessed, all grinding hips and guttural moans. His fingers dig into your flesh, leaving marks you'll find later and trace with a secret smile.

Primarily he still chases his own high, but you can't help but let out a moan or two just by how rough he fucks you. The realization crawled through Rafe's body like a languid, tingling vine, filling him with a desperate craving for more of your euphonious moans.

In Season Three, Rafe is a new man - older, more mature, and eager to please. As he starts to devour your pussy, his experience comes through as a welcomed bonus. His movements are calculated and skillful, his tongue dancing over your sensitive flesh with practiced ease, as he realizes sex is more enjoyable when both parties are having fun.

Rafe's eyes glimmer with a mischievous delight, a smirk playing on his lips as he watches you with anticipation, your body convulsing and your cunt spasming just from his tongue??

It's a big ego booster to Rafe knowing he can do that to your body.

But it's not just his mouth that knows what it's doing now. His hips know how to move, how to find that sweet spot that ignites sparks of pleasure throughout your body. He's learned the power of slow, deep thrusts followed by quick, shallow ones - a combination that never fails to send you into a frenzy.

And it's not just about his dick anymore. Rafe's hands roam your body with purpose, memorizing every curve and eliciting shivers of delight from your skin. His lips are like fire on your skin, leaving a trail of heat wherever they touch - your neck, your breasts, the inside of your thighs.

When he finally sinks into you, it's with a low groan that reverberates through both of your bodies. He watches you closely, taking note of every gasp and moan as he adjusts his rhythm to suit your pleasure.

Like a mirror image of his previous self in season three, Rafe in Season Four is still eager to please both of you. But now, he approaches your pleasure with a gentle touch, taking extra care as he fucks you.

With every thrust, his mind is consumed with thoughts of marrying you, and it only intensifies his desire for you. Every moan and gasp that escapes from your lips only fuels his passion further. He knows that he wants to spend the rest of his life making love to you, and nothing could stop him from doing so.

Every movement, every touch, is charged with an intensity that goes beyond mere physical pleasure. Rafe's hands roam your body with reverent desperation, as if trying to memorize every curve and contour. His lips brush against your neck, your collarbone, whispering promises of forever between heated kisses.

You can feel the change in him, the shift from lover to potential life partner. It's in the way he looks at you, eyes burning with a mixture of lust and something deeper, more profound. It's in the way he holds you closer, as if afraid you might slip away if he loosens his grip even for a moment.

As your bodies move together in perfect synchronicity, you can't help but wonder if this is all happening too fast. Is Rafe really ready for this level of commitment, or is he caught up in his jealousy of Sarah's unexpected pregnancy? The thought flits through your mind, but you find yourself swept up in the passion of the moment, surrendering to the moment, to the electric sensation of Rafe's touch on your bare skin.

as always, reblogs and comments keeps me motivated. 🫶🏾

[dystopyx-blog]

Stuck in TWST without meds

and also they're yandere or something

@shironakuronatasa here you go pookie <3

Because everyone is different, I'm gonna be focusing on the meds I take and the things I experience! If you're inspired to write one of your own based on your types of meds, go for it! I'd love to see others' takes on this :3

I'm still writing in 2nd person, but you/mc is heavily based off of me!

(And if you still want a personalized one but don't want to write it, my commissions are open/hj)

Tw for one mention of suicidal ideation.

Imagine...

You don't quite have a clusterfuck of things going on in your head, but sometimes it can feel like it. Autism, Anxiety, depression, and ADD. Thankfully, you have access to medication, and they work well for you.

Although you can't keep the downward spiraling from the depression and anxiety away completely, it is far more manageable with your medication. You've found that when off them, you are far more prone to completely fall apart at even the slightest inconvenience. It feels like constant stormy waters, with stormclouds that only make the waves worse. But when on them, the storm disappears. Yes, the waves still get rocky and tip your boat from side to side, but you're emotionally stable enough to handle them.

Then the meds for your ADD. With them you have the razor sharp focus to not only take care of projects and work, but also to simply take care of yourself. When off of those, even simple tasks like taking out the trash can take hours, especially since you so easily forget steps, and will stop the chore in the middle, genuinely thinking it's complete.

But you have your meds, so you manage just fine.

Until you're sucked into Twisted Wonderland.

First of all, even if you had already taken the meds for anxiety/depression, there's not much they could do in the face of being transported and consequently trapped in a different dimension. But they do still help, and instead of bawling, you manage to keep a cool (enough) head and get yourself settled into Ramshackle.

But they don't last you long. They had built up in your system enough to last you a few days, but time and circumstances were not on your side.

Even though Grim is by no means an emotional support pet, and is by all means a little shit, he manages to push his pride aside when he can tell you really need it.

Especially the days where you wonder if death is what will bring you back home...

Grim will act as if he helps you for his own purposes, but he is genuinely there for you.

The others, however...

First of all, quite a few of them don't completely understand... you're extra sad and spacey, but you had some kind of magic to help with it back home, but you don't have them here, and without them you get... sad and spacey?

Riddle probably sees it as some pathetic excuse. It's not until after his overblot that his tune completely changes and he is giving you all the special treatment. Even if you mess up on purpose, even if it's something that really frustrates him, he'll justify it as you not knowing any better. Which is patronizing as hell.

Ace will use it to his advantage. Getting into trouble and having you take the brunt. And you play along with it, because, again, Riddle is treating you like an incompetent child, so you are all for raising Cain with Ace. What Ace really loves about this, though, is that it makes you more willing to hang out with him, and more likely to dislike Riddle.

I imagine Deuce has something going as well, though I don't quite know what, and neither does he. But he finds a kindred spirit in you. Study sessions with him are a MUST, and you share your different study and coping tactics, while he stares at your lovely face.

Trey relishes in caring for you. If you're having any kind of sudden increase in stress or sorrow, he is fucking there. He will scoop you up and take you to the kitchen and treat you with his home baked goodies right then and there. Same with your academics, if you need help with academics, it's to the kitchen for tutoring. And as bad as it is, he finds himself wishing you'd give in and lean on him completely.

Leona will also be there for you in depressive episodes. He sees how you always go to Grim when your upset, notices the little things that Grimm does that helps, and starts subtly using them whenever you're upset. Not even just if it's depression/anxiety related, if you're upset with him specifically he'll start purring in that low register that has your heart slowing. He'll rest his body on your chest as a weighted blanket. He'll let you pet him and comb through his hair. All until all you associate Leona with is safety and comfort–as you should from a mate.

Ruggie is SUCH a little meanie at first! Specifically regarding your ADD. Once he sees how much it genuinely upsets you, though, he'll back off. He does have a manipulative streak, though, and will use your anxiety against you. Any way he can get you to distrust others and seek him out is a good way.

Jack is one who does not fuckin understand at first, but once he does, he's supportive. He asks if there's anyway he can help and you offhandedly tell him about emotional support dogs, and he is locked on. He's embarrassed by it at first, of course, but he can tell how safe it makes you feel, and like Leona he is completely fucking for that. Though he won't just be emotional support, no, he'll be the guard dog chasing away anything that could possibly trigger you.

School is very difficult for you without your ADD meds. You can manage, but it is far more stressful and difficult than it needs to be. So, of course, you have those generously offering to help you–specifically Azul, who's more than willing to help... at a price, of course.

Floyd really likes when you daze off in class... When you're staring blankly, mind thinking about so many things except whatever the professor is droning on about. The way your eyes glaze over, the way you're so focused on whatever the fuck is going on in your head, the way your lips part ever so slightly... All your idle habits are endlessly entrancing to him. And, goes without saying, every single time you're especially depressed, he offers a good squeeze session.

Jade, the manipulative bastard, will purposely set you up for failure so that you feel like you need to go to him for help. Because lord knows Azul will make you pay for it, but not your good friend Jade. Plus, if you ever mention how hiking can help with mood, lord save your soul...

Jamil is such a DICK. He will be degrading you at every second, completely taking over whatever it is you try to do. Even if it has nothing to do with him. God, you remind him of Kalim, but at least you don't have the nerve to be so fucking happy all the time. A sick part of him likes when you're sad. You're less annoying when you're depressed, specifically, without little energy or motivation to do or be anything else. He'd happily take care of you then. He'll do whatever you need done. You'd probably do it wrong anyway.

Kalim feels so fucking seen and understood. He honestly felt like some kind of freak for so much of his life, but you... you're kinda like him! A lot sadder though. Your very existence brightens his life, so he's made it his mission to brighten yours. He also really can't stand it when you're with others. It's so obvious you two are meant for each other! He views your shared ADD symptoms as evidence of soulmateship.

Vil is another case of not fully understanding. You're making excuses. Until he takes it a bit too far, pushes even more than what you can handle, and you fully break down in front of him. You're so completely and utterly vulnerable in that moment. He doesn't know if it's a very dedicated manipulation tactic to get out of his nitpicking, but... he becomes a little more sympathetic with you. Vil recognizes that, for whatever reason, you do in fact seem to struggle more with certain things. And yet, despite that, you still try. You continue push yourself, even if what youre pushing towards is, by other people's standards, the norm/mediocrity/minimum. And in you he starts to see a bit of himself. Especially since, let's face it, with depression, anxiety, and add, it is very likely you relate more to Vil than you do Niege. He helps you, and in turn you help him, though you don't even realize it. Helping you be happier with yourself helps him be happy with himself. And he'll fucking slaughter anyone who takes you away from him.

Rook, like Vil, is easily able to recognize how much you not only struggle, but how much you try. And he finds that incredibly beautiful. Needless to say, he is often watching you. Everything you do is enchanting. He memorizes every. single. stim. and habit. Sometimes when you get frustrated, he just wants to scoop you up in his arms and shower you in kisses, but then you'd realize he broke into your room...

Epel will see how much you get pushed around, and takes it upon himself to defend you. He also sees a bit of himself in you. Sometimes he purposely waits around you, and at the first sign of trouble, he'll attack.

Sometimes you just get too fucking overstimulated and you need a break. And in those times, you've found Idia to be the best person to go to. You both started off pretty distant. You approached him, upset, and asked for a quiet place. You put in headphones and just laid down right there. The two of you just sat in silence, with headphones in, doing your own things, blocking out the world. And, oh, how Idia came to crave those moments. He began to depend on you for comfort, ans hoping that you would similarly come to depend on him. You're different from those other normies, you're the only one who gets him so please just stay with him! He will start to modify his room to be the perfect sensory room, the only place in the school you can go to fully regulate yourself. He starts going out with you, acting as if you're really helping him step out of his shell, when really he just wants to spend more time with you, and will continue to shy away from everyone else and hide behind you. This man desperately needs you to need him as desperately as he needs you.

You are so. Fucking. Cute. Malleus finds your every single quirk so fucking attractive. He doesnt like, however, seeing you so upset. So sad. And the kind of sad where he is helpless to help you. He also really doesn't like it when you're upset at yourself. Don't you realize you're perfect? And who cares if you're not good at any of the school stuff? Malleus doesn't. You don't need any of those skills anyway, with Malleus Draconia here to always take care of you.

if you want the rest of diasomnia or the secret character I subtly didn't include lmk

part two out now!!

[kurthummeldeservesbetter]

some jayvik headcanons to pass the time and ignore the pain

There is a Viktor fan club at the academy. He is unaware. They discuss his projects, his accent, his looks. Meetings are the last Thursday of every month.

Jayce accidentally stumbled into one of the meetings. They barely played off they were talking about his partner. (He still can't find any info on the "book" they were talking about, thinking Caitlyn would be interested.) (He forgets that Victorian-looking men with accents aren't on her radar.)

Jayce also has a fan club. He is aware of it. (They have invited him to meetings). They talk about his projects, his hair, his face, his line of mugs. Their banner is one of his shirts. (He is unaware of this part.)

Viktor is also aware of the club. (He gave them the shirt.)

Jayce and Viktor both hate the cold (Jayce for the snowstorm, Viktor for his leg) so whenever it was winter they were bundled up like the kid from A Christmas Story.

Viktor mixes up metaphors. He constantly uses malaphors (unintentionally) and Jayce doesn't have it in his heart to correct him. "All the ducks are aligning" is his favorite by far.

Jayce tried learning Viktor's native language to surprise him one day. (I imagine it as a mix of Czech and Polish). He ended up saying a mix of a whole bunch of nonsense, so confidently) which made Viktor laugh himself into a coughing fit.

more under cut cause this is getting long

(Viktor couldn't look at Jayce for two days after without laughing.)

Viktor has a sweet tooth, Jayce has a savory one.

Their third year as lab partners, a section of the library caught on fire. The culprit was never found. (It was them, and they both blame the other.) (It was Viktor)

Jayce enjoys suspenseful novels. Viktor, when he can be persuaded, enjoys historical fiction.

Their mortal enemy is the student who's lab is across from theirs. Viktor hates him because he's egotistical with no real skill. Jayce hates him because he always complains they're making too much noise. Their mortal enemy is unaware he is their mortal enemy.

They have a "days without incident" chart in their lab. Incidents no longer include cuts, scrapes, bruises, small explosions, broken prototypes, because if they did it would always be at 0.

Their fifth year, the auditorium stage caught on fire. A group of first years were blamed. (It was Jayce, though Viktor thought it wasn't a big deal.)

Jayce is organized, Viktor is not. Jayce puts things in organized shelves, Viktor puts things where he knows he'll need them next. This is a point of tension for the longest time, until Mel stepped in and told them to either compromise or get two of everything.

They got two of everything.

Jayce designed Viktor's cane (after the first one broke) and his leg brace.

Viktor can play the harp. Jayce can play the piano.

Everyone believes Viktor is the one keeping Jayce under control in experiments. (as referenced in this post) No one knows besides Heimerdinger that Viktor learned lab safety in a drug den. The counsel refers to Viktor as the "sane, calm one" but only Mel and Cassandra know the truth. Both think it's funnier to not deny it.

Viktor stays at Jayce's place most often. Jayce secretly moved most of Viktor's things to his place, until officially asking him to move in.

Jayce also helped design a new back brace for Viktor. It was more comfortable, made of thick cloth, and relieved so much back pain he started crying when he tried it on. This is what got them together, because Viktor kissed him in thanks, and Jayce was like "finally!!" and started kissing him back.

Money was exchanged after the Academy/Counsel found out they became official. Shoola, Mel and Cassandra got a big payout. Heimerdinger had no idea about the bet, mostly because he thought they were already together.

This led to the fanclub war. Jayce fans vs Viktor fans, until a hero came around (Sky) and was like, why not both? (And thus, the Jayvik fan-club was born)

[sirgawainofgalifrey]

Not to knock on Wrightworth or other Phoenix ships but people like to make most of Phoenix's actions have a romantic undertone and really miss out on the fact that he'll just about die for anyone he considers a friend.

Like he took on a clearcut murder case with zero experience (what's a cross-examination lol) because he was friends with Larry in school.

He STRAIGHT UP ATE GLASS AND METAL for the girl he was dating and was willing to ignore that she'd murdered someone.

He changed his whole ass career to get in contact with Edgeworth again just to make sure he was okay emotionally (and for other reasons that people like to ignore just for making it all about Edgeworth), even though they literally were like in 4th grade together for like half a year.

The first case he defended Maya was almost entirely because of Mia, because he didn't know Maya yet.

Literally EVERY CASE that he defends Maya in he's going above and beyond all reason and logic to prove that she's not guilty.

Him literally going against all reason and evidence and Edgeworth's own admission in the Edgeworth case to prove he's not guilty.

HIM LITERALLY ONLY TAKING ON THE SKYE CASE BECAUSE EMA AND LANA REMINDED HIM OF MAYA AND MIA.

Him literally in the Engarde case willing to compromise all his principles to get a murderer off the hook to save her (they give you the option of going with pleading that Engarde is innocent, even though it doesn't effect the outcome).

Him literally running across a burning bridge at night over a huge cliff to make sure she's alright.

All I'm saying is I think the writers more intended to characterize Phoenix as someone who is willing to do almost anything for people he cares about (even if he acts like a grumpy asshole most of the time), more than emphasizing any one romantic relationship.

(I also think that's why he took Edgeworth faking his death so hard, and was so pissed at him for it. Like he felt betrayed and helpless at Edgeworth commiting suicide, mad (at Edgeworth and himself) that Edgeworth thought he couldn't come to him for help, when he would do anything for him. And then he finds out he was deceived, and couldn't understand how anyone could do that to someone they care about, like it's not in his friendship vocabulary ((also the fact that Edgeworth had confided in Gumshoe and not him that he was still alive, meaning he trusts Gumshoe more than him as a friend.)) It all comes down to Phoenix being betrayed that he's not trusted and his devotion to his friends not returned.)

Anyway sorry this is so long I hope it makes sense.

(also I've only played the original trilogy)

[cheesit-notes]

TASK FORCE 141

and how they fuck you

cw: MDNI!, fem reader, rough fucking, raw dogging it, riding (cowgirl), finger fucking, slow ghost, thigh riding, fucking in front of recruits a/n: teehee pls don't ban me for this Tumblr, this is 18+

soap who likes fucking you rough, and even rougher when in front of the recruits. not really into condoms, likes it raw kinda guy you know? don't worry, he'll do tons of foreplay for you. kisses trail from your face down to your thighs. will get down on his knees to eat you out, and mind you, he's as good as he says. he honestly forgets about any forms and sorts of dirty talk at this point because he's too busy, your moans do most of the talking. by the time you're ready, he's already superr impatient. his pants strained and he's leaking precum like a faucet, he's been so patient up until now so he feels like he deserves a reward. his reward being he gets to ram his cock into you with little to no warning^^ if you think being fucked hard and rough is the end of it, you're wrong. he's a cocky fucker, he'll fuck you in front of the recruits just to show them who's better.

gaz who has you ride him, cowgirl style. you could be on the couch in the common area or in his barracks on the bed, doesn’t matter. he’ll sit there and watch as you do all the work. at first you’re doing so well and he’s praising you for it but after a while, you start to get tired :( poor you. he knows when you’re slowing down and he can get soo mean. a hand on your hip as he instructs you to go faster, harder, until he has you slammed down, bottoming out in you. the entire time, he’s spitting out insults about how you can’t do something as simple as riding him properly. cums inside you, sticky hot white cum drips down your thighs as you try to get up before his hands force you down on him again. he’s just trying to keep the cum where it belongs so let him fuck it back into you, yeah?

ghost who, surprisingly, likes fucking you slow. really slow. so slow in fact you start begging him to go faster. it feels like he’s teasing you with how little he’s giving you, but he’s enjoying it. there’s two position you’re in: on your knees taking him from behind with his hand on your stomach, or on your back with his thumb pressed over your abdomen. has at least a finger over your stomach to feel the bulge as he slides in and out. shit gets him high. calls you his little doll ‘cause you’re honestly just laying there letting him do whatever. he cums just from feeling the bulge that’s his cock in your stomach. even after he’s all soft, he’ll still shove some fingers in. he’ll curl his fingers and they’re so big and fat, and god, even his fingers stretch you out. this’ll go on for hours until you’re a babbling crying mess who came just from some fingers. he’s got all the time in the world to play with his doll.

captain price who’s a more hands-off kinda guy. he won’t even fuck you until you’ve cum from riding his thigh. making a mess over his pants as your legs tremble from the sensation. shoves toys in your cunt in the morning, “quiet, i’know you can take it”, so by nighttime you’ll be all wet for him! he’s not rough like soap, and not slow like ghost, he’s just normal fucking. not too rough, not too slow, just right. trust, he’s got tons of experience so he knows how to please a woman. if there’s one thing to complain about, it’s his death grip on your thighs. it doesn’t stop at red markings that last for hours or days, there are bruises on your thighs that can last up to weeks. he takes making you unable to sit normally to a whole new level. price is like soap in some ways, he wants to show people that he’s superior but not as obvious as soap. he won’t fuck you in front of the recruits, but you will be riding his thigh during briefings with the team.

[buckyalpine]

I need a feral and unhinged, touch starved Bucky to ruin me.

He’s selfish in giving and taking.

He's gone years without touching his cock, no orgasm, no relief, nothing. Any experience he has had has been long forgotten. The man loves getting his cock sucked. There’s something so filthy about the way he goes feral for it, torn between throwing his head back in pleasure and watching his cock disappear into your mouth.

He used to be such a gentleman but he can’t anymore.

He's a fucking menace because he loves how dirty it is, having his dick in your mouth of all places, letting you slobber and drool all over his length, getting his balls wet in the process.

He doesn't give a fuck who hears either, letting anyone and everyone know his cock is in your mouth, that he's getting the best head of his life.

"Fuck, suck me princess, just-yeah just like that, sucking my cock so good babydoll, makin' me so hard"

You let out a muffled whine in response, still on your knees, tears streaking down your face while he holds your face, his thumbs swiping your wet cheeks. He bites his lip while thrusting his hips forward, pushing his length down your throat. You claw at his thighs, gagging and he lets out a delicious moan seeing your arousal starting to drip with how turned on you are.

"You're makin' me feel so good sugar, you know that? Y'have any idea how good my dick feels right now, how much cum there is in my balls?" He takes a a hand off his thigh and makes you cup his heavy sack, guiding you to squeeze him while you suck, the combined feeling making his eyes roll back.

"C'mon princess, suck my balls next, never had them sucked before-oh fuck-yeah-just like that baby shit-oh fuck feels so good-" His abs tense as he moans loudly again, jerking himself while you move to lap and suck at his sack, precum dribbling down, making a mess everywhere.

He might as well be addicted to the feeling. On more than one occasion, he's missed morning training because you decided to wake him up with head and he loses himself to you, not giving a shit who is waiting for him at the door.

He hears the knocks, hears them calling for him and he'll let them know what's keeping him so busy.

"Buck, you coming-?"

"Oh Fuck yes! Suck my cock, yes, yes, yes, gonna cum, drink it up baby, c'mon, swallow, fuck yes, m'gonna cum again-don't stop princess"

"Well...technically he's coming" Sam snorted, hearing every filthy word the super soldier spewed out while Steve bit back a smirk, "I think your best friend is busy"

Steve couldn't help the proud smile that made it's way onto his face, shaking his head, quickly walking away before round two started.

Tony occasionally goes as far as cheering outside of Bucky's bedroom, especially when the steady thump of the headboard banging against the wall can be heard from downstairs.

No point hiding anything from Tony, especially when he's the one who had to install the xl mirror in the bedroom Bucky requested and god knows he didn't ask for it because he's into fashion.

He's gonna put you in positions that are unholy as it gets. He wants to watch every detail. He's gonna throw your legs all the way back till your knees hit the bed. He wants to watch his cock stretch you open. He's gonna experimentally flick that little button between your legs, using it as his own personal play toy, rubbing and pinching it to his delight just to hear you squeal.

“That’s-that’s your spot, huh princess-take my fat cock baby, doin' so good, moaning for me" He growls, watching he way you take his cock. His favorite thing to do is lock eyes with you in the mirror while your on your hands and knees watching you watch him while he fucks your brains out. Your breasts bounce with each thrust and he doesn't know what he loves to watch more. God forbid your eyes roll back, he spanks you till you focus again.

"Look at me when you take my cock baby, look at how pretty you are when you're all stretched open"

"Sargent-I-fuck-can't-

"Yeah, can't even speak huh, that how good your pussy feels baby? You wanna cum? Want me to make you cum?"

"Please!" You wail and he grabs your hair and pulls you till your back is flush against his chest. He forces your thighs apart as wide as they'll go before grabbing his phone and positioning it under, getting a perfect video of his cock pumping you full of cum while his fingers reach around to rub your swollen button.

"Go on and cum baby, cum with me, together, make your Sargent proud princess, make me dick feel good, fuck, gonna fill you till it spills out, mother fucker-FUCKK" He moans loudly with you, letting your convulsing pussy milk him dry, his veins throbbing as he shoots ropes of cum into you. The end of the video is blurry after all his cum drips onto the screen but it makes it so much filthier.

He's going to record all of this along with taking pictures, always getting you to spread your legs for him, laying on his bed after he's poured load after load into you. I want him to be the dirtiest fuck, looking at all the pictures and videos he's taken, jerking himself off afterwards when you're away for a mission. He can't have you but he's gonna take what he can get. He loves how you moan and scream, how cock drunk you get. A part of him almost feels like a pervert, tugging at his dick like a horny teenager but he can't keep his hands off when he thinks of you.

He's fucking feral even when he jerks off. Legs spread wide apart, no clothes on, back arched off the bed, fucking his hips up into his fist. He doesn't care if you walk in anymore. He was shy at first but now he just smirks while continuing to lazily touch himself, using his own spend to palm himself, the other arm propped behind his head. He knows you love the sight, planting his feet onto the bed to give you a better view while you take your clothes off-

Anyway, my bad, this was sitting in the drafts for long enough, you can go about your day now.

[yarnabee]

THE DOCTOR HEADCANNON — BEING HIS PLAYTHING.

harley sawyer ( the doctor ) x reader

tags/warnings: sfw (15+), light gore, torture/impact, power imbalance, degradation, abusive behaviour, posessive behaviour, kidnapping i suppose

sawyer is a HUGE jerk to everyone, including to his own little precious plaything, you. of course, such a cold, dense body made out of metal wouldn't make sense if it had a heart, wouldn't it?

besides.. your timid reactions to his sick, little experiments were what piqued his interest in the first place. what a lovely sight it is to see a flesh roaming around his prison like a helpess, pathetic rat who lost its way home. whether you writhe, yelp, whine, sob, or scream.. it's all melody to his ears.

he loves purposefully letting you escape from his lair, making you think that there's still hope to escape his hellish prison. just as you thought you were free of his grasp, he'll pin you, his beloved trophy, down—his mechanical figure hovering over you, eyes daunting as it pierces towards your cowardly ones, squeezing your neck tightly with his iron first, making sure that you knew there's no use fighting someone much stronger than you are. oh, how he loves watching the glint of hope fading from your pupils—dulling them with fear instead. he'd purposefully taunt you, mocking you with his laugh as it echoes through the hallways, "you really thought you could escape me, hmm? what an interesting thing you are, little rat."

oh, how he loves turning every single thing into a game that he knew you'd lose from the very beginning. it's amusing to see how you'd react time to time, whether you try to fight back or whimper out of fear, he feasts on it nonetheless. he'll purposefully make you play hide and seek with him, taunt you with his creaking footsteps, then having his way with you once he got his fingers wrapped tightly around you—dragging you into his lair once again as your fights and cries means nothing to him. "don't try to fight, little rat. i know you're at least smart enough to understand why."

don't get him wrong, though. just because he's able to leave cuts and bruises all over your delicate skin doesn't mean any of those filthy creatures roaming outside has the right to leave a scratch on you, not even a single one. oh, how sawyer wouldn't even think twice to rip appart the limbs off those past experiments who still roams in the area, who dares to touch you without any permission. you're his plaything, and only his. no one else.

the doctor wants you to DEPEND on him, just like how yarnaby depends on him and obeys him like a God. he wants your pathetic self to see him as YOUR lifeline, as he purposefully brings the necessities you need such as food and medicines, his mechanical joints placing them gently next to you without saying anything. afterall, he needs his little lab rat on good condition to play with, no?

at times where he's not running any 'experiments' and 'games' on you, he always kept you inside of his lab—no contact is allowed without his permission. he'd occassionally let yarnaby roam around and get used up to your presence, but he won't let you or it get too attached to each other.

he barely speaks to you, his answers are either mockery or straight degradation. you never really ask him anything about his motives too, he never liked it when you were curious. "say, little rat, i'd be amused if you hadn't learn what happens to curious little rats who gets too nosy."

a little fun fact; the doctor can easily destroy you if he wanted to. he always lets you know through his grips—how he's controlling it steadilly, letting you know that if he puts just the littlest more effort into squeezing you, you'd have your bones crushed within seconds—and he makes sure that you always remember that at all times.

"now, little rat, go on and amuse me. let's see what else i can get out off you."

[baby-yongbok]

Please, Please, Please

Hwang Hyunjin x Afab!Reader

✦ Genre - smut [MDNI] - sub!Hyunjin x dom!Reader ✦ WC - 1.2k ✦ Summary - You and Hyunjin switch roles ✦ CW - edging (m rec.), praise, mommy kink, nipple play/sucking (m rec.), Names used for Hyunjin: Hunny, baby, good boy/sweet boy ✦ A/N - I had writers block (still kinda do) but then Hyunjin popped up looking fucking pretty and I had to do something. ✦ Masterlist✦

Hyunjin has you wrapped around his finger. He always has. 

You've always said that he's magnetic. He'll pull you in like a tide and push his way into your good graces until he's the smoke fogging every mirror of your mind. 

“Can you even speak, baby?” Your voice rings through the static in his mind and he hums out a strained whimper. “Need a break?”

He shakes his head, blinking his eyes open in an attempt to plead with you. He’s beautiful, on his knees with his hands behind his back by his own free will. No rope, no cuffs, just him tangling his long fingers into each other. 

“M’ okay… want more.” The tone of his voice, so rough and needy, is a new experience for you. 

The roles are usually reversed. You're used to Hyunjin being the one standing tall before you, leather glove on one hand and worn jeans low on his waist while he makes you taste yourself off of the black fabric. Tonight it's him beneath you.  

He insisted that he'd hate it. He swore it. Then your sweet voice cooed at him and your pretty soft hands started touching him. He melted right before your eyes. 

“More?” You circle him, stopping off to the side and lowering yourself to your knees. “You ready, hunny?” 

His eyes are glassy, lips plump from kissing and parted with drool pooling at the corner. He nods and your hand finds his heavy cock where it's throbbing between his legs. 

You wrap your hand around him, pumping him slowly with enough pressure to make him keen. “Wet it for me.” He blinks, registering your request and pursing his lips to spit down onto his cock. 

“That's it.” You watch it fall, getting flashbacks to every time he let a wad of spit flow from his lips and down to your cunt before stuffing you full of whatever he saw fit. 

You wet his cock, spreading the spit with your palm and watching as Hyunjin shudders. You've been edging him for a solid fifteen minutes. He's red and sensitive, leaking onto the pillow under his knees. 

“How long do you think you can last, baby?” You exchange a coo for a moan. Your hand moves over the head of his cock, catching every sensitive part of him in one swipe. “Won't… last. I can't… too much.” 

His sentences are broken, strained, and pretty. He's so pretty. His fluffy hair bounces subtly as you pick up your pace. The strands sticking to his forehead frame the fucked out haze creeping over his features and present it to you like a work of art. Each pump of his cock milks a more debauched sound from him; a moan then a whine followed by a louder moan. 

You're convinced that somehow he's still in control here. That's the only way that you can think that he'd still be able to drive you insane like this. The mirrors in your mind are successfully fogged. Your thighs press together, your tongue is caught between your teeth. You're pulled in. 

“Please, I'm close… let me cum, mommy, please. Please.” He's looking down at his cock, at the way your hand glides across the wet length and he mewls. It's a pathetic sound and it makes you hot. “So close, So.. fuck, f-fuck, mommy, I wanna.. wanna..” 

The mommy kink is a new thing. Something that both you and Hyunjin figured out thirty minutes ago. It's hot. 

He keeps up his rambling, begging and sobbing moans until you take your hand away and he groans. “No, no, no, please. Please, I need it.”

His begging nearly makes you crumble. You bite back a whimper of your own, staring back at the desperate mess beside you. He's gone. So far gone and fucked out that you know that he doesn't feel the drool running down his chin. 

You run your hand up his toned stomach and over his chest. You let the pads of your fingers brush over his nipple and the bud pebbles. Hyunjin hisses a high pitched whine. He's sensitive there, more than he'd ever admit. 

“My sweet boy, wants to cum? Did he earn it?” The way that you expect him to answer while you toy with his nipple Is almost cruel. His cock jumps at each pinch, no matter the intensity. He whines, high and loud and so fucking pretty. “Mm, now he really can't speak, huh?” 

Hyunjin is crumbling. Falling apart at the seams and trying to keep all of him attached to his shaky spine. The Pleasure is intoxicating, All consuming. 

“Please.” Is all that he can manage to whimper. His head falls back, his hair sways beautifully against his shoulder muscles and he looks at you. You moan as he does. “Please.”

And just like that cave. “Anything for my baby.” You spit into your hand and bring it to his cock. He moans deep and loud but it turns into a gasp when he feels the warmth of your mouth on his nipple. Your lips wrap around the small bud, sucking with a hum before licking at it softly.

“Fuck, fuck, that's.. you're… m’ gonna cum, gonna cum, can I? Please, please.” He's shaking before the final word can leave his lips. He's moaning, trembling, cumming hard with a howl. His hands break themselves free of their invisible restraints and one finds purchase in your hair while the other balls into the pillow beneath him. 

You pull back from his chest, a thin line of spit connects the two of you as you pull back to take him in. His cock is leaking, spurting cum all over the floor and your hand. It's a lot. Hot and sticky and pooling right in front of you. 

“You are so pretty, Hyunjinnie. My baby is so good to me, giving me all of his cum like this.” He keens, bucking his hips and fucking your fist to milk the last of what he has to offer. You swipe your thumb over the tip of his cock and he hisses. “You're good, I'm stopping.” 

You smile and he sighs, deflating into yet another puddle. “You okay?” His eyes meet yours for a second before they flutter shut and he nods. He leans into you, resting his head on your chest. 

“Breathe.” He takes a second, calming the heavy pants of his chest into a softer rhythm. With a deep exhale he breaks the silence. “I… didn't think that I'd like that so much.”

You smile and he chuckles, breathlessly. “You came a lot.” he scoffs, “You sucked my nipples of course I did.”

He glances at the mess, mumbling a curse at the puddle of sticky white. “You're the one who wanted to cum.” You shrug and he sucks his teeth. The silence creeps in again, you stroke Hyunjin’s hair as he lays on your chest and he picks at the fabric of your shorts.

“Wanna go again?” You whisper, half jokingly. “Are you serious?” He looks up at you, eyebrows raised and lips parted. 

“Do you want me to be?” He blinks at you, considering your offer for a second before he caves. “C'mere.”

His lips crash onto yours, his tongue licks into your mouth and you moan into him. He swallows it, recycling it instantly and giving it away to the thick air around you.

 “One more time.”  He mumbles against your lips. “Then it's your turn.”

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[teddybeartoji]

18+ mdni; gn!reader

toji has an oral fixation.

oh, how he loves having his mouth on you. it's one of his favourite pasttimes; no matter whether it's making out and sucking on your tongue, or trailing his scarred lips over the side of your neck, pressing warm kisses against your jaw and pulse point like it's the only thing he knows. he loves having his mouth on your nipples, too. wrapping his lips around the sensitive bud and watch you arch into him while he plays with the other. he loves littering your chest with hickeys and he loves watching them bloom. his marks on you, from his mouth – it drives him wild. and last but not least – he loves giving you head. slobbering all over you, covering you in his saliva as he tries to devour you whole. feeling you cum on his tongue? absolutely nothing can compare to the sensation of that. nothing.

he loves the way you taste, he loves the way you sound, he loves the way you writhe under his burning touch. you're sweeter than anything else he's ever had and he simply can't get enough of you. he'll have you in every way he can, in every way you'll let him.

toji also loves sucking on your fingers.

of course, he'd be a little (read: very) ashamed to admit that out loud, but that doesn't mean he doesn't like it. there's just something so freeing in the way you let him melt into you, the way you don't tease him for wanting to let go. he wants to feel good, too. he wants to give up the power and just feel.

it is new to him though; you were always the one with his fingers in your mouth, so having the roles reversed, toji does feel a little small. in the best way possible.

having you on top of him, sitting perfectly on his stomach with your one hand firmly on his chest and the other caressing his face, toji can't help but feel himself twitch in his sweats. his mouth salivates at the sight of your cunning little smile and the twinkle in your eyes as you purr about how good he looks under you. he doesn't argue.

the tips of his ears burn and his adam's apple bobs, feeling your fingers tracing over the scar on his lips. his hands hold onto your waist like you're about to take flight, his strong grasp bruising your soft skin, making you let out a quiet moan. toji's hips buck upward and he watches your smile widen.

"open up, baby..."

your voice might also just kill him. it's sultry and still brimming with love, you're gentle and just a tad bit teasing – it's the perfect combination. toji's lips part without an objection, his mossy green eyes glued to yours as they do the same.

you push two fingers in and hum at the overwhelming warmth that envelops them immediately. toji's chest rumbles with a groan of his own at the way you run them over the sharp edges of his canines. leaving yourself a little closer to them, you place a kiss to his cheek while holding your fingers to his tongue, pressing it down as you slide them further into his mouth. toji holds back a gag and lets his eyes fall shut; your scent fills his nostrils and the way you're now nuzzling your face into his is not making any of this any less erotic.

finally toji's lips close properly around your fingers and he feels you smile against his skin. and then he feels your hips grinding ever-so-slightly on his stomach and now he really feels like he's losing his mind. you're all over him, but what gets him the most is that none of this is the usual 'sex stuff'. he's always been open to experimenting, he's willing to try just about anything you'd ever want to with a few eyelash flutters and a few pretty 'please's', but this? this is something else.

for starters, you're both still fully clothed. clad in your most basic pyjama, you're making him more turned on than he's ever been. and he's just so, so used to be the one in control, to be the one on the top – so submitting to you feels foreign, but so fucking good. you're making him discover things about himself that he never could've even dreamt about. him sucking on your fingers while you're humping his abs? oh, you'll kill him one day for sure.

but he's not complaining.

his tongue swivels around your two fingers as he begins to push and pull your hips to help you grind against him. you lick the side of his face, covering him in your saliva before pulling back just a little to look at him. below you, with your fingers in your mouth – he looks fucking extraordinary. you feel over the moon about the fact that he feels comfortable enough with you to let you have your way with him. you're utterly thankful for the glorious sight and you will most certainly reward him for it as well.

there's a soft squelch when toji hollows his cheeks and sucks on your digits. a sickeningly sweet coo spills from your lips and his eyes crack open; your gazes meet and you swear his whole body twitches under you. his hold on you gets tighter, his fingers sinking in deeper and you can't help but wonder how big of a mess he might be making in his sweats.

spit makes his lips glisten under the light emitting from the tv; shadows of the long forgotten movie dance on his skin, the whispers getting muffled by the sounds that he keeps making. he doesn't feel as embarrassed anymore, slowly succumbing to the hazy feeling in his head. he's addicted, he wants more and more and more.

and as if on cue, you force your fingers deeper down his throat once more, eyes set on the way his own roll right back into his head. his head dips forward, sinking into the pillow behind him and giving you the most beautiful view of his blooming neck. you're matching – he marks you up and you do the same. it's love.

pulling your fingers with a 'pop', a whine slips from toji but before he can really complain about it, you press your mouth to his. your lips smack together as you cradle his face with your spit-covered hand, tugging him closer and closer. his big arms wrap around your middle as he pulls you flush to him, moaning into your mouth when you decide to suck on his tongue in turn.

he can taste your desire, the need to make him feel good and to take care of him as you push yourself further into him. toji feels like he's about to explode. he wants to kiss, he wants to feel your fingers again, he wants to make you cum, he wants to make love to you.

hovering just above his face, you bring your hand back to his mouth and grant him his wish. he doesn't need to say it out loud, you know exactly what he wants and what he needs. slipping your index and your middle finger between his lips, you both groan at the feeling.

you give him a smile and butterflies bloom in his belly. you give him a peck while still having your fingers in your mouth and cum seeps through his sweats.

toji fushiguro is a weak, weak man and you have him wrapped around your pretty little fingers.

literally.

[hannieehaee]

LO$ER=LO♡ER

18+ / mdi

summary: jihoon's been pushed aside and ostracized from the moment he was born. completely alone, with no family and only a handful of friends, he's been too beaten down to expect anything good with the shitty cards life has dealt him. when he's presented with his new coworker, it's hard to not fantasize about her, but he'll never actually allow himself to believe she could ever look like him with anything but pity — just like everyone else.

content: loser!jihoon, antisocial!jihoon, sociallyawkward!jihoon, insecure!jihoon, sunshine!reader, jihoon is basically just a complete loser with horrible luck who's never felt true happiness (sorry), mentions of bullying, mentions of jihoon's sad past, sunshine!reader, slowburn, lots of worldbuilding but its just so u can feel sorry for jihoon lol, coworkers au, pining, miscommunication, afab reader, smut, sub!jihoon, virgin!jihoon, handjob, body worship, nipple play, dry humping, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 14k

a/n: this was my fave concept to write so far honestly hehe

masterlist

Every week was the same.

Jihoon would get up, fix his overgrown hair the best he could, and take the train over to work.

This was as far as he'd gotten in life; an overly repetitive existence with no sense of joy within it.

He should've been happy. Things were better now. Being 27 with a stable job and no real issues in his life should be something to be grateful for, yet Jihoon found himself being completely displeased with his life.

Surely there must be more to life than this, right? A lonely and loveless life that appeared to be leading him nowhere. But still, things were better than before.

It was hard for Jihoon to speak of his childhood, much less his teenage years (or even his college life). It was all too grim. He'd grown to accept it, to let it all go, but the past had made him who he was, and he knew his current self was to blame for his loneliness. For his lack of love.

And so he continued his daily routine, living day after day with no change in sight. He accepted this with a flat smile, grateful that things were just fine. Not good, not great, not even varied, but just fine.

This week, though, finally had something different. But to Jihoon that was usually bad news.

Were you bad news?

You were the brand new thing in his life.

It was your first week in his office. A brand new face. A very pretty face.

Jihoon never thought about such things. He'd never had any romantic experience in his life. He had a long distance girlfriend once, but even that didn't work out. Too much distance, too many lies, too many complications. Jihoon just wasn't made for love.

So he never thought of such things again.

It was rare for him to even see a pretty girl on his day to day. His morning commute was far too early and filled with people way too old for him to even look in the eye without feeling disrespectful. His workplace, although consisted of a variety of people, was not a place where he felt very welcome initiating friendships or anything of the sort. Cliques had ended in high school, he thought, yet he found himself at the bottom of the food chain among his coworkers. He wasn't liked and was deliberately avoided by everyone around him.

Until you came along.

Finding you beautiful was no surprise to Jihoon. It was the most obvious thing in the world. Putting appearances aside, you were sunshine personified. Smart, confident, hardworking, gentle, nice, beautiful. You were everything anyone could ever want. At times Jihoon even wondered whether he wanted you or if he just wanted to be like you.

You'd caused an immense impression in him within the short time in which he'd known you.

He hadn't really gotten to know you on a personal level yet. But you had extended him an olive branch upon the first meeting, which was a memory that had implanted itself on his mind. It was rare for Jihoon to come by good memories.

This was the first time he'd felt accepted in a very long time. Yet the fears of it turning around and slapping him in the face (like in so many prior instances) was too big for him to really consider you good news in his life.

It was kind of embarrassing looking back at it. Jihoon hadn't been expecting you (how could he have?), but you suddenly showed up at his cubicle accompanied by one of his coworkers, Doyle.

Doyle wasn't someone Jihoon thought too much about — or at least he tried not to. He was the classic high school bully, except in a corporate-world wrapping. Jihoon had dealt with bullies his whole life, he'd become desensitized to it by now. Still, it bothered him to see him standing next to you. He hadn't met you yet, but he was immediately disheartened by the new girl at the office looking buddy-buddy with someone he considered an adversary.

What had been surprising to Jihoon, though, was your complete disinterest in Doyle's obvious advances.

It was pretty often that Doyle would attempt to assert his dominance by putting Jihoon down in front of other coworkers. He'd tease him and patronize him in front of anyone to see in order to show others who was in charge. And it was not Jihoon, that was for damn sure.

Jihoon got up as soon as he sensed a presence at his cubicle, somehow managing to stumble over his feet as he did so. When he looked up, he was not expecting you, yet there you were. Beautiful, smiling down at him with genuine interest in your eyes. You didn't know him, but you had kindness in your eyes. He could tell.

He stumbled over an introduction as Doyle interrupted him, telling you Jihoon's name and position at the company for him. Unwarranted and once again showing that if he so wished, he could speak over Jihoon.

But you'd interrupted him in return, turning to Jihoon to extend your hand with that smile never leaving your lips.

"Hi, it's really nice to meet you," you'd smiled as he felt fire at the mere handshake.

"Hi, I, uhm, I'm Jihoon. Lee Jihoon. I didn't realize we had someone new coming. It's nice to meet you. You- If you need anything, you can always ask me," he slapped himself mentally when he said it. He stuttered his way through it like a fucking loser. His immediate attraction to you was too obvious. Doyle's smirk as he stood beside you told him all he needed to know.

"Oh, that's so nice, thank you! I'm right next door. Well- right next cubicle, so I'll probably take you up on that sooner or later," you laughed at your own attempt of a joke.

Jihoon couldn't help chuckling back, ignoring Doyle as he patted your shoulder, laughing along. Jihoon noticed a short-lived discomfort in your eyes at the action, one which died when your eyes went back to him.

Was he imagining it, or were you showing preference towards Jihoon?

"Well, let's not bother our little Jihoonie here any longer," Doyle interrupted once more, "It's almost lunch time," he leaned in to tell you, looking down at Jihoon, "We all usually go to a burger joint nearby — Jihoonie here likes to stay in, so we try to stay out of his way."

That wasn't entirely true.

Once upon a time, Jihoon did attempt to join the rest of his coworkers in outings, but he was always alienated. After a few too many slights about his hair, his height, his weird choice in clothing, or even just his personality, he decided to stray away from anything that wasn't strictly professional when it came to his coworkers. He was always the butt of the joke, so he made the decision to isolate in the office with a cold sandwich he packed for himself every day.

Sometimes his friends Soonyoung and Mingyu from accounting would join him, but there was usually not enough time to see them during regular working hours. This left him alone most of the time.

Your face seemed to deflate at Doyle's words. Whether it was out of pity for Jihoon or annoyance at Doyle's overzealous confidence around you, he wasn't sure.

"Oh, I actually brought a packed lunch," you told Doyle before turning to face Jihoon again, "Would it be okay if I stay in with you?", you looked at him with expectant eyes.

"You wanna, uhm, have lunch with me?", he asked dumbly and you nodded, "Y-yeah, that'd be nice, yes," he attempted a shy smile, succeeding when you returned it.

Doyle cleared his throat, interrupting the silent smiles you and Jihoon were sharing.

"Well, I could stay in with you if you want, I-"

But you interrupted him again.

"That's fine. I don't wanna get in the way of your plans. Jihoon will make fine company," you said politely, stepping away from Doyle to head over to your desk, popping back next to Jihoon with a brown paper bag.

Doyle looked dumbfounded for a few moments before masking it with a tight smile. Jihoon simply stood there as you pulled up a chair and settled it on Jihoon's desk, paying no mind to Doyle.

"I guess I'll leave you two to it. I'll keep showing you around after lunch. You have my number if you need anything," Doyle made emphasis on that last statement, offering you what looked like a genuine smile before giving Jihoon a look that told him he still felt victorious in the end.

"Thanks, Doyle! Bye!," you smiled back before turning to Jihoon.

Lunch was incredibly awkward for Jihoon. But that wasn't your fault. You'd been incredibly nice, asking him questions and keeping the conversation going despite the mumbly, shy mess Jihoon was. The conversation was entirely carried by you, with you surprisingly taking an interest in him. Every word, every gesture, they all led him to believe you were genuinely nice.

At the same time, he felt entirely delusional.

It wasn't often that people were nice to him, so it was likely he was building it up to be more than it actually was. You likely did not want to stay in with him, but after Doyle brought up that Jihoon was the only one in the office during lunch break, you had no option but to join him since you also planned to stay in. However, you were a good team player, Jihoon believed. Not many people would sacrifice their lunch to stay in with the black sheep of the office just to rid yourself of any possible awkwardness. Jihoon knew damn well many previous coworkers had gone out of their way to avoid him before.

But despite the belief that you simply pitied him, Jihoon missed your time spent together the moment it ended. He felt shy and blushed bright red at every single word uttered from you, but it had been the nicest interaction he'd had in a long time (a long, long time).

That had happened last Wednesday, repeating itself on Thursday, Friday, and then a whole weekend was spent with Jihoon solely thinking about you. Time that he usually spent reading or playing chess online was instead used up to think about you. It was mostly to overthink every tiny interaction and panic over it, but it was was still preoccupied by you.

But he also thought about other things.

How beautiful he found you to be. How nice, funny, hardworking, smart and riveting you were (despite this being an assessment he'd made in less than a week of knowing you). This was Jihoon's first crush in ... he couldn't even remember how long.

And it was terrible.

Every crush he'd ever had had turned out terribly. Harmless elementary school crushes turned into pranks pulled by his classmates in order to embarrass him. Prepubescent middle school crushes became false confessions that led to public embarrassment. Hopeless high school crushes were nothing but a farse that led him into giving up altogether.

Throughout his practically non-existent love life, Jihoon had always been met by nothing but discouragement, sometimes by simple rejection and other times by harassment from people who believed him to be unworthy of being liked. These were memories he did not like to relive, but the resurgence of feelings for someone brought them all back.

And so he was unsure of how to feel. He was unsure of whether to let himself like you or recoil, unwilling to even try.

"Hey, Jihoon, do you think you could help me with this?", you asked him on Monday.

After spending all weekend thinking about you, Monday finally came. He was unsure as to whether or not your friendly behavior would continue onto your second week, when you were more settled in. In the usual cold and reserved fashion he'd adopted for the past decade, he avoided you most of the morning. When he saw you in the elevator upon arriving at the office, he stalled, waiting for the door to close so he wouldn't have to share the ride with you. He hadn't wanted to avoid you so blatantly, but apparently his past trauma had taken control of his body at the time.

If you noticed, he hadn't realized. He hoped you hadn't.

And now, a few hours into the day, you were asking for his help, and even his anxieties couldn't prevent him from helping you. He wanted to be good to you. At the moment, it was what he wanted most. He was unsure as to why.

He got up, hands fidgeting together as he took the few steps over to your desk, awkwardly standing next to your seat as you turned towards the computer on screen. Taking a few steps closer, he cleared his throat, standing right behind you and leaning down in order to check out whatever was on screen before you began to explain.

"So sorry to bother you, Jihoon! I, uh, I was just wondering what I should do when I get this pop-up? I tried looking over the manual, but I couldn't find anything," you pointed over at the screen, eyes still on it, "It's just-"

Jihoon invertedly leaned closer, eyes also on the screen. As soon as he looked at what was on display, he locked in, fully focused on the issue at hand.

Surprisingly even to himself, Jihoon enjoyed his job. He was amazing at it, and getting to help you out was just a bonus.

"Oh, yeah. It's a glitch. It happens sometimes. Here, let me just ..."

Without thinking, he interrupted you, hands taking over your mouse and keyboard as he leaned impossibly closer without realizing it. His head was right next to yours, but since he was too focused on the task at hand, he did not have the realization to be flustered at the proximity. And then he fucked up even further.

Continuing to help you, he began rambling out explanations about what he was currently doing on screen. He rambled on and on, showing you step by step how to handle the issue and adding on extra details the average person would not concern themselves with. He was so into it, he didn't realize he went on for a good five minutes, all while you sat next to him, staring quietly at the screen as you watched his every move.

That was until he was abruptly interrupted.

"Jesus Christ, Jihoon, you're going to make the girl never want to ask for help again," Doyle's voice suddenly rang through, a mocking yet patronizing tone wrapped around every word.

Jihoon's movements halted when he heard a few giggles from other coworkers resounding at Doyle's statement. Slowly, he backed his hands away from the mouse, barely registering how close he was to you when his face turned to your own, finding you looking at him with a worried look on your face — he couldn't decipher what it meant, but he was too embarrassed to even think of it.

He jumped back at the proximity, mumbling out an apology with a bow of his head.

"S-sorry, I-"

"Yeah, yeah. It's fine, Jihoon, we all know you get a little over excited sometimes," Doyle leaned over the other side of the desk, "Don't mind him, Y/N. You'll learn to tune out his rambling at some point, we've all had to — that, or you'll go crazy."

Doyle turned around after that, throwing a wink over at you that, for some reason, made Jihoon wince.

Yeah, okay. He was a fucking loser, he was well aware. The reminder felt like overkill at this point in his life.

Like a dog with his tails between his legs, Jihoon looked down, giving you one last pathetic 'sorry' before turning away. Not even chancing a single glance your way after Doyle's interruption, he preferred to save himself further embarrassment and left the room altogether. He had done most of his work and lunch was close. Taking an early lunch seemed like the best idea.

Hastily, he grabbed the lunch bag under his desk and walked towards the exit, ears barely registering a faint 'Jihoon' coming from the direction he had just left.

~

Today, he'd chosen to leave the office for lunch.

Well, not really. He'd just stepped outside, finding some empty bench in front of the building to sit at. It wasn't like he could eat at his desk as per usual when everyone else was still there. He just couldn't stay there after being shut down like that in front of you.

All things considered, it hadn't been the most embarrassing thing to happen to him, but it still left him feeling like an absolute loser.

The worst of it all had been that you'd seen it all and hadn't even reacted.

It's not like he had expected you to stand up for him. Hell, you barely knew him. Maybe it was just easiest to engage with the majority; to laugh along when Doyle made a joke, joining in on the muted laughter of all his other coworkers any time Jihoon was used as the butt of some joke.

Except that you didn't laugh. Jihoon didn't even register your reaction before leaving, instead reacting in the same fashion as a toddler throwing a tantrum.

Fuck, you probably thought he was a fucking baby on top of already thinking of him as some defenseless loser. Jihoon wanted to blame it all on Doyle, but it was also his fault.

"Jihoon?"

His train of thought was interrupted by a sudden voice, startling him into squeezing his hands around the unbitten sandwich he'd been holding this whole time.

Turning to the voice, he found you standing there, paper bag in hand as you hesitated walking closer.

When he turned to you, mouth agape in surprise at your sudden appearance, you took a few steps forward, likely taking his silence as an okay. Like a fish out of water, he opened and closed his eyes a few times, unknowing of what to say. He really hadn't expected you to follow him out.

Dropping his sandwich, he cursed at himself. He attempted to catch it, but his hand to eye coordination had never been the best, so it just resulted in him fumbling his hands like an idiot before his sandwich met its demise on the dirty floor.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to catch you off guard," you apologized, rushing to the floor in front of him, squatting in front of him as you picked up his fallen lunch.

"I-It's fine, I-"

"No, Jihoon, I've already ruined your day enough, fuck. And now your lunch is ruined," you sounded genuinely disappointed, "Here, we can share my lunch! I'll make it up to you tomorrow, I promise."

You remained kneeling in front of him as he sat on the bench. Jihoon cringed at knowing your skirt would get dirty at its contact with the floor but you didn't seem to care. Instead, you looked up at him with worry towards him. Your eyebrows were furrowed and your bottom lip stuck out a bit in a small pout. It was both adorable and nerve-wracking.

"Please get up, you'll get your skirt dirty," was all he found himself saying.

Jihoon caught you chuckling under your breath before getting up, dusting your skirt and then taking a seat next to him. The distance you allowed between the two of you was too small for Jihoon's well-being, but a part of him deep down was happy about him.

You looked down at your lap for a bit, so did Jihoon. The two of you were quiet for a few seconds, but Jihoon was unsure why. You appeared to be bashful, perhaps even a little shy? It was strange to see. There was no reason for you to feel shy around Jihoon. He was the mess here. He was the one who should be avoiding eye contact, hiding himself away from you to ensure he didn't ruin things between you — Things, as if the two of you were anything at all. He was overthinking things again.

"Jihoon," you interrupted his train of thought.

"Hmm? Yeah?"

Idiot.

"I, uhm, I'm sorry about what happened back there," you began. Jihoon almost interrupted you, shaking his head and raising his hands to halt you, but you shook your own head, continuing, "I should've said something. I know I'm new, but god, Doyle's such an idiot. You didn't deserve that, especially since it was my fault. I'm really sorry."

Your eyes showed nothing but sincerity as you spoke. A certain worry reflected in your face, making Jihoon's heart soar, crumbling with some sort of guilt he didn't understand.

He had no idea how to react.

"I- I'm sorry," he stuttered, "I didn't- It's not your fault. I didn't mean to make you feel like-"

"What? No, Jihoon, I'm apologizing. You just wanted to help me and I wasn't appreciative. I should've told Doyle to get fucked," you put your lunch bag aside, scooting over a little closer and hesitating a bit before grabbing onto one of his hands, "I'm really sorry. I hope this doesn't hurt our friendship."

"Friendship?"

You flushed at his question, "Yeah, I, uh, aren't we friends? I know it's only been a few days, but-"

"Yes! We're friends, I'm sorry," you gave him a look, "Right, sorry, force of habit. Fuck, okay, I'll stop now," his hand itched in yours as you chuckled at him, "I ... Thank you. It's really nice of you to come check up on me. Don't, uh, feel like you have to stand up for me. Doyle's just ... well, what you said. I wouldn't want you to get picked on too."

"Don't worry about that, Jihoon. He wouldn't do that. He likes me," you revealed casually.

"What?"

"He asked me out last Friday, but I turned him down."

Jihoon's hand tightened around yours without him realizing. That revelation made him feel something he'd never felt before. It was as if his heart dropped while his jaw tightened. It might've been annoyance, but it felt stronger than that. Doyle? Doyle liked you? That bit was not shocking to Jihoon. But the fact that he'd asked you out surprised him. Did he have no care for you as a coworker? You were new, for god's sakes! What you needed was guidance, a friend, a colleague willing to walk you through the work like he needed back when he first started. Yet Doyle was instead choosing to-

"Jihoon? Are you okay?"

Fuck. He'd been rambling internally again. If Jihoon had a nickel for every time he embarrassed himself in front of you ..

"Yeah, uhm, sorry. Just, uh, don't really get along very well with Doyle."

"Can't imagine why," you said sarcastically, "Is there a story behind it?"

Your hand left his own at some point during your conversation, instead going to empty out your paper bag and absentmindedly split the sandwich you had in there. Without saying anything, you offered him a half, smiling in encouragement when he hesitated to take it.

"I, uh, it's nothing. Just dumb workplace drama," he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, "I'm just not too good at standing up for myself."

That sure was a way to downplay it. But Doyle truly wasn't the sole culprit to Jihoon's history with alienation. This had been his entire life. Jihoon had grown far too accustomed to being harassed in every way imaginable. From alienation, to physical beatings, to even having his life threatened, Jihoon had gone through it all. Back in his youth, he wondered if it'd been something he'd done. If maybe he was just unlikable and that was why everyone either avoided him or attempted to make his life even more miserable. As he grew, he began to wonder if perhaps it'd been due to growing up without any proper socialization. His parents had, well, not really existed — something which pained him to think about — which left him sad and alone for most of his upbringing. This was probably why he was never able to properly interact with other people, leaving him as an easy and defenseless target.

It wasn't a secret to Jihoon that he was weird. And even that was an understatement. As a young boy, he was always into things that most people found strange. He was too focused on books and anything that could expand his intellect. This was followed by his incessant need to babble about his niche interests to anyone willing to listen (which was usually no one). He quickly into his teenage years that this was not welcomed by people — usually learning it through patronizing teasing or some classmates taking on physical means to shut him up. Unfortunately, even as an adult, he'd continued to make this mistake, thinking that maybe he'd meet people who enjoyed his eccentric personality without shutting him down. He'd done it at this same job, immediately learning that his input (or his personality in general) were not very well appreciated.

"But that's still not okay, he shouldn't-"

"Hey, it's fine, really," he smiled at you, "It's more than enough that you'd wanna, uh," he hesitated, "that you'd want to be my friend. You know, with all things considered."

"Are you kidding? You're easily the funnest person in the office," you moved past the subject, likely understanding it was a sore spot for him, "Everyone else is kind of stuck up, honestly."

"Hmm, yeah? I can believe that."

He went on to take a bite from the sandwich you'd offered him, humming at finally being able to fulfill some of his hunger.

"What, they're mean to you but you won't even say anything bad about them?" you gaped at him.

He shrugged, "It's not productive. I don't hate them."

"Wow. You're a way better person than I am, Lee Jihoon," you sounded impressed as you said it.

And that was more than good enough for him.

Jihoon's friendship with you continued to flourish during the upcoming months after that.

Any other instance in which Jihoon would've usually cowered under the targeted disdain of his coworkers was instead met with your intervention. You'd usually interrupt, somehow turning the conversation away from him or even subtly shooting back against whoever had decided to snark at Jihoon.

The first few times had him blushing an embarrassing shade of red, stammering as he attempted to respond or even just appear normal at what had just occurred. He'd never experienced someone standing up for him, much less did he feel like he deserved it. Having your presence in such uncomfortable circumstances was more than enough to aid him, but knowing that you wanted to defend him made his heart go crazy.

Within the short time that he'd known you, it was obvious to Jihoon that, against all his attempts to prevent it, he'd developed a crush on you.

Under any other set of circumstances, that might've been fine. However, Jihoon had never in his life been under normal circumstances.

Crushing on you was entirely too terrifying. You were the most perfect girl he'd ever met — the only girl he'd allowed himself to be interested in in far too many years. He knew deep within him that he could not allow these feelings to continue flourishing, but he had never been quite good at burying his emotions.

It felt so high school. All of it. He was the loser outcast and you were the pretty cheerleader the quarterback was chasing after. The only difference was that unlike in high school, you were giving him the time of day.

Back in school, any time Jihoon found himself liking a girl, he was never met with reciprocation. Which was fine, of course. There were a few instances, though, in which it went further than lack of reciprocation, or even just rejection. Jihoon would need more than two hands to count the amount of romantic humiliations he'd undergone in his life.

There had been instances where he was confessed to as a joke, or even times when he was led to believe his feelings were mutual, only to be rejected in some cruel way. It felt like out of a movie at times.

Jihoon supposed he couldn't really blame others for their childish games. He was an easy target, lacking any familial or any sort of adult protection during his youth. Plus, he knew his victimhood was only a phase of these people's lives.

It was strange, however, that staying at the bottom of the totem pole throughout his life just seemed to become normalcy for him. He expected that once he grew, got a respecting job and found more friends that he'd move up in social hierarchy — or at least stop being metaphorically beaten down at every turn (he was at least grateful that the beatings were now metaphorical rather than literal).

You were the complete opposite of him.

In the time he'd known you, he'd come to find out that your life up until now had been nothing short of picture-perfect. You made friends easily in the office, even befriending people outside of your department you had no obligation of interacting with. And this was not new to you. You'd let Jihoon in on your childhood, telling him about your years as a cheerleader in high school, even riding that cheerleader wave all the way to college. Your entire life had been spent happy and surrounded by people who enjoyed your company.

Yet, somehow, your company of choice had become Jihoon.

Being chosen, wanted — even if just platonically — was something Jihoon had never experienced. His brain would override every single time he saw you, attempting both to not fuck things up between you and to leave his crush dormant.

This proved incredibly difficult at times. Any time you subtly stood up for him, or any time you smiled at him before leading him outside for lunch (at the bench that had now become your place. Yours and Jihoon's) together, or even when you'd simply scoot your chair slightly closer to his own during meetings, Jihoon felt himself sink deeper and deeper. His heart and his brain were constantly working against each other.

Tonight would be his hardest battle as of yet.

The two of you had yet to see each other outside of work in the past two months you'd known each other. This was fine to Jihoon. More than fine, actually. It gave him time away from you to recover from the palpitations your mere presence caused him (which required quite a lot of time).

Tonight, however, was the in which night he'd begrudgingly agreed to join you and the rest of your department on a night out.

Apparently these happened every few weeks. Jihoon had never known about them. Figures.

You were an active participant of these outings, usually insisting that Jihoon tag along, that you'd be there and would not leave his side (God help him). He'd even come to find that his friends Soonyoung and Mingyu from accounting would be there. The realization that he was such a hermit that he didn't even know his closest friends hung out outside of work without him did bother him a little.

And so he agreed. Against his better judgment, he let your pout and your wide eyes talk him into going to a bar with people (mostly) he knew hated him.

~

Jihoon had been unsure of how to dress.

When he'd texted Mingyu about it, he'd been met with a three-way call between him, Gyu and Soonyoung celebrating his first social outing in months. And then he'd been berated about showing off his 'assets,' whatever that meant.

Sure, Jihoon knew he was more fit than the average person, but this was something he usually felt shy about. He believed himself to be overcompensating for everything else he lacked in his person, both physical and personality-wise. So, it was safe to say that most of his clothes did not show off his assets.

Still, he made the attempt to follow both Mingyu's and Soonyoung's advice when it came to dressing up. Even if his crush was currently forced down a basement and locked away, he still had some dumb desire of impressing you.

You impressed him every day, whether you meant to or not. There was no dress code at his company, but formal attire was pretty much the norm, and you ... you worked with it quite amazingly, if Jihoon had anything to say. From the pencil skirts to the perfectly tailored dress shirts and blouses, you always left Jihoon working overtime to avert his eyes to more respectable places.

And so today he wanted to impress you. Donning some tighter jeans than usual (to show off his lust-worthy legs, had said Soonyoung) and a dress shirt unbuttoned just enough to give way to his chest (which Mingyu had called 'sculpted to the gods'), Jihoon moved on to his hair. He'd come to realize that unlike most other people, you really liked his hair. You constantly complimented the length and the pale tone of it. Bleaching his hair was something he'd started to do once he graduated college. He wanted some sort of separation away from his hometown when he'd moved away to work at the company, and despite the constant negative feedback, he'd decided to keep it.

He opted to let it down tonight, diffusing it after washing it to ensure some volume and a slight wave to it.

He looked fine, he thought. Jihoon didn't have any particular positive opinion about his appearance, but at least he'd gone from thinking himself a hideous hermit to simply okay. But according to Mingyu and Soonyoung, who'd offered to drive him, he looked like sex waiting to happen.

Blushing, Jihoon was unsure as to whether he wanted that to come true or not.

~

The hardest part had been arriving at the bar.

You were the first person he spotted as he and his friends walked in. The place was packed with members of your office, people he'd only seen in passing as he made his way over to his floor gathered with coworkers he wished he didn't know as well as he did.

But all of that left his mind immediately upon registering it. You were his priority. And everyone else's it seemed. Various men in your vicinity had their eyes on you, Doyle included.

Jihoon couldn't blame them. How in the world could he when you looked like that?

You were completely ignorant to any of the attention you were receiving. Standing by the bar, you were nursing a drink, leaning your body against it and giving Jihoon (and everyone else) the perfect view of your form. The slip dress you were wearing was shorter than the usual skirts you wore at school, allowing your legs to receive the well-deserved attention of anyone willing to appreciate the beauty before them.

This was the most skin Jihoon had seen of you. It made him feel like a depraved pervert to stand there and just stare, but he was hypnotized. The fleeting thought of getting to do more than just see passed through his mind, sending shivers down his spine. He had to shake his head to remove any filthier thoughts from entering his mind. He felt embarrassed and idiotic involving you in such thoughts. A sad, lonely virgin using his one and only female friend to feed himself with such thoughts was incredibly sick and deprived and-

"Dude, stop drooling. You haven't even said hi yet."

Mingyu nudged at him, breaking him away from his trance at once. Jihoon shook his head again to reset, coughing awkwardly as he attempted to negate what Mingyu had said, only to be interrupted by the other guy he'd arrived with.

"You look like sex on legs, man. Go talk to her. We'll go find a table. Come find us if you fuck everything up somehow," Soonyoung received a swift punch to his shoulder at his comment, but shrugged it off as he gave Jihoon thumbs up, walking away with Mingyu.

Taking a deep breath, Jihoon walked over to you, finding you still distracted by your drink.

Before he could even announce his presence, you sensed him, turning back and immediately offering him a wide smile. Good, you were happy to see him.

"Jihoon!," you left your drink on the counter to engage with him in a hug. His arms hovered over your waist, avoiding direct contact both for his sanity and out of respect.

Physical contact had never been Jihoon's forte. Usually he'd need some sort of warning ahead of time in order to mentally prepare himself. When it came to you, he so badly wanted his proclivity against physical touch to burn and die in a fire. He found himself craving your hug the moment you pulled away.

"I honestly thought you wouldn't come," you chuckled.

"I promised I'd come," he smiled back.

"C'mon, let's get you a drink. On me," you turned back to the bar, flagging down the bartender before turning back to him, "You don't seem like a big drinker. Is a beer okay?", he nodded at you as you handed him the drink.

The two of you leaned against the bar after that, letting silence between you consume you. Jihoon wasn't sure what to say. This was the first time he'd seen a girl outside of work in ... well, ever. And it wasn't just any girl — it was you.

"You look beautiful," he braved, finishing it off with an awkward cough.

Your body turned to his, a shy smile being hidden behind a lip bite, "Yeah? High compliment coming from you."

"H-hmm?"

"Jihoon, you look amazing," you emphasized, "I had no idea you were hiding all this under those baggy suits," your hands went to play with the neck of his collar, "Maybe unbutton it one more?", you said as you did so, "There, that's better."

Jihoon burned up. A tomato's red shade could not compare to how red his ears must've been at that moment. He flushed, breath hitching at your fingers gracing the skin of his chest. All he could do was clear his throat and advert his eyes, awkwardly smiling and nodding at you.

"You're cute," you giggled.

"Uhm, are you drunk?", he couldn't help in asking.

You giggled again, "I'm not, Jihoon. Is it that hard to believe I find you cute? Because you are. I don't know how you don't realize. You've been getting eye-fucked by those girls over there since you walked in," you pointed behind him, leading him to find two girls attempting at subtly looking his way, whispering among each other.

"O-oh, uhm, I'm sure that's not what they're doing," he stumbled, flushed.

"Uh-huh. Anyways, c'mon. I hate hanging out at the bar. Let's find a table," you grabbed onto his wrist then, pulling him towards the back of the bar.

On his way to the table of your choosing, he spotted his two friends, receiving a childish thumbs up from Soonyoung and a mouthed 'my man!' from Mingyu. He groaned internally, shaking his head and frowning at them. Once you made it to an empty table, you even commented on it.

"Those are Soonyoung and Mingyu, right? I'd never actually met them before. Come here with them?"

"Oh, yeah. I- ignore them, they're just being dumb," he scoffed lightly.

His hands laid flat on the table, unknowing of what to do with them. Your demeanor was way more relaxed than his own. It was clear to anyone around that you could blend into any environment. Jihoon, in the meantime, had trouble adjusting practically anywhere, especially at a social pool such as a bar.

"It's fine, Jihoonie, they're just rooting for you," you winked at him before enveloping the straw of your own drink in your mouth.

Jihoon decided not to overthink that (or maybe save it for later), also swinging at his own drink to avoid more awkward words leaving his mouth. He wasn't even sure why he was being such a socially inept mess. The two of you had had long-winded conversations at work many times before, maybe it was just the current setting. It felt the way he assumed a date would, except that it wasn't.

"Hmm, can I have a sip? My drink's too sweet. Here, have a taste," you went to grab at his beer, shoving your pink drink to his side of the table.

Looking down at the straw, he noticed the red shimmer of your lipstick on it, gulping at the thought of letting his lips touch it. But before he could psych himself out, he did it.

Before actually sipping at the drink, he allowed himself taste the lipstick. It was a sick and depraved thing to do, but he couldn't help himself. If this was as much of you as he could have, then he'd take it. The cherry tang it left on his lips made it worth it, but he couldn't let himself to enjoy it for too long. The drink itself had been entirely too sweet, causing his nose to scrunch up, which immediately earned a giggle from across the table.

"Sweet, huh? I should've gone for a beer, but I figured you wouldn't mind sharing," you shrugged as you took another swing of it, handing it back afterwards.

Now his eyes landed on his own beer bottle, eyeing that same glimmer on the mouth of the bottle. Without thinking of it, he took an swing of it, dropping the bottle too harshly back on the table before looking back at you. There, his eyes couldn't help but finding your lips. He tried being subtle, but he seemed to be lacking that skill at the moment.

"Oh, is my lipstick smudged?," your hand went up to your mouth. You fished your purse for a compact mirror and a set of two tubes, smiling at him before beginning to reapply, "It's such a hassle. That's why I never wear darker lip products at work," you said mostly to yourself. Then, you turned to him, plumping your lips before smiling, "How's it look?"

There was absolutely no way you weren't hitting on him. Jihoon may have been an absolute idiot when it came to any social interaction, but he was sure you'd been hinting at something all night. Right?

This was the perfect moment for him to flirt back. To compliment you, to woo you and make his interest known. If any moment was tailored for such a thing, it was this one. Jihoon just needed to grow some balls for once and be assertive.

However, that is not what he did.

Instead of coming up with some charming one-liner, Jihoon instead stumbled over his words, delivering a mixture of 'uhm, yea!' and 'looks great!,' completely emotionless while also awkward.

Fortunately for Jihoon, all you did was giggle in return. It sometimes felt both demeaning and like a relief when you'd giggle in return to his awkwardness. He hoped to elicit different reactions out of you, but that fault fell completely on him.

You eyed the bar behind him, causing him to turn back. There was a small area that was supposed to make up a dancefloor. This wasn't exactly a club, but the dancing scene appeared pretty turned up. Jihoon could even spot his two friends on the dancefloor with some girls unknown to him.

When his head turned back to face you, you smiled at him, opening your mouth to speak. Jihoon could see where this was going.

"Hey, Jihoon. Wanna dance with me?"

You were grinning as you asked. That overexcitement that was usually present on your face was there once more. Disappointing you with a rejection was the very last thing Jihoon wanted to do. It was literally how he'd ended up out tonight.

But, still, his idiocy knew no limits, apparently.

"Oh, uh, I- I don't dance," he stammered, "Sorry."

He went back to nursing his drink, eyes avoiding yours and closing off from further questions. When he looked back up, he was mortified to find some dejection in your eyes.

He needed to salvage this. He was a good enough dancer. He had no idea why he'd even said no in the first place.

"I, uh, actually, I could-"

"Hey, beautiful. If he won't dance, I'll take you out for a spin. I'll give her back in a bit, Jihoon, don't worry."

Jihoon's abrupt interruption was, of course, delivered by Doyle. Why he had been close enough to make out your conversation, Jihoon had no idea. It irritated him, though. That was for damn sure.

Jihoon knew you wouldn't say yes to him. After the endless lunch breaks you'd spent together, you'd become privy to Doyle's treatment of Jihoon. And although you never once actually acted on the negative feelings that had inspired against Doyle, you had still expressed to Jihoon how much such things had dampened your view of him.

What Jihoon hadn't considered, though, had been the very frustrating concept of peer pressure making an appearance.

A few other coworkers at a nearby table started to instigate, encouraging you to go join Doyle. Claims that he was a great dancer and that you'd look good out there together were thrown around. Each comment made Jihoon sink more and more into his seat. At some point, one of the girls in your neighboring cubicles even walked over to you, grabbing your hand to further encourage you to accept Doyle's offer.

You appeared troubled. From Jihoon to Doyle to the girls, you looked back and forth, mouth opening and closing without an actual response leaving you. An uncomfortable smile was on your lips the entire time.

It was obvious to Jihoon you simply did not want to leave him to his own devices. You'd promised so, after all. So he decided to take you out of your misery.

Getting up, he cleared his throat, "Go ahead. I, uh, I'll just go hang out with Gyu and Soon. I kinda ditched them earlier."

He added a little white lie to really sell it. His friends wanted him to stay with you, but he didn't want to force you to not have fun. He had his chance, twice, and stupidly missed it.

"See? Jihoon's busy. This isn't really his scene anyway. C'mon," and so Doyle managed to pull you away.

As you walked away, you turned back to Jihoon, but he was faster. You mentioned going to find him after you were done, but Jihoon tuned it out. Walking away in order to get to his friends, he could hear a short exchange between a few comments made by some coworkers. They weren't anything new, but they still bothered him at this moment.

"They'd made such a cute couple, huh?"

"Yeah! I heard Y/N was head cheerleader in high school. Doyle used to be a quarterback. It's literally like fanfiction."

"Yeah. Jihoon, though ... I don't think that'd work. He's too fucking awkward."

"A bit of a weirdo too. She's out of his league."

And then he was out of earshot.

He found Soonyoung sitting by some table near the entrance quick enough, he thanked god for that. He needed to at least not be alone right now.

"Dude! What are you doing here? What happened to your girl?", Soonyoung was quick to question.

Jihoon shrugged, taking a seat dejectedly.

"Oh, shit, man. I'm sorry," Soonyoung caught on, patting Jihoon on the back, "What happened?"

Jihoon simply gestured north of him, directing Soonyoung's eyes to the dancefloor you were currently at. You'd quickly warmed up to the mood, a smile gracing your face as you danced along with a few of the girls from the office. The silver lining was that you weren't actually dancing with Doyle as originally intended, but rather dancing near him. Still, Jihoon could see Doyle occasionally make his way to you and try to subtly get you to dance with him.

"Fuck. It's that asshole Doyle, huh? I'm sorry, man."

"What happened?", Mingyu suddenly showed up, sweaty and out of breath.

"That dick Doyle took Hoonie's girl," this was met with a frown and an expletive from Mingyu.

"She's not my girl. She's not my anything," Jihoon grumbled, "I think I'll just go home."

Getting up, he was stopped by Mingyu, pleading he stay and have fun. Similar complaints were given by Soonyoung. But neither were enough for Jihoon to want to stay. He'd been an idiot and done nothing to even try and match your energy. It was no wonder you left at the first chance you had.

"I only came to hang out with her," Jihoon sighed sadly, "I'll just see you guys next weekend, okay? Have fun without me."

He hugged each goodbye, disregarding their pouts and heading out. He didn't bother looking back, not wanting to sadden himself even more.

"You're lying to me."

Both Mingyu and Soonyoung stared at Jihoon like puppies awaiting a treat. Their metaphorical tails were practically wagging. It was unnerving. Especially because of the subject at hand.

Jihoon had decided to take the Monday off. He'd decided to grovel over what happened. After what happened last night, he felt like a complete loser facing you at work. Like an idiot, he'd let his feelings get all muddled and made himself believe that maybe you had some interest in him. Only to immediately fuck things up and leave you alone with the guy who was his literal antithesis. Not only that, but he'd left you there without even saying goodbye despite having agreed to be there for the sole reason of being with you.

After four o'clock, Jihoon should've known that his two nosey friends would come find him. It was rare for Jihoon to miss work, so their sudden knocking a few hours after clocking out was predictable.

However, they'd been the ones to shock Jihoon. They had shit-eating grins when he'd let them in. They'd managed to sit through a quick lunch prepared by Jihoon before spilling what had them in such an annoying mood.

"Dude, she came looking for you after you left," had said Mingyu.

"She looked sad as fuck when we told her you left! Then today when you didn't show up to work, she-" then Soonyoung was interrupted by an overexcited Mingyu.

"She asked us for your address, dude! Came all the way to accounting all shy and shit and asked if we thought it'd be okay if you stopped by," Mingyu had finished.

Jihoon spent a few minutes in surprised silence after that. The belief that they were playing a prank on him was the most logical to him.

"Dude, we're not lying!," Soonyoung exclaimed, nudging Mingyu so he'd confirm his statement.

"Yeah, she said she'd stop by in a few hours. We had to clock out early to come warn you."

"You clocked out early cause you hate working," Jihoon rebutted."

"Okay, two things can be true at once."

"Anyways, she'll be here at any moment. So you should doll yourself up for her. I have no idea what she may want, but-"

Mingyu interrupted this time, "Are you kidding? They're gonna fuck. It's going to be a k-drama moment and then they'll seal the deal."

Soonyoung made an O face and gave Gyu a high-five. The children in front of Jihoon were beginning to drive him insane. And usually he would've scolded them, but their words were making him too anxious to think.

Suddenly, Jihoon got up, ushering them out.

"Okay, get the hell out of here. I need to be ready for her, fuck. Fuck. I should've just gone to work today, I'm such an idiot," he groaned to himself, beginning to pick up their plates so he could tidy up the place a bit.

"Dude, calm down. It'll be fine. Clearly she cares if she's coming to check up on you after just one day of you being gone," Soonyoung reasoned, "Whatever happened to a phone call anyway?"

"This is the romantic way to do it, Soon, c'mon."

Mingyu shrugged in agreement, now dragging Soonyoung along with him towards the exit. Their goodbyes were as prolonged as per usual, but Jihoon was eventually able to get them out of his apartment.

Jihoon rushed to make the place as tidy as possible, even fixing himself up as best as he could whilst also looking casual. The hardest hurdle was coming up with non-pathetic reasons as to why he'd left in such a rush last night and why he had skipped work altogether.

How was he supposed to explain that he was a sensitive, good for nothing, pathetic, loser piece of-

But there was a knock before he could even finish a single thought.

He knew who was on the other side, even if he tried to will you away by purely praying to get himself out of this situation.

"Jihoon? I know you're in there," you called out from outside, "I saw Mingyu and Soonyoung leave work early today. I assume they came over to warn you I'd be coming."

Fuck, you were too smart.

There were too many good things about you. And Jihoon would've loved nothing more than to take a few hours to think about all those things, but he had your actual presence to deal with at that moment.

With a deep breath, he walked over to the door, opening it and finding you standing on the other side of it. You were still wearing your usual office ensemble, meaning you'd come directly from work.

"Jihoon," you breathed out. There was a mixture of relief and worry in your tone.

"Uhm, come in," he moved aside to allow you in.

Naturally, the two of you moved over to the couch, rushing to the kitchen really quick to get you a drink — one he, of course, knew by memory from the months in which he'd known you.

"So, uh, what's up?", he cleared his throat.

"Jihoon," you put down the coffee cup he'd handed you, shifting your body on the couch to face him, "I'm really sorry about last night," you began, "I promised I'd stay with you and then I left when I really should've said no to Doyle and all the girls."

He wasn't fully facing you, but he could still perceive how apologetic you were. It made him feel like an asshole to be the cause of this. Why did he have to be so damn sensitive?

"It's not your fault, it's-"

You went to grab his hand from his lap, mirroring that first time you'd followed him outside back when you'd barely started working with him. Physical touch always made him anxious, but it was a good type of anxiety when it came to you.

"No, Jihoon, it is," you reaffirmed, hesitating to continue.

A sort of shy look overtook your face, drawing your eyes away from him for the first time since your arrival. You even let go of his hand, acting as if you'd been shocked you even took it in the first place. A small 'sorry' left your lips before you continued speaking.

"And I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable last night with all my, uh, flirting," you swallowed, "I know you don't see me that way. I guess it was just the whole, uh, vibe? that made me feel like it was okay, but I won't do it again, I promise. I want to respect your boundaries. I didn't think you'd end up skipping out of work because of me. Fuck, I feel like a terrible friend."

Jihoon could do nothing but watch in horror as you spoke.

Every word that left your lips was more wrong than the previous. You'd misunderstood everything. But then again, Jihoon had not communicated his interest at all. You had no way of knowing that he liked you or that he'd been hoping against all hope that he hadn't misinterpreted your advances.

There was one last chance presenting itself in front of Jihoon. This was his last and only chance to set things straight. To grow some balls and risk it when he told you that he reciprocated any feelings you may have had for him — and tenfold.

But he stayed quiet, gulping when you sat there with an equally horrified look on your face. It was likely due to his silence, yet his body was still frozen.

"Uhm, Jihoon, I- I don't know what else to say. I'm sorry, I-"

"Will you go out with me?"

It had been said so suddenly that Jihoon didn't even register he'd been the one to say it. He hadn't planned to say that, especially so suddenly. It was as much a shock go him as it must've been to you. Surely his face matched yours, which consisted of wide eyes and an agape mouth. The shock was entirely mutual.

"What?"

Jihoon flushed, gulping and looking at his lap. His heart was practically beating out of his chest. This was the most daring thing he'd done in years, and its effects were manifesting physically. Sweaty palms, rumbling stomach, eyes burning, he had it all.

But at least it was out there now.

"I, uhm, I wanted to know if you'd want to go out with me?," he tried again, pathetically adding a quiet 'please' afterwards.

"Jihoon, what? You like me?"

The way you asked made it sound like it was the most shocking thing you'd heard in your life. That in itself made his eyebrows furrow in confusion.

He decided to start from the beginning. And this time he was the one to grab your hand.

"I was okay with everything you did or said last night. Trust me. I was just a coward. I was especially a coward when you asked me to dance. I wanted to say yes- I should've said yes. But instead, I let that idiot take you and- and when I saw you having fun, with- with him, I just left like an idiot. I'm sorry I left just like that. It wasn't you. It was me, I swear," he rambled on a single breath, "I do, uhm, I do like you. A lot. An embarrassing amount, really," he chuckled to himself, "And if you'd still be willing, I'd, uh, I'd really like to take you out on a date."

Eye contact had never been Jihoon's forte, and much less in an instance such as this. His eyes remained on his lap, altogether avoiding even daring look in your general direction. But eventually came the time in which he had to look your way to try and gauge your reaction.

Looking up at you, he believed to see horror in your eyes. The very last thing he could've ever wanted to provoke in you.

This was it. This was yet another rejection. Another humiliation leading up to social ruin. His one and only friend in his department would seize to want any sort of relationship with him and it was all because he misread a situation yet again and acted like a socially inept idiot.

"I, I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"I didn't know you liked me," you interrupted.

"Huh?"

"God, Jihoon, I had no idea you liked me back, what? This is crazy. I thought I fucked everything up," you let out a humorless chuckle.

"What?"

Now he was confused. Now he was the one with horror in his eyes.

'Back'?

"Sorry," you chuckled, scooting closer to him, "I like you. I assumed it was obvious and that you were just having a hard time letting me down easy," and with that, you blew his mind.

Jihoon sat there, mouth agape and eyebrows scrunched together in absolute shock. Things could not have turned more different than he'd ever imagined.

Yet he still felt like he was being played. Such things had happened in his past. Fake confessions, tricks of the mind, you name it. As much as Jihoon liked you, his past experiences screamed deep within him to back away, to not fall for it.

And then you grabbed his hand again, scooting even closer. There was a look of understanding in your eyes.

"I'm sorry," you began, "I'm not lying Jihoon, I really do like you."

Before he could ask what you meant, you continued.

"I, uhm, talked to Mingyu yesterday — I asked him not to mention it to you. He told me some stuff about your childhood," you paused, waiting for the solemn nod he gave you to continue. He tensed, leading you to squeeze his hand, "I know there's been some stuff in your past. We didn't get into details, but I promise I'm being genuine. I like you. And if you really do like me back, I'd love to go on that date with you."

Jihoon hadn't processed your proximity until this moment. He'd been too focused on the possibility of this being another ruse, another way to break him down just because of his social ineptitude. But now that his brain was working again, it immediately malfunctioned once more as he realized what was happening.

Not only had you admitted your own feelings and accepted his invitation, but you were far too close for anything other than a kiss to occur. If your proximity didn't give it away, your eyes did. Zeroed in on his lips, they occasionally made their way back to his eyes as if asking for silent permission.

And for once in his life, Jihoon was daring. Jihoon took the first step without fear of fucking things up.

As pathetic as it'd be to admit out loud, the very first touch of your lips was life-changing for Jihoon. There'd been one or two kisses in his life, all filled with instant embarrassment or simply being nothing to write home about.

Yet this kiss was devastating. It was a testament to everything he'd ever fantasized about yet convinced himself he'd never have. It was soft and barely there at first, but the quiet sound you let against his lips was all he needed to lose his mind.

Before he could pull away, shy, bashful, you pulled him back in, opening your lips and welcoming him to do the same.

Your tongues met in the middle before Jihoon completely surrendered to you. He didn't even try to put up a fight. It was unnecessary. All he wanted was your kiss, to fall victim to anything you wanted to take and give him.

A shaky breath was let out into your lips. It felt as if his body was vibrating. The immense nerves he usually felt in social situations and all their physical symptoms were present, but it was all too different than usual. They were accompanied by a burning in his stomach.

Jihoon knew this to be arousal. Frankly, it was a pathetic realization — to feel such things with a simple kiss. But it wasn't any kiss. It was you. It was your tongue in his mouth, your hands making their way to his hair, your soft sounds muffled with his own.

"N-no, not yet. Please," he found himself pleading when you pulled away to breathe.

And he almost cried when you moaned at his pleading before trapping him in another kiss, just as heavy as the last.

Jihoon was in over his head. He could barely follow along. Could barely please you with his own lips. He was defeated by you, too high on lust to be a worthy opponent. And god, he couldn't even let himself begin to think about what was going on in his pants at that moment.

"Jihoon," you breathed.

You'd learned your lesson from last time, it seemed. Instead of attempting to pull away, you licked at his lips, keeping a nonexistent distance between you.

"What do you want?", you asked, "What do you want from me? I'll give you anything you ask for."

His mind couldn't wrap itself around that statement. He wanted everything. His body was burning and his mind was reeling. Never in his life had he come close to feeling like this.

It had been many years since he'd settled for his life. No more hopes or dreams for love, for anything grander out of life. The concept of physical touch or any sort of pleasure had left the picture quickly into college. All he'd ever known had been senseless fantasies of what could be but would never be.

Yet now he sat here, prettiest girl he'd ever seen looking into his eyes — eyes heavy with lust that made him have to use all his strength to not cry and moan and whine at the effect he seemingly had on you. Did you like stupid losers with nothing to offer? Because he was the perfect candidate.

And his eyes dropped to your lips again, almost as if there was some sort of pull towards you that he could not control. Even while knowing all other forms of pleasure he could beg for, he needed to kiss you again.

"Nghn, I- Kiss, I wanna kiss you. Please? I wanna-"

His begging didn't last long, soon interrupted by something he could barely call a kiss. It was wet and messy, teeth clanking and tongues suckling at each other. Sounds of pleasure shamelessly left both your lips and your bodies got closer to one another.

The next thing to blow his mind was your body, which soon made its way to straddle his own. From this angle, you were slightly above him, now ensuring you had all the control — though that was met with no complaints from him.

His usually shy hands were forced onto your hips by your own before yours went back to running through his hair. They were liberal, your hands, in exploring him. When your lips trailed down to his neck, exploring and quickly finding his weakest spots, your hands went to his shirt, reaching under it and exploring the bare skin underneath.

"I want you, Jihoon. Do you want me too?," you whispered into his ear, teeth softly pulling at the lobe.

Jihoon couldn't think, couldn't breathe. His mind was a chorus of yesyesyes, too broken to actually respond.

"Want you, p-please. Anything ... You can do anything, just-"

Everything cut off then. Your touch, your lips on his skin, your weight on his lap.

But it was replaced by you pulling him towards the door leading into his bedroom, quickly assessing the room before pushing him onto the bed.

He was pliable under your touch. He'd be a boneless doll if necessary. Anything you wanted was yours — Jihoon was yours.

The empty weight of his lap only lasted a few seconds before you filled it back up, hands once again finding his shoulders. He felt shy under your gaze, especially knowing you could probably feel the hardness beneath you.

"I've never ... I know it's probably obvious, but I, uhm ..."

"That's okay, Jihoonie," your hand went to his cheek, soft in caressing it, "We don't have to do anyth-"

"No!", he suddenly interrupted. He became bashful when he realized how sudden and loud he'd been, "I mean, uhm, I want to. I really want to. Please."

You sighed, "So polite, Jihoonie. Bet you're going to be so good to me, aren't you?", you said almost to yourself.

Jihoon swore his dick twitched at your words. There was nothing in this world he wanted more than to be good for you. He needed you to tell him how nice and how good he was. Nothing would ever compare to being the giver of your pleasure.

He nodded numbly, mouth agape as you leaned down.

But instead of kissing him as he'd expected, the hand on his cheek shifted. Your thumb graced at his bottom lip as you watched intently. Jihoon's body reacted on its own. He needed no direction to open his mouth the tiny bit necessary to let your thumb in, suckling softly without needles any further direction from you.

This caused you to groan, which in turn made him moan. He'd never been one to have any sort of creative fantasies. Any time he allowed himself to think about sex, it was all pretty cut and dry, usually involving some faceless girl that he knew would never manifest herself into real life.

But now he had a girl — a girl he was completely infatuated by. And she had her thumb in his mouth, looking at him like he was the manifestation of her lust.

Jihoon didn't know what to do with you. You were too much for him to deal with, too much for him to function properly. He'd never imagined himself having to will himself into not cumming due to a pretty girl's thumb in his mouth, but in this moment there was nowhere else he would've preferred be.

And then you pulled your thumb away, earning yourself an embarrassing whine from him. He almost had it in him to complain, to whine and ask for you to give it back. He wanted to provide, to give you something back. But instead, you kissed him again, this time using your hands to unclothe him in the midst of the messy kiss.

Somehow he ended up shirtless, with his pants removed and sitting there with mere boxers while you sat atop him, still fully clothed. Yet he didn't have it in him to complain. If this day was full of you doing whatever you desired with his body, allowing him not a single touch of yours, he'd take it. He'd be willing to take anything you gave him. He'd beg if necessary.

"God, you're gorgeous. How do you not have a line waiting to get their turn with you?", there was a hint of frustration in your voice. It was as if the sight made you angry, like it made you so frustrated you couldn't hold back. Cuteness aggression but replaced with lust. Jihoon couldn't comprehend having such an effect on someone, much less you.

"I, uhm, I don't-"

He had no idea how to respond to your praise. But thankfully, you didn't give him enough time to muster out some pathetic response, instead opting to kiss him again, hands feeling up every available inch of skin.

You pushed him up on the bed, silently encouraging him to scoot up so he could lay down with your body still straddling his own. This felt more intimate. Jihoon knew where it was leading, he'd imagined being in this position once or twice, but never pictured it'd be anything like this.

"Is this okay?", you asked once your hands went to his chest, softly tracing shapes in it in a way Jihoon wasn't sure was supposed to be teasing or if he was just so touch-starved that it felt euphoric to him.

"Yeah, I, oh, fuck, yes, just ..."

He found his answer when your hands went to his nipples, circling them softly before pinching and pulling at them with your fingers, shutting him up before he could even make out a single sentence. It only became worse when you lowered your head, mouth meeting one nipple while the other remained engaged by your hand.

Sensitivity on his chest was not something he was aware of. There were likely countless things he was into but had never managed to explore. But Jihoon decided in that moment that what he was into was you. Every touch, every kiss, every look, every word. He held onto every single one and sighed into them, losing himself in the process and- fuck.

Fuckfuckfuckfuck.

Any further exploration of his mind halted at that moment. The moment in which your hips joined in on the fun. They ground against his own shyly at first, testing the waters. His hands gripped at your hips helplessly, almost as if attempting to hold onto his remaining sanity.

The worst part was when you reacted to it. Enjoying the feeling that first rock of your hips gave you, you continued, whining into his mouth as your hips sped up. Your hands gripped at his shoulders, though they occasionally felt up at his arms and chest, clawing at the muscle there and ensuring to leave your mark.

Jihoon was on fire. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't speak. All he could do was pathetically whine into your lips, silently begging for you to never stop, for you to make him forget himself.

"Please, oh fuck, pl-please don't stop. It's so- good, oh ..."

"God, keep talking like that," you groaned.

Fuck. Of course you liked him pathetic and whiny. Of course you were turned on by it. It created a never ending cycle of you doing whatever you wanted to him and him crying like a needy loser, only causing you to double down. It was heaven and hell. Jihoon's body was in overdrive.

"You're gonna make me cum, you- fuck, don't stop, I need- shit, please."

His voice was unrecognizable now. Jihoon didn't know which dimension he was in anymore.

Until it all halted.

Your movements ended, and the weight on his crotch left him. A pathetic whine came from his lips at this, but he was too needy to feel embarrassed.

Before he could get up and kneel, begging at your feet to continue (something which he'd truly do if he wasn't to embarrassed by the thought), you made your way back to him, though this time Jihoon felt an unexpected warmth on him. A warmth accompanied by sticky wetness. It took Jihoon a few seconds to realize what was sitting on him, but when it dawned on him, it destroyed him.

Daring to open his eyes and look up at you, he found you flushed. Your face looked warm and your expression was far too lustful for him to handle. What caught his attention the most, though, was your sudden nudity. His brain could not process it, the sight of you in complete nudity, sitting on his cock with a single layer of his damned boxers intervening.

The sight went beyond his imagination. Goosebumps formed on every inch of his skin, and even his hardness twitched under you in a manner so pathetic it shocked even himself. The image above him would haunt him for the rest of his life, especially as he laid there unknowing of what to do with himself, of how to respond to such a sight.

And then you responded for him.

You grasped his hands, taking them away from your hips and bringing them up to your chest. Naturally, they engulfed your breasts, a groan leaving his lips at their weight in his palms.

"Like this, baby. Just touch me however you want," you encouraged with a breathy sigh.

"You're so pretty, fuck," he groaned again.

It caused you to giggle, biting your lip when his hands began to fondle you, playing with your nipples in the way you'd played with his earlier.

Your hips began moving again, though this time it was hotter, more desperate. You became frustrated with the friction quickly enough, digging into his boxers and pulling him out. Jihoon cried out at this, eyes rolling back at your hold.

After a few experimental tugs at his dick, you let go, letting it fall back against his stomach and taking a seat on it. Not putting him in yet, you began sliding against the length of it, letting your warm wetness grind against it in a manner so filthy it had Jihoon's head throwing back into the mattress.

"God, I wanna fuck you so bad," you groaned, "You'll feel so good, I already know it."

It was like you wanted to kill him. But Jihoon knew it was the mindless lust speaking. Which only made it all the worse for him. His incidental effect on you drove him crazy.

"Please, I- I want it," he cried.

But you decided to kill him some more.

"How bad?", you whispered into his ear, movements not halting.

If you wanted him to beg, to become a pathetic whiny mess as he pleaded for a single touch, he would. He had no pride when it came to you.

"So bad, you ... you don't understand. I need it. I need to feel it so badly."

But god, you were so mean. So terribly mean and wicked to him. Simple begging would not do, Jihoon realized. You wanted more.

"Need to feel what?", your hips sped up, the friction half-killing Jihoon.

"Your ... your, fuck," he gulped, "Your pussy. Please."

You moaned and then giggled, separating your cunt from his dick in order to create some distance. Sneaking between your bodies, your hand grabbed onto his hardness, sitting yourself up on your knees so you could align him to your cunt.

His tip was at your cunt, forced to circle at it by your hand as you teased both yourself and him. The warmth begging to wrap around his head made him delirious. Nothing had ever felt as good. There was no comparable experience.

"N-no condom?", he willed himself to ask.

"I'm on birth control. So if it's okay with you ...", you trailed off, chuckling when he nodded desperately at you.

You continued to tease yourself with his dick, gasping at the feeling of his tip against your clit as he twitched in your hand. The teasing was killing him, though it was too pleasurable for him to beg for anything else.

"God, Jihoon, I can already tell you're gonna feel so good, baby," you practically whined, "I'm gonna fuck you so good, angel. Just you wait."

And then your welcomed him in. In a slow descent, you lowered yourself on him, crying out his name once he was finally bottomed out.

Under you, Jihoon lost his soul. It was too warm, too wet, too perfect for him to react. His brain clocked out for the day, leaving him a hollow body meant for nothing but receiving pleasure. That orgasmic feeling of, well, an orgasm, was approaching far too quickly. Jihoon could feel his body contract on itself, insisting at him to let go, to give himself up to you.

But he persisted. The sight above him — the pretty girl with her eyes rolled back and her arched back causing her to press up impossibly close against him — had his body begging for just a few more moments to enjoy the endless pleasure you were currently giving him.

"'m gonna move now, okay, baby? Feel so good already, shit. So full," you sighed.

Your hands settled on his chest, palms pressed against it as you began to bounce. Sometimes you'd bounce, sometimes you'd grind. It was all too deliriously good for Jihoon to realize the exact science behind it.

If everything that came before had led him to this moment, he'd happily go through it all again. Nothing in his life could compare to this, to the intimacy, the closeness he felt to you at this moment. He had to do nothing but cry tears of pleasure under you, taking every bounce, ever rock of your hips, every kiss and every word of praise in his direction. If he had to go back to the lonely, hellish life he lived before just in exchange for this very moment, he'd beg for the chance.

But Jihoon didn't need to be as fatalist anymore. Not when you kept whining his name, when your eyes were crossed and your breasts were bouncing above him in a demonstration of your incessant need for him.

"Baby, give ... give me your hand," you suddenly moaned. Your hips sped up, clearly driving yourself to your orgasm and surely dragging him along with you.

He followed your instruction, just as his brain had been programed. He gave you his hand, groaning when you placed it at your cunt, silently instructing for his knuckle to bend and dig at your clit. You tightened impossibly harder at that and fuck, it was too good. It was too tight, too wet, too filthy as your moans heightened in pitch.

And Jihoon truly wanted to warn you. He wanted to tell you and come right alongside you, but his poor virginal body could only take so much before breaking. It was an impossible task to hold back and await for your own pleasure to join his. But god was it mind-blowing.

He'd orgasmed before. Alone, cold in his room, feeling pathetic due to his lack of possibility at romance, knowing he'd never find a girl to look at him with anything but apathy. Yet here you were, whispering filthy words into his ear, encouraging his orgasm with a hint of mischief in your tone as your orgasm interrupted your words.

You were evil, Jihoon realized.

Above him, you made a show of your high, providing him with a view that would surely ruin him for life. Your hands let go of his body, instead choosing to fondle with your own, putting aside your own orgasmic experience to instead destroy any last bit of sanity left in him (which truly was not much — likely in the negatives by now). Your face was one that Jihoon would tattoo in his memory, bringing back up again and again in order to finish himself off in the many lonely nights to come — he couldn't help his fatalistic way of believing this might be a one and only type of situation.

It felt endless, so endless that the pleasure was almost painful. But Jihoon could still categorically asses this as one of the best experiences of his long years on this earth.

The low after the high was still blissful. Jihoon had heard of 'post-nut' clarity, with it being sold as a negative after such a high. Yet Jihoon felt nothing but bliss as you disconnected from him and dropped to lay at his side, wordless as you intertwined your bodies and stole body heat from him (which, really, he was more than happy to give).

Jihoon was unsure of what to say, but the smile you gave him said enough for the two of you. It was a silent exchange of affection that Jihoon never thought he'd be on the receiving end of.

"Maybe skipping work today was a good idea," you joked after some silence.

His eyebrows lifted. Understatement of the year.

You laughed and nuzzled further. He must've said it out loud. Well, the effect was nice, so he had no complaints.

"We're going to have to visit HR first thing tomorrow morning," you groaned into his chest, seemingly unable to help yourself in pressing kisses there. Jihoon felt too loved.

"Hmm?"

But he was still half-dead.

"I'll wanna jump you as soon as I see you tomorrow morning. I won't be able to be discreet," you joked.

"You wanna, uhm, be official?", he risked in asking.

He wanted to slap himself. You'd given no indication of changing your mind about him. This fatalism was something he really needed to work on.

"Yes, you idiot. God, Jihoon. We're going to have to work on this," you agreed without realizing.

It was quiet after that. It was the same quiet Jihoon had grown used to in his solitary life, except it had morphed into a silence he could see himself becoming fond of. Your breath against his chest was all he could hear, and it was the one and only sound he desired from now on.

The following morning, you awoke before him, loving on him without question, wordlessly showing him how easy it was for you to want him, to love him. It was new, but for once, it didn't scare Jihoon. For once, he could see himself giving into something good without fear.

to read short 2.3k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my svt monthly tier on patreon!

content: office romance, semi-public sex, afab reader, smut, oral (m receiving), etc.

wc: 202 (teaser); 2340 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"Hmm, we have to, hmph-"

That was as far as Jihoon had been able to get all morning before yet another rude interruption from you.

Well, calling it rude would be going too far.

In reality, Jihoon was very welcoming of every single interruption. Especially since each one consisted of your lips on his, with the occasional involving your tongue down his throat.

You'd woken up early, awakening him with soft caresses and kisses to his bare chest. It was a first for him. Everything was a first, really.

He'd been defiled for the first time last night, having the girl of his dreams suddenly showing up to his apartment to fix up a miscommunication (entirely caused by him) and turning his world upside down by confessing to a crush he'd believed completely unlikely.

The details made Jihoon too flustered to really think about, but at least he'd allow himself to enjoy the aftermath of it all.

But sadly, he had to try and interrupt you again. It was nearing the time to go to work, and as happy as he was with you, he knew things at work would likely have to change due to the sudden development of your relationship.

...

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[jd-loves-fiction]

hii~ how are you, dear?

so.. how do you think leona or (and) malleus would react when they see someone flirting with mc and mc flirting back? (they are not a couple yet but already have feelings for each other. mc didn't flirt with the other people seriously, they were just playing)

🌑can you tell I have a favorite 💀🙃

❖ 𝐋𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐚 ❖

Oooh you're playing a dangerous game

Chances are Leona's been dropping HEAVY hints that he wants you

If you're not a beastman, there's a chance you haven't noticed but if whoever dared to flirt with you is a beastman and they still decided to do it...

They're about to find out why the lion's the king of the savanna

Leona's not the hesitant kind of guy when it comes to romance, if he wants you he'll make it very clear

But the moment he senses that you might not be interested, he'll back off

That being said, I do believe the actual first step into a relationship would have to be made by you

Reason being that Leona is quite comfortable in his loneliness and in the Sunset Savanna women tend to be the ones making moves

If you're not a woman, my opinion still stands since he's lazy and fine with romance pass him by

So this situation is actually very likely to happen before you get into a relationship

But he will be glaring straight through this pest with his poisonous green gaze until they piss off

If that doesn't happen, then his jealousy might actually persuade to do something like striding up to you and throwing an arm over your shoulders

He won't say anything since he feels he shouldn't need to, just waits for them to give into his glowering and scowling

This might be what triggers a confession, whether from you or him! :D

(The one who'd been flirting with you, however, might never know peace again💀🫡)

❖ 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐮𝐬 ❖

This might be an even more perilous situation (not that you'd notice)

While Leona likely has some experience with romance and therefore isn't all that surprised by this situation

Malleus however (in my opinion) is entirely inexperienced when it comes to love and so unprepared for this

All he feels is ugly green envy crawling around inside his chest

Why are they so close to you? Why would they say those things to you? Why would reciprocate? Do you not care for him as he does you??🥺

Bby is spiraling 💀

Pray Lilia is around (tho he usually is) to help him understand the situation

He'll understand that he just hasn't been clear enough with his advances and so will take this as an opportunity to make them crystal clear

By confessing to you right in front of the other person :)

By the time he's done they should be gone (if they didn't dash off immediately upon seeing THE Malleus Draconia approaching them)

He might become a little more possessive than usual after this occurrence

Can you blame him? He's not used to the feelings you awaken in him :(

Plus, dragons are very protective of their treasure 👀