#i was actually just going to do a study of the poster but when i finished my lineart and zoomed out i thought:

[blaithnne]

If I may, how do you typically approach choosing colors in your art? It always has just a lovely feel to it, so I was a bit curious; don't feel pressured to answer ofc :]

I’ve been using a lot of gradient maps lately, they work by switching the greys in your piece with a corresponding colour according to its value. Basically, I colour in black and white, grab a gradient map, and then I adjust the colours by hand until I’m happy with it. This isn’t the only kind of colouring I do, but it works great if you’re in a rush or you’re struggling to find a good starting point for your colours. I’ve been operating under a time crunch for these Sketchbook Week drawings and the Plenism promo stuff I made, so for all except one I used gradient maps. I’m actually in a bit of a funk with my colours right now soooo I’ll come back and do a proper colouring tutorial for my style once I’m happier with how my non gradient mapped colours are looking !

[mothlord00]

original poster under cut!

well that took a while! i've been working on this on and off for the past, i don't know, week? i went in 20 minutes at a time. except the hair. i did that all in one go in a frustrated attempt to get on with it. gosh i DO NOT like painting hair. skin is so much fun, though. i had an awesome time rendering the skin on this.

the poster i based this off was Gilda (1946). i've never watched it so i hope it doesn't have anything entirely antithetical to ripley as a character!

here's the original:

[sinsofnivan]

hello i am fiending for college nerd perv!Leon Kennedy

I ♡ HOT NERDS.ᐟ — Leon Kennedy x YOU! — SMUT!

TAGS: fem bodied reader, blowjobs, lots of pussy eating, pussydrunk leon, no fr hes so whipped for you here,  mentions of getting off to your underwear, study buddied to fuck buddies to bff's to lovers, unprotected sex, mentions of sex toys, semi-public fucking, some bad words too

NSFW UNDER THE CUT!

college nerd! leon crushes on you first. you're so sweet, so kind, and was a good friend all in all. during class, he finds himself staring at you while the professor yaps away. you two became friends after he offered to help you with chemistry, the only class you shared with, and after he spotted your failing mark.

you've been closer—inseparable, actually—ever since, always talking, texting, calling the other. he was always over at your place, just like how you were always over at his. your grades have significantly gotten better, too, a perk of being friends with him, he says.

college nerd! leon who always brings over food at your place. he rarely ever orders for himself, always for two. he knows all your favourites. your go-to snacks, how you like your coffee, and even your preferences. you've asked him once how he has it memorized, and he just shrugged. when you blurt out that you're hungry, leon will come knocking at your door.

“you didn't have to!”  “well, i wanted to,” leon closes the door behind him, and you come rushing to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “you're the best, leon!” you'd chirp, and leon feels his cheeks heat up. you link your arm arm around him as you drag him inside. “okay, what should we do. do we wanna watch a movie?”

college nerd! leon watches you more than he watches the shitty movie you've set up. you're nicely curled up to him, a blanket nicely resting atop your warm bodies. plus, he had a nice view of your chest, too. if he could stay like this forever, he would. unfortunately, he needed to get up and go to the bathroom. it hurt poking you and watching you settle on the other side of the couch.

college nerd! leon likes the way your apartment looks. it just screamed . . you. the posters, the decor. cuter than he's envisioned. even your laundry was wasn't a sight for sore eyes, only the pink, cotton pair of panties catching his attentio—

he swallows nervously.

college nerd perv! leon had to slap a palm over his mouth, trying to keep his noises down as his roommates were still sleeping. he had the same pink panties wrapped around his cock as he fucked his fist. this was depraved. he shouldn't . . but somehow, the thrill only made it better. he can't believe he's actually getting off to this, to your fucking underwear. god, he's such a pervert.

you're one of the few people that actually listens to college nerd! leon's yapping. something about this new comic that came out, or a fun fact about this video game, and even though you didn't understand what it was, you always listened, watching him. sometimes caressing his leg with your own shoe.

but college nerd! leon's oblivious to your advances. cuddling with him, holding hands with him, being touchy with him, and sometimes purposefully wearing the skimpiest clothing you had when he was over—he was very clueless, and you wondered if he even liked you.

today, you'll find out.

you're over at his place, watching him as he showed you his "nerd haul", as you called it. a bunch of figurines, some new comic books, and you were simply letting him talk, showcasing his stuff excitedly.

"mhm? what's that one about?"

you asked, glancing over at him as he explained it all to you. blah blah blah, batman and catwoman, blah blah blah. you couldn't really focus on what he was saying when he looked so fucking good and so fucking kissable.

"mhm?"

leon stops mid-yap as he feels your hand rest atop his groin. "y, y/n?" he looks over at you with wide eyes. he looked cute, 'specially with glasses. "go on . . " you cooed, and you watch his adam's apple bob as he swallowed nervously.

"s, so . . um . . "

his breath hitches in his throat as he watches you settle on the ground, between his legs; your hands eager to get his cock out from his trousers. you only hummed, letting his half-erect cock spring out, and god, how does he keep that . . weapon in his shorts?!

your tongue drags up the shaft, feeling it slowly twitch and harden, and leon was completely speechless. "h, haah . . y/n," he whined, setting down the comic back on the table as he leaned back. your wet muscle teased the tip, tasting his pre.

"do you like this, leon?"

fuuuuck . . you were so hot talkin' while your tongue was out. it comes out as barely intelligible gibberish, but leon understood anyway, nodding as he looked down at you through his spectacles. "do you want me to stop?" he quickly shook his head. "use your words," you muttered, and leon whines. "n, no. i don't want you to stop,"

usin' your hands, you lather your spit all over his girth, feeling the veins under your palm. fuck, he's so hot. you've barely started and he was already panting like a dog in heat.

slowly, his girth enters your mouth. it's warm, and so damn fucking good leon could just bust a nut. he wants to prolong this. was this real? were you really blowing him?

"please, y/n," he pleads, and you only glance up at him. "hm?" you chuckled, and the subtle rumble makes him gasp. "l—let me . . let me fuck your throat," he whined, hips bucking up uncontrollably.

"mhm . . "

that was enough for leon, grabbing both sides of your head and filling your throat to the hilt with just one push down. you gagged, spit coating his shaft and balls. it didn't take long for him to start vigorously fucking your throat, the crown of his fat cock always meeting with the back of your throat.

the room is filled with lascivious noises—sounds of you gagging and the squelch of your filthy mouth plus leon's mewls. he only held his gaze low, eyes never breaking away from yours.

you bring your hands up, caressing his body and palming at his thighs. tears were swellin' up in your eyes, and leon loved how your waterline glistened. he wondered just how long would it take to mess up your mascara.

it felt good, so fucking good. his balls are aching to let out this load in your throat, but he can't. not yet. it takes everything in college nerd perv! leon to stop bobbin' your head up and down, pulling his cock out from your throat so you could breathe.

"w, why?" you pant. "not yet," he was, too. chests heaving. "c'mere," his body leans forward, and his hand gently ensnares your jaw, pulling you in for a kiss. he could taste himself on you.

college nerd perv! leon lays you down on his couch, and he was settled in between your legs; arms hooked around your thighs and not even bothering to pull down your panties. he's salivating from just the sight of your cunt, nicely outlined by the cotton. he can't help but just—

"h, hnng! leon!"

his tongue's dragging up your slit, kissing and tasting the cloth while leon fumbled with the hem of your skirt. you lift your hips up, and leon slowly pulls it, his kisses trailing down your inner thighs to your calves.

"you're so beautiful . . "

college nerd perv! leon eats pussy as a sport. he's obsessed with how your taste and smell jus' completely engulfs him. doesn't fuckin' care if you've shaved or not, he'll devour it no matter what.

your clit's all puffy from how much he's been suckin' on it, and his hair's all messed up from how hard you've been tugging on it. he doesn't seem to mind, however, only grunting as his glasses fogged up. "oh my gooood . . leon," your toes curl, and leon grinds against the couch. "close, 'm close—!" you subconsciously close your legs on him, trapping him in place and— leon whimpers with a mouthful of cunt, an orgasm washing over him as he kept grinding his cock on the couch. another suckle from him, and you're fucking spraying him again, squealing as your back arched. oh, and he also eats ass.

college nerd perv! leon always prioritizes your orgasms first. nice guys finish last, he's read. he's been nice to you, right? he's been a good boy for you, just for you, right?

needless to say, you went from study buddies to fuck buddies quick.

you'd have quickies in the bathroom, in the storage room. leon would test out these new sex toys with and on you, too. including a lovense whilst you were in class, and he would randomly turn it on at any hour, letting you know that he was thinking of you.

sometimes you're making out in the gymnasium, or maybe in the rooftops, as long as it was private.

it seriously gave you whiplash how much of a pervert leon actually was. you didn't think he was, but you know what they say. it's always the quiet ones. and it was never boring with him, as he tried a lot of things with you both sexually and non-sexually.

his favourite? putting you on a dildo machine and lettin' it ram you 'til you were fucking stupid.

college nerd perv! leon loved to grope you, too; especially in public. your ass was mostly the victim of this, especially when the jocks who eyed you were around. they always do a double-take, because how could the shy, quiet nerd pull a baddie like you?

leon was possessive too, as you've discovered.

because when he's fucking rearranging your guts, he's always askin' you who do you belong to, and you?

well.

"yours! i'm yours!" you cried out as leon pounded your pretty cunt. "mine," he whispered, wrapping your legs around his waist and leaning down to bite your neck. your chest had all sorts of hickeys, and you're not surprised. he loved to mark you. his cock stretches you out so fucking nicely, and nothing compares to the pleasure you give leon. it was probably the highlight of his day, being buried balls deep inside you. gooodddd . . you felt so good. his balls kept clappin' against your ass, and your cunt just nicely sucked him back in while you coated his length with translucent slick, aaaall the way down to its base. as his orgasm neared, he lets a thumb roll over your clit so you could both cum together. you screamed, letting your eyes roll back in bliss. "leon . . l, leon—gonna cum. 'm cumming," leon picks up his pace as best as he could, even when his hips were burning with fatigue. you deserved it. his pretty girl deserved everything. "gonna cum too, y/n . . love you, love your fucking cunt," the confession goes over your head as you were busy being in cloud nine, and after a few pumps, you're gushing all over him whilst he floods your pretty pussy with his load.

college nerd perv! leon cums a lot. a lot. you don't know why or how, but he just does. you're always left overspilling whenever he creampied you.

"did you mean it?" leon had a strong arm wrapped around your frame, your back pressed nicely against his chest. "mean what?" he whispered back, a thumb caressing your sides. "that . . you loved me?" you look back at him, and leon lifts his head just so your lips could meet briefly. "of course i did," your eyes widen at the sudden confession, but you were happy. you lace your fingers with him, gradually laying over to your back so he could hover over you kiss you more.

college nerd! leon always gives the best aftercare. you're given water, massages, kisses, everything. you reciprocate it too, of course; covering him in kisses and holding him for as long as he needed.

you were already expecting college nerd! leon to be your boyfriend. he was everything and more you've imagined. flowers more often than you can count, orgasms everyday, a real gentleman, and plus he was so obsessed with you. his social media handles have zero posts, but all of them had you and him as his profile pictures. you couldn't have asked for anyone better.

god, best boyfriend in the world.

college nerd! leon, however, never expected you to be his girlfriend, even though the signs were all there. he's glad you are. you make him happy. the happiest. you were the only person who understood him and accepted him for all his quirks and "weirdness." not to mention also matching his freak.

unlike most, you were actually interested in the things that he liked, sometimes playing his games too even though you sucked and he always carried you. whatever it was, as long as he liked it, you would like it, too. and plus, a week after he had you as his girlfriend, people were complimenting him on how he was glowing.

god, best girlfriend in the world.

[hiiikiko]

𝖈𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖎𝖓 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖜𝖊𝖇

[2: can’t get him outta my mind!!]

tlou m.list | caught in your web m.list

spiderman!ellie x reader

synopsis: Y/n is still reeling over last weeks events when she goes over to Ellie’s place for the first time. She can’t believe she was able to meet Spider-Man again! (Psst! She still doesn’t know it’s actually Spider-Woman!)

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Hey, how come I’ve never been over to your place before?” you poke Ellie with your pencil, she sighs and leans back into her chair.

“Ah, you don’t wanna go there.. I live with my Uncle Tommy and Aunt Maria and he can be kinda, well, y’know ‘daddish,’” you giggle at her wording.

“But still, it’s no fair, you’ve been coming to my place for awhile and I don’t even know where you like and—!”

“God, fine, fine! If I knew you wanted to come over so badly, I woulda invited you sooner, gosh,” Ellie puts her hands up and lets out a chuckle, “You can come over tomorrow night, Tommy ‘nd Maria are gonna be outta town so, uh, I’ll send you my address or whatever.”

You nod and get back to work.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Fuck, am I too early? Do I seem to eager?? your mind is racing as you pace outside apartment 419, finally you put your fist up to knock on the white wooden door but before your fist could come in contact with the door, it swings open, revealing Ellie, her hair wet, white tank top, and loose basketball shorts, and her hand adjusting her glasses, “Oh, hey Y/n.”

Hey? Hey?? How could she be so casual when she’s looking, well… like that?? you’re internall screaming, your gaze drifts towards her forearm, you had no idea she had a tattoo. Almost like she could read your mind, she rubs her tattoo.

“Oh, yeah.. guess you wouldn’t know about this, uh, yeah, I got a tattoo like two years ago? It’s a fern with a spider,” she moves aside, “Come inside, you must be freezing.”

Her apartment smells like pine, tobacco, and fabric softener, it’s nice. There are horse paintings all over the walls as well as some movie posters. It’s a nice place, pretty big, well, bigger than your apartment, at least.

You turn to look at Ellie who’s just awkwardly standing in the hallway. You’re about to ask where her room is when she blurts out, “Water?!”

You jump a little, taken aback by the sudden statement, “Uh, y-yeah, I’ll take some water.”

The auburnette nods and rushes off to the kitchen, has she ever had anyone come over? The thought kinda makes you giggle, if you’re right, then that must be the reason for her being so awkward.

She comes barging into the living room and hands the water to you, still awkwardly standing in the middle of the room.

You can tell that you need to be the one to direct this evening, “So, wanna study out here or in your room?”

Ellie thinks for a second, “Uh, my room? All my stuff is there and it’s warmer in there than it is out here,” she rubs the back of her neck nervously.

“Alright,” you follow her to a room at the end of the hall, the door is slightly cracked and water droplets are trailing from it down the hallway, weird.

“Uh, this is it,” Ellie walks in, “Ah, crap, forgot to close that,” she rushes over to her window, wide open and rain is pouring in.

You giggle a bit, she can be kinda clumsy. You glance around her room, it’s decked out in movie and band posters, above her bed is a cork board with picture of a boy and a girl you’d seen around campus a few times, her desk is a little cluttered but for the most part neat, there are comic books all over her bed.

“Sorry, meant to clean before you came over.. but then I just got home like a few minutes before you and—.”

“Huh? No you didn’t, I was outside for at least five minutes,” you giggle, Ellie’s face drops.

“Oh, well, I meant to say it felt like a few minutes, y’know?” She scratches her nose.

You nod and take a seat on her bed, “So, shall we?” you pat the space next to you.

“S-Shall we what?” Ellie’s ears are red and her hand instinctively moves to her face to push her glasses up.

“Study?” you giggle, you had an idea of what she was initially thinking.

“Oh! Yeah! Uh, totally, totally… let’s study,” her ears are still burning bright red as she takes a seat next to you.

For the next two hours, the two of you studied your asses off until you got hungry which gave the both of you the bright idea of ordering pizza, Ellie suggested Hawaiian and how could you say no to that?

So, while the two of you were waiting for the pizza to arrive, Ellie told you all about how she used to be a delivery girl for the place so since then, they give her a 5% off discount, “Yeah, I know, right? The owner is so generous, one time h—.”

Ding dong!

Ellie groaned, disappointed she couldn’t finish her story, “I’ll get it.”

Now was your chance! You’re a pretty nosy person. You push yourself up off her bed and take a look around, opening drawers, until you come to one that’s locked..? You didn’t even know drawers could be locked.. hmm.. must be something pricey, whatever. You open up her closet and it looks like she did try to clean up before you came over, clothes are crammed into an overflowing laundry basket and there’s a pile of.. wet clothes..? Before you could bend down to inspect them, Ellie yells from the kitchen for you to get dinner, you hurriedly shut the closet door and make your way to the kitchen.

“Ah, this looks good,” Ellie mutters as she pulls out some plates.

While you wait for Ellie to get her slices, you take a look around, on the fridge are magnets from Boston, Wyoming, Seattle, and a few pictures. One picture stands out to you the most, it’s a picture of what looks like baby Ellie and a handsome looking man, “Hey, who’s that?”

Ellie, mid-bite looks over at who you’re talking about, “Oh, um, that’s no one, hey lets watch a movie, I got beer too,” Ellie is out of the kitchen before you know it.

You can tell she didn’t wanna talk about it so you weren’t going to push her to, you didn’t want to scare her off.

She puts on a movie but the two of you don’t really pay attention, to engrossed in each other.

Then, after a few drinks the two of you are talking about yourselves and somehow, the conversation gears towards Spider-Man, causing you to giggle and think about the events that transpired last week.

“It was like a dream, Els. Like, one second I thought I was donezo then the next, I’m soaring through the air, his arms wrapped around me! Ugh, I can’t get him outta my mind!!”

Ellie chokes on her pizza then takes another sip of her beer, “Y-yeah?”

“Then, he gently puts me down on top of this beautiful rooftop garden, which would’ve been nice if I knew how to get down haha, I was stuck up there for an hour and a half until a nice lady helped me down, “Ellie chokes on her pizza again, “It was so magical but the only thing was.. he was like.. really awkward about the whole thing.. when i said “Oh my god, It’s you,’ he responded with ‘Yeah, I-it’s me,” and then when he put me down he just stared at me for a bit then said ‘bye’ before taking a step off the rooftop.”

Ellie’s face is pretty red, the alcohol must be really getting to her, she wipes her mouth, “Come on, he’s not that awkward..”

You giggle, “He totally is! If I weren’t a loyal fan, I might have switched over to being Hulk’s fan.”

“No!” Ellie blurts out, the silence is loud after she says that, ‘Uh, I mean, no way..! Spider-Man is way cooler than the Hulk..”

You nod, “Mhm, totally.. besides I don’t care for all those muscles.. I like how lean Spidey is.”

Ellie suddenly jumps up, “I have to go to the bathroom!”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Ellie’s POV.

God, why is she just standing out there?? Does she not wanna come in?? My spidey senses can feel her standing outside the door and they can feel her foot beating against the floor, Should I go out there?? Nah, I should take these clothes off first, gosh, I really need to invest in some thermal wear for my next suit, this shit is SOAKED.

“Fuck, my room’s a mess.. should clean that up.. just gonna stuff those in here and lock that and fold that.. looks… decent..” i grumble, “Should get the door now, I guess…”

Now, let’s be cool and casual about this..

“Oh, hey.” FUCK. Was that too casusal?? Why does she look like that?? Why are her eyes so wide?? Ohh, my tattoo.

“Oh, yeah.. guess you wouldn’t know about this, uh, yeah, I got a tattoo like two years ago? It’s a fern with a spider,” rubbing my, “Come inside, you must be freezing.”

Why is she inspecting everything? What is this an apartment inspection, does it smell funny??

Ah, never really had anyone over that isn’t Dina or Jesse.. what do you do when someone comes over?? What did she do when I first came over… oh In know!

“Water?” that was cool right?? casual?? Why does she look so scared.. weirdo.

“Uh, y-yeah, I’ll take some water,” perfect! I know just the cup to give it to her in.. I think she’ll love this Avengers cup.

I hand her the cup and she takes a sip, not even noticing the cup, I frown a bit as I stare at the cup, sigh.

“So, wanna study out here or in your room?”

“Uh, my room? All my stuff is there and it’s warmer in there than it is out here,” agh, that robber really got me, my neck feels like it’s on fire, should put a heat patch on it later or ask Dina for a massage..

We get to my room and I can already hear the rain hitting the floor from down the fall, “Uh, this is it, ah, crap, forgot to close that,” I rush to close the window.

I apologize for not cleaning my room first, trying my absolute beset to avoid making eye contact with her.. why did she have to wear THAT shirt. Like, why a Spider-Man shirt of all things??

“So, shall we?” She pats my bed.. UHHH WHAT THE FUCK DOES SHE MEAN?? Like, DO I TAKE MY CLOTHES OFF OR..?

“S-shall we what?”

“Study?”

Ohhh…. “Oh! Yeah! Uh, totally, totally… let’s study.”

The next couple of hours go by smoothly, except my senses tingle a little every time she brushes against me and I have to keep fighting the urge to catch a pencil midair before it rolls off my desk..

I can also hear how hungry she is.. I’ll call and place an order.

While we wait, I tell her about the time I was a delivery girl and about my 5% discount and—

The doorbell, great timing, I push myself up off my bed and get it.

The pizza smells pretty good, I think, “Hey, Y/n, time to eat.”

I hear shuffling and she comes down to the kitchen, while I prep our plates, she takes a look around.

Wait, fuck, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please please—

“Hey, who’s that,” I know what she’s talking about before I even look over, I stuff a pizza into my mouth and gulp it down.

“Oh, um, that’s no one, hey lets watch a movie, I got beer too,” god, Joel please forgive me.

Not really wanting to think about Joel, I put on Curtis and Viper 2, even thought this is a FANTASTIC movie, I can’t help but talk to her instead, her words are better than any movie.

“It was like a dream, Els. Like, one second I thought I was donezo then the next, I’m soaring through the air, his arms wrapped around me! Ugh, I can’t get him outta my mind!!”

I tried, I really did try to direct the conversation away from this particular topic and yet, it still took me by surprise, almost making me choke on my pizza, “Y-Yeah?”

She continues, of course, she continues, “Then, he gently puts me down on top of this beautiful rooftop garden, which would’ve been nice if I knew how to get down haha, I was stuck up there for an hour and a half until a nice lady helped me down, It was so magical but the only thing was.. he was like.. really awkward about the whole thing.. when i said “Oh my god, It’s you,’ he responded with ‘Yeah, I-it’s me,” and then when he put me down he just stared at me for a bit then said ‘bye’ before taking a step off the rooftop.”

She makes me sound like a total loser! I was NOT that awkward.. and If I had known that she wouldn’t have been able to get down.. and it’s not like I CHOSE to step off the rooftop like that.. I just didn’t expect for the drop off to be so close..

Still, I must defend my honour, “Come on, he’s not that awkward..”

She giggles, “He totally is! If I weren’t a loyal fan, I might have switched over to being Hulk’s fan.”

“No!” I blurts out, FUCK, I DIDN”T MEAN TO SAY THAT, okay, okay, lets be chill about this, ‘Uh, I mean, no way..! Spider-Man is way cooler than the Hulk..”

She’s not serious right?? I kinda like having a fan girl like her.. I mean she’s cute and all but still, it’s better than the people who believe the whole ‘Spider-Man’ is evil and a spy from Russia..

She nod, “Mhm, totally.. besides I don’t care for all those muscles.. I like how lean Spidey is.”

“I have to go to the bathroom!”

I practically run to the bathroom, and pump my fist in the air.

LETS GOOOOOOO. Suck that, Bruce, she’s MY fan girl.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

YOUR POV

After Ellie returns from the restroom, you help her clean up the dishes then, sadly, it’s time for you to leave.

“See ya tomorrow,” you smile and squeeze her hand before you leave and venture into the rainy night.

“Ugh, It’s so fuckin cold.. and no taxis! Of course!” you huff and keep walking, praying that the Subways are still working, then, the totally not crazy thought pops into your mind, lets walk through the cold dark alley that no doubtedly has diseases not yet known to man! Who knows, maybe this is how you’ll break into the medical field, not as a doctor but as patient zero!

As you giggle at your own jokes, a hand wraps around your mouth and pulls you behind a dumpster, a gruff voice whispers in your ear, “Gimme er’vything in yer pocket.”

You nod frantically, hey, it’s better to lose the twenty in your pocket rather than your life, yeah?

Just as you pull out your wallet, you feel his gun press against the small of your back, “Yer a purty lit’l thang aren’t ya?”

The blood in your veins freeze and so do your movements. Fuck, you always thought that if this ever were to happen to you, you’d be like Aileen Wuornos and like totally kill him but now, now you’re a deer caught in the headlights, his gun moves lower..

Then before it can dip into your jeans, his body is flying into the wall and is that.. Spider-Man?? Spider-Man is on top of him in seconds, pummeling his fist into the street vermin’s face over and over, grunts elicit from the masked figure then when you can no longer hear the man’s cries. Spider-Man walks over to you then in the blink of an eye, he’s gone..

“Missed me?” you hear a raspy voice say from behind you.

You jump and whip around, Spidey’s face is inches from yours, he’s hanging upside down, and you can’t see it but you’re pretty sure he’s smiling.

“Ah, you scared me!” You swat at his chest.

He chuckles, huh, his voice is a little higher than you thought it’d be, “My bad, my bad.”

“What’re you doin’ here? Stalking me, Spider-Boy?”

He chuckles, “I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t attract danger as much as you do, hell, I should be gettin’ paid for this, it’s basically overtime.”

You roll your eyes but your smile betrays your annoyed act, “Yeah, you want a reward?”

Spidey nods, you take a step forward and gently pull down his mask, he gasps and grabs your hands, trying to stop you from pulling it down, you reassure him, “Don’t worry, Spidey, I wont take it all the way off.”

He nods and loosens his grip, allowing you to reveal his lips, they look so soft, his face is a lot smaller, too.

You take a step forward and press your lips against his, the pillowy soft pink lips fit your perfectly.

You pull away, “How’s that for a reward?”

“That was, uh, thanks,” he pulls up his mask and stands right side up, he waves and is pulled from his spot, swinging away on his webs.

You touch your lips, the touch of his still lingering on yours..

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

part 2. i can’t get him outta my mind!!

taglist: @elliecoochieeater

[sturnioz]

"don't feel nothin' towards the kid" huh. well maybe shy!reader overheard him say that n gets rlly sad bc she's falling for him :(( n when fratboy!chris tries to talk to her she shuts down because she thinks he doesn't like her :/ idk i'm hungry for some angst

note. kinda went long n angsty on this one. i am sorry (im not actually im really not)

you shouldn't be upset. truthfully, a part of you knows you have no right to feel this way. your friend had warned you from the start that chris wasn't the relationship type — that he prefers meaningless hook-ups over commitments and feelings.

but hearing him say it blatantly out loud, it stung, tearing through you like a jagged knife. the weight of his words settled on you heavily, each syllable echoing in your mind, and you felt your sensitive heart shatter into pieces., leaving a hallow ache in your chest and a lump in your throat, tight and suffocating.

your tears were already spilling over and dripping down your cheeks as you solemnly turn around make your way back up to his room, the dim light of the hallway making you feel even more suffocated. you wanted to go leave, to go home to the comfort of your own room, but your car wasn't here and the darkness outside was too frightening for you to walk alone.

you sank down onto the bed, pulling at a loose thread on your sweater, each tug a desperate attempt to distract yourself from your emotions, but quiet sniffles followed by deeper sobs only reminded you of what just happened.

in that moment, you felt stupid, pathetic, like a complete loser for ever hoping for something more — for hoping you could change him. but of course, that only ever happens in the movie, and unfortunately your life is anything but. how could you be so naïve?

you are alone with your thoughts for a little while longer, drowning in your own pitifulness, when the bedroom door creaks opens. chris saunters in so casually, a simple white shirt loose on his frame and sweatpants that hang low on his hips, his hair tousled, and his eyes are clouded and faded from the joint he sparked up earlier.

you can't bear to look at him for too long — you refuse to. instead, you fixate on the wall, your gaze drifting over his posters in hopes to distract yourself as chris moves lazily around the room, rummaging through his desk drawer, the sound of coins clinking and crisp dollar bills rustling sounding like nails on a chalkboard.

"you hungry or what, kid?" he asks, scratching his cheek as he continues to dig through the mess.

it pains you how nonchalant and casual he sounds. it feels like a punch to the gut. how can he be so unfazed to the pain that he has just caused you? you shouldn't be surprised. this is who he is.

"hey. m'talkin' to you." he adds, his voice breaking through your haze.

you swallow hard, the lump in your throat refusing to budge as you still keep your eyes averted, not allowing him to see the hurt on your face. but a small sniffle escapes, and the sound immediately catches his attention. you feel the bed dip as he moves closer, fingers gripping your chin and turning your head to meet his gaze.

his eyes flick over your face, a huff leaving his lips. "what.. what's the matter with you? huh? you — you been watchin' those dumb videos again? told you not to do that, a'ight? fix your face."

chris goes to rub his thumb across your cheeks, trying to wipe away the tears, but you flinch away, opting to use your sleeve instead. his hand drops to the bed, a moment of silence hanging between you two. he shifts, tonguing at his cheek as he watches you with faded eyes that blink slowly, but studies every detail.

"what, uh.. what happened?" his concern sounds so strange to you, and it's clear it's hard for him too, judging by the way his face twitches slightly, his jaw tense. "somethin' happened to you, or what?"

you don't answer him once again, the silence stretching uncomfortably between you.

chris lets out a sigh of frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose as if trying to hold back his own irritation. "look. this — this silent treatment you got goin' on right now isn't workin', yeah? it's... it's bullshit, and i can't help you if you don't talk to me, alright? so — so talk, because this silence is really startin' to piss me off—"

"i want to go home." the words escape you like a whisper, and chris' head jerks back, surprise flickering across his features.

"you.. you wanna go home — like, right now? you wanna go home right now?" chris asks you, his voice laced with disbelief. you nod slowly, hearing him scoff, his disbelief turning into frustration. "the fuck you talkin' about? you don't wanna go home, bun, you — you're stayin' here tonight, remember? with me."

"i just want to go home..."

"did you take anythin'? huh?" chris suddenly asks, grabbing your cheeks again to lift your face, his eyes probing as he examines your bloodshot gaze. "did you go through my stash while i was downstairs? is — is that why your brain is all foggy n' shit? take somethin' on the sly?"

"no! i didn't!" you whine pathetically, pushing his hand away from your face. the tears swell in your eyes again, each drop a reminder of his callous words repeating in your mind. "i want to leave, chris."

"ha..." chris breathes out, his tongue rolling across his teeth as he stares at you for a moment, the disbelief still evident on his features. then he nods, smacking his lips together. "okay, alright. then — then go. you wanna leave s'bad? go."

a flicker of relief washes over you at the thought of finally escaping and going home to be comforted by your own room, to cry as much as you please, but the idea of walking home alone in the fark fills you with dread, an unsettling knot forming in your stomach.

"get that look off your face," chris grumbles as he climbs off the bed, snatching his phone off of his bedside table. he strides over to his desk to keep a distance from you, the tension still thick in the air. "i'm callin' you an uber, then you can fuckin' go."

© STURNIOZ

[uracutieraka]

When did you get pretty?

Keigo x Younger!f!reader

Pt.1//Pt.2

slight smut warning, nothing too serious.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

synopsis: you are a UA graduate who just turned 19. Youve known Hawks since he was 20. After 2 years, youre starting to feel differently about the older boy who always seems to conveniently be around you. ◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

”You know that I dont think your ideas are stupid!” “Well then how come my fifth idea has been rejected this year!”

youre going back and forth with your boss, well friend who happens to be your boss, Hawks. youve been at his hero agency since you were 17, when he personally invited you to do a work study under him, only to find out he really just wanted to slack off all day and use you for your ideas.

“Keigo, come on dude. You can totally just tell them to listen to me and to trust me! Honestly i dont understand why you dont come to these pitch meetings with me, you know they wont listen to me!”

“Y/n, i cant go because i dont want to!” “Gah you are such a smartass, honestly im not doing this anymore!”

you get up from your seat across from the witty blond infront of you, sending a pointed and stern look his way.

You had just had yet another unsuccessful meeting with his investors, they didnt trust a 19 year old girl could come up with actually successful business plans. Keigo knew this, but he didnt really care.

“What? Youre not quitting on me, are you?” His eyes grew worried as well as the rest of his face. With an obvious sigh you tell him no. “Im relieved. I love you too much to lose you!”

a strong heat spreads across your body, starting in your cheeks. You werent unfamiliar with the cutesy words he spoke, but that doesnt mean they dont affect you. In fact, they more than affect you. Youve been harboring a dark, dark secret for over 2 years now. ever since you were 16 you had the biggest crush on pro hero Hawks. You even had posters in your room as if he were a member from some boyband. He was only a few years older than you too, so it wasnt unreasonable to like him. “Yeah yeah, i know im so perfect and amazing, who wouldnt?” You shoot a witty and sly smile his way. You normally just counter act any romantic feelings and thoughts with a sassy remark.

“Yeah, i know, i know,” he trails off, looking back up to you he opens his mouth again “But on that topic! Theres this hero-party-but actually work-gala happening tomorrow and i figured it would be a good opportunity for you to mingle with the rest of the pro hero world so i put you down as my plus one.”

You roll your eyes at the lack of respect for your own personal schedule. “Were you even going to check that i didnt have anything going on?” You grumbled out to him. “Uhm, no because i know you dont. You never do. Im your only friend really.” “Well first off, youre not my only friend, second off, i did have plans this weekend but no dont worry, ill cancel them for you, again.” “Again?” The winged man quickly looks at you. “Yeah this is like the fourth time I’ve cancelled on my friend” you already had your phone out typing away on your keyboard. “Wait really? Im so sorry, you dont have to come!” Hes giving you sad eyes, you know he doesnt really mean that. with another loud sigh and eye roll you look at him, “Keigo, its fine, id much rather spend a weekend with you meeting pros than go shopping and see some lame ass movie, if i had an issue id tell you.”

keigo hadnt even thought about the possibility that you still had a life outside of the hero agency, or him really, the more he thought about it, he realized there probably hadnt been a full 24 hours where you hadnt been with him since you graduated almost a year ago.

He was in a fight? You were there helping him. He needed help with extra paperwork? You were there, at the opposite side of his desk doing paperwork with him silently. Hes in the shower? You’re in the bathroom chatting his ear off about some stupid internet drama. He needs help grocery shopping? You’re writing the list for him. Anything he needs, you do. He didnt really take time to appreciate you at all now that he thinks about it.

“Listen, i know you do a lot for me, and i just wanted to say thank you.” Hes looking away from you now with a hand on the back of his neck, his whole demeanor has changed.

“Dude, honestly its fine, you dont have to thank me, i like being with you. Honestly you are my best friend.” You also were looking away from him, down at the boots for your hero costume.

“Youre mine too.” you look up to see him now giving you a soft smile.

“So about this, what did you say it was?” “gala”

“yeah yeah, what do i wear?” “i dont know something nice? You know its a fancy event, suit n tie for me type thing.” “ah i see, i see, uhm ok yeah thatll work” youre in your head mumbling to yourself about it at this point. “Okay….” He drags out the word obviously to drag you back into the present. “Ok well im going home now!” You hurriedly grab your bags and make a break for it, if you stay any longer you wont be able to get home to clean up and get ready for tomorrow.

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

its 6:30 on the dot when you get a call.

“yello?” You say quickly

“hey, im uh, here.” A quiet voice says. “You said 7! What the hell keigo!?!” “yeah yeah just let me up”

You buzz him up to your small, but homey, apartment.

as you hear him knock on your front door you slide your dress up your body holding onto the top as it has yet to be zipped.

You answer the door to see your best friend standing there in a very nice, expensive looking suit. He looked great.

“hey! Come in, its small but it does what its supposed to do!” You say motioning him inside with your free arm.

Keigo realized he had never been to your place, yet you were constantly at his. Like constantly. Honestly he had never even thought about you having your own. You always slept on his couch. He didnt mind though. It was nice not feeling so alone all the time. He liked having you in his life, you treated him normally.

his eyes did a scan over your place

“its cute. Its super you.” He said now looking back at you. He had never seen you soooo… done up? You were honestly such a different person outside of your hero costume, or even your messy buns and large baggy clothes that you always wore at his place. (They had a found a home in a spare drawer in his dresser.)

“Anyways theres only a few things i have left then I’ll be ready,” you had broken the moment of silence, and his intense stare on you. “Can you help me zip this? I thought i could get it on my own but i cant.” you now had your back turned towards him, shutting the door as you did. He hitched his breath, he hadnt ever seen you like this, you were so… calm? And collected? You always seemed so stressed, but he now came to the conclusion that was because of work and his lack of energy for said job.

“sure, yeah.” He said as he stepped towards you to zip your dress. He took you in, in all your glory. You looked so different than normal. Your hair was curled to one side, makeup was light but had the perfect amount of shine, and your dress, well your body looked stunning. How come he had never noticed you like this before?

Your hero costume was tip-toeing the line of scandalous, he knew because he had seen the headlines when he first debuted you at his agency, but he honestly didnt care because he didnt think it really mattered.

But now, here you are in a strapless dress, with a dropped neckline, the fabric is hugging your waist and hips perfectly, the color made your eyes pop and was perfect on you. You looked elegant. So grown up compared to the restless 17 year old he first met.

You had thought the same about him the past few years, he had been turning out to be quite a decent man, he was no longer the hot-shot teen hero you once fangirled over, but the handsome and charismatic man you had grown to be friends with.

turning back towards him you dismissed yourself to finish getting ready in your bathroom.

He now had time to look around your tiny apartment. He walked around looking at all your knick-nacks in the living room until he caught a glimpse of your bedroom door open roughly 10 feet away from where he was standing.

he shouldnt. hes going to anyways.

he made his way to the door peeking inside, it was what he expected, a few clothes scattered on your floor but other than that it was clean. he was scanning your walls when he noticed a very familiar, yet very haunting photo on your wall.

it was a poster he did when he was 17 and freshly debuted in the prohero world. How long had you had this? Have you even been a fan of him for that long?

his thoughts rushed around his head for a brief moment until a devious one creeped up in his head.

you were putting your earrings in, finishing up the last few little things you needed before leaving, when you caught a glimpse of the red wings you became so familiar with at the doorway. You looked over to see Keigo standing there with a mischievous look on his face.

“Uhm, do you need something?” You raised a brow at him. “How long have you loved me? Be honest? Was it when i did my first magazine shoot for that teen magazine?” oh no. He did not seriously look in your room. of course he did. You know him. “DID YOU SERIOUSLY LOOK IN MY ROOM WHAT ARE YOU A PERVERT?”

His face dropped. Oh my god was he really a pervert? “NO I SWEAR, YOUR DOOR WAS OPEN AND I WAS JUST CURIOUS!” “Ugh you are such a brat Keigo! Seriously! Why would you go snooping in a 19 year old girls room! Youre such a douche!” Hes known you long enough to know youre messing with him but you are obviously a bit upset.

“Look, i couldnt help myself i just peeked in and saw that poster! Its cute that you have that is all!” “Honestly, why do you think i was so excited to join your agency? I was obviously a fan.” Another smirk graces his face. “You said ‘was’ sooo are you still or now you know me and think im the worst?” you give him a dirty look and shove past him with a sarcastic huff towards your bedroom. “The ladder!” You sass out to him. He chuckles and makes his way back towards your living room.

A few moments later you emerge from your room and motion for him to head out the front.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰ ───

Its been a long night, youve talked to so many people youve lost track, youre a bit more than tipsy from stealing the ends of keigos drinks all night.

Keigos drunk and has been consistently introducing you to new people as “The future hottest hero of the year!” Or “His right hand lady, y/n”

You two have finally found a moment of peace as you had forced him to sit down a table towards the back of the venue. You lean over to him resting your hand on his knee for balance. “Keigo,” he leans his head towards you and give you a ‘hum’ of acknowledgment, “Im ready to go home.” This brings the man to fully look at you. “Yeah, ok, me too.”

Hes looking at you in the dim lighting of the room, how could he not have ever noticed the way your eyes glitter all the time? Or the softness of your features, they look so good together. He fumbled with his phone and called for his car so you guys could leave.

“Alright lets get going.” He says, standing up wobbling a bit before reaching a hand out to you. You grab it and also stumble a bit when you stand up. before you walk away you lean up to him and whisper in his ear,

“Ive been stealing a bit of your drinks tonight…dont be mad at me, s’wear didnt mean to get like this…” your words are ever so slightly slurred together.

He looks at you and whispers back

“Its ok, i know you have.” a moment of silence goes by before you both start giggling about the situation. after a moment of giggling you decided it was time to make your way down to the car. Pulling the blond behind you, you finally make your exit.

❝ ❞ ✧ ೃ༄

In the car the driver asks Keigo where to go, he looks at you and you look at him and shrug.

“Back to y/n’s place i think. Ill stay there tonight so you can het home finally!” He gives the driver a big close eyed smile. “Of course sir.” and with that you make your way back to your tiny apartment.”

★。＼｜／。★

Youre finally back in your own place after a few minutes of struggling with your keys at the door, it didnt help you had Keigo standing over your shoulder making jokes causing you guys to laugh every 20 seconds.

“UGH! FINALLY!” You say kicking off your heels and locking your front door. “Did you not have fun or something?” Keigo asks, hes already shed his coat and loosened his tie from around his neck. Damn did he look good.

You look back up at him and can feel the blush creep up your face. “Yeah, I did, i like being your plus one, we should do it more often.” You blurt out, not really realizing what you said for a quick beat. “I mean like you know, youre my best friend and were always together, so nothing weird, haha….” that was not confident of you at all. Way to go y/n.

Hes staring at you, your hair is slightly messy, lips are plumped up from the alcohol, makeup is messy, and keigo feels like a predator almost. a desire is stirring inside him. this is bad. Very very bad. Keigos staring at you. Its different than any stare youve felt before from anyone. You feel something stirring inside you. Something bad, very very bad.

“Keigo, uhm look, I like you. And have for a while.” Words are falling out of your mouth faster than you can stop them.

“Y/n, i dont know, what will people think? Youre my trainee.” Hes giving you a serious look, youve never seen him more serious than this (other than when youre fighting villains of course).

you deflate in on yourself and your heart drops. what did you just do.

“but…,” he speaks again “When have i ever cared what people think.”

A few moments go by and suddenly youre grabbing his face and pulling him into yours.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

Your dress is long gone, lost somewhere in your apartment, youll worry about it tomorrow, keigos clothes are littering your floor, mixing with the ones that have already been there of yours. your on his lap on your bed kissing him.

how did you get here?

oh yeah, you were kissing him in the living room then he was pulling your dress off and you were pulling him towards your room. And now youre here.

you stop and look at him, holding his face. “Do you want this? Or are you drunk?” Youre looking into his eyes and studying deeply, you need to know before you make your next move.

“Yes, please, ive never wanted anything more than this right now.” Hes shaking his head, hes begging for you.

“yeah me too.,” youre back to kissing him this time moving your hips since hes perched his hands on them and begun moving you.

theres 2 layers between the two of you. Your underwear, and his. this is it. Everything youve ever wanted is happening right now. The Hawks, is sitting under you begging to have you.

A call suddenly breaks the heavy silence of the room. you know that ringtone. Its the ‘emergency’ ringtone you suggested he set so he never missed one.

you quickly get up snatching his phone out of his pocket and handing it to him.

a few minutes go by with his occasional ‘mhms’

eventually he ends the call. “Yeah, just call me if you need back up.” He turns back at you and begins apologizing, over and over.

Youre telling him its ok and you understand. That youre just happy he doesnt have to go yet.

“Im just happy youre still here Keigo.” “Yeah but i totally just ruined the vibe.” “I dont care, just wanna hangout with you.” “ok, promise youre not mad?” “Yes, i promise im not mad.”

Keigo then hands you a shirt off your floor and puts his button up on over his shoulders, hes too lazy to button it.

“So uh, wanna order a pizza? That food earlier sucked.” He says pointing his thumb back behind him. “yeah, im down.” You say getting up to grab your phone.

pt 2

[marauder-misprint]

Regulus' Crush

Regulus Black x fem!Slytherin!reader (Sirius Black x reader is endgame)

series masterlist

4k words

cw: swearing, fluff, drinking, Y/N

Regulus knocked on Sirius’s door, knowing he would be in there. There was no answer. He knocked again. Silence. He gave the knock one more try, louder this time. 

“Sirius, I know you’re in there,” he called through the door. “Can I… Can I talk to you?”

More silence. But then Regulus heard the thump of Sirius’s feet as he slid off his bed. There were some muffled grumbles before he unlocked the door. 

“What’s up, Reg?” 

“Those are some nice posters you have on your wall,” he said, looking past his brother to the girls in swimsuits or clad in leather, leaning over motorcycles. 

“I’ve had ‘em up…” Sirius gave his brother a look. “You wanted to talk about my posters?”

“Ah, no,” he chuckled. “I was just wondering if you knew, possibly, how to ask out a girl?”

Sirius laughed. Regulus felt his face turn pink. It had been a while since his brother had laughed joyfully in their house. It had taken him all summer to work up the courage to ask Sirius about this and that was his response. He must’ve been as much as an embarrassment of a brother to him as Sirius was to the family as a whole. 

“It’s stupid, I know. I’ll leave you alone.”

Regulus turned to leave when he felt a hand on his shoulder. 

“Come in, doofus.”

He turned around and Sirius was already halfway back to his bed. Regulus closed the bedroom door behind him and sat in the chair at Sirius’s desk. 

“Hogwarts girl, I’m assuming?” Sirius asked.

“Yeah. Um, she’s in your year. She’s really cool.”

He laughed again. “Sorry, I just wouldn’t describe girls I ask out as ‘cool.’ Nothing wrong with it. Just… not me.” He paused. “So, Reg, you like ‘em older?”

“It’s only one year!” he defended quickly, making Sirius laugh louder.

“Okay, so you like her! No need to get so worked up… Are you two friends? Do you talk? Obviously you don’t have classes together.”

“We’ve talked a few times. Study hall, Common Room, Great Hall. Quidditch games! When I’m not playing. She doesn’t know it all that well and asks a lot of questions despite being at like every game.”

“So she might refer to you as a friend. How come you’re the one answering her quidditch questions?”

“I just happen to be next to her during games.”

Sirius smiled at his brother, holding in a laugh.

“You sly dog.”

“Don’t laugh again!” Regulus pleaded. “How do I ask her out?”

“Well, being next to her at quidditch games might be a start for this. Destinations are key. You could go to a game together.”

“Together…” he repeated.

“Yes, together. Quidditch games are good. Low stress. People are around you but you hang out before or after. More of a testing the waters type of thing.”

Regulus watched his brother as he reclined more.

“A next move would be a Hogsmeade weekend. Can be a group or solo thing.Those usually turn out with following her into all of her favorite shops. Be prepared to be bored. And, if you get this far, you start going with her to all the quidditch games. She’ll expect you to be around more, but you should want to be there. You’ll get to know all her friends. And it’s more ideal if you don’t kiss them.”

“Sirius,” Regulus interrupted,making a face. “You didn’t.”

“Went to Hogsmeade with MacDonald and she caught me kissing McKinnon that night after dinner.”

“I need you to circle back. How do I do the actual asking?”

“What do you mean?”

“What words do I use?”

“Do you want to go on a date with me?”

“That seems… too formal? I don’t think she’s that formal. She might laugh at me if I ask that way.”

“Hmm, they usually just say yes if I ask them… Okay, how about ‘Oh fair maiden, dost thou wish to bless mine with thoust company when the twilight star is in the sky?’”

Regulus rolled his eyes. “Now you’re just being mean.”

“Hey, we should go to the quidditch game together.”

“Oh.”

“Or, hey, I was thinking we could go to the game together. What do you think?”

“OH.”

“Yeah, they like it if you ask their permission or how they feel about it. But, depending on the girl, the first option might be better. I’m assuming I won’t know who it is until you ask? Although my options are pretty limited with Slytherin girls in my year…”

“Yeah, I’ll write you an owl with her response,” he said sarcastically. 

“Get out of my room.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Regulus said, standing up. “Thanks.”

“Close the door!”

The door closed with a soft thud and a click. Sirius chuckled softly and moved to his desk. While it must’ve taken Regulus some time to ask him about this, Sirius thought it was amusing. And he must really like this girl to ask him how to ask her out. He wondered why he hadn’t asked his friends. Although, they would’ve known the girl right off the bat, and that seemed like something Regulus didn’t want the whole school knowing before he got an answer. 

Sirius pulled out paper and his quill. He had to write to James, Peter and Remus about this. Speculation about who Regulus fancied would be entertainment for all of them. Sirius was growing frustrated as he wrote since he couldn’t remember a single girl’s name. In general, the Slytherin girls were less abhorrent than the boys, thus making them less impressionable. All he could seem to remember is that they never seemed to be anywhere without at least a second one. And with that, he groaned. He couldn’t even remember how many of them there were. Should he care? Not necessarily, but if he could use this to torment his brother for a month or two, it could be useful. 

---

Regulus hugged his parents at the train station. He promised he would write and keep them up to date on what was happening at the school. He always did. And he knew he especially needed to now that Sirius had run away. He turned and spotted his friends climbing onto the train. They were a few cars down. He boarded at a car closest to him, hoping he might pass by your compartment on his way down to them. It was purely wishful thinking and he didn’t know if he would say anything if he did pass it. 

Younger students pushed past him as he slowly walked down the corridor. He listened to conversations as he passed. One group of first years eagerly was talking about how much magic they were going to learn and worrying about which house they would get sorted into. Various other groups were rehashing their summers to each other. Neither of the groups he was looking for. And then he heard your voice. A girl was standing in the doorway of the compartment, chewing gum. Your voice was floating out of it.

“... was the worst! In case you’re blind, I grew a bit over the summer and Mum insisted on purchasing new robes. I was bleeding in multiple spots by the time we left Madam Malkin’s. Sure, Mum healed me right up, but it’s the principle. I shouldn’t be subjected to such torture!”

“Regulus,” the girl in the doorway said as he approached. 

She popped a bubble right in his face. 

“Beatrice, pleasure,” he said, pausing to look into the compartment. 

You were sitting with your back to the window and your legs stretched across the seat. Across from you sat the two other girls from your year, Pandora and Dorcas. 

“Y/N, girls,” he said warmly and then continued on his way to find his friends.

It wasn’t a long walk, only a few compartments down from the girls. He passed a compartment filled with girls from his years. One of them said hi to him as he walked by so he nodded to acknowledge her. His mind was beginning to overthink his saying hi to you. Had addressing Pandora and Dorcas as ‘girls’ been weird? Saying your name singled you out. But he also said Beatrice’s name. Although she said hi to him first and was standing in the door. 

“Black, you with us?” Avery asked, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, I’m with you now. Sorry,” he muttered. 

He had to put the thoughts out of his head for a bit. Girls can wait. It wasn’t like he was planning to ask you out while they were on the train. That would’ve been suicidal and a recipe for failure. Horrible.

---

A fifth girl walked into your compartment. Beatrice followed her in and closed the door behind them.

“Took you long enough,” Dorcas said. 

“Little sisters wouldn’t leave the fucking house. Father was furious,” Cora defended, distaste in almost every word. 

“Almost missed the train,” you told her. “We would’ve missed you at the sorting and you mock the firsties the best.”

The girls laughed.

“Oh, Y/N, is there something going on between you and Black?” Beatrice asked.

“Sirius?” Cora coughed in disbelief.

“Ew, no. Regulus!” Beatrice corrected. “He passed by earlier. Barely noticed Cas and Dory over here. Only saw me because I was in the way.” She smirked. “So, Y/N, yes or no?”

“Not that I’m aware of. Do sources say otherwise?” you responded, a bit confused. “And by sources, I mean reliable ones. Not your imagination.”

“It’s not my imagination! It’s my eyes!” Beatrice retorted.

“You may be reading into it, Bea,” Pandora said. “I mean, maybe he didn’t get a good look at us. Or blanked on our names. Don’t think too hard.”

“Classes haven’t even started. Brains don’t work yet,” Dorcas added. 

“Does your brain ever work?” you asked.

“Hmm… No.”

The girls burst into fits of laughter again. Beatrice asked Cora about her summer and the conversation shifted away from Regulus. Your thoughts drifted back to the thought in dull moments of the conversation, but those moments never lasted long. You weren’t sure if Regulus has “more than friend” material. You even thought about Sirius briefly. Regulus’s brother. You didn’t share the same immediate “ew” that Beatrice had. But the sentiment of lacking “more than friend” extended to Sirius too. They weren’t even friends to begin with. So, why be distracted by boys who aren’t worth pursuing when you could be entranced by other things? 

“Y/N, you said your mum bought you new robes, right?” Dorcas asked, bringing you back to the conversation.

You nodded.

“So, what else did you get from Malkin’s?”

You smiled and pulled back your sleeve. A silver tennis bracelet covered in diamonds glittered around your wrist.

“Snagged some sapphire earrings for Mum’s Christmas present, too. It was a successful outing,” you gloated. “Well, except for the bleeding. But if that’s the price, I suppose it’s cheap considering…”

“You’ve got to get me a present sometime!” Beatrice gasped. 

“Oh, me too!” added Pandora. 

You laughed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

The group talked more about your summers and vague plans for the year. 

“Do you think someone will throw a ‘back to school’ party?” Dorcas asked, adjusting her tie as the girls changed into their uniforms. 

“No doubt,” you answered. “The question is when.”

“Friday or Saturday, I’d assume,” Pandora said as she pulled her hair into a ponytail.

“Well, duh,” you laughed.

“Y/N, you’re in charge of getting us drinks!” Cora declared.

“Again, duh.”

The train pulled into the Hogsmeade station. The girls had decided that Saturday was better for the party. It would give them time to claim an empty classroom and set it up. And you would be able to get drinks. Cora was in charge of talking to a house elf to get food, or at least ingredients. If she failed, you would be able to pull something off, but that would push back the start time of the party. 

You slid the compartment door open with force. You opened the boys’ compartment and poked your head in. It was deadly silent and all eyes were on you. 

“Saturday, after dinner. We’re finding a sixth floor classroom to party in. Y’all invited. Do your part and invite people. Limited fifth years and no one younger,” you told them.

Regulus smiled. ‘Limited fifth years’ meant he could go. Plus, he was in the compartment that you specifically invited. Wilkes nodded at you and you stalked off. 

---

Professor Slughorn passed out schedules to Slytherin students at breakfast the next morning. Regulus watched as he stopped near you and your friends. The professor handed out the timetables without saying a word and continued down the table. 

“Who makes this schedule?” Cora groaned, looking it over. “History of Magic isn’t the class to teach first period!” 

“Ew, gross!” Dorcas sneered. 

“When will they learn to include who we have classes with on these schedules? I like to know who I have to put up with before I walk into the room,” Beatrice said, looking over her own. “Like, my electives, I have a general idea from last year. But do we have Transfiguration with Hufflepuff? Gryffindor? Ravenclaw?” 

“Me, myself, and I would like to know!” you added. 

Across the hall, Sirius was being handed his schedule by Professor McGonagall. He scanned it and then grabbed the rest of the groups’ schedules to compare. They hadn’t all chosen the same electives going into their third year so sometimes there were differences. 

“Okay, not bad. Not bad…”

“I’m not sure why you think we won’t have most classes together,” Remus said. 

“Maybe they decided they wanted to mess with us.”

“Can’t separate us! We’re the Marauders!” James exclaimed and slammed his mug down on the table. 

The seventh years next to them shot him a dirty look. He made a face back at them. 

“Grow up,” Remus laughed. “But, yeah, it’s kind of difficult to separate us.”

“Unless I get left behind,” Peter mumbled before shoveling pancakes into his mouth. 

James threw his arm around him. “You’re stuck with us, little Wormtail. Until the very end!”

---

Three days of classes was enough time for word to spread about the party the Slytherin girls were planning. They picked out a classroom and figured out how to replace the desks with couches, squishy chairs and beanbags. Cora managed to convince a house elf into making a few snacks for the party. She had gone in with low expectations and left with guarantees of a second feast.

“Anything for an inter-house activity!” she said, imitating the elf. 

The girls were walking to the classroom. Various students from other houses lingered in the corridors and in stairwells. They had been instructed to stagger arrivals to the classroom so they didn’t all descend on the room at the same time. The girls made sure to be the first ones there, as good hosts should be. They enchanted a speaker to play endless music. Cora set up the food trays as the elf had instructed her so they could fill from the kitchens. Pandora clapped as cream puffs and eclairs filled the trays. Slowly, people started to arrive. The room steadily got louder. Dorcas and Beatrice kept glancing from the door to the empty drink station to each other and repeat. 

You had left dinner early to retrieve several bottles from your stash. You didn’t let anyone know where you hid your stuff, nor what was all hidden there. You removed a painting from the wall and then tapped your wand to the wall. Bricks melted away like the entrance to Diagon Alley. A small room lit by an oil lamp was revealed. You grabbed the bag you left earlier and resealed the room. You hung the painting back up and hurried up to the sixth floor. You heard the party from down the hall and smirked. The party had started without you and the drinks - a sign that drinks maybe weren’t needed. 

When you entered the room, Dorcas and Beatrice almost tackled you. 

“Be careful!” you yelled at them, holding up the clanking bag.

They took a step back.

“I just… need a drink,” Dorcas said. 

They wasted no time setting up the drink table. Students gathered around them and helped hand out drinks. 

“How did you get stuff stronger than butterbeer?” a Ravenclaw asked.

“I’ll never tell,” you said.

You grabbed a bottle of flavored vodka. You had to do your rounds of the party. You liked knowing who showed up, who spent time with who and did whatever else with. Some call it gossip. You called it blackmail ammo. 

Prefects were dancing with each other. Seventh years were making out on a couch. Mary and Lily were on a couch, talking. The Gryffindor boys had found the drinks and were chugging them. Pandora and Cora were trying to get some of the Slytherin boys to dance. They didn’t seem to be too successful. 

You walked up to them and whispered to Cora, “Get them some drinks. Once they loosen up, try again.”

Cora nodded and went to grab cups. You continued to walk around the party alone. You took small sips from your bottle. You spotted Regulus sitting in one of the squishy chairs. He looked bored. You smiled and waved at him. He smiled back, but it quickly disappeared from his face when you walked toward Beatrice who was standing against the wall at the other side of the room. 

“It’s a party, Bea,” you told her. “Go dance! Talk to someone! Be stupid!”

“I am being stupid,” she hissed back so that you could barely hear her above the music and talking. “I can’t socialize.” 

You held out your bottle.

“Have a few sips. I’ll dance with you.”

Beatrice did as told and took your hand. You dragged her out to the middle of the floor and you danced. You liked dancing, but you also liked being aware of your surroundings, which you couldn’t do as well if you were dancing with a friend while trying not to drop your bottle. After a few songs, a Hufflepuff came up to you and asked to dance with Beatrice. Blushing, she accepted. You left them and went to take Beatrice’s old spot on the wall. 

Before the song ended, Sirius approached you with a cup full of firewhiskey in his hand. Remus’s eyes widened as he saw who Sirius was approaching. His other friends were elsewhere in the room, unaware that Sirius was trying to make a move on a Slytherin he had never talked to before.

“You’re pretty,” he said confidently like it was a smooth pick up line.

He stood directly in front of you with his non-cup hand placed on the wall above your shoulder. You raised your eyebrows at him. You could smell the whiskey strong on his breath. This wasn’t his first cup. 

“And you’re in my personal space,” you stated calmly. “Care to get out of it?”

“Hmm, I’d prefer to be even more in it.”

“Yeah, not happening,” you responded, giving his chest a push.

It was just enough to make him take a step back but not stumble. He looked a bit shocked, but didn’t say anything as you walked away from him. You took a long swig from your bottle and headed over to Regulus. You sat on the arm of the chair and handed him the bottle. 

“Were you just talking to my brother?” he scoffed before taking a drink. 

“Not by choice,” you groaned, leaning back. 

You placed your hand on his shoulder to balance yourself. He liked the feeling of your fingers grasping him, but he wouldn’t dare say anything. Not now, at least. 

“Yeah, he does that.”

Regulus took another drink out of the bottle before handing it back to you. He watched as Remus walked up to Sirius and threw his arm around him to drag him over where James was twirling some seventh year. She was giggling. Peter joined them shortly from the direction of the food table. A Ravenclaw girl was quick to grab Sirius from under Remus. And the two of them were dancing. Regulus chuckled as Sirius kept a polite distance from the girl. She was obviously more into it than he was. 

He wanted to ask you out now, but Hogsmeade and Quidditch weren’t for weeks. He looked up at you as you took a drink. Your eyes scanned the room. You smiled. You brushed a stray lock of hair behind your shoulder. Regulus’s brain had gone blank except for the thought ‘She is so pretty.’ 

He was jolted back into reality as you slammed the vodka bottle into his chest. 

“Don’t touch me, mudblood!” a seventh year Slytherin shrieked at a fifth year Hufflepuff in the middle of the room. 

You were between them within seconds with your wand out, pointed at the seventh year, who had also drawn her wand. Other students moved the Hufflepuff into the crowd. The air was tense. Someone had turned off the music. 

“Was that necessary, Williams?” you asked, your voice steady and firm.

“Protecting mudbloods? Really?” the girl responded with annoyance. 

“Protecting the party,” you corrected. “Head out or get hexed.”

“I could disarm you.”

“You won’t. You don’t want to be the reason Slytherin drops into negative points.”

Williams shoved her wand back into her pocket, made a face and grabbed the boy she had been dancing with to leave. She could be heard muttering rude comments about you and the Hufflepuff boy to the boy she was leaving with. You put your wand back in your waistband. Everyone at the party was staring at you as you stood in the middle of the dance floor. 

“Either turn the music back on or clear out,” you commanded before heading over to the drink table. 

Music started playing again, but some students did leave. You understood that the moment kind of ruined the vibe, but that was the way Williams was. You were planning on leaving too, except you wouldn’t leave without your drinks. You grabbed your bag from behind the table and started to place the bottles back into it. You refilled a few drinks as students came up to you. 

“Way to handle that…” Regulus said, appearing next to you and holding out your vodka bottle. 

“Blood status is bogus,” you muttered.

You then realized that you were talking to a Black, a family known for caring about the purity of wizard blood. You felt your face get warm as you looked up at him. You couldn’t quite read his expression.

“Don’t hex me ‘bout it?” you offered, causing him to laugh. 

“I’m not going to hex you. Just like how you stood up to Williams.”

You gave a soft smile and swung your bag over your shoulder, bottles clinking within. 

“Well, then I’ll see you later, Reg,” you said. 

He watched you walk out the door. He sighed. He should have asked you to hang out or do homework or something. 

“Y/N leave?” Beatrice whispered into Regulus’s ear.

He jumped and nearly punched her.

“Fuck, Beatrice.” He shook his head. “Yeah, she just left.”

“Boo,” she said, looking at the empty table. “She took all the drinks with her!”

“Yeah.” 

He walked away from Beatrice and went back to his chair, glad that no one had taken it. The party wasn’t nearly as entertaining now that you were gone. 

Across the room, Sirius had been watching. He saw Regulus approach you at the drink table and the brief conversation. He saw his brother’s facial expression drop as you walked away and him jump when another girl talked to him. Regulus’s aura darkened as you left the room. He was drunk at that point, but he was still able to connect that the girl he had called pretty was the one his brother wanted to ask out. To him, that was obvious.

[saintzweig]

nsfw patrick zweig x camgirl!reader

–based on this blurb PART TWO HERE

– wrote this with 5 hours of sleep, not proofread because i'm lazy so i apologize in advance for the mistakes or if its shitty :3 wasn't actually going to write this but i couldn't stop thinking about it sooo

it was 3pm on a thursday, you were sat in your history class bored out of your mind. it was your last class of the week and it had only half an hour left but with the way your professor was droning on and on about god knows what, you couldn't wait to get out of here fast enough. 

you had a live scheduled in two hours, as well. you needed enough time to rest and freshen up before you turn your camera on. you did live cams anonymously on some sketchy website just to get by, a cam girl if you will. you grew up in a strict religious household so you've never thought you'd end up doing this but desperate times call for desperate measures, it was an easy way out of your financial problems. plus, if you were careful enough no one would have to find out. its not like you were going to do this forever, only until you graduate and find a job with a decent pay. by then, your account will be deleted and forgotten about, as if it never existed in the first place. 

your mindless scribbling was interrupted when your professor called your name. "l/n, zweig"

your head snapped up to the front and then to patrick zweig who sat two rows infront of you. 

"your presentation will be a week from now, your topic will be on the reconstruction. i expect you'll do a thorough research." 

you quickly wrote down the details as your professor dismissed the class, students rushing to get out of the room while you stayed behind to gather your things. before you knew it, patrick stood infront of you. his backpack slinging over one shoulder and his hands in his pockets. 

you didn't know patrick zweig, you knew of him. a great, cocky tennis player who was supposed to go pro after juniors but his friends, art and tashi, convinced him to accept his standford offer. so he'll have something to fall back on if things don't go to plan. 

you've heard people talk about him, how he's reckless in his plays yet he keeps winning. how he doesn't do anything in class yet he keeps passing. you had to stop yourself from sighing in front of him, is he going to make you do everything? 

"y/n, right?" you've never heard him talk before, atleast not anywhere near you so you were surprised that his voice sounded ... attractive. you took this time to actually look at him, he wore a plain white shirt and denim jeans, which isn't much but he made it look so good. his face was slightly scruffy, his nose statuesque and his pink lips was pulled into a slight smirk. you had no idea why his appearance made your heart beat faster than normal. 

the two of you discussed when to meet, deciding to do the work in your dorm every other day during his free time. so now, on friday evening, you were sat on your desk working on the outline for your project as you wait for him to arrive. 

not long after, there was a knock on your door and patrick entered in his tennis attire, carrying his equipment. "a single room?" he asked with his eyebrow raised, taking in the sight of your room. the white walls adorned with tapestry and posters, your bed covered in a pink bedding and your desk was cluttered with your study materials. 

"i got lucky" you sat on your chair as he settled on your bed, laying on his back in exhaustion. there was something familiar about your room, he just couldn't put his finger on it. has he been here before? did the two of you hook up and he had just forgotten about it? or maybe it's because most dorms look the same, it's probably just similar to tashi's. he put the thought on the back of his mind as you started to discuss your project with him. 

it went surprisingly well the first day, although patrick was stubborn, he knew he couldn't just skip on this project because he'll end up having to do it alone so he decided doing it with you now was the better option. the next day, he got too comfortable that he's so easily distracted. you started bribing him with his own pack of cigarettes, taking it from his hands and putting it under your thigh as the two of you sat across from each other on your bed. 

it was a little difficult to work with him, considering he's not so good at studying but it was fun, you had fun with him. he made jokes that you tried to keep a straight face on but end up laughing so hard your cheeks were starting to hurt. he keeps trying to flirt with you too, which just ends up with you scowling at him and slapping his arm. 

and as soon as he left, you turned your camera on and positioned yourself on your bed. normally, you would only strip and massage your body, never going as far as playing with yourself in front of your viewers. but this time, you couldn't stop thinking about patrick. how big his hands were compared to you, you imagined it wrapped around your wrist, or holding your waist, or choking you. the thought making you squeeze your thighs together. you made soft noises as your massaged your breasts, imagining what it would feel like to feel his hands cupping you. you felt yourself get wet as you pressed your fingers against the fabric of your panties.

tonight's live felt a bit more sensual, it was almost difficult to stop yourself from getting carried away but you needed to be careful. so after an hour, you turned the camera off and placed your laptop under your bed. as soon as you lay back, your hand found its way inside your white, lacy panties. you shiver as the pad of your pointer finger brushed against your sensitive clit, feeling the slick against your skin as your press against your cunt. 

you spent the next hour touching yourself to the thought of patrick using your body, feeling his lips against your skin, lapping up the juices leaking out of you. the sounds you were making were too pornographic that you had to place your hand over your mouth. your fingers covered in your juices as you desperately fucked yourself. it felt like a pretty sight to see that you almost regretted turning your camera off. 

you wanted someone to see you, you wanted him to see what he was doing to you. 

the next time he came over, he had just come straight from tennis practice. his skin was slightly moist with sweat and he wore shorts that rode up his legs when he sat on your bed. you couldn't focus on anything but his thighs. 

“you feeling alright? you're looking kinda red, zoning out too” you blushed, feeling like he just caught you red handed. 

you nod, “yeah, it's just a little hot” 

he smirked, telling you to take your shirt off if it's that hot, he wouldn't mind it at all. you rolled your eyes at his suggestion, turning your attention back to your laptop. you were tempted to do it, it took you everything in your body not to. even with your choice of work, you still had a little bit of self respect and discipline left. 

that night, you ended up touching yourself on camera for the first time. making yourself cum infront of your viewers while they had no idea you were thinking of patrick, again. having your lips on his skin, straddling his lap and feeling his bulge press against your clothed cunt, his hands on your breasts as you bounce on his cock. you made the highest amount of money you've ever made since you've started. but you made sure to tell them it was a one time thing. 

the next evening, was the day before your presentation. patrick was on his way over so the two of you can practice and prepare yourself for tomorrow. 

you bumped into him on your way to the communal bathroom, telling him to go right ahead. 

patrick entered your room, dropping his equipment by the door as usual. instead of laying in your bed like he always does, he sat on your chair. leaning back with his arms crossed as he observed the trinkets on your desk and the photos pinned on the corkboard. 

a few minutes later, you walked in and sat on your bed, facing him. he turned around in your chair to ask you something about the photos but the sight of you on your bed left him dumbfounded. the realization of why your room looks familiar finally came to him, the only reason it took him so long was because the only way he's ever seen it was through the camera, facing the exact direction he's looking at right now. 

you were the anonymous cam girl he had been jerking off to after your sessions, you were the girl he had just sent a hundred dollars to the night before. 

[ch4mpagnedrought]

compensation

[full series]

mdni ! art donaldson

summary: you and art cant help but try and compensate for everything you’re missing out on now that tashi and patrick are together.

ever since tashi had suggested a game of tennis for her number and patrick won, its left you and art to roam around the stanford campus like two little lost puppies, begging for their attention when patrick comes to visit tashi.

patrick has made it impossible to get a hold of the girl, her dorm room always locked and her absence in the daily work-outs the two of you usually have made very obvious. not to mention the betrayal art must be feeling, having his best friend be only in the adjacent building to him, but never coming to actually see him.

you’ve had to find ways to preoccupy yourselves, and stop you from going on an angry rampage, like;

hitting racket to ball in the middle of the court, not even bothering to play a real game. “my prof is making me rewrite my whole assignment this week.” you complain, aiming the ball at the green fencing at the sides and watching it bounce back in art’s direction for your own botched version of squash. he laughs loudly, “who knew you were so bad at everything besides tennis.” you shoot him a scowl and his eyes widen, shoulders shrugging unapologetically as he swings his arm once again.

spring fading into summer means that evenings still have a little light in them, and you fight the urge to lie straight down on the tarmac and look up at the greying sky. the light breeze washes through art’s strawberry blonde hair, swaying it to the side to expose his brows that furrow when you let the ball bounce away between your legs, looking at him with a tense expression. the thought that tashi and patrick were somewhere doing god knows what (you knew what) and completely ignoring you made a reappearance in your head suddenly, and it boiled your blood. “ugh! im gonna kill them!” you huff out, grabbing the ball from the ground and stomping to where you left your stuff. art’s arm finding the both of your shoulders, “ditto that.”

having lunch at the food hall together: waiting in line for the same exact salad that you get every day, curtesy of your game-preparation meal plan and taking a seat on the bar stools that overlook the rest of the campus. stabbing your fork into the frail pieces of lettuce in your plastic bowl, art taking another bite of his churro in silence and licking away all the rouge sugar particles from his lips. “you know, patrick didn’t even bother to call me about his visit.” art says, taking off his red baseball cap just to put it back on his head again. “what a dog.” you scoff, shaking your head and taking a sip of your smoothie that tastes a little grainy from the protein powder. you would’ve continued to rant if you hadn’t spotted tashi and patrick walking hand-in-hand in the distance, all smiles and giggles; it makes you sick. “look.” you point it out to art and he mocks patrick in a high-pitched voice, “hey tashi aren’t i so cool? i play pro and i’m totally not cheating on you.” you chuckle, leaning over to snag a bite of his churro.

and confiding in each other in art’s dorm late at night, when the haunting noises coming from the other side of your wall get too much.

his room is surprisingly so…boyish. a couple posters of tennis stars on the walls that seem so out of place, like he put them there for the sole purpose of taking up space. his medals are hung up on the corner of his wardrobe, tinkering on the edge and there is an unidentified pile of clothing in the corner.

his sheets are a deep maroon colour and you lie flat across them, both of your heads leaning on the single flat pillow he owns, legs crossed. his ceiling has remnants of a water leak the university tried to paint over and you study it from below. “i wonder what they’re doing right now.” art hums, putting his hands behind his head, and letting you rest your head on his bicep.

you shoot up, glancing down at him, one brow lifted and eyes narrow, “i can tell you exactly what they’re doing right now,” you say, scrambling up onto your knees, “’patrick i need your racket right now!’’’ you moan tauntingly, rolling your eyes back and crossing your arms over your chest. art cackles, stomach contracting and grabbing onto your shoulder for support. his hand is pumping warm with blood, hovering over your skin for longer than socially acceptable, and his fingers caressed by the long strands of your curly hair that fall at your sides.

running over to his room meant that you hadn’t had enough time to grab a change of clothes to sleep in, so he graciously lent you one of his t-shirts, a navy one with white embroidered writing that you hadn’t bothered to read, which prods at the aching in his head to see you without it.

“when was the last time you slept with someone?” your question catches art off guard, lying back down next to him and watching the blush creep up onto his cheeks, eyes darting away somewhere to think of an answer. “oh come on, was it that unforgettable?” you laugh. he knew when exactly when the last time was, but the thought that him sleeping with someone had crossed your mind, putting the idea of the two of you together into his own had clouded his head, making it unbearably difficult to think, or speak.

“maybe last month” art estimates when the last time he saw the girl in one of his classes that he casually slept with from time to time, your expression remaining unchanged, which whirls something inside of his stomach. you nod, smile spreading across your lips, and eyes glancing down to art’s partially parted ones. art adjusts himself, propping his head up with his hand and looking down at you, “when was the last time that you slept with someone?”

its unclear to him whether you're joking with your response. “ask me that tomorrow.” it spins his head until he sees double, having to shut his eyes for a second to regain consciousness. your nonchalant smile quite frankly irks him, because you seem so unaware of how he is sliding the tip of his tongue along his bottom lip, preparing just incase you decide that you want to kiss him. or the fact that he moved his leg upwards along the bed to cover his raging boner at just the mere idea of you and him together.

the shirt he lends you rides up on your hips, obviously showing off the black panties that you’re wearing and the neck-line hangs low enough to show the indent of your collarbone that he imagines licking a stripe over.

you thrum, looking up at art through dark eyelashes, “isn’t it so unfair how tashi and patrick can ignore us just to get at each other?”

he got the hint, every crumb you’ve put down he’s followed and scooped up all in one go, sighing out a weak, “yeah” that sounds more like a whine, and leaning down to kiss you on the lips.

the taste of your lip gloss he had missed sweetens his mouth immediately and the faint smell of a chocolatey lotion on your skin sends him into complete overdrive, left hand desperately reaching for the side of your face to take you deeper into him. he sinks himself down, pressing his chest into yours and disconnecting his lips to breathe out a groan at the sensation of your boobs against him like a boy who's never felt them before.

his face is burning hot, lips even hotter as they move simultaneously with yours, covering the perimeter of your mouth with long and drawn out movements to fully get the taste of you hes been dreaming of ever since that hotel room. his hands roam down to the curvature of your waist, taking a strong grip to it to make sure his fingerprints forever remember it, then down to your hips, kneading the flesh.

with him over you, he pulls away from your arms that are wrapped around his neck, pulling the hem of his shirt to unveil your midriff and the black lace that frames your lower waist, your thighs pressed together to catch the heat that he manifests within you, “oh my god.” it might just be the lewdest sight he has ever seen, along with your swollen lips that are glistening with his saliva.

he can barely keep away the moans that try to escape his mouth when he lowers himself down to you, eager lips pressing into your hip, lapping at the surface of your skin with a desperation only art could have, along the hem of your panties, and back up your stomach while your fingers entangle with his blonde locks.

your pulse quickens, exhaling his name out when his finger pulls your underwear to the side, letting the air hit your leaking core, a smile playing at art’s lips. “please, please art.” you moan out, squeezing your eyes shut and letting the sensation of one of his digits swiping through your folds overcome you.

he nibbles at your inner thighs, soft licks soothing the area as one of his fingers slides inside you, while the other gropes at your breast through your shirt. his mind is completely consumed by you, watching every change in your expression with his fingers pumping in and out of you, flush on your face and brows knitting every time he draws back.

your legs instinctively move over his shoulders, trapping him around you to continue the motion and giving him the chance to tilt his head to the side, pressing a kiss to the thigh that is thrown over him. “is this okay?” he asks, caressing a hand down your calf and watching the way your hand reaches out to grab him by the wrist.

“lie down art” you keen, his eyes narrow and he pulls back with a sense of confusion that is overrode with your impatience, ushering him below you. so he does, leaning against the headboard whilst you throw yourself onto his hips, his jaw tilting upwards to unconsciously fulfil the want of his lips devouring the whole of your figure.

the shirt he lent you doesn’t last long, ending up in the pile on his floor and letting him ravish in the sight of your bare torso. he gasps out your name, wandering hands reaching out to massage your breast, flesh filling out the gaps between all five of his fingers. “take this off” you strangle out, gesturing to the shirt he is wearing, disheveled hair falling back into his face that burns hot when you let your eyes roam down to his abdomen. even the weight of your ass pressing into his dick through his shorts is teetering him to climax, hands not knowing where to put themselves when he wants to grab a hold of all of you.

your fingers wrap around the waistband of his shorts that he is wearing, pulling down his boxers at the same time and freeing his erection to slap back onto his stomach, recalling something patrick said about the time he taught art to jerk off. the palm of your hand ghosts his cock, restraining yourself from taking it into your hands there and then, “can i?” even the way you sigh out the question has the hairs on art’s arms standing up and mouth swallowing saliva in anticipation. “yes, yes.” he whines, brows furrowing up at you and all of his muscles tensing.

with a gentle touch, he guides you above him, his hands at your sides as you spread yourself open for him, sinking down only to the tip before he grabs your waist and pauses in the position. he looks like a little helpless, bottom lip between his teeth and an alarmed look in his face that says if you go any further he’ll come right now. “i’ll go slow,” you whisper, a small smirk on your face that’s hard to resist when his shimmering eyes try to find the last slither of dignity within him, “i promise.” you smile reassuringly and he glances away, the flush in his cheeks getting a little deeper.

you keep your promise, slowly lowering yourself down onto him, goosebumps fevering your skin and palms laying flat across his abdomen to steady yourself.

taking him in completely, you whimper out his name and his hands journey to graze your back, up to your shoulder blades where he presses them into you to pull you into him, mouth suctioning down the valley of your breasts. his moans vibrate back into your skin when you pull back up from him, stimulating every single nerve ending in his length like it never has before. you set a pace, slow and steady for art, snapping your hips down onto his in a way that knocks the wind out of you each time, gasping for air. he keeps you close to him, rolling his hips to meet you in the middle and put some of that athlete stamina to use and murmuring your name with every movement.

his finger moves your hair from your shoulder, so he can press soft pecks onto the surface, whilst you clutch the wooden headboard, growing impatient and consequently pounding him into you. his moans purr into your ear, grabbing onto your ass to keep you still as he thrusts himself into you from below and shakily calling out an, “im gonna come.”

you nod, clasping around his biceps and leaning down to nip at his neck, losing composure the more your walls contract around him. you ignore the muscles in your legs that ache and your lungs that can’t seem get a hold of the air that is shared between you to continue to mercilessly plunge him deeper into you until it feels like you’re melting into one another, a shudder sending itself down your bare back and deepening the heat that builds in your core.

art is panting, popping your tit into his mouth one last time before falling still, twitching inside of you and releasing all of his seed into you until it overflows from below. your name echoes out of his mouth, whimpering and whining it out until he can open his eyes back up and centre his vision on you burning every last bit of energy to bounce on his dick.

you lean forward onto him, eyes rolling back into your head when reaching your climax and pressing your burning cheek against his face to feel all of him. he brushes his hand down your back comfortingly, you heaving into the crevice of his neck that glistens with sweat and feeling your walls contract around him the last couple times.

art sighs your name out, pressing his lips into your cheek and letting a smile spread across his face when you brush the dampened hair out of his forehead to get a better view of his eyes.

your body feels limp, falling back down next to him with a post-sex fatigue that follows you all the way into the next morning, where you sit at a table in the food hall, thanking art for bringing you some breakfast and trying to ignore the echoing of all the noises he made last night in your head.

“fuck i really need to work on that assignment today” you groan, taking a bite into a slice of honeydew with your head in the palm of your hand. art watches and nods, a false portrayal of an active listener when what he’s really focusing on is the way your lips curl around the slice, biting off a chunk and closing your lips around it in a way that makes him reminisce that he was right there too only a couple hours ago. “i can help.” he offers, truly from the kindness of his heart that kindly wants to spend the rest of his life looking at you.

“you wish.” you scoff, “i’m not allowed to be alone in a room with you anymore.”

art takes a swig of his water to hide the grin that spreads on his face, and when he makes eye contact with a random student from across the hall he feels like they heard that too. he wishes they could hear, and know that you, the best tennis player stanford has probably ever had, are having to physically restrain yourself from him.

“what are you smiling about?” the familiar voice of patrick calls out from a few strides away, in a pair of indigo levis and a white tee, grabbing onto arts shoulders and lowering himself down to his level to grab his chin playfully. art swats him away immediately, pushing patrick down into a chair. and tashi grazes your shoulders softly with her hand when taking a seat next to you and stealing a piece of your fruit from your bowl, “good morning.”

“morning.” you sigh out, taking a sip of your tea and hoping that it isn’t totally obvious that you slept with your friend. but tashi takes notice of the slight frizz in your hair, a dishevelled-ness that is never usually there, so it wasn’t her intention to call you out in front of the four of you when she asks, “why do you look hungover?” she even moves a piece of your hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear to get a better look at the colour under your eyes. your brows furrow, eyes glancing to the left of you at the two boys whose expressions couldn’t be anymore different. art’s poker face is awful, he’s trying to keep his face composed but his posture slumps under the weight of patrick’s hand that spreads across over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth turned up into a smirk.

you shrug nonchalantly, taking another bite of your breakfast to act like your lungs aren’t constricting and you aren’t going into fight or flight, “late night i guess.”

theres a moment of silence, everyone in their heads peacefully while you wish you could get into art’s and find out what he’s thinking about your pathetic lie.

“nice shirt.” patrick says.

“thanks." you reply, swiping over the embroidered ‘mark rebellat tennis academy’ with a finger and looking up at patrick, who meets your eyes with a knowing smirk that makes you feel silly for not assuming that patrick would have memorised art’s whole closet, or recognise the school they went to.

and when patrick squeezes art’s shoulder and asks whether he is “up for a game?” you suddenly become hyper aware of how much his gaze slips past art’s eyes and down onto you as they stand up from the table, eyes squinting and a stupid smile on his face. the combination is so piercing you’ve become aware that even if tashi believed your lie, and art thinks he’s got away scott free—he knows, and he’s letting you know.

his hand ruffles the hair on art’s head, arm falling over his shoulders and drawing him into himself, “we have a bunch of catching up to do, art.” he keeps art close to him as they walk away towards the tennis courts, leaning in to whisper something into his ear after the both of them briefly turned around to wave you and tashi goodbye.

tashi seems unphased by their behaviour, continuing to braid a small of piece of your hair that she unconsciously started. “you know patrick’s about to tell art all about your get together.” you chuckle and tashi scoffs, leaning back into her chair, “he wouldn’t say anything” she reassures, “also we didn’t even do anything.” she adds in quickly, stealing another piece of watermelon from your bowl and taking a bite to avoid talking about the topic like you hadn’t just done that. you smile at her, and she widens her eyes to let you know that she’ll tell you all about last night later.

“i wouldn’t be so sure.” you shake your head, stealing back the half-bitten melon from in between her fingers and finishing it off.

[lost-romantique]

The Way He Lit up His Life- Baby Stolitz Circus Edition (Part 1)

I love the way Blitz manages to light up Stolas' life, even when he never meant too.

Stolas starts off his birthday fucking elated. Of course he would, IT’S HIS MOTHERFUCKING BIRTHDAY!

"You will be entrusted with the study of the Earth's skies, the stars, the prophecies they hold, all that stuff. Isn't that fun!"

Stolas is given his life's mission as a Goetia, and he couldn't be happier!

This is best birthday ever! Absolutely what can go wrong!?

WHAT DO YOU MEAN I'M BEING FORCED IN AN ARRANGED MARRIAGE WITH A PSYCHO!

Stolas is forced into an arranged marriage with Stella, and he's devastated. He begins to cry.

His father who is so good at daddying, mind you, suggests they go to the circus in town.

Stolas does not want to go, he's miserable. His birthday is ruined.

Stolas is at the circus now, he has to have a fun time at the circus... right? RIGHT?

Despite all the cool shit that's happening before him, Stolas is miserable. He doesn't even bother looking at the performances.

He even flicks away the peanuts off his grimoire.

This baby birb is fucking miserable.

Absolutely nothing can make this day go better...

Suddenly, he sees HIM.

The boy wonder, the man who will become the poster child for severe self-hatred, BLITZO BUCKZO!!!

But Stolas doesn't see that...

All he sees is a little imp boy with the biggest smile on his face. Stolas is smitten.

Could this be what they call love at first sight? Who knows...

All Stolas knows is that absolutely nothing has caught his attention, OTHER THAN HIM!

The moment Blitz lands on stage, Stolas does a double-take. HE DOES A MOTHERFUCKING DOUBLE TAKE!

Whenever Blitz is on stage is the only time Stolas truly enjoys his time at the circus. All of his focus is on that little imp boy who can't make a fucking horse balloon to save his life.

"Well, heh. It was a horse, but then it ate too much sugar and its legs stopped working, so he had to amputate. Now, it's a gross worm horse."

Blitzo makes a stupid joke no one laughs at, but Stolas... this baby birb finds it fucking hilarious. He's charmed.

Blitzo sees that and he acknowledges his existence, almost instantly. He sees the only boy that would laugh at his stupid joke.

Suddenly Fizz comes in, makes a perfect horse in record time, and everyone laughs at his joke instead. Thereby stealing whatever thunder Blitzo had.

But you know the funny thing... Stolas doesn't laugh at Fizz's joke. Actually he's almost offended that everyone completely ignored Blitzo's joke.

"I liked his broken horse joke, it was funny. Their legs do stop working when they eat too much sugar, it's called laminitis."

Paimon looks at Stolas curiously, giving his son the eye as Stolas proceeds to laugh to himself because Blitzo's joke is that funny!

The scene ends with a closeup shot of a smiling Blitzo.

~~~

I find it adorable just how quickly Stolas' boredom changes the moment he sees Blitz on stage.

Stolas was just given the life changing news that he was going to be forced into an arranged marriage, and he's miserable. He doesn't want to go to the circus. Only for all that change the moment he sees Blitzo.

It's so cute just how smitten he is, how enchanted Stolas gets when he sees Blitzo on stage. How the worse day of his life turned into one of the best all because he sees him.

Please watch out for my future posts as I analyze all the Stolitz scenes in The Circus.

[morganbritton132]

I absolutely love every time other people find something out about Steve and are just like ???

I wonder if any of his student’s parents are fans of Eddie’s but have no idea their kid’s teacher is married to him (perhaps finding out at career day 👀)

I love the thought of some rock n roll dad (aka: the guy in the minivan blaring Rage Against the Machine during morning drop off (aka: aka: my dad)) meeting his kid’s teacher during open house and seeing a picture on his desk of him and guitar legend, Eddie Munson.

Steve’s in the middle of explaining the curriculum for the year when Rock N Roll Dad points to a picture of him and Eddie backstage at the Rock N Roll Hall of Fame last year when Eddie presented like, “You like that guy?”

Steve looks from Rock N Roll Dad to the picture and then back, “Yeah, you could say that.”

Then he goes back to talking about what they should expect in terms of homework and that was that until parent/teacher conferences.

The first thing Rock N Roll Dad clocks in the new picture on Steve’s desk. It replaced the Eddie Munson one with a new one of the two of them in the parking lot after a local show. Steve’s got his arm thrown around Eddie’s neck, both of them smiling wide, and Gareth is in the background giving them bunny ears.

Rock N Roll Dad points to the framed picture like, “Pretty cool to have met ‘em.”  

“Yeah,” Steve nods. “It’s one of the best things that’s ever happened to me.”

Rock N Roll Dad is not gay himself but he is not one of those ultra straight Corroded Coffin fans that liked to pretend that half the band isn’t queer. He was actually watching the MTV Music Awards show that Eddie publicly came out at by declaring his love for some guy named Steve, and actually.

Rock N Roll Dad thought it made a lot of sense that Eddie Munson was gay because well. A lot of his songs were… phallic.

So, he knows.

He knows that Eddie Munson is gay and that he’s married to some guy whose name isn’t even listed on his Wikipedia page, and he knows that he lives in Chicago, but what he doesn’t know is why he never put two and two together and got Steve Harrington.

There’s a different picture of Eddie Munson on Mr. Harrington’s desk when Rock N Roll Dad goes to talk to him after his kid gets detention for being a little shithead. There is framed original concept art for CC’s first album on the wall behind Steve when Rock N Roll Dad checks in on his kid during a zoom study session.

Hell, Rock N Roll Dad follows Eddie on Tiktok.

He has seen the ass shots that Eddie has posted of his husband in his running shorts, and he did think, yeah, that’s a great ass. He didn’t know he was thinking that about his kid’s math teacher!!

It’s not even Career Day when he discovers it. It’s the day before when they can set up their booths in the gym because Rock N Roll Dad may be a heavy metal fan always, but he’s also an accountant from 8:30 to 4:30 Monday thru Friday.

 He’s struggling to keep his poster board up when in walks guitar legend, Eddie Munson. He’s carrying a box, following behind a guy carrying an iguana.

Rock N Roll Dad abandons everything and walks over to the booth across the way. He can hear the two bickering with each other but before he can say anything, Steve Harrington is there and he is distressed, “Why do you have that?!”

“Her name is Leia, Steve,” Dustin says, “and she has separation anxiety.”

Steve opens his mouth like he wants to complain but doesn’t even know where to begin so he just accepts it, “Is she going to eat somebody?”

“That happened one time!”

Eddie Munson, infamous guitarist that lived on Rock N Roll Dad’s walls as a teenager, uses the opportunity to slide up next to Mr. Harrington and wrap an arm around him. He kisses his cheek, “Baby, we’re here to help.”

“You’re here to guilt me into letting you be a part of Career Day.”

“I can multitask, babe,” Eddie grinned, still so close to Steve that his smile touches his cheek. Steve just sags against him and Rock N Roll Dad thinks, oh. He thinks, oh, shit.

“You have a fan,” Steve mumbles, pulling away a little. It takes Rock N Roll Dad a second to realize that they’re talking about him and then he thinks, fuck.

“Hey – Hi. Uh.” He stops, thinks about lying and saying he needs tape or something, but settles on, “I didn’t know my kid’s teacher married you.”

“Technically, I married him.”

“Technically, I married both of you,” Dustin pointed out. “I officiated the wedding.”

“Ah,” Rock N Roll Dad says because what else is there to say. “Big fan.”

“Yeah, I can tell.”

[eddiemunson-reader-shame]

Penguin Pebbling With Eddie Munson

I just fucking realized in my writings of a continuation for my Autistic Coded!Reader X Eddie that I subconsciously have my reader Penguin Pebble the shit out of Eddie, and I can’t unsee it now.

But now all I can think of is you just seeing Eddie across the lunch table, and you think this dude is really interesting and neat and you want to be his friend, but you don’t know how to. So at some point you just do this in depth study about his interests and things he likes and listen in on his conversations when you walk past.

And then one day you just kind of awkwardly shuffle up to him, and hand him a very small bottle with miniature dice inside.

“So um I saw you like play that game with dice, and I was cleaning my room and I found this and I thought it was really neat. And I saw you like dice so, here.”

Queue you just handing it to him, then awkwardly shuffling away because you don’t really know how to keep the conversation going beyond that.

And the pebbles you give him just become increasingly bigger and more invested the more you give to him, because I feel like Eddie is probably vibrating with excitement and doesn’t know how to express his joy that someone actually thought of him.

Maybe he’s a little guarded at first, but after seeing you engage with the world he realizes that your gift giving isn’t malicious, nor are you doing it for favors.

100% will start doing it back to you.

Eddie’s first pebble is a magazine with an included poster of your favorite movie or celebrity.

It becomes an endless cycle of pebble giving until eventually you both are penguin pebbling wedding rings.

[iznsfw]

Drunken

Loossemble's Son Hyeju x Male Reader Smut

19,012 words

Categories | cheating, longtimecrush!Hyeju, mutual feelings, drunk sex, daddy kink (and daddy issues), fingering, squirting, titfucking, anal, choking

Thank you for commissioning! Researched for the fic, ended up falling in love with Son Hyeju. Please give this a chance and read this for the story, too, and not only the smut. I indulged too much in this.

The relationship Hyeju and OC have is very much inspired by the one Cassy and Rob have in In the Woods by Tana French. Read it, please. Was amazing. The story was also written with someone I'm currently so in love with in mind, but we're not going to talk about that here.

And no, there's never enough daddy kink stories :P

“This is not fair,” the two of you say the very second you step into your shared dorm.

Two papers in two hands of two people that show two scores that aren’t up to par for the two’s standards. You and Hyeju were always meant to be a dynamic duo: peas in a pod in every way possible, and that includes academic success and failure. It’s like there’s a kind of telepathic force between you that sends the other down with you, too. It’s too late to try and cut the connection when you’ve known Hyeju all your life, a wish that’s beyond reality for plenty of the boys at Idalso.

The dorm is clean. Mostly. You’ve done your best to tidy up the pile of clothes at the end of Hyeju’s bunk bed and she’s done the same for the relatively empty bags of chips you haven’t stopped the habit of laying around, but there’s still the telltale signs that if Hyeju isn’t organized, you aren’t either. Printed drafts of your thesis lay crumpled on the floor. Her posters are minutes away from falling off the poorly painted walls. The air-conditioner doesn’t work as well as it did in your freshman year when your rowdiness outdoors—knocking into each other, trying to race to the door and ending up messing up the other’s clothes that were ironed in a rush—isn’t as compensating.

Today, the rowdiness is lost. It gets translated into rough groans that follow you on the way to the dorms.

That’s when you realize it.

You and Hyeju look at each other. Both of your pairs of eyes widen.

“Miss Ha failed your test?” she asks, normally bored pupils widening in disbelief.

“Miss Ha failed my test.”

“No erasure rule?”

“No erasure rule.”

“Oh my god.”

“Oh my god.”

Ball up the paper and shoot it in the air. It adds to the numerous pieces of parchment on the floor. You kick the rest of them in the air while your roommate slumps on her bed and groans. 

“Fuck this,” you say, hands on your head. There comes the urge to tear all your hair out and leave it at that damned professor’s door, blood and all, to make her at least feel a miniscule bit of remorse for failing you. You didn’t deserve that. You studied and studied and she still had to implement that stupid rule.

Hyeju catches a wrinkled and crumpled paper globe. Her sui generis lips release a soft sigh. “At least we have thesis confetti,” she says sullenly.

“I’m dropping out,” you declare. You’re surprised at how serious you sound. Normally you’d say it just to get a laugh out of yourself, but now you’re actually considering doing it. 

“If you drop out, I’m dropping out, too,” she answers, looking at you spitefully. “And then who’s going to take care of Daniel?”

Think of Daniel. He isn’t your roommate but he’s gotten close with you and Hyeju the past few years. “His inheritance is what’s gonna take care of him. Did you forget he’s rich as shit?”

“Oh, right. How could I forget about him?” 

You start picking up the papers of your drafts faster and knocking them harder into the wall. Why are you doing that? Nope, don’t have an answer to that. There’s a fiery rage inside you that Hyeju’s latest sentence is the arsonist of. 

“The fuck are you doing?” she asks in amusement. There’s a hint of disgust on her face. “Calm down. What’re you, my dad or something?”

“S-sorry.” You know the whole deal she has with her dad. You have to stop—thus, drop the balls of papyrus from your hand. “It was just… I don’t know why I did that.”

Maybe you do. Can’t be about the test though it’s why you started throwing a thesis tantrum.

“Chill out, dude.” She pats your shoulder and gives you a pouty look. “If you want to play strict dad with me: no, I don’t like Daniel. If I did, I would have sat on his lap and said,” she assumes a high voice and flutters her eyelashes at you, leaning on your side, “‘Let me help you with that, darling. I’ll do the dishes, too! Or maybe you want to put a baby in me while I squeeze the soap on your di—’”

“Stoooop!” 

Throw a pillow at her. She dodges it and sticks her tongue out at you. Oh yeah. How could you forget that she plays dodgeball with the friend who’s taken up the topic of your conversation? 

Oh god, shouldn’t have reminded yourself that Hyeju and your other friend hang out. You’re feeling weird again.

“Earth to daddy, Earth to daddy,” she says, snapping her fingers in front of your face. “Li’l shit, what’s gotten into you?”

You’re feeling something again. It creeps into your heart and tugs at its strings, just like how your roommate loves to tie knots in yours and watch you struggle around trying to walk with them. That’s how it felt when she called you that. It’s not the first time she took on a roleplaying banter with you yet that specific title has you hot. 

You need to take a walk. Take a walk to somewhere that doesn’t have you in a place where you could easily pin Son fucking Hyeju to the wall and kiss her till the heat subsides.

-

Walking is your only exercise. You care not for the gyms and weights—why pressure yourself with those when you could just go for a simple walk? An hour is already sufficient enough to burn the breakfast. Only downside is that you get quite hungry afterwards, and though you don’t care for counting calories either, you’re pretty sure the food you have after your strolls is more than the amount you burned.

Actually, you could think of another downside: Hyeju doesn’t join you. She’s a homebody. A couch potato. A living pillow. She prefers to lounge at the dorm and play games instead of going out. She rarely comes along, which is why you’re guaranteed a few hours of isolation.

When you take into consideration that it isn’t isolation if tentative feelings accompany you, you’re partly glad Hyeju didn’t come along.

“Hey, is that you?”

You smile. There he is. You always pass by the apartments this time, and the old man who owns it is one of the few people you’re fond of. Being friends with a landlord wasn’t on your college bingo card, but you’re glad it happened. He’s kind, has white hair that almost matches the color of the spaces he owns, and a mouth that can simultaneously be like that of a sailor’s and a doting grandfather.

“Hi, mister Kim.”

“Hi there yourself,” he chirps. His smile is bright. Can’t say the same about the flickering bulb back in your dorm. “Where’s your girlfriend?”

Red colors your cheeks. “Hyeju’s not my girlfriend.”

“Never said she was.” He winks.

The explosion of scarlet first starts at your ears. He got you. But it isn’t exactly you to blame—everyone likes to push you and your girl best friend together. The old man knows what he’s doing. He just likes to toy around with you. 

“Mister Kim, don’t be like that,” you say. Scratch the back of your neck.

“I’ll be however the hell I want,” he replies, crossing his arms t in a friendly stance. “You two’re always glued to each other.”

“We’re just friends, sir.”

“Just friends my ass. Whenever that girl visits me, she’s always talking about you. It’s like you’re the only thing on her mind.”

That revelation was so out of nowhere, yet you welcome it. You like knowing that Hyeju, the girl you adore, adores you just as much. It’s the mutual feeling of fondness that keeps you breathing. 

“T-that doesn’t mean anything,” you say humbly. You’re somewhat right—just because Hyeju hides the truth that she drones on about you doesn’t mean she has a crush on you. You’ve seen and met her exes, and even back then they’re miles more charming than you.

“Wanna bet?”

“I’m broke—”

“No, no. Not in that way.” He shakes his head. “If you and Hyeju actually end up together, I’m letting you live in one of my apartments for free.”

“Mister Kim—”

“Think about it for your old man, will you?”

With that, he shows you a knowing smile and turns his back. Nothing more is said.

-

Just so it’s clear for everyone who comes across this story of yours: you don’t love Son Hyeju.

Anyone and everyone says the opposite. They treat you and her like famed characters on a popular teen show, pairing you up with each other and tearing off all hesitancy about thinking that they might be going too far. 

But now you’re here to make a stand against those falsehoods: contrary to popular belief, Son Hyeju isn’t the love of your life, and although you’ve been friends for so long people’d expect you walked into kindergarten class with your hand in hers, it’s completely platonic between the two of you.

There are no feelings. No speck of a disgusting yearning in your hearts despite the late night stroll you had to take to stop your wistful thoughts. No sir. Hyeju doesn’t love you that way, and neither do you. It’s simple.

Doesn’t seem that simple when you wake up in the dorm with what’s supposed to be a groan that folds itself back down your throat when you see her curled up in the other bed, blankets splayed and curled around her. No makeup on, except for lip balm she smears around her triangle-shaped mouth when they get chapped. No care for how she looks in the air (doesn’t matter when that’s the way you like it, the way she likes it). She lies there with slumber that could only be induced by an unmerciful college.

You’re glad you have her while you’re battered by the same cause of her sleep.

You try to be silent but her eyes open anyway. Her eyes are squinted, and she kind of looks like an emoticon as she pers around. She doesn’t know when or where she is. Grin because neither do you sometimes, but now that you hold that knowledge, you share it with her.

“Earth to Hyeju, Earth to Hyeju.” Echo her words from last night and resound them back to her.

“Earth?” she groans. “Wake me up when Idalso sends me to Mars.”

Yeah, that’s the Hyeju you know. The Hyeju you love. 

(Huh? Where did that come from?)

“I’ll go with you. Could use miss Jeong not trying to kill me.”

Hyeju runs a hand through her hair groggily and smiles sweetly. “Maybe she should come along and go through with killing you if you don’t stop ‘forgetting’ to pay me that five thousand.”

“Cute. I’ll pay you later, I promise.” Rise to sling the blinds up, letting light five-thirty a.m. sun spill through the squares. “Catch some breakfast at McDonald’s before class?” you offer. She’s your usual companion in the morning—you’d split the bill (because “you’re broke, and I’m broke,” she said, “it’s only fair we try to stop being poor together”) and have a nice opening meal of egg and chicken nuggets.

“Sweetie, it’s Saturday today,” she reminds you. “Don’t you remember?” She looks up from her phone and smiles at you condescendingly, as if she knew how that friendly nickname causes your system to shut down. 

You try not to show it. Try not to make it obvious that you turned your head to hide the fact that you were flustered. The fact that despite being only friends with her your chest still tightens at her casual pet names for you, like what she called you last night as well. It’s what friends do: joke with each other, call them unflattering names one second then sweet ones the next. The dorm has enough fans to keep the air circulated, and the sweat you broke last night is gone. So if that’s that, why do you feel so warm right now?

You wonder if Hyeju also feels the same heat in her stomach when you say, “Grandpa can’t remember things well anymore, darling. You’ve got to cut him some slack.”

“Wow, okay. That’s one way to put it, I guess.”

It’s lucky that it’s still dark enough for your red ears to be invisible. You hate it when you mess up your laid-back persona in front of Hyeju, the one you put up whenever you engage in these playful arguments. “Look,” you say, “do you want to get McDonald’s or not?”

“Can’t. Won’t. Shan’t. Too lazy.”

Your heart sinks. “Fine, I’ll just go to a café then. Still have that thesis to do.”

Hyeju lays back into the bed and shuts her eyes. She’s learned that when there’s a chance to sleep, she should take it. To you, it doesn’t look like she’ll let go of this one, even if rejecting it means eating together with you. 

You put on a coat and some shoes, then turn away. Fine, let her be like that. What did you even expect? You can’t be her only priority in life. Sleep, of course, and rest should come first, especially if you’re a college student. You have to brush the hurt creeping in your heart and do your own thing, just like you’d let her do hers.

Don’t catch her eyes opening and lingering on you. Your back is turned and therefore doesn’t let you see it. But if only you did, you wouldn’t have been doubtful about your future concerns, all related to her.

-

This is a different story though. This isn’t a love story—if anything, it’s how a love story ends.

-

Just so it’s clear for everyone who comes across this story of yours: you don’t love Son Hyeju.

Yes, it bears repeating. Sometimes you need to say it again to convince yourself. Convince yourself that you’re not constantly in lectures wishing that it was her beside you instead of your groupmate. Convince yourself that your soul doesn’t shatter in pieces when she refuses to join you in anything. 

Maybe you just need someone to talk it out with. Yes, that’s right. The whimsical yearning in your heart isn’t for Hyeju. You swear on it.

Oh, but you’ve never been very good at that.

“What’s going on? I came as quick as I could,” says Daniel. Yeah, that’s his name. It’s a common name that sounds foreign and unique, especially since he’s a transfer student who came from the U.S.. He has pale skin and brown eyes that are as kind as he is. You like him—he’s the only one you bother bearing besides Hyeju.

But this isn’t about her. You need to let go of her. What? “Let go of her”? Why do you think about her like you two were actually a thing?

“Nothing. Just… feelings.”

“Something happened?” He sits down and looks around confusedly. “Wait, where’s Hyeju?”

“That’s the thing,” you say as you smile tightly. “She’s what happened.”

Daniel’s not stupid. And even if we say that he was, he’s been your friend for two years. It’s short in comparison to your time with Hyeju, you know, but it remains impressive. You don’t have that many friends besides them. That, of course, eventually led to Hyeju and Daniel becoming friends with each other. That’s the reason for him catching your drift—he knows you like the back of his hand.

You order the third cheapest option on the list: an iced latte. Your friend opts for a croissant and some tea, something that reminds you that he isn’t actually from Korea. You often forget that when his Korean is more fluent than a native’s and he gels with other people so quickly. He’s an easy-going guy with everything flowing well for him.

“Let me guess: she did something?” he asks. Alright, close enough. His fingers drum a steady rhythm on the table while yours do so on your laptop keyboard.

“Yeah.” Shake your head immediately and contradictingly. What are you saying? “No. Yeah, probably. But I think it’s my fault.”

No, it isn’t a mere probability of it being your fault. It is your fault. Why are you placing expectations on Hyeju to show up for you? It isn’t on her that you get hurt when she doesn’t have the time or willpower to come along with you. So, why are you even bothering to talk about this? You should let this matter slide. Brush it under the carpet. Rewrite the news headlines. Whatever.

“Ah, couple’s quarrels,” Daniel says teasingly. He thanks the waiter for his croissant then takes a healthy bite into it. “Out of the honeymoon phase already?”

Should you be delighted that people think that she’s yours and you’re hers? You’re split between these two emotions—choose to be frustrated instead.

“Why does everybody think that we’re a couple?” 

“Well.” Your friend twirls his teaspoon into the dainty cup. Drill your eyes on it. The café is simple and affordable to eat from, but the furniture and aesthetic make you think of it as a fancier place to eat it. “You’re always together.”

“That’s all?”

“Let me finish. When some guy has the balls to ask her out, she says she has a boyfriend. She shows him your profile and number. She goes, ‘My boyfriend wouldn’t be too happy about that.’”

The latte somehow doesn’t finish its journey through the straw. “She does?”

You’re split between two thoughts to go by again. You should be happy that your friend, a friend who’s a girl moreover (never confuse a friend who’s a girl with a girlfriend—ever), feels safe enough with you to refer to you as someone who’d protect her, whether from creeps or the aggressive dogs that patrol your college grounds. It takes real trust to call a guy who’s a friend (again, avoid the confusion) your boyfriend when the time requires it. This means she trusts you to come to her if she needs saving from an odd guy or an escape out of situations.

But at the same time, you wonder if that’s what you really are to her, what you’ll only ever be to her: a fake boyfriend. The guy friend who doesn’t mind being called a boyfriend because he knows his low place in her heart. Does Hyeju even look at you as someone who’s not just an acquaintance?

“Yeah,” Daniel says matter-of-factly. “She really likes having you around.”

You don’t need to think about it when you reply, softly: “I do, too.”

The two of you sit in silence you don’t know the source of. Daniel stops eating suddenly. Similarly, all the appetite is lost and you have to put your plastic cup of latte down before you throw it at the wall and ruin the dining experience for everyone else. No, this is your problem. You should deal with it before dragging anyone into it.

“So, why did you call me? What is it about Hyeju?”

Ah, what are you thinking? Daniel shouldn’t even be here. Why did you even call him over? You did and now you don’t know why you suddenly want to throw the contents of your plastic cup into his face. If you give in, you’d be feeding into the delusion that he’s the one standing between you and Hyeju. 

That only leads to the second question of the day:

Why do you suddenly hate Daniel? Daniel is a nice guy. He doesn’t even make a move on her or disrespect her. 

You don’t like these feelings. It’s causing you to think all sorts of nonsense about everybody else, not excluding Daniel, who hasn’t done anything wrong. 

“I…” Sigh. This is the second time you’re finding an escape route so that you could be alone with your feelings. “I have to think about it. I need some time alone.”

“Oh, sure. Sorry about that.”

Hate how more guilt washes over your heart. See here, he doesn’t even protest or say something that might even be right, like tell you how you called him to come over in the first place or how there isn’t a good reason why he should leave. He simply wraps his croissant with a plastic he asked for at the counter and leaves, tea and all.

Great. Now you’re alone, like you usually are and always will be. Attempt to use it as a pro and work on your thesis. Type it all down on a Word document. Wait patiently, as you learned to, as your old laptop stops for the suffering you’ve caused it with the extra storage taken up by assignments. Contact your groupmates. Remind them to do their jobs.

It’s all going so well. That’s when she pulls up to the cafe you’ve been writing at with her hands perched on the wooden surface of your table, with the smirk that doesn’t ever leave without making sure it’s her certified look featured on her lips.

No need to mention names when there's only one girl who could make your world stop spinning.

You can’t stop staring, and it’s not even because she turned up out of nowhere. You’re always in a state of shock when Hyeju is around.

She never allows her hair to be restrained in a tight tail, so there she is with those luscious black locks spilling all over her shoulders. How she manages to look so cool and be the very person everyone wishes to be while having those soft cheeks only the evillest of people wouldn’t pinch you don’t know. Son Hyeju is cool and cute at the same time, somehow balancing those everyday without effort.

But you don’t love her. Just to remind everyone once again. No matter what happens, you have no feelings for her. And that’s that.

"Hey," she says, putting her weight on one arm. Then she curves down her head to peer at your screen. "Whatchu doin'?"

Immediately slam your laptop shut and look at her with annoyed eyes. Oh, why do you even try? You could never despise her. You could pray to god all night and day for you to hate Hyeju, to hate her to the ends of the Earth just to banish these strange feelings, and he wouldn't give in. Crazier and crazier her antics shall get and you'd remain loyal to her.

And that's all because she's a good friend. That's everything there is to it. 

Wait. Who are you convincing again?

"Oh, come on. Smile a little, pretty boy." Hyeju places a finger on one edge of your mouth then pulls it upwards. "There you go. Suh-miiile—"

Pretty boy. She called me a pretty boy.

"You p-plan on getting off the table or what?" you say.

People are staring at you and Hyeju but that isn't what's making you blush. What's gotten into you? You can't tell yourself it's because of her simply because it isn't because of her. Hyeju has as much effect on you as a cup of coffee.

(You thrive off caffeine, by the way, but that's not the point.)

"Sure. No. Uh… probably?" She looks up at the ceiling as if she's figuring something out, then clicks her tongue when she does. "Yep, nah."

Groan. 

Secretly, confessed only in the deepest corners of your mind, you like people paying attention to you and Hyeju. It’s not much about the attention itself but the way it makes them think that the two of you must be really close. Like, really really close. The kind that makes those who want Hyeju rush to her only to be met in the face with a barrier: you. They can’t have her because you do.

Not in that way, of course, but it still means something. If she has you, nobody else could, and if you have her, more so.

"Son Hyeju,” you say, fighting back the smile on your face as she ruffles your hair, “I swear to god—"

"Oh, please," says Hyeju, leaning forward with narrowed eyes and a wicked smile, "spare me, oppa. Spare me the blasphemy—"

That's enough from her, you think. Your hands dive for her waist. Pull her down onto your lap. Your thighs soften the blow and also play the role of a launch pad as one kick sends Hyeju in the air. More chances to tickle her come along with it. Okay, that bit about the lap was wholly unintentional, and you'll swear to god again for that. 

What isn't unintended though is the tickling you do on Hyeju's midriff and arms. It helps that she's so sensitive—soon she's laughing boisterously, struggling in your lap with her head upturned and triangle-shaped mouth letting out unkempt guffaws. She nearly kicks the two of you out of the café seat.

"Dude, you are such a loser, stop!" she laughs, still winding around like a screw on top of you. Laughs alternate between each syllable. "P-people are looking, fffucking quit—"

When that beautiful gummy smile breaks on her face, you don't want to. People can look as much as they like and you wouldn't give a damn. Tickling is Hyeju's punishment, and you'll do it to her anywhere to teach her a lesson.

"Ha, haha, I'm sorry, okay!"

"That's my girl." 

You’re not hurt anymore. For a few delicious minutes, you’ll forget you were ever pondering if you like her or not.

Stop completely because you’re easy to convince like that All she needed was that one magic word. Place her on the chair beside you and fold her hands on her lap as if she were a misbehaving child. 

"Now behave yourself."

Hyeju rolls her eyes. "And if I don't?" she challenges you. 

You raise your fingers in a curled position and direct them threateningly centimeters away from her ticklish spots. She gives up. She can't find a punishment worse than that.

"Why are you here anyway? I thought you didn’t want to come," you say, taking the liberty to open your laptop again. The screen directs you to your assignment tab after you type in your password. Sigh; still five thousand words to go. 

"I'm here because I've got nowhere else to be," she answers. She practices her own liberty, too, and sips shamelessly at your iced beverage.

Her eyes light up at the taste. "I got bored being alone in the dorm."

You think of her alone, and your heart immediately sinks. Maybe you should have stayed there. You’re her roommate—you’re there for her to have company. Sure, the roommates were paired up randomly, but it must lead to something now that you and Hyeju have met again. It was by pure chance that she reunited with you after years of being apart. There’s a string drawing you together, and you don’t know what it means. 

You do know that the reunion with your childhood best friend and seeing how she’s grown made your heart flutter. You act all mean when you’re around her, which is confusing when you’ve missed her so much.

"And I needed somewhere else to finish this thesis before miss Wong realizes it was due three weeks ago." Glare pointedly at her. Here you go again. Told you so. "Somewhere that's not occupied by a brat."

It's true. Call it what you will: an insult, a pointless accusation, but what you said rings true even in your childhood best friend's defiant mind. She could be a handful often.

"I am not a brat," she says, offended. She knows the truth and chooses to deny it. Typical. You should have seen that coming when she’s the girl who lies about the extra dishes in the sink not being her fault and her turn with the laundry.

Sigh. Act as the lawyer; you’re studying to be one anyway. It’s best to practice. "Remember when you cut up the slogan on the mayo label then taped it on me? I had 'white creamy filling; taste me!' on my back for the whole day!" 

"It was a big-ass sticker for a mayonnaise, okay? I couldn't stop myself." Hyeju admits this with hands raised in defeat. "But what about that time you shoved a Toblerone in my mouth while I was sleeping then took a photo of me?"

Raise your hands, too. You realize there's no way to weigh in the blame on a single person when you and Hyeju brought the brat out of each other. It's impossible to go by a day that isn't filled by at least one prank and joking quarrels.

Still, you find it fun. Hyeju's so easy to bond with, so easy to love. 

Whoa, where did that suddenly get here? Like you said, you love Hyeju, but only as a friend. 

So you do love her, in a way. Huh. 

That realization settles in and suddenly you're rendered frozen at the table. Your hands that ought to be finishing your schoolwork are frozen in mid-air. You're staring at the screen like you were watching a gory movie instead of trying to tick off your to-do list. 

"You okay?" she asks, one-of-a-kind lips sealed around the paper straw. "You kind of, like, went to another dimension for a bit."

How do you tell her you’re considering the fact that you might actually like her? You’ve known her for years. Something’s inevitably going to bloom inside you for her, right?

"Y-yeah. I'm good." Not. “And stop drinking my coffee.”

“You wouldn’t need it if you just did the thesis early. What’s so hard about it anyway?” Hyeju stands then bends over to glance at your laptop.

You don’t realize how short her dress is. It rides up to the centers of her thighs and you don’t know how to prevent anyone from seeing something forbidden without brushing down the hem of her dress. If you went down that road, you’d have to run your hand along her back and ass—you’d look like a pervert. 

Idiot. Think of something. Something that isn’t how you’d love to see more when you're just like everyone and shouldn't be allowed more eye access to her body. Only you know how many times Hyeju’s body came up in your mind when you were alone. Paired up with that attractive face that held a permanent pout, it’s impossible not to think of anything else. 

“Ugh! You are so dumb, you know that, oppa?” To your horror, Hyeju sits down neatly on your lap. She has her hands quickly frisking on your keyboard. “There’s a comma missing here, and a citation over here… oh, and a—”

“Save some for the rest of us!” a man about your age and height yells jokingly, cheering you on with a raise of his mug of hot coffee.

Both you and Hyeju look at him with confusion written all over your faces. Your words of surprise almost sync and match with the other for you realize your hands are on her hips, and Hyeju’s leaning back so comfortably in you that anyone would have thought it was another case of couple’s PDA. They’d be wrong though. She’s not your girlfriend. She can’t be your girlfriend.

So why is she so comfortable on top of you, as if she’s always been there? Why did your hands naturally rest on the beautiful slopes of her hips and pull her down the moment she stooped?

The guy’s grandmother smiles adoringly. “Young love,” she says with a dreamy tinge to her aged voice. "What wouldn't I give to experience that again."

You and Hyeju meet each other’s gazes and suddenly you’re unattached to each other. She guiltily settles on her chair and you take your hands off her. That was wrong. Why were the two of you so comfortable with being so touchy? Best friends don’t do that. At least, not best friends of the opposite sex. 

“I should go,” she stammers, standing up. “Call me i-if you need help, oppa.”

Just like that, she’s gone. Where did she go? Why did you lose her so fast?

-

Hyeju’s always called you oppa one way or another, but that moment left a particular jar in your heart. It shards the depths of the core and renders you speechless. You didn’t know that the person you’d love to hear that title the most from is your best friend. She’s supposed to call you that when she’s younger, but even if she weren’t, you’d still love to hear her call you that.

There’s a sense of fulfillment in being able to be Hyeju’s oppa. The one she always relies on. The one she sticks to through whatever happens. That’s why now that she’s told you to call her if you need help makes you ache. It’s the things that are seemingly so simple as that that send more yearning inside you.

The question is: what exactly are you yearning for? Who are you yearning for?

You think you know the answer. It’d take guts to admit it, to finally come clean. But what’s there to come clean about? You don’t love Hyeju. 

A ding from your phone just now. You’re nearly finished with the thesis, and it’s lucky that way since it’s from Hyeju. God knows she has ways of distracting you. Her clean moves at the dance she led and her chill yet stern voice when she commands a rowdy classroom steer you away from what you should be doing, like get away from her. Avoid her at all costs. Never tell her what you’re feeling because it’ll only end up badly for everyone involved. You don’t want to hurt Hyeju, and still you remain hopeful to not get yourself hurt, too.

It takes several seconds for courage to tie you down and pick up the phone. It’s a series of texts from her.

HyejU_U: hey

Sooooooooo

I’m sorry for what happened earlier. 

I didn’t really think and thought that you'd be fine with it

cause yknow

You pulled me down

and

We’re friends.

right?

Yeah, we’re friends, you think bitterly. And no matter how touchy you get, Son Hyeju, it’s all we’ll ever be to you.

HyejU_U: can we just move forward from it? If you want to ofc

Do you? Graduation is near and it’s still taken plenty of years of your life to get over Hyeju. Do you go forward and start on a new slate with her, or dwell in places you shouldn’t be?

Your fingers linger on the keyboard, then—

You: Sure.

Sorry, too

if i like

Made you feel uncomfortable

Wasnt my intention, i promise

HyejU_U: oh you didnt make me feel uncomfy at all.

So don’t worry <3

What a relief.

HyejU_U: i should be the one apologizing anyway

I thought it would be nice to be on you since ur arms feel good around me

Cock a brow. A giddy smile itches at the ends of your lips. Stifle it you will, though she can’t see you through her screen.

HyejU_U: sorry again

i just wanted to see if what i thought was true

Anyways. 

yeah, sorry.

You: so we’re good?

HyejU_U: we have a deal, dickface

;)

See, this is the thing you’re afraid to lose with Hyeju: the carefreeness of your little friendly touches and hugs, insults that take it just far enough, everything. If you told her how you felt (keep in mind that you might not actually like her romantically; you’re just thinking that you might), you’d lose your relationship with her—the one that formed before the two of you even knew what romance was. The one that’s kept the reunion as natural as could be without the need for awkwardness.

You’re so glad to have her back. As a student you’ve nearly cried knowing you passed a semester and worked night and day to finish a difficult assignment—none of those feelings can match the one of relief you felt when Hyeju told you everything was good on both ends. 

But for now, you’ve gotta try to put a dent into this thesis. You’re almost done, you swear. You’ve just been stalling—not intentionally. You swear on that, too. Your whole afternoon’s been swamped up in thoughts about her plus the thoughts about if you’re too perverted a man to be with her. There are a lot of questions left by you immediately responding to Hyeju choosing to sit on your lap. A lot of which are left unanswered.

Priorities. Sigh a little; there’s still work to be done, yet worrying about your best friend is on top of the list. You really should find a hobby when you’re already dragging your teammates behind. Plus, there’s the capstone to worry about that you haven’t prepared for even in the most miniscule bit. So there really shouldn’t be an explanation for why thinking about what she thinks of you is your number one priority. Why, you have plenty of other things to worry about.

You just can’t get her off your mind. These days it’s impossible to.

Abstain anyway, the best you can, from thinking about her and finally complete the thesis. It’s lengthy, well-edited, and has the perfect format to finally make you a lawyer. Attorney doesn’t sound too bad when it’s added to the front of your name.

You should celebrate, actually. The moment you think of it, Daniel suddenly messages you. He’s saying something about it being a Saturday, so you should go to the bar with him. You’re a social drinker, anyway. You could go there without going overboard. Addictions and vices form in these years of fresh adulthood, but you’ve never found yourself wound up in something.

So you do. They ask for your IDs and let you in after a short study of the cards. The guard gives you a lengthy lecture about not being alcoholics as young as you are, but welcomes you anyway.

If we’re talking about getting yourself wound up in someone, though…

“Dude,” Daniel says. He motions his glass to someone coming from the door. “Hyeju.”

You already know he’s rich, but what teacher did he pay to study him into mind-reading? “I wasn’t thinking about her,” you tell him defensively.

“No, I mean, she’s here.” He stares at said woman walking over to the bar with swaying hips. “How the fuck did she get here?”

Hyeju’s here? Swallow. Quick. What do you say? Where exactly in the bar is she right now? Why is she here? When did she get here? Why the fuck are you talking like a news reporter? 

“Hullo, boys.” She stops your train of thought and makes sure to dedicate all of them to her with her hands set on the table and a pretty crop top attached to the curves on her perfect body. You wonder where she got that dress. If she thrifted it, it isn’t obvious—her body does good work in making it look like couture.

“Hi, Hyeju.” Daniel acknowledges her with a nod. He’s a friend of yours and hers, just to remind everyone. He wouldn’t take another step with Hyeju, but you still have yourself staring daggers into his stubbled beard that lines his face and how he takes life as he would a game. There’s a reason why you’re the least tipsy among the two of you. He likes a challenge.

“Hi,” you say meekly. Hope your voice doesn’t sound twisted when your stomach suddenly is. Oh, and it’s not because of Hyeju. It’s the alcohol, pinky promise with a finger heart after. Alcohol’s never made your stomach turn this way though. 

Hyeju regards the shotglasses. “You went drinking without me?” 

“What does it look like?” Daniel asks, giving her the finger. It’s just the usual friendly argument that doesn’t cross lines or anything. The ones that you and Hyeju have. Why do you feel like punching him in the face?

Luckily, she doesn’t have a fragile heart. “Cute. Keep it that way.” She rolls her eyes then turns to you. “Oh, and you. I thought you liked having me around.”

“I’m sorry.” Ask the bartender for another shot then hand it to her. “I guess we just thought you were busy with training.”

She’s training to become an idol. It’s been her dream since she was a kid, when you played in the slides and dropped from monkey bars. She’s always told you she was going to be big someday, and you never doubted that for a second. She even had a name she planned to use if she were to be a performer: Olivia Hye. You weren’t gonna lie, it had a nice ring to it. Not too bad for a name she made up after skimming through a baby name book from the bookstore.

“I dropped out,” she says simply, downing the shot like water.

“What?” you and Daniel ask together. Both of your voices sync with the shock, too. Neither of you could get why she did that. It’s been Hyeju’s dream to become an idol for so long. She couldn’t give that up just like that, but she did.

“Yep.” There’s pride in her voice. “The whole thing was a shithole. I already have Idalso to deal with. I’m not gonna put up with that, fuck no.”

Your heart aches for her dream. Idalso University really is blocking her from achieving it. She could be out there on the stage, maybe having found a better agency, singing and dancing her heart out. Instead, she has to choose one problem at the time and hence goes with college. She has her own parents to please, and because you have yours, you get it. You truly do.

As for Hyeju getting a problem off her mind, like that terrible agency, your spirits lift. You raise a glass and clink it with hers. 

“To getting the hell out of this shithole,” you say; look at the girl you’ve lived for and loved with a smile, “and Son fucking Hyeju for doing it again.”

Your glasses meet. You’re somehow happy that it’s only two, yours and hers, that join. You can’t explain it for the life of you, but you like seeing Daniel become like a background character to it all. Just another extra in Hyeju’s show and yours. It’s cruel, especially when he’s been nothing but a good friend, but it is what it is.

“Tell you what,” Daniel says. “Let’s go to a noraebang tomorrow.”

She’s contemplative. “Isn’t the one near Idalso… like, expensive?” 

“So what?” He shrugs. “You did it, Hyeju. You got out of that company thing. I’m done with my capstone and so is he with his thesis. I say we all have some fun. On me.”

Daniel has the privilege of not worrying about things being expensive or not. It’s the norm for him. You kind of want him to play Dorothy and put himself in your shoes, then make him go through what you did. 

You know it isn’t fair and he’s just being kind. Still and all, your hatred rises.

“What now?” Daniel asks. “You guys in!”

“Of course!” Hyeju nods and claps her hands together. There’s a gummy smile on her face again. You’ve seen it on her many times, but you’ve also seen the sunset everyday—therefore, you’ll still be glad to catch a glimpse of it.

You guess since she’s in, you have to go, too. You say yes and that of course you’d love to go, and this time three glasses clink together prettily. Smiles are on each of your faces albeit yours is artificial.

"Could you act any less like a deadbeat dad?" Hyeju asks. She sits down on the stool beside you after Daniel leaves to get some air. Still feels like he's here when you feel like everyone's eyes are on you and her.

"I'm not doing anything." You say that because you aren't. You definitely aren't stirring a brew of jealousy inside you that poisons the maker, too. You're its creator yet the prophecy that was written tells that it'll turn against you, too. You’re Kronos, and it's an inevitable fate. 

"Exactly. That's what deadbeat means." This matter-of-fact statement from her is followed by Hyeju stealing your shotglass out of your hand right before you drink it. "Seriously, dude. What's up with you?"

Oh, you don't know. Maybe her possibly being your crush? It's such an immature matter, but you haven't had a crush like this. The others were just sweet-faced and from afar. Those are the girls you dream of. To have a girl like Hyeju, the one you've known since forever, with a spunky personality but an opposing pretty face, the one who's been your ride-or-die—it's complicated.

What else could you say to her when the truth is something you'd rather she not hear?

"I'm fine, Hye."

"Are you? You look…" She thinks about it for a while as she studies your hair and poorly combined outfit choices. She slicks your blunt strands back and smiles teasingly. "...sleazy."

"Fuck y—"

"Shhh." She places a finger on your lips. The side of her thigh touches your lap. You're so close that any word you utter won't pass without hitting her. "It's okay. I like it."

You purse your lips. You didn't expect that. She's taken seats on your lap that were uninitiated by you and let you lift her in the air when you hug her. All that and her fingers in your hair are the most surprising.

"You're drunk," you say, although she’s only had a few shots. 

Hyeju inches closer to you and holds your chin in place. "I'm sober as the next wolf, sweetie," she tells you. Her next words fail to show her hesitance. "And… and it just so happens that I really, really want to kiss you."

She's joking. She's playing around with your heart. You're not a virgin—you know what girls do. Hyeju doesn't strike you as the type to do that in spite of what’s going on, but you have to be careful. Your heart’s been bruised too many times already. 

Careful isn't the word for it when you take the first step and lean in for a kiss. Maybe you're drunk yourself. Dizziness enchants your mind as Hyeju's dreamy lips perfectly pout to the shape of your mouth. Her eyes are closed. It's like she's in a restful dream.

You can’t believe you’re doing it. You’re kissing her. Passionately, too—there’s real determination in the way you hungrily lean forward to devour her lips. 

The bar oohs and ahhs, then erupts into a crowd of applause. A few whistles come your way. You can feel Hyeju smile into your mouth.

-

Proclivities upon proclivities to keep her around you and only you couldn’t stop Monday from coming. You’ve only been to a noraebang once and that was with your family. It excites you to go to one again. However, you’d rather have only Hyeju to come, to be the exclusive member of the club that gets to hear her soft, pretty voice echo in the mic.

She’s really doing a number on you. Daniel’s your friend—sure, he might be out of touch with the local games and experiences, yet he’s still important to you. You can’t be mad at him over a girl who probably doesn’t even think the kiss at the bar was anything special. She hasn’t even talked about it with you and acts like it didn’t happen. Just another boy, just another day. That’s probably how you are to her.

Ouch. Way to go hurting yourself with your own made-up scenarios. As expected from you. 

The three of you decide to cut classes. It’s not like you’re in high school anymore. Professors just don’t give a fuck, unless it’s miss Wong. She’s pretty and quiet at first. Then you have to wait to see her get angry—that’s when all hell breaks loose.

No hell on the loose today. Just three little demons from hell called Hyeju, Daniel and yourself down on the loose and down the road to the noraebang. Hyeju’s in a loose black jacket and a plain white tee. You somehow notice that more than Daniel who’s sporting a graphic shirt with swear words from every language printed on it. You don’t have much to say about your attire when it’s nothing special, not even compared to Hyeju, who’s wearing simple clothes like you.

“If a teacher sees us out here—” says Daniel nervously. He’s never rebelled before. The most he’s done is missing a class. 

“No one will,” Hyeju promises him, opening the door of the place for the two of you though in your opinion it should be the other way around: you opening the door for her. What better way to show Hyeju that you could be a gentleman? Too late now. Plus, she doesn’t care much for that. That’s what keeps your excitement on a low burn. It takes more than opening a door and waiting around to impress Hyeju. 

You sign your names at the front. Daniel picks a nice, wide room with a glass table perfect for chips and bottles. The bright screen already shows snippets of K-pop music videos, involving sweet-faced Korean girls waving at the camera and running along a beach. As boyish Hyeju is compared to other girls, you could definitely see her doing that for her passion of becoming an idol. 

“What should we sing?” asks Hyeju, sitting down on the black plush seats comfortably. Her gummy smile is precious.

“Anything you want.” He slings an arm around her. His looped arm tugs her into a warm embrace. “Anything for the soon-to-be lawyer slash K-pop idol.”

Stiffen. Turn away and suddenly take good interest in the walls with a carved 3D effect. Much more interesting than whatever Daniel’s trying to pull on your best friend. Right, Hyeju’s your best friend. Nothing more. That kiss was a drunken mistake. You shouldn’t be getting angry. Besides, this noraebang was rented for you to have fun, not glower at Daniel doing nothing but be a good friend.

Hyeju laughs and leans into him gladly. “Stop, you’re gonna make me throw up!”

You feel out of place all of a sudden. Has she always been that affectionate with him? You thought that those touches and hugs were reserved for you only. Apparently not.

“Sing a song, Hye.” Your eyes don’t meet her gaze.

“They wanted me to debut with this song,” she says. The mic is shaky in her hand. “I—” She blushes. “I want to sing it for you.”

Sweetness infiltrates the air. It’s not of a scent or touch, but of hearing. It's Hyeju’s voice. It's smooth and soft as it passes through the empty atmosphere. No instrumental accompanies her voice, and you’re glad it’s that way. It allows you to marvel at Hyeju’s tone, quiet in spite of its sexiness.

And it takes that and several songs later, sung daringly by all of your trio, and jokes passed among friends that make you think about it. Really think about it. While Daniel and she sing their hearts out to the point of their voices cracking and laughs transforming into guffaws, you sit there and submerge yourself in thought.

You’ve seen Hyeju smile. It's pretty and sweet; her triangle-shaped mouth curls up into a half moon and it's everything you've ever wished for in life. No, fuck food. Fuck oxygen. All you need is her smile. It's cheesy as hell when you page through those types of quotes in those teenage romance books you probably shouldn't even be holding, but you swear that if Hyeju smiles for the rest of her life, it's enough for you to live. She just looks so pretty. Her resting bitch face, stone cold as the title of the expression suggests, is hot (yes, you're using that word), but when she chooses to smile—oh, you're as good as dead.

You don't like Son Hyeju though.

You’ve heard her sing in the noraebang room with her soft voice filling the vicinity. She doesn't sing much although she could. The day would come when she’d say "you know, I almost became an idol. I trained then dipped halfway,” and the pitched raspiness of her voice still would send you to heaven. It's a natural and beautiful thing, a trait she couldn't learn from the best vocal coach.

You don't like Son Hyeju though.

You’ve felt her hair when she leaned into your lap after laughing too much. "Stop, or I swear to god I will fuck your shit up," she told you, slapping your thigh after your terrible dad joke. You ran your fingers through her hair to calm her, but if anything it's an excuse to just touch her. You want to touch Hyeju, and not even in a sexual way. You just want your bodies closed up on each other with no awkwardness barriering the freedom to hold and be held.

And it’s not the kiss, but all these that make you stop your denial, and discover that you—

“—think I like Hye,” you whisper to Daniel when said girl leaves to get some beer. The flashing disco lights hanging from the ceiling can’t camouflage the red on your face. 

Daniel laughs and puts down the mic. The bump on the crafted table sends a tinged pitch of feedback to your ears. “Everyone likes her. So?”

He’s right. Everyone likes Hyeju. Yeah, they like her through every name she’s taken up. She was the star of the school back in middle school when she went as Hyejoo, then the ice princess of high school as Olivia Hye, and finally… as herself now that she’s grown up with you, Son Hyeju. She’s become so many versions of herself and yet people still like the real her. You still know the real her.

“No,” is what you say, as you twiddle your fingers. You don’t know how to say this without causing an uproar. “I like Hyeju.”

He considers this for a moment, weighing in your words. “Like as in… like like?”

A nervous swallow. Is Daniel the right person to tell this ? “Like like,” you reply nevertheless.

Daniel locks his chin between his rough fingers and strokes it thoughtfully. His face is clouded with a feeling you can’t read. “Well, a lot of people do, too. And they wouldn’t blame you for it. She’s—” He looks down at his shoes then back at the noraebang screen. “She’s a pretty girl.”

The understatement of the century. Hyeju’s face was carved with such beauty—curved, pyramid lips; slanted eyes; a cold look that you, unlike people when asked about their first impression of her, weren’t scared of—and she’s just so… easy to love. 

Yes, Son Hyeju is easy to love. Everyone loves her, but she can only ever reciprocate it in a different way to one man. Woman, perhaps? Anything goes, but you'd rather she gives it to you.

You're a selfish person, you admit that. More so when it comes to her. 

"Let's get this party started!" she says. You don't intend to flinch yet you end up doing it anyway when she sits down next to you and hands you canned alcohol. 

"There's only three of us, Hye," Daniel points out. The rounded metal springs up from the can and he gulps down a hefty amount of the spiked liquid.

"Three's a crowd. Especially when it's with you guys."

"So you're saying we're too much?" Match her sass with hidden bits of your own. You're only trying to make it seem like your heart doesn't beg to be held close to hers. 

"Too much is just enough for me." 

Hyeju drops both of her arms around you and your other friend and ruffles your hair. It's sweet. It should be. It’s exactly that which makes you fail to understand why your heart feels squeezed. Why is she also hugging Daniel in the same manner she hugs you?

The kiss at the bar means nothing. The kiss at the bar means nothing. You have to stop thinking that it means there's a ring on your finger already. 

You rise from the sofa to purchase chips because you’re starving, but not for healthy food. You wouldn’t dream of eating a salad when there’s junk food in your general vicinity, and it just so happens that there’s a vending machine you’ve got your eye on at the counter. Soon, a rainbow of plastic bags fills your arms. What they contain would work well to repay your debt with Hyeju. Daniel can eat these without worrying about money. He’s been a good friend. He deserves chips after the evil you’ve thought about him.

"I bought chips—"

Daniel is pushing Hyeju to the end of the sofa and has his lips locked on hers. His hands are in her hair. Her eyes are shut. You can hear the sloppy sounds of kissing bouncing off the noraebang walls. The instrumental from the radio is the cherry on top of everything.

Does this kiss guarantee a ring? 

"Wow," you say. Nod then laugh, as if doing it would make your situation better. “Wow.”

Hyeju turns her head and scrambles for broken dignity. It's too late. You've already seen it. Daniel doesn't even bother running after you when she bursts out of the room to chase you. You're immovable—each step is a promise to take you far away. You trust that promise to skewer you away from Son Hyeju, Son fucking Hyeju who led you on and played with your heart.

"Hey.” Her steps catch up with yours. Walk faster, but she only draws closer. You can’t escape from her now. “Hey!”

"What?" Turn to her, heavy breathing lining your shoulders. You stare into her small face and silently dare her to make an excuse.

To your surprise and her audacity, she does. "It's not what it looks like!" she says, swallowing. How could she be the one near tears when she's the one who kissed him? "Let me explain—"

"I know what I saw."

"Well, you don't see the bigger picture. He sm—"

"—smart? Funny? Rich?" Laugh and shake your head. Your laughs sound more and more genuine. You've gone a little sick in the head. "Yeah, I know. But hey, we're not supposed to be anything, right? Why am I mad? It's not like our kiss meant anything."

"Please, oppa. Listen to me."

"No, go sing together,” you say, then thrust the junk food you bought in her arms. “I’m sure you’re better off with him.”

Mean it. Turn away. Don't bother to look at her when you know she'll go crawling back to Daniel. He's totally her type. He's everything, you're nothing. He's smart, you're not. He loves her more, and you do—just not enough. Now you understand why they were so touchy and close in the room.

Anger is irrational when it was just a kiss. The two of you weren't official, either. If you weren't before, you sure as hell aren't now. It's just not meant to be. 

She likes Daniel, not you. And even though you want to be, you aren't supposed to be angry at Hyeju. She was swept into a high school love triangle that happened a little later in her life, and ultimately chose the better guy. No need to drop names. The kiss was enough for you to know which man she chose.

Besides, you don't love Son Hyeju anyway. Isn't that what you've always told yourself? That's right. You don't love her.

Denial is a river flowing down your cheek.

-

The dorm becomes a cemetery of the living dead. You and Hyeju have not spoken to each other for three months. She stops waking you up for class, and you do the same. The place is notably cleaner after the two of you rely only on yourself to tidy up. Lost are the sarcasm, friendly touches, teasing arguments. It’s like the two of you never knew each other.

It’s through this that you discover that you have to be careful what you wish for. You always thought about Daniel putting himself in your place, and it happened. Ever since the kiss, Hyeju’s been chattier with him, and he pulls her close the way you used to, and she smiles at him like she used to at you, except that it’s wider now. They’re together. Officially together; you’ve seen their Instagram posts. 

Moreover, she’s happier than ever, flourishing without you.

And you? You’re still stuck in that noraebang, replaying that fateful kiss over and over in your head. Each time you close your eyes you see Hyeju and Daniel in a passionate liplock. It’s the kiss that ruined what you had with Hyeju and has made your quality of life deteriorate. You didn’t know that Hyeju makes up almost every part of your day. Mornings are empty without your stroll with her. Post-exam nights aren’t as fun when she’s not there to bring drinks. Afternoons are lonely when she’s always out with Daniel.

You hate the fucker. He knew you liked Hyeju. You’ve told him about it right before the thing he did with her even happened, so it’s impossible that he’d forget. Besides, like he said, the two of you are always together. He surely would have picked up the signs. Unfortunately, he whisked her away just like that.

You dislike to feel like the scheming guy in coming-of-age films who doesn’t get the girl, but it’s the perfect portrayal of your emotions.

Wake up for class. She does, too. You have the decency to not gawk at how good she looks even in a casual tank top and plaid shorts, but she doesn’t even try to hide that she’s staring at you. Just not for the same reason, you assume. You’re just her boy best friend. With the way things are, you aren’t even a friend to her anymore.

You smear cheese onto a soft slice of bread. Still, her eyes are on you. From the corner of what takes up your vision, you could tell that she’s trying to figure out how to make this less awkward. You’d think that an eternity’s worth of effectively giving each other the cold shoulder would make her learn how to do it. She’s a smart girl anyway. She should have figured that out.

“You know… you can’t just keep ignoring me.”

Freeze—it’s the first time she’s spoken to you in a while. And you weren’t prepared for that. It’s like someone threw a punch in your stomach, but it’s also a breath of fresh air. How those two feelings could converge into each other you don’t know. 

“So stop it, will you?” she continues. She swings her legs out of the duvet and places her hands snug on the edge of her bed. “Stop treating me like I’m a…”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m your fucking ex,” Hyeju snarls. The duvet crumples in her fist.

Scoff. Fold the bread slice tight onto the other squared end. Talk about a good morning. “Ex? We were never a thing, Hye… ju.” 

Right, it isn’t like that anymore. You can’t call her Hye like the old times.

The hurt that registers on her face, still pretty in the midst of pain, comes by so fast it would take a magnifying glass to see it clearly. Now she’s the one scoffing. She recovers quickly from the stifled nickname so well that you never would have guessed you disarmed her. “That’s the thing. You’re right—we weren’t boyfriend-girlfriend. So why are you acting like I’m a ghost?”

“I wonder why,” you say. “Couldn’t be because you kissed me then decided to kiss another guy while I was away. Nope, totally out of the question.”

What happened? It seems like just yesterday the two of you were throwing insults and playfully quarreling with each other like it’s natural. This is a real disagreement here. This can’t be resolved with a smile or hug. You and Hyeju aren’t like that anymore. It’s a thing of the past.

Just like your friendship.

“If you’d just let me explain—”

“You know what? I don’t have time for this. Go with Daniel to class. Have a good life with him. Just call me if you get lost.”

Don’t even try to take a bite out of your cheese sandwich. You leave it on the table. Later, it’ll become stale and cold, similar to your friendship with Hyeju, or whatever kind of fucked up relationship you have.

You storm out of the dorm. You’re glad to get out—you’re already worried about the test later and the night class with miss Wong. Don’t need a situationship to take up your mind either. 

The day passes like a car on a rocky, jagged road. It’s difficult to muster a smile to the freshmen the moment you come in to help miss Jeong teach, or work on your test when that argument with her fills your mind rather than equations you should have memorized. The whole day is torture, and you don’t dare wish it on anyone. Not even that asshole Daniel

“What’s up with you today?” people ask you. “You sure you’re alright?” “Where’s Hyeju?”

You don’t answer.

When the night comes, it’s relief for your sore mind and body. That test beat you up and the sun was too cruel to your skin. Even if night classes could last till the brink of dawn, you don’t mind. Take comfort in the fact that it’s only a discussion and nothing more. 

Barely listen though. Two a.m. creeps by and you haven’t taken in a thing. Usually miss Wong would have you focused, keeping in mind that she’s strict and merciless, but you’re too tired today. Your bones ache though you didn’t do much walking. They’re only symptoms of heartbreak.

You don’t want to see a doctor. In fact, you want to get worse.

Miss Wong looks up at the clock. “Is it alright if I extend for just five minutes?” she asks. Her pencil skirt struggles to contain her strides on the platform.

A chorus of mixed responses echo in the classroom. Others, the top students in particular who participate in every club you could name, say it’s fine. Some already have excuses to make: they need to work on homework; they have other classes to go to; every excuse existing. You don’t know which side you’re on—you don’t want to come home to another angry night with Hyeju, and at the same time, you can’t be assed to stay.

Then—

Ringing. It’s all you hear. Your classmates’ voices drown out in it. It’s supposed to be soft, but it isn’t anymore when everyone shuts their mouth in alarm. Look here, look there. You don’t know where it’s coming from. 

Your hint is the light in your pocket. Fish it out. It’s coming from your phone.

“I thought I told you guys to put your cellphones on mute during class,” Wong says, sighing. Her glare shoots you a warning.

Okay, you’d say sorry to her and put your phone away. Drop the call. Anything. But the first thing you do is wonder:

Why the fuck is Son Hyeju calling you?

Aside from all the tension between you, your natural instinct is to answer. Your next is to ask her, “Hye?”

“Oppa…” comes her voice from your speaker.

Before you could wonder why she’s calling, you notice that Hyeju’s voice is… lonely. Yes, lonely. That’s the word you’d use right away if you’re asked to describe it. No, it can’t be just that. It’s mixed with something else. It’s higher, a little more groggy.

Forget that you were fighting. Forget that she kissed Daniel and broke your heart. She wouldn’t call if it isn’t something even her pride can’t protect. “Hyeju? What’s wrong?” 

“I’m lost.” 

-

Those are the two words she utters before breaking into sobs. You’ve never heard or seen Hyeju cry. She likes to treat problems with anger rather than sadness, slicing away at every conflict with groans and cursing professors for low grades. If she’s crying, it must mean something’s wrong. Something’s very, very wrong.

You’re keenly aware that all eyes and ears are monitoring your moves, but you don’t care. You rise from your seat and start gathering your laptop into your bag. You forget about your notes. Fuck them. Hyeju comes first. 

“Where did you go, Hye?” Walk out of the class. If miss Wong has a problem with that, she can tell you about it tomorrow. 

Sniffles on her end. Her quiet, low cries break your heart. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I need you, oppa. I have… I have nobody else. Please come and get me.”

“Hyeju—”

“Please,” she whispers. Her voice lowers to a whine. “I’m alone. I’m so alone.”

Tears itch at the bottoms of your eyes. You have to come and get her. Need to forget the fight and silent treatment that ensued. All that means nothing if Hyeju’s in need of your help.

Where the fuck are your keys? Remove them from the loop of your jeans and click the button. In the driveway, your car’s headlights shine. Yep, there it is. You once regretted buying a secondhand car like that. Now that it can get you to Hyeju, you vow to take care of it for life. You’d spend thousands to repair it if it breaks down.

But right now, it’s Hyeju who’s breaking down. She’s all alone somewhere and she needs you. In a way, you need her, too. She’s the one who’s braver to admit it.

You’ve never driven faster in your entire life. All the while you stay on the line with Hyeju. Your grip on the wheel tightens whenever she lets out a hopeless little sob. She’s crying so hard that you want to roll into a ball in the corner and cry, too. You can’t do that. You have to be the stronger one, the one who comes to her like she’s done for you and tells her that everything’s going to be alright.

You make no promises. 

Eventually you coax a location out of her and break several speed limits. Ignore the cops that yell at you. They can all go and fuck off. Hyeju needs you. You’re her best friend. It’s what friends do.

“Motherfucker,” you curse, upon seeing that the location she led you to was a club. It’s hidden in the corner of a creepy alley. “Hyeju, are you drunk?”

“Nooooo…” she drawls, giggling through her tears. “Your voice is so nice, oppa. It really makes me feel better. Did’ya know that?”

No time to be flattered. You burst into the club and find her in the midst of flashing lights and crowds of bodies. Your ears ring because of the music. Whose idea was it to hire this DJ? He thinks he’s doing such a good job, too. 

Hyeju’s in the center of it all. Her black coat is too big for her, but so is the crowd. When it moves, it drags her along by the toes. She’s… smiling? Wasn’t she crying on the phone just minutes earlier? Maybe she drank more. This can’t be good.

“Hyeju!” Start walking faster. 

She sticks her tongue out at you and starts to sprint upon seeing you get close.

You have no time for games. This isn’t even in the least bit funny. What if someone spiked her drink? What if that was the reason she’s acting funny? Worse: what if someone’s planning to take advantage of her? All these concerns bump into each other in your head as you run after her. 

A couple of “excuse me”s and “sorry!”s after you quickly squeeze in between dancing people. Drinks spilled on the floor. Anger from two dolled up ladies. (A look to your right and… yep, not only from them.) Disapproval from the DJ who even calls you out. Boos from the crowd. You don’t care about them. You only care about getting Hyeju to safety. She can’t be here in her vulnerable state.

Before she could dash out from your line of vision, you grab her wrist. Seal your grip around it tightly so she can’t escape. “Son Hyeju,” you say, glaring at her. Ever since she stopped crying, she started to play around. This isn’t a game but to her it is. A fun game, to be more precise. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Oooh, you caught…” She burps. Playful giggles spill from her mouth. “... me!” Hyeju gives you a drunken smile and claps for you regardless of her right hand being held into position. 

“Why are you here?”

“Why are you here? See? I can ask stupid q-questions, too!”

You whisk her away from the ongoing party and into the cold night air. You’re about to throw your jacket on her when you see that she’s wearing one, too. 

People are starting to stare. Pray that no one intervenes, even if they have good intentions. After all, you’re a man with a woman under the influence. They have every right to be concerned, but you hope that just for now they know you wouldn’t dare hurt Hyeju.

The wind blows a breeze that almost knocks you to the floor. You draw Hyeju to yourself to warm her. You can’t risk her catching a cold. 

”Let me go, oppa!” Hyeju’s mood goes from sad to drunkenly cheerful to pained. She forces her wrist out from your fist harshly. Your arms no longer wrap her. “You don’t like me anymore, right? And I have a boyfriend!”

Capture her hand again. She can’t escape and run away a second time. You’ve done that too much to know that it’ll send her down into a dizzying spiral. You’re cowards, the both of you—that’s why you flee whenever a problem arises. You don’t know how to deal with it. 

That changes now. Get in your vehicle. Pull her in, too. “For your information,” you say, locking her seatbelt in place, “you called me. You asked me to pick you up.”

The car roars to life and speeds down the road. The night barely provides light for you to move along. It’s beautiful nevertheless. Stars peek out from the depths of black. The moon is dim yet reassuring. What fate does it have in store for you? Would you accept it if you knew? How could they all look so serene while you have your drunk crush next to you starting an argument?

“And you’d loooove not to do it, wouldn’t you?” Hyeju’s words suggest that she’s no longer that drunk but the way her words come out like jumbled words in a newspaper crossword tell you otherwise. She leans against the door and crosses her arms. “It was a mistake to call you. You, you fucking hate me.”

Does she really believe that? You may hate Daniel, but you never once hated Hyeju. You’ve only had wistful feelings for her even after she kissed him. You still checked up on her socials and watched her as she ate lunch with him. You remained loyal to her, like a dog following its owner through scoldings.

Yeah, you really are just her dog.

“I don’t hate you, Hye,” you say with conviction. You’re determined to make her believe that. It’s difficult when you’ve never been the type to be good with words. 

“Yes, you do! You wouldn’t even let me explain why I kissed Daniel!”

“For fuck’s sake, I was hurt! I didn’t know what to do!”

“Then hear me out for once!”

“Alright.” Your hands slap the wheel, unintentionally bumping the horn and causing Hyeju to cringe. “Go on. Tell me what happened.”

“He was the one who kissed me, the fucking idiot! He kissed me out of the blue and wouldn’t stop!”

Wait.

What? 

Daniel, your friend and Hyeju’s, initiated the kiss? Hyeju didn’t want it to happen?

If only you knew, you would have beaten up Daniel a long time ago. 

You can’t even speak. You had it all wrong. You can’t believe there was an explanation for everything and you refused to hear it. 

Hyeju begins to sob again. Her words circle in the air like an incantation. It’s equally because of the alcohol and her emotions. “I was… talking to him about my training, but then he kissed me.” She wipes her face and laughs humorlessly. “He started making out with me and, a-and I didn’t know how to stop it. It was like I was frozen.”

“You… you didn’t kiss him?” Your tone is broken and incredulous. “He made you do it?”

She looks almost offended. “Why? Why would I ever kiss that bastard?”

“But you’re dating him.”

“I am,” says Hyeju, hands in her hair, “Hah, okay. I'm dating him, yeah, but that’s just because I thought you didn’t like me. I only want one person in the world, and it isn’t Daniel Smith.”

“Hyeju—”

“It’s you, you clueless little shit!” She punches your shoulder and muffles her face into your car pillow. Her next scream is elongated, filled with frustration. When she lifts her face from the pillow, her eyeliner and blush are smeared and wet with teardrops. “It’s you, and I only want you!”

In vino veritas.

The confession is as out of the blue as Daniel’s kiss was. You’re in a state of shock and disbelief—too much information is coming into your brain. You want to punch Daniel in the face for shocking her with an unwanted move. You want to hug Hyeju. You want to tell her that you’re sorry for not hearing her side of the story. 

Most importantly, you want to tell her that you want her, too.

It’s too late now. She’s seen you disregard her voice and choose to have a one-track mind. There’s no way she wants you anymore.

“Why the fuck would you ever want me, Hyeju?” 

“Because!” She lets out a shivering little sigh. “You don’t treat me like… hlk, like I’m a trophy to show off. You’re my friend. You know how to be mean but you take care of me even if I’m too moody sometimes. Even if I don’t want to come along with you outside because I’m scared I’ll make myself look stupid in front of you. Even if… even if I love too hard but don’t show that I love you most and that sometimes you take care of me more than my dad does and I know it’s wrong to see you that way when I’m with him now but I really want you to take care of me but still kiss me too if I need it and be okay with me calling you names like ‘daddy’ and still being your best friend besides being my boyfriend… but I know it can’t happen anymore and I ruined everything—”

“Hyeju.”

More tears flow down her face. “—and I know you won’t ever love me the same again but I’ll regret forever, long after we graduate, that I never showed that I loved you, that I was a coward—”

“Hyeju,” you say, gently. Pull over at the university parking lot. You have your finger on her mouth, sealing them to stop her droning. She pauses. She doesn’t do it without breaking down. “Please. Don’t tell me you don’t know it. It’s been happening under your nose every single day.”

“What?” she murmurs, eyes glassy as they connect with yours.

“I like you, too.”

Silence. Several beats go by. They’re too lengthy to be fake. The next nuance confirms that:

Talk about relief. Talk about passion. As if she’s forgetting that a sudden kiss was what opened Pandora’s box, Hyeju grabs your face and does exactly that. Again, it has too many things to it that blocks it from being faux. The unique shape of her lips mold onto yours, as if your lips were made to kiss each other all the time. It’s back to the café again, wherein she does something and you subconsciously follow along. Your hands are on her phenomenal waist. And soon you’re unbuckling her seatbelt so she could sit safely on your lap, where she’s supposed to be. Where she belongs.

She drops her touch to your shoulders. She massages them, and you groan delightfully. Now it’s your turn to hold her face and lean in closer. Hyeju’s mouth tastes of sweetness and alcohol. You don’t know how those two tastes could mix together. Hyeju makes it work.

“Oppa, daddy,” she whimpers. She pulls away. The distance is still close to nothing. “Daddy, I love you.”

It’s a sudden nickname, still detached from when she uses it with you jokingly, yet there’s no hesitance here. You know your truth. “I love you, too, Hyeju.”

“Will you take me to bed?” She starts grinding down on your shaft needily. “Please say you will, daddy. Please say you’ll make me happy.”

“You’re drunk. I… I don’t know if I should.”

“‘m not. Maybe. But I’ve wanted it to happen for a long time,” Hyeju says. “I won’t mind, I promise.”

She couldn’t get any more sober with that. So you do what any man would do if they were called daddy by Son Hyeju: lift her out of your car, not caring to check twice if it’s locked, and bring her to bed. Take her coat off—she won’t need it if you’ll make her warm from the inside and out.

Her arms round your neck and her face is buried in your chest. Her words come out in a desperate, needy tone that you haven’t heard from her since the day you met. Who exactly were you to make her this small?

Her daddy, of course.

See, as tough as Hyeju makes herself out to be, she’s still needy. She still has her own problems that haven’t let go of her now that she’s older, like the daddy thing. You only fully understand it now when you lay her on the bed and continue kissing her. Hard. Her moans call out for you. They aren’t merely things to whine if it feels good. It’s not even a matter of want anymore; her shivers and cries indicate of her carnal need for you to do what you will with her.

“Don’t be scared,” she tells you, closing her eyes as you kiss her perfect jawline. “You wanted me for so long, right? Well, I did, too. Do what you want to me. Fuck me, daddy.”

“You talk extremely dirty for someone who’s drunk,” you chuckle. 

“Not so drunk anymore. You make me sober.”

“Sweet talker. You’re all bark and no bite.”

Hyeju has no retort to make. Your lips on her gorgeous nipple render her speechless. The cute pink nub is hard, and grows harder at your loving suckles. Her breasts are the perfect size for squeezing. Relish in that fact by squeezing her left breast while dedicating more of your attention to the other, making her become sensitive with each action. 

You’d say you have bite, for you do so lightly on her breast. She gasps. “Daddy!” she cries out.

“Fuck, don’t say it like that.” Your cock throbs already. It’s the same feeling you get all those times before, the times you’d get into an argument with Hyeju and she’d call you that.

“What? It’s not my fault you can’t handle me,” she says wittily.

“Don’t try me.”

“What?” She cocks a brow. “Hit too close to home?”

You have to shut her bratty self up. Tug her pants off, sliding them off her silky legs. Her pink panties are a hint to the gentle color of her pussy. Find out about them anyway—push the underwear aside and shove three fingers in her.

“Oh shit.” Hyeju’s squeeze on your digits is instant, like an impulsive reaction. 

Think about if Daniel has done this to her before and pick up the pace. You’re fingering her like the walls of her soaked pussy would banish him and let you have her all to yourself. “Son Hyeju,” you growl, “shut the fuck up.”

“W-won’t—ah!” 

If you don’t make her quiet, you’ll at least reduce her words to pathetic moans. You’d say you’re successful. Your rapid thrusts send Hyeju’s screams paralleling the night wind with their strength. 

You’re surprised again and again at how loud she could get. She’s always so quiet except for the occasional sarcastic remark. She can make no more of those if faced with the relentless fingering you do unto her pussy. They draw out strings of dampness when they withdraw, and fill her right to the knuckles when you go back in. Her hips squirm and you have to place a hand on her thigh to continue.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy!” she screams. Her mouth is open while she sits up to look at what you’re doing to her vulnerable cunt. “It feels so fucking good, don’t stop!”

She looks beautiful. Her shirt is lifted above her breasts, making them bounce madly due to the timing and force of your thrusts. Her eyes could never be more watchful. She can’t believe she actually has you between her legs and fingering her to orgasm.

“Got any comeback for me, Hye?” you ask smugly. 

Hyeju nods. Her lips are parted again. Although you haven’t had sex with her except for now, you know what that dropped jaw means: she’s close.

Her walls are impossible to part completely. She’s too damn tight that you bet she’d still be so with one finger. The grip of her slippery, wet cunt is like no other. You reach deep into it and stroke out till you find the place. That’s how Hyeju starts to shiver. She can’t manage it.

“Oh, yeah? What do you have to say now, sweet?” Wrap your lips around her nipple. It’s another one of your unfair advantages over her.

“I-I-I—I can’t!” 

The recoil of Hyeju’s tits is amazing. Harshly squeeze the boob you’ve relatively neglected to make sure she can’t get a word out of those pretty lips. Take a further step and smack it, too. She moans in satisfaction. Your harsh squeezes imprint a replica of your hand on her pale skin. 

Of course, you don’t forget to keep your fingers going. You change techniques now and then, switching from gentle circling to rapid fire shoving. Whether it’s one or the other, Hyeju’s fuckhole swallows you up. She doesn’t mind which or what; she needs your harshness the most. It’s what counts as a whole.

“Daddy, I’m gonna cum! Please make me cum on your fingers, make your babygirl cum… oh—oh, fuck!”

Combined with your thumb nudging her small clit and your digits absolutely destroying her tightness, Hyeju does the unthinkable: she squirts on your hand and on your bed. Liquid gushes on your shirt; it’s so consistent and clear that a new determination is founded within you. It’s to make your unbearably hot best friend cum like she never has.

For the record, it’s the first time you’ve made a girl squirt. You didn’t expect that it would be this satisfying. Seeing Hyeju’s blissful face and the shake of her beautiful legs make your efforts worth it. Watching yourself do it to your best friend and make her feisty, boyish self let out screams and pleas brings increased triumph.

“No, oh god, it’s too much!” Hyeju says this but her legs part more. Her head is tossed back and her moans don’t stop. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I can’t—daddy!”

“Messy little brat.” Rub away at her clit. Feel the spurt of her cum hit your finger. “That’s it, cum for daddy. Keep those pretty thighs open.”

Hyeju mewls at the mixture of degradation and moans. If Daniel had said that to her, she probably would have thrown up in a bucket. When it’s you, on the other hand, everything changes. She wants you to call her every harsh name out there and accompany it with sides of praise. She’ll only feel this good when she’s with you.

Hyeju is anything but obedient. Things change here in the dorm, where her pussy is spread and prone to your touch. Her midriff, soft yet slender, rises over and over. The hose of her wet orgasms still hasn’t stopped.

“Goddammit, you’re squirting so much. Am I that good, hm, Hyeju? Is daddy that good to his pretty little girl?” 

“Mmm, mmm, don't— no more, daddy, no more!” Hyeju’s core is already spent, and you haven’t even put your cock in her yet. 

Stop. Not before you leave a kiss to the sensitive bundle of nerves that you abused. It’s a mark now, something invisible that subtly says to everyone that you got to fuck her. You got to fuck Son Hyeju. You made her cum like never before.

Spit on Hyeju’s center then spread it to her lips and nub. She moans. “You’re so wet, Hye.”

“Whatever.” She’s blushing. “I’ve had better.”

You have to say you’re a little provoked. You know it’s false seeing the smug look on her face and after making her squirt, but who exactly has done her better? Daniel? Definitely not him. The possibility still does well to spur you to jealousy.

“Oh,” you say, smiling tightly, “so that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?”

Hyeju gasps happily when she’s pushed to the wall and on her knees. It’s reminiscent of how Daniel did exactly that: pinning her to the wall before kissing her. Your anger brews into a fire just thinking about him. 

“Yeah. What’re you gonna do about it?”

Unbuckle your belt. Your jeans join it on the floor as well as your briefs. “I’m gonna clean that dirty mouth of yours.”

“And how are you gonna do that, daddy?” Hyeju pretends not to know what’s coming.

It’s your belief that actions speak louder than words. That’s why when you place your cock in between Hyeju’s lips, it resonates inside her more than your promise to purify her mouth. Logic fails here when dirty sins can’t remove Hyeju’s dirty words. One wrong and another doesn’t make a right. Oh, who cares? This isn’t a class. This isn’t your thesis. You focus only on feeling the softness of her triangular mouth, the wetness of the back of her throat.

Holding your cock by the base, you lead its tip into rubbing every corner of Hyeju’s mouth. Her cheeks make an outline of your girth as you press your head against them. Her jaw becomes slack after you press your dick down to her tongue. You’re technically doing all the work here because you’re fucking her face, but you’d argue that Hyeju contributes just as much with her tearful eyes that are more puppy than wolf.

The shape of her wet orifice leaves ample space for you to rub against everything. Your tip draws a triangle on her lips right before slipping inside. There you keep your word and clean her dirty mouth. Push those naughty words down her throat with immediate thrusts. That way, she can only moan, nothing else. No sass can be heard from her now.

“You’re such a bad girl, Hyeju,” you say. Curl your hand ‘round her messy hair and direct it downwards. She groans, her mouth now upright for yout fuck easier into. “You shouldn’t like having your mouth used like this. You shouldn’t be on your knees for your best friend when your boyfriend’s waiting for you at home.”

Hyeju knows you’re right. She shouldn’t. She isn’t supposed to enjoy having her throat rammed and spread. She shouldn’t be cheating on the man she claims to love. It’s a mistake of hers to be here anyway, underneath another man. 

Her second mistake is to like everything the way it is..

Her third is to tongue your shaft like she would a sweet treat. She wants to taste all of you, from your thick tip to the base. She’s not had much to work on with Daniel, but she knew it would be a good time when you sprung out your cock. She makes this worth it—she seals her lips at your base, her nose pressed firmly at the bottom of your tummy, then produces such a harsh suction that the grip you have in her black locks of messy hair tightens. A curse is what you let out besides precum. 

“Fuck,” you say. Pull her head closer. Aggressive thrusts fire away. “Didn’t know your pouty little lips could suck dick so well. I bet it’s bulging your throat. Is daddy right about that?”

She tries to nod. Her gags stop her intended action; your thrusts have sped up and are now destroying her tight throat. No space is left for her to breathe when her mouth is stuffed with your length. Even her nostrils can’t take in much air if her nose is pressed that tightly to your stomach.

Place a hand on the wall in order for there to be no aches for her head when you thrust wildly. “You know, I changed my mind. Maybe you’re a good girl, especially with that face. Go on, touch yourself. I know you want to.”

Permission is granted by her daddy. Hyeju gives a cry in response then leads her hand between her legs. Letting you fuck her face has made her wet beyond imagination. She doesn’t need to press directly on her pussy when there’s slick all over her thighs. She gathers them all up and places them back in her pussy. She moans as she swirls her digits inside her. Here’s how it works: she has one hand masturbating, and the other on your thigh to caress it and at the same time keep her balance.

Take note of that. “You’re a smart girl, Hyeju. Smart girls shouldn’t be letting their faces get fucked. We can’t have that happen, right?”

You say that yet your actions tell a different story. Your violent pumps into Hyeju’s mouth to use it to the limits are endless. Hyeju’s moaning. She enjoys it more than she should. Of course, you jam those moans, as pretty as they are, down her throat. 

Slap your cock on her lips.

“You know what I mean.”

Slip the whole of your length out then in again. Make her brush those luscious lips against every inch.

“We really, really can’t have that happen.”

Caress her cheek. Her eyes are awaiting and obedient. Look down into them and almost feel bad for ruining her, your best friend.

“Daniel might walk in anytime. He’ll be looking for you.”

Your movements are cruel as time goes by. You shouldn’t be treating your best friend like this. You shouldn’t even be having sex with her. All of these ought to stop you in your tracks—you don’t.

“And what will he say when he sees his precious girlfriend on her knees for his best friend?”

Hyeju begins to whine. She doesn’t want him to walk in; she’s enjoying this too much. What she doesn’t want to happen even more is for you not to blow your load inside her warm throat. People can’t have what they want all the time, but she swears she won’t want anything else if you just give her what she wants. That’s for you to absolutely use her. Be cruel to her and it wouldn’t sting.

“He’ll start to think how better you are with me. You’re a bad girl, Hyeju. You know that and you still want me.”

You’re right in every way. She is better with you. You just fuck her better, treat her better, kiss her better. She can’t kiss better the wound she’ll leave in Daniel if he just so happens to walk in. Maybe she could, but she’d put salt on it when he discovers how good you make her feel. It isn’t fair to anybody. To you, the one she accidentally hurt; to Daniel, who was the one (no, make that the two with how he was her last resort and how she gave him false hope); to her, who can’t go without you.

“Let go.”

Nine.

It takes exactly nine strokes in between her folds for her to cum. Drool sheens your girth. Some even drip from her mouth. It’s like she’s in heat; she’s whining as she tries to cum and suck you off at the same time. Hyeju ends up sucking your shaft with desperation, legs quivering and threatening to give away.

“Cum with me, Hyeju,” you command her. Pull out, rather regretfully, but take comfort with how pretty she’d look covered in your cum. Your hand wraps around you and jerks you off. Although it can’t match Hyeju’s mouth or her ass, it’ll do well in shooting your load on her.

Your best friend keeps calling your name squeezed between “daddy”s as she fingers herself to orgasm. She collapses pathetically on the floor, in a pool of sweat and cum. Her shirt and the floor of your shared dorm room are stained. No need to wonder where those white stains come from; the only suspects are you and Hyeju. It’s a partnered crime for her squirt comes out at such a velocity that it rivals your cumshots.

“Take my load, Hyeju, fuck!”

If there’s anything Hyeju isn’t, it’s submissive. It somehow changes when she nods and opens her mouth. You’re introduced to a whole new side of her. Her post-orgasm face is one you hope to admire everyday. Look at the expressions she makes when her eyes are crossed and her tongue is out for you and you have difficulty choosing between the two. 

You and Hyeju exchange a tired look. If you’re to be specific, a look is how everything starts. You became friends with her because she was staring at you too long a time in class. You quickly reunited with her in college when you looked to your back to see to whom the familiar voice belonged. It took one quick glance to see that Daniel had kissed her in the noraebang.

Similarly, a look is what causes you to shamelessly throw Hyeju on the bed again. By now her limbs curl into yours like this were a completely natural thing that happened between you, as if she were always being fucked and manhandled like this. Your kisses now are more aggressive, too. They aren’t nervous like earlier, when you still weren't sure if doing this was right. Hyeju responds by engaging in a battle for dominance, pushing forward and pulling the forces connecting you. 

You win in the end.

Slam her back down to the mattress. Her anticipation is written clearly in her eyes. “I’m going to ruin you, Son Hyeju,” you say.

She laughs in your face. “Bet.”

Alright. You’ll show her. It’s a friendly bet you’ll take all seriousness in.

Align your dick with her waiting cunt. You shed all attempts to tease her or dive into foreplay. What she needs is your cock inside her, rearranging her insides. If that’s so, you’ll give it to her. 

“Oh!” Hyeju gasps. Her pretty eyes are big above her hands covering her face. She never guessed you would feel this good inside her. “You’re so fucking big, daddy. It's, it’s better than I imagined, fffuck.”

Steer all your weight into this thrust specifically. Your tip makes contact with her G-spot and sends her legs shaking. Send her a couple inches further on the mattress. Her godly tits begin another round of bouncing. There’s no other routine you’d love to watch. 

Already you've put your hands on her hips. They’re to pull her closer if she gets lost. Again. You have to make sure you won’t lose her this time. This chance was given to you for a reason. You have to keep her here, show her all the love you’ve kept bottled up all these years.

Hyeju squirms a lot. That’s what your grip is for. It’s to keep her on the bed so she can easily receive your pumps. And what a good job she does at receiving them—Hyeju’s hips shiver as they’re subjected to a force her sensitive pussy can’t handle. She’s always going into things she can’t handle. This is no different. Time with Daniel was okay, but you’re a different story. You ensure that she’s always filled to the hilt until she’s bottoming out. 

Deeper and deeper you go. Your cock knocks up into her tummy. You curse; it’s hotter than it’s supposed to be. Something as simple as that shouldn’t be so arousing.

“Oh, you like that? You… you like seeing your big cock stuffing my little pussy?” asks Hyeju. Her teeth are parted to let in air she so desperately needs to formulate these words. She knows they’ll turn you on. “I know you do, daddy. Look at your meat ruining my insides. You’re going to cum so much inside me. And I’ll take it all. I’m a good girl. I’ll show you I’m a good girl.”

She leads your hand to her throat and closes your digits around it. Get the message. Squeeze there tight. Her strangled gasp is everything.

“You are, huh?” you say. Your composure is long gone. “Are you always this tight, Hyeju? Are you always this good? Or is it just for daddy?”

There’s something incredibly hot in the way Hyeju gushes and screams for you. Her nipples stand in the air, aroused by the quick penetrating done to her pussy. It seems almost impossible for her to be this wet. Each push of your hips brings forth a gush of wetness that wets the sheets and your joined crotches. Bring out your cock for a second to quickly flick its tip on her clit.

Hyeju gropes her own chest with closed eyes. “Ohhhh, fuck!” 

Return to your routine of drilling her. Her whole body reacts violently to your pounding. Moreover, every part of Hyeju’s beautiful body screams to be touched. Her jiggling thighs and breasts, her midriff prone to your thrusts, her face that’s never looked this slutty… where should you start? Your touch is given multiple choices, and you choose all of them. Your hands roam her body and squeeze and feel and grope. In response, she moans. The volume of her acute voice turns up with each, almost like her body has triggers that would draw out louder sounds. 

You think of it that way and now Hyeju’s screaming as you propel inside her while keeping a hand on her clit. 

“Daddy, o-only you, daddy!” she proclaims in a helpless scream. “No one can make me feel as good as you do, just keep fucking me, don’t stop!”

You’ve got your answer. Smile in satisfaction and, since she’s a good girl and gave the correct response, lean it to worship her breasts. Does slapping them count as worshiping? Hyeju thinks it does—her high groans and yells are enough to be context clues. You marvel at the size of her chest, so subtle with the baggy clothes she wears but now in their full, naked glory before you. It’s impossible for them to be presented to you without a squeeze being done.

“You like my tits, daddy? I’ll let you fuck them all you want, just finish inside me. I’m safe today. Promise, p-pro—”

Bury yourself deep inside her, to the point that your cockhead pushes at her cervix. Fill her up. Hyeju moans happily. She rolls her body up and down. The stimulation seduces you into making (kind of) breeding her a job well done.

“Thank you, daddy.” she sighs. She’s still erotically grinding her hips. It’s karma for overstimulating her a little earlier when your fingers filled her. 

“S-stop, Hyeju.”

“Stop? Alright, sure. I think that’s enough now. Daddy doesn’t want to fuck my tits anymore.”

Naughty little brat. She knows just the right words to tick you off and turn you on. It makes you want her to pound her into the bed again so that not even the old mattress can forget that it was the place you and Hyeju fucked.

“I’m just kidding, silly. Sit down! Yes, thank you.” 

She flashes you a smile after you do as she says. It’s a rare moment in this session with her that she has the say in what happens. Somehow. It can’t be completely true, not when she’s on her knees again for you. Not when her tongue trails worshipful lines on your cock and draws tight licks on your tip. Shiver. You’re a bit sensitive yourself.

“Now see how good this feels?” 

She takes her glorious breasts in her hands and wraps them around your cock. You let out a guttural moan. Hyeju’s tits rival her mouth and pussy. It’s a close competition, with the advantage of softness most of all. Oh, when she starts to move, gliding her supple skin up and down your size, you almost cum on the spot.

Her bosom is a portal to heaven, you swear. Your legs feel light. Your core is hot as your size disappears between her breasts, buried in the soft and safe haven she provides. The friction is so overwhelming that you doubt it could even be a real sensation.

She makes a show of rubbing your tip on her nipple, similar to what you did to her clit. The two of you are sensitive, so you moan in harmony as it happens. After gliding your cock on her large breasts, she goes back to titfucking you. 

It’s all a matter of technique. Whenever she presses her chest together, your cock is suffocated with euphoric tenderness. On the other hand, when she simply moves up and down, you’re given the opportunity to grind down at the skin between her pale breasts. Each route leads to an inevitable fate: exploding all over her a second time.

"P-please stop, Hyeju," you say. You can't handle no more and there's so many more things you want to do to her.

"Awh." She pouts. Fat tears risk spilling from her eyes. God, she could be so cute sometimes. "What do you want, daddy? I can be good."

"Turn around."

"Ohhh, I see what you want." Hyeju turns around and spanks herself. Her ass ripples photogenically. "Of course. Of course you want it."

Hyeju can be so many things. A few minutes earlier she was a submissive babygirl for her daddy, and right before that she was a brat. Now, she transforms into a seductress. She doesn't lace or lingerie to become one. She has that fantastic body to do the work for her.

Hyeju starts to dance. Your eyes are trained on her. They never want to see anything else than her swaying her butt with a dancer's grace and charm. 

"Giving me a show, huh?" 

"Unless daddy wants it already." 

"I do."

She squeezes her ass cheek before reaching her pussy. Then, she rubs her wetness on her pink, puckered hole. She lathers some at the inside of the rim, too. She didn't expect to fuck you today, no matter how many times she's dreamed of it, so there's no lubricant around. Hyeju has to make do.

"Oh!" she squeals when you give her a playful smack on the ass. "Impatient. Daddy's impatient. Don't worry, I'll give it to you."

“You did this before?”

“Duh.” Hyeju smiles sweetly, quickly returning to her good girl side. “You ready now, daddy?”

Apparently, it’s a rhetorical question, for Hyeju immediately guides your tip into her backside. You do your part in spreading her cheeks. Both of you moan at the first contact. It’s difficult by itself to insert just your tip through. She’s too tight. 

You’re sinking into this long-chased dream. You’ve seen Hyeju walk around the dorm with no shorts on. Sometimes you're able to catch a glimpse of her bare ass when she dresses up in the dark. It’s normal when it’s with you, considering that your friendship transcends time, but she doesn’t know that yearning’s been put in your heart in those moments. You want her. You want Son Hyeju.

And now, she’s submitting herself to you. She’s given you her body, her tits, her pussy. Now she offers you an equally delicious choice: her supple ass that’s bouncy as it finally sits down completely on your lap. 

“Good daddies bounce their babygirls on their knees, right? Should’ve known that, dummy. So come on, pound me. It isn’t hard.”

Well, you are. Hyeju’s ass is constricting you yet you enjoy every second of it. Her tight little asshole clings to you as you do as she says. You’d do anything for Hyeju, and that doesn’t exclude engaging in anal sex with her.

Choose a rhythm to go by to enjoy the tightness Hyeju gives you to the fullest. She leans into you and hums quietly, lower lip worried between her teeth and ass steadily rising and resting. The flexes of your thigh also stimulate her needy pussy. Your knee brushes her clit steadily while your cock penetrates her asshole better than any toy could. Better than any boy would.

“Oh, that feels so good, daddy…” Hyeju murmurs. “Keep spreading me like that, yes.”

Just when she thought you’d switch to being gentle, your thrusts become sporadic. She can’t find which timings you’re going by. The calm before the storm, so to say. Hyeju’s whimpers and whines are your thunder, and they soon live up to their name when they grow louder, filling your ears as would the violent downpour of raindrops. 

“D-daddy, daddy, oh my god—” Pain partners up with pleasure in wrecking her hole. Darn you for reaching in front of her to rub her clit as well. Too many things are happening at the same time. “Daddy better make me cum, please, please—”

Your size fills the tight space of her ass so much that it’s difficult to move. The juices of her pussy that she’s used as makeshift lube can’t even do the job they’re assigned to. However, you don’t care about that. You simply fuck Hyeju’s fat, delectable ass like it’s been your long-term dream. In a way it is, but you’d be dreaming about it long after it’s already been fulfilled.

Hyeju stands up to take the lead and work her butt on you. You know she’s an excellent dancer but you never knew she could be this good at twerking either. 

“Holy shit, Hyeju, your little asshole feels amazing,” you moan. Spank her, though she’s undeserving of punishment when she’s amazing at using that ass.

“And your cock is so fucking big in my ass,” she says. “I don’t want anything else, daddy. Ohh, god, keep doing that.”

Her rear end bounces and claps together as they take in your fat cock. She looks back at you lustfully, watching you ruin her supple ass. Reach for her breasts to match the velocity of her thrusts. You’re two forces colliding, each filled with fire to defeat the other with pleasure. It’s a losing game when Hyeju’s ass is just as good as her pussy, which you continue playing with to bring her to orgasm.

“Good girl, Hye, keep bouncing that fat ass on daddy,” you whisper in her ear. Love to hear her weak little moans; they show you that she likes this as much as you do. Probably more. “You want to cum, right? You want to squirt on me again?”

“Yes, daddy, please!” Hyeju is in paradise although her skin feels like it’s been set on fire. She hasn’t felt this good before. “No other cock can do me the way you do, daddy, I’m all yours! Make me cum, cum inside me, daddy!”

You’ve changed her. She’s a totally different person outside of the bedroom. She hides her approval in sarcastic comments and teases you about them. How is it that she’s completely submissive and good for you? 

Your ego swells. Smack her pussy just enough to make her gasp. “Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours, daddy!” 

“And this ass?”

“It’s all yours, daddy,” sobs Hyeju. “Always so fucking big inside me, so much better, you need to make me cum—”

Pull her down to your lap then thrust inside her all while not letting an inch withdraw from her snug butthole. “Cum for me,” you say.

“Ohhhh fuck!” 

Hyeju begins her sexy body rolls again as a profane spray of clear liquid fires from her pussy. She’s so wet; when you rub her clit, a squelching sound is produced. She’s too turned on from the feeling of you savage pounding inside her. She slaps her own pussy to go along with your rubbing, then leads your fingers inside her cunt again. She’s still so tight. 

The combined feeling of two of her holes being violated has her tired. She could be murmuring a spell and you wouldn’t know because of how jumbled and jarred her words are. The syllables make out your name and title. At least, that’s what you could understand. It would take an experienced veteran transcriber to make sense of Hyeju’s sounds.

You blast her ass with so much cum that it overflows, like water threatening to spill from the brim of a glass. Your joined cores are so wet and sticky that neither of you feel like moving. You want to stay in the narrow yet pleasurable comfort of each other’s touch forever.

It’s so pleasant that you could only hear the gratifying sound of each other’s pants and not the knocks on your door.

So safe that you don’t hear the sound of a lock being skewered with because each other’s bodies are more homely than this dorm.

So distracting that when he comes in through the door and yells in disgust, it’s the first time you feel an awakening sobriety.

[singingcicadas]

The beginning of the Decepticons according to Megatron:

The beginning of the Decepticons What Actually Happened:

That it could ever be called a revolution of the oppressed is a joke. Megatron's philosophy is purely pugno ergo sum. I fight, therefore I am. His first recruitment speech was a promise for power, made to the most bloodthirsty audience he could dig up from the dregs of society. Those people were there because they thrived off the bloodsport. They wanted audition to join Megatron in the pits. Megatron offered them something even better: turn the entire planet into our gladiatorial arena, and we take.

Ever since the beginning Megatron viewed the Decepticons as nothing but a tool, to be used and thrown away. He wanted them to be as ruthless as possible in order to wipe out all opposition, but once his end goal's achieved, well, there's no place for ruthlessness in a perfect society under his absolute control. Therefore, remodelling and recreating. It doesn't sound like he wants to rule over actual people with individual personalities, he wants a bunch of mindless drones programmed for obeisance and peace and hardcoded to Do What Megatron Says.

Ravage and Tarn. It's interesting how they both use the word "emancipated" when lauding Megatron's accomplishments, when it's clear that Megatron did so for the practical purpose of bulking up his army. He overthrew those in power because he wanted to be the one in power. The only one. The people he "emancipated" were just exchanging one set of shackles for another, as they had no choice other than to join the Decepticon army. Not fighting was not an option. Cowardice was punishable by traitor's wheel. Going neutral was also not an option. Soundwave had specific anti-neutral pogroms for those.

I wonder if they knew what "the Megatron they loved" had in mind for the Decepticons after they won the war. The remodeling and recreating. Or maybe they thought that's just for the lowly genericons. That they would be exempt from such treatment because they were confident of their privileged places at Megatron's side. After all, if you're rooting for someone whose motto is peace through tyranny, you'd do so with the expectation that it's only Other People who are going to get tyrannized.

It's true that he did rise against an oppressive government, despite it being the goal to replace it with himself as the tyrant.

But he also thought the single admirable quality about Zeta was his ruthlessness. As in trying to kill an entire city of his own people to fuel his vamparc ribbon. And he said that in front of Hot Rod, who was forced to bomb his own city to stop Zeta from winning. Even disregarding the twisted values here, this is still fifteen levels up the insensitivity lane. No wonder Hot Rod didn't want to join up.

Torture's for fun and domination. It takes a special kind of sadistic streak. And this is before the war even officially started.

Thundercracker's view on the Decepticon cause, when he defected to save humans from the nuke:

"Everything we have done here" - Just here? He'd either been living under a rock for the entirety of the war or has some serious misunderstandings about what the Decepticon name is.

Or just been willfully blind for four million years and the deaths of a hundred billion lifeforms until the day he decided to grow a conscience. Same with Soundwave.

Tarn's a really good case study because he's the poster boy of Megatron's Decepticon propaganda. Megatron probably spoonfeeds him the stuff by the gigabytes and he regurgitates them with twice the zeal and tenfold the pretentiousness. He's also the embodiment of the vices and tragedy of the Decepticons as a whole, as created by Megatron. A sadistic hypocrite, a glorified thug, a delusional fanatic, a customized tool for use and dispose. Crippled by the blinkering desire to be superior, to be part of a greater cause.

Megatron cares nothing for Tarn, just like how he cares nothing for the Decepticons. During the war they were a means to an end. After Megatron's defection, their "toxic loyalty" became a personal burden, a blemish from his past that he would like to cast aside and move on from but annoyingly refuse to leave him alone.

The road-sweepers and the haulers. The miners. What were they to Megatron during the war? Disposable cannon fodder. A pretty banner to hide behind. For a movement that likes to justify itself as a revolution of the oppressed, the emancipation of the disenfranchised, there's certainly a distinct lack of those classes among the upper Decepticon ranks. Megatron said in his recruitment speech that he wanted strength and power. Then where did that leave the weak and sick, the empties on the streets?

Nowhere but the smelting pool, to be recycled into something useful for the great Decepticon cause. They should be honoured, really.

Freedom fighters? No, freedom won't be missed. Probably has something to do with the remodelling and recreating part.

Starscream's only partially right. It was absolutely Megatron's intent to tap into that well of rage and resentment, and he meant for the riot to happen. Of course it got away from him in the end - that's what happens when you cobble an army out of bloodthirsty power-hungry degenerates, half of which were on board for the violence, half for their own scheming agendas, and the rest stitched together by charisma and fear - but he'd shaped the events enough to come a hairsbreadth away from winning multiple times. People like Shockwave and Scorponok were treacherous, but they weren't the reason that Megatron lost the war.

It was his own blind arrogance that led to his downfall.

No he didn't lose his way. He's exactly where he set himself out to be, from the moment he gave that speech in the arena. Perhaps even earlier, to that gradual slide when killing his opponent in a match no longer felt like a guilty burden but instead brought him the sweet rush of satisfaction. There was no revolution. There was no righteous cause. There was no for the people and never has been, because he did not care about other people. Four million years and countless deaths, and it was only really about one insanely self-centered person and his deluded ambition of peace through tyranny.

Hence his breakdown, because he'd just been hit in the face with the realization that he was Wrong. And has been wrong for the past four million years. He wasted everyone's lives. He wasted his own life, wasted it on anger and destruction and hatred, with nothing but regrets to show for it.

I believe that Megatron believed he's telling the truth here. I believe that he meant every word he said, except for that one "we" on the second last line.

Because that "we" should really be "me".

The Megatron who wrote about pacifist rhetoric, who was compassionate enough to share his fuel with the injured, who cared about others and had genuine friendships, that Megatron died a long time ago in the pits. Ever since then, every murder, every atrocity he'd committed in the name of "the people" was just facist rationalization.

I'm sure that he likes the sound of "emancipation of the people" or "freedom of choice" as a concept. But when it comes down to individual people? With actual, real choices that conflicts with his desire for absolute rule? Nope. He's the only one who should get to make choices. The only one who should have choices. Because he knows best.

Form dictates your function ❌; Megatron dictates your function ✅

Function dictates your fate ❌; Megatron dictates your fate ✅

Great minds must think alike, because Megatron and the Functionalist council in the Functionalist universe did a lot of the same stuff. Massacring the Senate. Recycling people who are deemed useless burdens. Remodelling and recreating. Imperalism and genociding organics. Killing all dissenters. The Functionalists even got pretty close to Megatron's ideal of peace through tyranny with 99% of the planet fitted with brain bombs and kissing the ground at their feet. They even managed to do it while maintaining a habitable planet and full population. And Megatron took one look and was disgusted.

Megatron wasn't a misunderstood revolutionist who had his heart in the right place when he started his war. The Decepticons didn't start out well-meaning and turned bad somewhere along the way. At no point in their movement were they ever true freedom fighters. They were always Facists, through and through. They were worse than the Functionalists they hated and the Senate they overthrew. And it's important to acknowledge this because (other than it's weird to see such an obvious Facist analogy being associated with freedom fighters) otherwise you don't get the whole depth of Megatron's redemption arc, especially in the Functionalist universe.

Like the impact of this scene wouldn't be fully apparant unless you take into account that when Megatron first formed the Decepticons, all he cared about was their fighting strength. He did not care about his troops, he did not care about individual people. He considered himself above everyone and everything. He would have sneered at such a weak, ineffective form of protest. Now he's actually being supportive and seeing people as people, instead of pawns to be used.

Here he's genuinely happy to see the Decepticons, even those in the very bottom of the pecking order, taking enough care to greet them each by name. And also Fulcrum, who he sentenced to death twice.

For once in his life he's actually trying to do the Right Thing instead of focusing on himself, either on his ambitions or his remorse. The people in the Functionalist universe have nothing to do with him, yet he wants to help anyway. And he's finally appreciating the value of self-determination for what it is, instead of trying to twist it to serve his own purposes or turn it into Megatron-determination.

"No one can decide how you live your life except for you." Back before, he was going to remodel his entire army to achieve his peace through tyranny. Autonomy and free will were considered things that won't be missed.

Megatron learned to care about other people! Peace through empathy is such a groundbreaking step for his character because he used to have no empathy! He stayed true to his ideals for eight centuries despite the hardships, despite his personal losses, despite the AVL being driven to near extinction and not knowing if he would ever return to his own universe. During all those years he could have had ten million chances and excuses to break his vow of pacifism or leave on the Last Light, taking the easy way out, and there would have been no one to stop him.

But he didn’t.

[angelsdxmise]

METANOIA

Pt. 2 to ORPHIC

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 when Bakugou is paired with a girl that’s not spared a glance for a project, he wants to explode. Why does his mind keep going blank when he looks at you then?

Contains: tiny bit of angst, readers a little hopeless, imagine the rest urself, there might be profanity idk i dont remember

a/n: 2.7k words 😔 plz consider reblogging and sending requests! btw pls remember italics mean reader is thinking. enjoy the fic ❤️

Your dorm room matched your personality somehow, and then again, it didn’t. 

It had posters, a TV, and a bookshelf filled with figures from your favorite mangas, decorative sculptures everywhere, and classic LEDs. Your room seemed to also have a main color, which was black. Though it managed to maintain some color. 

Thank the gods you had cleaned your room when you finished eating, because if you hadn’t it would’ve been very much flammable. You usually wouldn’t be worried about it, but since someone who has quite a destructive quirk turned up to your dorm demanding to be let in, you felt relieved.

A low, calming rhythm played on your speaker as you reviewed your slides. An herbal incense flooded your senses as you relaxed. You were so calm that you almost forgot Bakugou was next to you.

“Hey, I think you forgot to add my quirk’s drawbacks.” You flatly spoke. You never looked away from your laptop as your brows furrowed in utter concentration. You moved your hair out your face, slightly fanning yourself as you breathed out short huffs. You closed your balcony doors and turned your fan off to have your incense earlier, which you may have regretted.

Bakugou held back a long groan as he added another slide. “Tell me what they are.” He grumbled in a stale tone. He wanted to plug his nose and ears since he wasn’t used to such a strong smell. While you explained your quirk drawbacks and the reason for them, he cut you off in the middle of the sentence to ask,

“Is that a Rob Zombie poster?” 

Your head perked up in acknowledgment as you lost focus due to your zeal. Does he like Rob Zombie? Am I dreaming right now? “Uh, yeah.. do you--do you not like him?” You stammered out. A pang of shame ran through you, he was just a boy with a bad temper. There’s no point in being so scared.

“Why else would I be asking about it?!” He yelled, which put a beaming smile on your face. “Sorry! You don’t—I mean, you just surprised me!” You quickly explained, “I can play some of his songs, or you could just put your own playlist on my speaker.”

You took his phone and connected it to the speaker which temporarily paused your music, and handed it back to him which he aggressively snatched. Once he finally picked a playlist after scrolling endlessly, you actually ended up having similar music tastes. “I never took you for someone who liked a lot of rock bands, but for some reason, I’m not that surprised.” You played with the bracelets on your wrists as you admitted the last part of your sentence.

Bakugou took note of this and took his fingers off his keyboard. “You’ve learned something new then.” He shut his laptop and put his study supplies in the bag. Your voice made him pause for a moment. “Could you uh, send me the playlist? You don’t have to, I just like your taste.” 

He set his bag down and looked at you. “Give me your phone number.” He abruptly said, taking you off guard. “Huh?!” 

“I need your number to send the link, dumbass!” He snatched your phone out of your hands and made a new contact of himself. He didn’t even bother giving it a name. He kept muttering words you couldn’t make out, so you felt a little scared. When he stood, you quickly called out a thank you which he acknowledged with a small wave before closing your door.

At the sound of your door closing, you just sat there processing what happened. A smile didn’t leave your face and you didn’t feel any shame to force it to go away. Days like this were unusual for someone like you. Being on good terms with the most hot-headed student at UA. It’s best to say you had a peaceful sleep that night.

For once you had hope for your school life. Maybe you could save your social life a little. But, of course, your desires seem impossible to reach once you return to class. 

Your head rested against your desk as one of your hands reached down to pull your tights down, then came back up to cover your ear. It seems today was a cheerful day for the others as you overheard many of them talking about how their project would get full scores for how lucky they were with their partners.

Then, there were the booming voices of annoying teenage boys. Especially Mineta. You felt like you should start wearing pants to school in fear of him crawling under your desk and violating you in every way possible. Is this what Hell is like? Am I in the deepest circle?

Thankfully the class had quieted down immediately when Aizawa burst through the Class 1-A doors that were ginormous for some apparent reason. His voice made your head lift up in a stalled manner, as you felt sluggish today. You had been skipping on your nightly skincare, so your eyebags were still a little noticeable. 

You set your head in your palm as you wrote what you could manage, but ended up dozing off near the last hours. Even with a good sleep, you still managed to be exhausted. It’s difficult to live. 

You and your mom had left your dad and moved to Musutafu. You had to take what you could get when you got accepted into U.A. Honestly, you felt envious of people such as Yaoyorozu and Aoyama. You never really bought from designer brands when times were rough, and your mother had to alternate jobs.

As school ends and you’re on your way back to the dorms, you decide to take a quick walk down to any convenience store you can find. You held onto the strap of your backpack as you walked into the closest one, your eyes scanning for some bento sets. 

Once your eyes had landed on them, you selected one and made sure you had enough money to spare after purchasing it. Usually, the cashier for this store was shitty and had an attitude for no reason. But of course, you didn’t know his life so you tried to not judge. 

Confusion took hold of your senses as you didn’t see any cashier there. Oh well. You placed half the amount the bento costs on the counter, not necessarily stealing it, but giving what you felt he deserved. You put the rest of your money in your backpack’s side pocket as you made your way back to your dorm. 

A long walk is an understatement. It felt like 10 years was what it took to walk up that hill, wiping your forehead constantly as short huffs came from your throat. You opened the door to the dorms and darted straight for the elevator. The cool air made you relax for a moment before a beep came, and your feet dragged you out.

You woke up as your eyes spotted a small pouch sitting in front of your door. What’s this?.. you mused for a minute before picking it up and opening the door, a sudden warmth hitting your skin as you reached for your fan. You shut the door behind you as you hurriedly sat on your bed to open it up.

You reached for a small note that was inside which read, “I don’t know how you handle that herbal shit, use this.” Oh, it came from Bakugou. Your hands found another item, a cylinder-shaped object that made your eyes brighten in excitement as you quickly pulled it out.

He got me incense! An expensive one at that, no way! You flipped the incense packaging around, which read ‘Kitowa’. 

You stood to turn your fan off and went to your nightstand to replace your current incense with the gifted one. Once your lighter’s flame had hit the tip of the incense stick, a light woody smell filled your room which made your body slump and release a huge breath you didn’t know you were holding.

I should send him a thanks, it’s the least I could do. You reached over for your phone and opened his contact. You quickly typed out a ‘thank you for the incense Bakugou! It smells really nice.’ and stared at your message for a moment. You were pondering over your own message, and also making the realization that you were nervous.

You were genuinely nervous and giddy at the same time to send this text. You got over it anyway and made haste to throw your phone across the bed before kicking your shoes off and face-planting into your pillow. You didn’t make an effort to change as you succumbed to the exhaustion.

A loud knock woke you up, your eyes didn’t open as you sat up, trying to process what was going on. Another loud knock sounds and your eyes shoot open. What the hell? “Coming!” you groan out as you stand from your bed. Stumbling over your shoes and bag you reach your door, opening the handle. You’re met with the face of Bakugou. Okay, I’m definitely awake now..

“Change your clothes. There’s dinner downstairs and you haven’t come down at all.” His jagged voice interrupted your thoughts. “Wait—whaaa?..” You muttered, rubbing your eyes. “Hurry up.” He grabs the handle and closes your door.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t have the fattest grin on your face after he closed your door. You dug through your clothes, throwing on a pair of black sweatpants and a misfits band shirt. You grabbed your phone and stopped for a moment as you looked at the notification.

***: it's no problem 4:03 P.M.

***: where the hell are you? dinners been ready for 10 minutes come down 6:47 P.M.

He ended up coming to your dorm 5 minutes after he sent the last message. You put some socks on before opening your door up again, and you tried to swallow down the lump in your throat as you saw Bakugou with his back leaning against the wall, with his arms crossed.

His signature frown was still plastered across his face as his eyes set on you. “Move your feet faster, extra.” He rasped out, already heading for the elevator, you quickly followed behind and attempted to make an effort to hide the shock on your face.

He somewhat punched the common room button, and you flinched when he did.

He pressed the button to close the doors more gently.

The ride down was a bit awkward, but you found comfort in the silence. Once the doors had opened, you walked out behind him. He grabbed your wrist suddenly and leisurely pulled you to his side as he kept walking, never letting go until you made it to the kitchen.

A few classmates noticed and pointed it out to the rest, as you lightly scratched the back of your neck in embarrassment. I guess I’d be staring too if I saw someone with such a bad temper hanging around me. you thought as you grabbed a bowl. “Get me one too.” Bakugou insisted, and you stopped for a second. Reaching your other hand up, you said, “You haven’t eaten yet?” as you grabbed the second bowl and set it down. 

“I’m just grabbing seconds,” He began to fill his bowl as he glanced at you. “Everyone’s already eaten. The losers are gonna do a movie night.” Your eyes lost their light at the sound of that. Of course, nobody told you. You drowned in your own dismal as you filled up your bowl with food. The smell made you feel slightly better, but it was nowhere near happy.

Once you were done, you turned to Bakugou. “Thanks for bringing me down, I’m just gonna head back upstairs.” You spoke in a brittle voice, and before you could reach the elevator you heard his footsteps coming from behind you. You could tell he made an effort to catch up.

He didn’t turn his eyes to you or offer an explanation after he pressed his floor's button, and didn’t allow you to go to yours. You frowned, “What’re you doing?” He finally looks at you. “Back to my dorm.”

whaa.. HUH?

“Wait—what?” You couldn’t process his sudden words as he took your wrist once more in his free hand, dragging you along with him to his dorm. He opened his door and ushered you to the bed before closing it.

You reluctantly sat down, as it was the second and only time you’d been in his dorm for any purpose other than school. He sighed as he sat down with his back against the bed frame, and pulled his laptop out from his bag.

“If you don’t sit next to me, you’re not gonna be able to watch the movie, you idiot.” His words made your ears blaze with heat and you carefully scooted next to him, making sure not to spill any food. “Got anything you wanna watch?” He asked as he took a bite of the hotpot.

“Hmm.,” Your eyes drifted to the side as you thought, “What about The Florida Project?” You suggested, “It’s not on Netflix, we’d probably have to find a random website to watch it.” 

He smiled faintly, he’s seen that before and so have you. “I’m fine with that.” His tone was softer as he clicked away to find a website to watch the movie. As he pressed play you scooted a tiny bit closer to watch it.

Midway through the movie you both finished your bowls and made slight comments on every scene, and he evilly laughed at most of the sad scenes while you scolded him for it.

As the movie reached the end, you had been leaning against him with your head on his shoulder. He had one hand behind his head and the other resting against his thigh. You nearly cried.

As the movie finished, you fell asleep against him. He abandoned the movie a while ago, but not on purpose. He took a little time to think about you since you’d been running around his mind without consent anyway.

Not only were you pretty, but your personality seemed to be a calming point for him. You, yourself, seemed to tell him to chill. You liked similar things, and you introduced him to incense which he secretly had on his shelf, above his bed. He had also ended up putting in orders for a few new posters after seeing your room.

He took the chance of your sleeping state to quietly shut off his laptop and hesitantly reached his hand around your body to rest it on your hip. He rested his head against yours as he rubbed small circles on your skin.

You shifted a little and his heart jumped, not wanting you to think he was some sort of pervert. Bakugou was slightly sure that his classmates were asleep, so he decided to carry you back to your dorm.

You awoke the next morning in your bed, sluggishly rising up and stretching as your joints popped. 4:32 read the time, and you definitely couldn’t go back to sleep now. You decided to take the extra time and get ready for school.

You smoothed out your skirt as you took your seat, and this time you didn’t rest your head in your palm. You felt like you finally rested your body. Your eyes darted up as you heard a thud in front of you. It was.. Bakugou?

He crashed into the seat in front of you, putting his elbows on your desk and turning his body to you. “Let’s uh.. study at that new cafe that opened up.” He looked away as he huffed the words out, suddenly interested in the outside world.

Is he asking me on a date or something? “Oh.. I mean,” His heart dropped and his brows furrowed as you started to talk. He had doubts about you saying no, and it seemed they were coming true.

“Sure.. I was gonna ask you, actually.” You giggled, setting your hands on the desk as you tapped your nail occasionally against it. He turned back to you, and he had a genuine smile plastered across his face as he didn’t leave this time immediately. He stayed, and he talked with you.

And he would do it many, many more times.

pls do not post anywhere w/out permission

[strwbrryeyes]

𖦹°｡⋆ lev as a best friend

⟡ cw: fluff, friends to lovers, lev being a goof, lmk if i missed anything

⟡ a/n: lev is a dork

⟡ best friend series: yaku, kenma, kuroo || masterlist

best friend lev who you met when you ran into him one day because he wasn't paying attention to where he was walking. he apologized profusely and got you a drink from the vending machine as an apology.

best friend lev whose jaw dropped when he saw you were the nekoma volleyball manager when he first joined the team.

best friend lev who you got closer to when kenma asked you to stay a little while longer with them because didn't want to be alone with lev while helping him practice because he hates new people.

best friend lev who always asked you how you thought he was doing after every hit he landed looking for actual approval of his progress since kenma never gave any good criticism.

best friend lev who introduced you to alisa when you came over to help him study.

best friend lev who had to pry you from alisa's arms when she said she wanted to go shopping with you because he didn't want her stealing his 'smurf'.

best friend lev who calls you smurf because you're short and because one time he spilled blue paint on you when you guys were making a poster for a fundraiser the team was having.

best friend lev who you moved in with after high school so you guys could hang out while at college.

best friend lev who you always had to rush out the door because he moved soslow in the mornings or who you had to slap because he would get sidetracked on the way to class.

best friend lev who got scouted by a modeling agency one random night and came to you to ask what he should do because at this point alisa was a model too and he didn't want to take the spotlight away from her.

best friend lev who took your advice and talked to alisa about everything and ultimately decided that he would take up the offer.

best friend lev who brings you to every photoshoot so he wouldn't feel awkward.

best friend lev who caught feelings for you when you did his makeup for one of the shoots. he liked how gently you touched his face and how soft your hands were.

best friend lev who accidentally said 'yes' when a photographer asked him if you were his girlfriend.

best friend lev who panicked and said "well not yet!"

best friend lev who forgot alisa was there but remembered when she just said "just ask her out already you wuss!"

best friend lev who panicked even more and just loudly asked you out in front of everyone in the studio.

best friend lev who was relieved when you said yes after your laughing fit.

best friend lev who is now boyfriend lev who you now posed with for campaigns/magazines because he didn't want to be close to another woman.