#i suck at crafting thank you so much
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I tried, and I failed, but it could be worse haha xD I'm with a thousand things going on right now and had to leave commissions aside for this week, but I found some cold porcelain, and well, ended up doing a Sun on tiny free times
#fnaf daycare attendant#fnaf sb#fnaf security breach#fnaf#security breach#fnaf sun#sun/moon fnaf#sundrop#moondrop#i suck at crafting thank you so much
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I know that I've been MIA, but life is just Not Doing It for me rn, but I finally found a moment of peace to read everything, and I just wanted to say... Are you seriously trying to kill me???
My girl Carri and Dougie? THAT scene in particular??? (You know what I'm talking about)
Annie, love of my life, and Brady?? More cuddling? A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do... Brady being protective???
My lovely Judy and Rosie??
My darling Kennedy and Bucky???
This is Too Much for my heart, I can't take it đđđ
As always thank you so so very much đ
- your Carrie Anon
OMGGGG SWEET CARRIE ANON HELLO!!!!! đ„čđ«¶âš
donât you worry yourself at all! đ„ș i totally understand!!! life does its thing sometimes and we canât always be doing everything, so donât worry, carrie anon! :) (i just had an incredibly draining and chaotic semester finish up at college so i totally get it <3) itâs all good! just seeing this message from you brightened my day!!!! đ„č
AHHHHHH HEHEHE đ€đ€đ€
thank YOU so much for reading and enjoying all the lovely duos i have going on at the moment!! it seriously means so much to me, and to know theyâre all loved in their own ways!! i absolutely do know what carrie x dougie scene weâre talking about HEHE đ€âšand i am SOOOO glad you loved it AHHHHH (can confirm as i wrote it, i went oh weâre going there and BOOM!) no regrets at all, haha!!!
I AM ON THE PROTECTIVE BRADY AGENDA !!!!!!! he just gives those vibes sometimes of âi will be overly and overwhelming protective donât mess with meâ and i LOVE it (and we know heâd be protective over annie no matter, no matter the scenario and i couldnât help it!!! and thereâs much more of that where it came from hehe)
judy x rosie and kennedy x bucky my BELOVEDSSSSS i have so much in store for them and so much to explore and canât thank you enough for the love towards them! :â)
THANK YOU TRULY CARRIE ANON!!!!!!! i cant thank you enough, from the bottom of my heart :D i hope you have a wonderful rest of your day/evening/night!!!!! đ„čâšđ«¶
(did i get misty-eyed at the your carrie anonâŠ..yes yes i did <3)
#carrie anon u are so so lovely and wonderful#i am sending u the warmest hugs#sometimes life doesnât do itâs thing and it sucks :â(#but i hope in some way this has cheered you up!!!!!#THANK U FOR THE SILVER BULLETS LOVE <3333#i appreciate it so so much#(and thank u for the love on all my duos trulyâŠ..theyâve been so fun to craft and knowing they mean a lotâŠ.) (đ)#YOURE SO KIND!!!!#thank u again!#carrie anon
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how do you feel about the new tf2 leaks?
Oh it big sucks!
listen, this leak honestly makes me so mad im not even joking. not because of like, leaks like this cause so much trouble for the developers who own them (in how to combat it), or for the source licencees who are affected by the leak, but WHO it affects in this community.
say you've been working a beta recreation of 2Fort from Trailer 2 (since it's the version with the most footage), you've been working on it in your spare time for the past... 6 years lets say. you know the ins and outs of this map, you've watched footage and studied screenshots from around August 2006, and you've made an intense list of all the eras of 2Fort to ensure you have a timeline of eras so you know which to avoid and such.
so your beta 2Fort recreation is as accurate it can be from all the public media you could find from it. you've even gotten the sewers to be as low as they were in the beta combined with the higher water. there's some things left to your interpretation of the map, since the sewers have never been shown for example, and you push it out for people to play around on. this was basically your hobby for the past 6 years, and it meant so much to you to be able to create something with a love you can't put to words.
suddenly. the worst thing imaginable. a month after you post it? an entire developer repo leaks. and lets pretend it's got that version of 2Fort intact. that's a serious gut punch BUT, then you get comments from folks like "oh the actual 2fort leaked" "this is obsolete now" "oh well a recreation couldn't ever top a leak". it's demoralizing. it breaks their spirit for something they worked so hard on. the one thing you loved working on? well seemingly it doesn't matter now to the community you painstakingly made it for.
that's what hurts for me, is the people who've created content based off of things from TF2 (like the Spellcasters Witch), whom have made it from scratch, added their own personal touches like different outfits and hairstyles, to the ability to allow the user to recolour every part of that outfit. then a leak comes along and it seems everyone's ferally knashing their teeth at this leak. no leak can ever come close to the kind of love community members put into stuff.
that's why i hate this leak. and even with the 60 gigabytes of stuff that's leaked? people are still like "oh well this doesn't have everything đ". like sorry 60GB wasn't enough for you?
i hope we never see a TF2 leak again. this shit sucks and i hate the community around it.
#ask#catsmocha#i dont care whats in it. i dont care what maps are found. it fucking sucks#id have to imagine that any valve dev who had a slight want in working on TF2 again have quickly changed their mind from this#what do i know. im just some guy#but the whole ''cut content community'' for tf2 sucks#theyve been sitting on their hands waiting for the repo to leak. and theyre not even satisfied#now they want the SFM repo! which i bet doesnt exist. or wont exist now that this's happened#good job you idiots!#youll never see a TF2 leak after this point ill tell you that much. and good!!!! fuck 'em!!!#none of them deserve this stuff#sorry im just really mad at how people treat scrapped content for this game#theres so much stuff PUBLICLY AVAILABLE TO YOU that you can research through and find new stuff#but no đđ
gotta get my hands on that repo!!! cant waste my time looking elsewhere#it makes me so mad#legit my heart goes out to the content creators who made models and maps before this leak#you put so much work into your craft. im sorry its being ignored for this shit#thank you for the ask honestly. i feel like if i didnt have an ask like this i wouldve explođ„đ„đ„đ„đ„
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starting a new project
#gravity falls#stanford pines#now that im a MASTER at wood carving its time for me to carve a marionette#i want to carve him out of pine but pine sucks for carving so i will be using birch instead. or any other wood if i cannot acquire birch#im making a foam prototype first to get an idea of the 3d forms#i love you upholstery foam#i spent a few hours yesterday staring at wooden marionettes so i think im basically an expert now#im waffling back and forth on what style ill do his face in though#i like the style of these czech puppets so ill probably emulate that#but im not totally set on it yet#also i WILL be sewing him a tiny trench coat if i actually finish this project#and crafting tiny wireframe glasses of course#im having so much fun with this. and with gravity falls in general#god i love crafting and being inspired to craft strange projects#thank you bill for the inspiration <3333333#fluffle art
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Honestly I find it really funny how capitalism's reaction to crochet being brought back to life by the quarantine was "oh you know what's fashionable? Knitted fake-crochet clothes, they're so in! They're gonna sell a lot!"
#thank you capitalism for sucking the joy away from nice things#but in a way too funny and way too much kissing the point way#I haven't yet met a person who said#'god I wish I could just have the item wolithout needing to crochet it'#crafts most of the time are about the process#and so is art
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.
#tag talk#I keep getting customers being like âwow do you perform professionally?â and shit like that about my whistling and like..#no how do I tell you that I'm doing this for my own enjoyment and I don't think I'm better than anybody else I just think you all are worse#like. yeah I'm good at whistling that doesn't make me special or cool it just means everyone else sucks ass at whistling#seriously though. I hear people whistling breathy airy off-tune inconsistent note quality and I just.. ughhhhh stop stop stop stop stop#idk I'm tired of being told I should sell my crafts I should sell my art I should perform professionally I should make myself a spectacle#I'm not a thing to look at I'm not an object to pay for my soul isn't a thing you can buy on Etsy my habits aren't a show to purchase entry#I'm glad people enjoy listening to me whistle. I enjoy listening to me whistle. yeah sure I'm good at it. I just. ughhhh#don't tell me like you're leaving a comment underneath my YouTube video. I'm not content for you to consume.#ughhhh I hate public spectacle and maybe being a side show for every church in my parents' mission network had consequences on me#you know it took me until I was seventeen to finally say no when I was told to take off my shirt to display my scars to someone?#fifteen years of being a freak show. a news update. a creature to be looked at. disrobed and examined. displayed.#and I'm fucking done with it. I'm no one's toy I'm no one's property I'm no one's news letter topic.#I'm my own fucking person and I wish I could actually accept that instead of struggling with it constantly.#idk. maybe I have problems besides âyou scored highly on our depression questionnaire so let's teach you coping methodsâ#maybe next time I have a therapy appointment I'll search my tag talks through jetblackcode and take notes ahead of time#I mean. I am blogging. that's like journaling. maybe I should actually use that to my advantage. go back and use the resources I have.#anyway that being said I've been practicing whistling the orange blossom special (Buddy Greene version) and it's very hard#but I'm getting much better at it.#I really started getting into harder stuff when I started college and would wander the campus whistling homestuck music (thanks Toby Fox)#Rondo Alla Turca is a particular favorite of mine cause it's got some really fun quick sequences#anyway if any of y'all have good recommendations on good chapstick/lipbalm brands that'd be sick because I need to start buying more#and like. find a really good brand that'll last longer on my lips and then just buy a case of it or something.#because I go through lip balm pretty quickly because your lips dry out when you whistle a lot and also I live in the desert so it's dry af
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wave | lee donghyuck
pairing: lee donghyuck x fem reader genre: college au, academics rivals to lovers, kinda fake dating, forced to work together on a project, smut, fluff, humor (idk), music major!haechan, music major!mc | not really requested but thank you đ anon for the inspo summary: your indifference toward Lee Donghyuck, also known as Haechan, becomes rivalry when he decides to sabotage you. The battle turns into a war, the war turns into a plan, and the plan, well, the plan fails miserably... or succeeds wonderfully. After all, itâs all about points of view. Or, Haechan thinks he found a way to distract you and be better than you, but doesnât think it thoroughly and screws it up. warnings: smut, mentioned weed consumption, alcohol use, fingering, oral (receiving), unprotected sex, public sex, jealous sex, bickering, teasing, etc | inclusivity notes: reader wears different hairstyles (no mention of texture, type and color), no mention of body type (but haechan lifts her a few times), no mention of skin color, no use of y/n wc: 22.4k (out of 42k)
a/n: finally iâm back! i started this fic more than a year ago so seeing it finally come to life means everything to me. i had so much fun writing it, so i hope youâll love it too. please, let me know with comments, reblogs (that also help reach more people), or anon. i love knowing what you think. enjoy! also if there are formatting mistakes please let me know cause iâve been having problems posting this and i copied it without editing it once again.
masterpost (with visuals and playlist) (i canât post the link or else the post doesnât show up in the tags, but you can find it on my profile)
Being number one in your academy isnât a want, but a need.
You didnât spend your entire life crafting your skills and splitting yourself between the books and the training room for all of that to be swept under the rug when you finally made it to your dream university; Neo Arts Academy.
Surely, with the prizes promised to those on top, you arenât the only one with that racing passion to drive you through each day. Tons of people try their best, and even put their health at risk to reach the biggest success, but you manage to focus on yourself and keep your life in a pretty healthy balance.
You managed to focus on you⊠until something, well, somebody, started to come into your way.
Lee Donghyuck, also known as Haechan, his stage name âif he ever made it big in the industry he wanted to be already known.
You never paid him much attention. Honestly, you never paid attention to anybody, your only goal was to take care of your small garden and top everybody else, but when his competitiveness got the best of him, you just couldnât push him in the back of your mind.
Apparently, his goals are the same as yours, and that isnât a nice thing considering how competitive your world is. You first truly glanced at him during a songwriting lesson, when he huffed a bit too loudly behind you while he announced to his friend, probably named Mark, that he sucked at writing songs. However, you only chuckled mindlessly that time and went on with your day.
That was your first year there and everything went fine. Then the second year arrived and you applied for your minor degree in dance and that was when Donghyuckâs presence started to be louder. You had nothing against him, but you quickly learned he couldnât stand you for some reason. Rumours were quick at flying around, being passed from mouth to ear and you knew them.
You simply couldnât care.
Yet.
Haechan doesnât hate you. He could never do that. After all, he doesnât even know you. But he does know something about you. He knows your name, and how it is always on top of his in any ranking. He knows you will always win the contests he wants to win so badly. He knows you are good at theory and practice. He knows he just canât win with you.
He also knows nothing can touch you. Not because you are unreachable and believe youâre superior to others. Actually, you are very modest about all your academic success, but you always walk straight on your road with the goal perfectly in the line of view.
Haechan doesnât hate you. Though, lately, he has a strange feeling in his body every time he sits at his desk to study and his only motivation is to surpass you. Nothing different than the first months there, he got pretty soon you were going to be a tough but nice competitor, but fuck he never imagined you would be so hard to beat. Now that after a year he never won or got the top grade and always came second after you, you arenât motivating him, you are driving him insane.
He doesnât have many distractions, but he has friends, some hobbies outside of university, and even a part-time job. But you? Is there something that is distracting you? Is there anything that could distract you? He has no idea, not now that he is watching you walk into the room, ready for the classical ballet history class âyes, of course out of all the minors, you had to choose hisâ and sit a few rows in front of him, all alone as always, taking out your lilac book note and your pen.
Haechan has no idea, but he is going to find out something that can easily distract you and push out of your path.
You know people think of university as a moment to socialise, but being on your own has never been a problem for you. You have contacts with some of your hometown friends, and most importantly, you donât mind doing things alone; you can go to the cinema when you want, you can pick whatever restaurant you like, you can take a walk, or stay at home.
Youâve always been comfortable in your bubble, and youâd like to keep it that way, but life has strange plans.
âDamn, always on a rush.â You recognize Haechanâs voice, but you donât bother turning around because youâre sure heâs not addressing you. You think itâs weird heâs sitting next to you, but you blink the surprise away and grab your tablet from your bag. âWhoever put music theory at 8:30 in the morning on a Monday needs to go to jail.â
You chuckle at his comment, subtly rolling your eyes before opening the note app to go where you left it in the previous lesson.
âYou write a lot.â This time youâre quite sure heâs talking to you, so your neck turns to look at him and you find him closer than youâd like him to be.
âI annotate, itâs just the essentials.â
He scans the notes quickly before scoffing. âThe essentials? I donât write as half as that.â
âWell, I think this is essential, but we all work differently,â while youâre answering him, you donât even notice that his friend is not beside him, and you get lost in him for a second, mostly in the scent thatâs filling your nostrils now that his brown jacket is so close to you.
âThe professor talks too fast, how the fuâ how do you get everything?â He stops himself from cursing and backs away, finally making you breathe some air that is not filled with his intoxicating perfume.
âI rewrite phrases. And, to be sure, I record the lessons, so I can re-listen to them in case something doesnât make sense when I study them. And then I also re-write the notââ
âYou record the lessons?â He almost snarls with his eyes bulging out of his skull as he, once again, stands too close to you.
âIs it illegal?â Your head tilts to the side as genuine curiosity blooms on your face.
âNo, itâs⊠itâsâŠâ he sighs, throwing his head back and cursing something under his breath in a tight dialect you donât recognize. âI never thought about it.â
âOh, well, it helps me a lot. Sometimes when Iâm too tired to read I just play the lessons and memorize stuff while I do other things,â you smile, moving your hair to one side of your neck before grabbing the pen when the professor walks in. âYou should try.â
âOh, you can be sure I will.â
Haechan canât be so stupid. He canât believe he can be so stupid. Why didnât he ever, ever, think about that? Thatâs a smart idea, better than crying and cursing when he tries to understand what he wrote down on paper when he revisits the notes, or asking Mark if he wrote some phrases he had marked down with several question marks or dots to fill âdots that he never fills.
But heâs still sure he canât be a terrible student, he had always been on top of his classes, always aced them and his study method worked⊠but what if yours worked better? Given the results of the past year, and the start of this one, the answer is clear: yours do work better.
But he doesnât think that itâs the only reason you are beating him in everything. What if you have other tricks?
Haechan is going to find out.
You always believed your only competition was yourself. You never liked to engage with other people and fight them or fear them. But Haechan had given you no choice.
It was an open threat at you when he purposefully told you a different day to turn in an assignment when you were sick, you had no choice but to fight back.
That was when Haechan truly became your rival. He had always been, you two were always at the top, fighting for the first place and the big prizes, but now it was a matter of pride.
Haechan had officially made it on top of your blacklist, at least he could arrive number one in something, not like there was a big competition to be in there, in fact, you didnât even have one before he pushed your last nerve.
Fucking it up with you wasnât Haechanâs plan, he wanted to befriend you and trick you into giving him some magic tricks, but things went⊠wrong. With Mark by his side, it was impossible to sit next to you. During songwriting you got up and sat on another seat in the middle of the lesson with the excuse of ânot seeing from afarâ, and he couldnât approach you in any other circumstances. So, when you got sick for three days, he thought he could, for once, steal your spotlight.
He wasnât sure you were sick, but he was sure enough you werenât going to miss lessons days to study or work on projects; you never needed extra time, unfortunately, he knew it well. So the only thing that could lock you in your place was an illness of some kind. He did feel bad when you came back four days later and asked him if you missed something, he could see you still werenât at your best, and he couldâve tried his luck by telling you the truth, hoping that the precarious state you were in was going to make you come up with a terrible essay on an instrument of the 18th century, but his eagerness got the best of him, and he lied.
So he had officially screwed his plan of getting closer to you.
âYou are an asshole,â you scream, slamming the books in front of him on the table in the garden, not caring about his friends staring at you in shock. âAnd donât look at me with that face of âI donât know what youâre talking aboutâ because you know what Iâm referring to.â
âI donât, thoughâŠâ he whispers, trying to keep a distance between you because you look scary âhalf bent on the table, furrowed forehead, pointing fingerâ and he thinks you are very motivated to reach over his neckline and strangle him.
You roll your eyes, groaning in annoyance. âYou told me Professor Kim left an essay for Monday, I thought I could use the weekend to do an amazing job and he called me to his office because I was three days late.â
Haechan gulps, and the table goes silent, you feel his friendsâ gazes on you but they are the last thing in your mind.
âMind to explain?â
âI⊠I didnât do it on purpose?â
âYou have to ask me if you are an asshole because your mother didnât put a brain in your skull?â
âHey, take it back!â He warns with a pointing finger, glaring at you. Â
âNo,â you retort, crossing your arms on your chest and standing up straight. âYou sabotaged me.â
âYou are making things up. Maybe you should be in the creative writing major,â Haechan taunts, a shit-eating grin on his face. Â
You gasp offended, clenching your fists to avoid wrapping your hands around his neck. âYou â you â ugh,â you huff. âThis paper was graded! And you knew it, itâs part of the mid-course work he adds to our final grade. Why would you do that to me?â
âYou think I did that on purpose?â
âWhen did you turn it in?â You ask and when his eyes widen you scream at his face. âSee! You turned it on time. I fucking hate you!â
âI didnât answer,â he tries to defend, a challenging edge in his voice, getting to your nerves more than the look on his face.
âFirst of all, I can see it in your face. Youâre trying to look surprised and even scared, but youâre having the time of your life because, guess what, you canât surpass me if you donât play your stupid games.â
He snorts offended, gulping before leaning closer. âYou think I canât beat you?â
âItâs not what I think, itâs what the rankings say, itâs what our professors say, and itâs what all the external opportunities Iâve got say. But if you want to try to prove facts wrong, bring it on,â you shrug, grabbing your things and taking a step back. âNo more dirty games from now on, Lee Donghyuck. Trust me, you donât want me to start playing them too, you might not even see the top three if I do.â
The months to come are fire. You should keep minding your business but as soon as he opens his mouth in class you canât press your lips together and fake it. You try, every time, but you fail.
âI just mean that the melody is what attracts people,â he argues during a discussion in the songwriting class.
You huff, shaking your head. âPeople care about the lyrics more.â
He scoffs loudly and the professor glares at him for the reaction but he still goes on. âPeople wonât listen to a song if the production sucks.â
You turn around, eyebrows pressed in a furrow. âAnd they wonât listen to a song if the lyrics are dumb, or tell a bad message.â
âReally? Catchy pop music is a thing even if you want so badly to maintain the purity of the art of music with only lyrical depth.â
âI love catchy pop songs, but thereâs something objective in music and something subjective, if you paid attention to any of our classes you should know, right?â
The class holds back a laugh and the professor coughs, making you utter an apologize, more addressed to her than your enemy.
âOh, trust me, I paid attention to class,â he retorts, mockingly smiling at you. âAnd weâre not talking about the quality but the appeal. People remember the rhythm of the song or the tune more than they remember the words.â
âAnd words can hold so much meaning for someone they will stick to them forever. Also, lyrics can have different interpretations and if youâre a good writer you can make one song fit for more occasions.â
âThatâs dumb,â he says, looking at you up and down after scoffing. âNotes can transfer different emotions, what you said just doesnât make sense, please.â
âCan we tone it down?â Professor Park warns, glaring at the both of you.
You nod and mutter another apology before speaking up again, âI believe that a good melody can easily attract people at first listen, but if we talk about the long run, a memorable song also needs good lyrics. And Mariah Carey herself said how being a songwriter makes your career last more, so I think itâs telling coming from one of the best voices ever.â
âI think you both make a great point,â the professor cuts the conversation off before you can jump at each otherâs throat again. âIt would be interesting to make a deeper analysis and maybe break down songs and compare data over time. If it was possible to keep the decorumâŠâ she whispers the last word and you want to disappear because you hate the scene you gave. âBut we need to move on with our lesson, so, as I was sayingâŠâ
Out of all the heated discussions you had in class, the one about the importance of production and lyrics, led to your worst nightmare, working on a project with him. Professor Park was so nice to pair you together because she wanted to see how your different points of view wouldâve worked in the song you had to write and produce and even if you smiled and said, âit will be really motivating,â to avoid yelling at her face, now you want to die.
Youâre sure the first two knocks on the door donât even reach the other side; your hits are too weak and the small apartment in that complex is too loud for anyone to hear. Is this the environment you have to work in today?
You roll your eyes and knock again, this time making sure itâs impossible for them not to hear you. You wait there only for a few seconds and then the door opens, revealing a boy your age you canât remember.
âOh, hi,â he cheers, big toothy smile beaming at you. âYou must be here for Hyuck, right?â
You hum, nodding and murmuring, âYes, I have to work on a project with Haechan.â
âCome in.â
You step inside the house and look around briefly before your eyes fall on the table in the small living room; there are books everywhere, headphones on the ground, boxes of food and empty water bottles, and most importantly talks too loud for four boys that were supposedly studying.
âMark, can you lower the music?â
âMusic is what Iâm studying, I canât,â the man you know well replies. âWhy donât you keep your pencil close to you? Jesus, thereâs graphite everywhere.â
âYouâre so annoying, I canât go in my room, Jeno still didnât take down the light boxes,â the brown-haired replies, sending a death glare to the boy at his side who quickly replies to his defence. Â
âHey, I finished shooting half an hour ago and now I have an essay to write, leave me alone.â
âTheyâre entertaining, arenât they?â Haechanâs voice brings you out of the haze of his bickering friends, their conversation fades in the background while your anger level rises just seeing his face when you turn around.
âSurely more entertaining than you,â you retort before taking a step forward, pretending to know where to go in that house.
Haechan rolls his eyes, thanking his friend who opened the door âJaeminâ and coming next to you. âYou donât know where my room is yet, so if youâd like to follow me.â
You trail behind him, waving at the men around the table but itâs clear that none of them even noticed your presence. Luckily for you, Donghyuckâs room is at the end of the corridor and the mess that goes down in the other room is not hearable enough to make your day a living hell.
âSo, do you have anything in mind?â He asks after you sit at one of the chairs at his desk.
You shake your head, fixing your skirt and pulling out some things you might need from your bag. âWanted to hear from you first. Since the melody is so crucial, we should start from that,â you mock in a fake-sweet tone, and you feel his glare on your skin.
âYou truly are a pain in the ass, you know?â He scoffs, moving his hair out of his face, gaze fixed on you.
âAnd for what? Because I agreed with your theory?â
âIf you have a melody in mind itâs easier to make the words flow.â
âIf the melody has nothing to do with the idea, you only have some notes and not a song.â
Now that there arenât rows of chairs dividing you, the heated argument has led you face to face, literally. And you feel your heart pound in your chest from the anger and, also because itâs weird to be this close to a stranger you canât stand.
âOkay, Miss Taylor Swift, why donât you enlighten me and show me what you got?â
You glare at him but heâs unfazed, holding the eye contact proudly. âMy lyrics will be better than your production.â
âAnd are those lyrics in the room with us?â
âGod,â you groan, throwing your hands in the air and your head back. âYou drive me insane.â
âAnd you are pretentious and still never prove all the things that that little, bratty, annoying mouth of yours says.â
Deep creases show on your forehead, and you have to turn around because if you see his face for a second more you will slap him. But you want this project done, you have four weeks to turn it in, but you want this torture to be over as soon as possible, so you know you have to put the pettiness aside.
âIf we want a great result and good grades, we need good lyrics and a good melody,â you say, calmly facing him again, slowly watching as his face softens. âMy words and your production. I donât care what comes to us first, if you think it can be useful, we could even brainstorm some tunes and catchphrases and then build it around it.â
âNow youâre making some sense,â he exclaims, smiling widely before patting the top of your head. âSo that head is not empty.â
âOh, seriously? Iâm trying to have a truce, and you fuck it all up again?â
âNo, sorry, I just think youâre really smart when it comes to college but a bit annoying when it comes to life.â
âYouâre just mad you canât beat me.â
âI can,â he retorts smugly. Â
âThen why donât you do it?â You tease, cocking your head to the side.
Haechan scoffs, lips twitching in a quick smirk before he wets them. âI didnât yet, but are you so sure I wonât?â He whispers, breath colliding with your lips and nose brushing yours, your brain doesnât even register his hands on your legs right away, only when his fingers caress your bare skin right above the hem you wake up from the haze of having him so close.
âTime will â time will prove us,â you say, turning to the desk and scratching your neck. âTime will tell us, not prove us.â
Haechan snickers, moving closer to see on your tablet where you opened the notes, and smiles smugly. He thinks he found a way to distract you.
The project isnât done in the first week, and to put a cherry on top, Professor Park decides to make it the big project for the end of the class, adding a cover for the single, a plan to sponsor it, and, if someone feels brave enough, even to record it. Even if you wanted to, a thing this big, and now with so much weight on the final grade, canât be done in one week.
Yet, you think youâll have to deal with Haechan only on your weekly meet-ups for that project and during lessons, you never imagined you would have to deal with him even during your library study on Wednesday.
âWhy are you studying in the middle of the week?â
âYou know, if I had to replicate a sound every time we start a conversation it would be âand now, I just want to sit back and relax and enjoy my evening, when all of a sudden I hear this agitating grating voice,â and that is the sound that plays in my mind, actually.â
âGrating? Really?â
âWell, itâs the quote but it fits,â you reply sternly, bringing your attention back to the book. âAlso, the question is not, why am I studying, but why arenât you? How will you beat me if you donât?â You wink, laughing under your breath. You donât even need to see his reaction; you know his jaw tenses and his nostrils flare for a brief second every time you tease him.
You hear the chair in front of you scratch on the floor, and deeply hope heâs not sitting on it. But Haechan is sitting on it, staring at you as if he could steal the information from your brain and pass it to his.
âI am studying.â
âNo, youâre not,â you reply, eyes widening when he rips a page from your notebook and a pen from your case. âSo, what have you learned since now?â
You fight the urge to roll your eyes to the sky and instead run a hand on your face while sighing deeply. Thereâs just no way to get rid of him, right?
âYou donât even know what Iâm studying.â
âSound design,â he replies promptly, and you look down to see if he couldâve gotten a grasp from your books but thereâs a paper on it and thereâs not much written on it. Haechan smiles and moves to the chair next to you. âItâs because I started it too, there are too many notions, it would be a suicide to wait for the finals.â
âOh, so you do something else other than think about me,â you tease, nudging him with your leg.
âHey! I donât think about you,â he replies firmly, frowning.
âSure,â you huff, waving him off. âSo, what do you know?â
âWell, all the basis we learnt last year, so the definition of sound, the path it follows, how itâs perceived based on the medium and how fast it travels through them, slowest through gases, faster through liquids, and fastest through solids, and that temperature effects it as well.â
You smile, content with the reply but you want to test him more. âWhat about the five characteristics of sound?â
âYou think thatâs a difficult one?â He asks, almost disappointed at the easiness of your question.
âWell, if you want to impress me so bad, I could ask you to list all the types of compressors?â
âYou already know that?â He questions, quirking a brow, trying to think why he doesnât remember them. âWait, we didnât do that in class.â
You laugh. âSee, youâre witty. No, we havenât done that yet, but since you love producing so much, I thought you knew it as personal knowledge.â
âWhy do you talk as if you donât want to do the same job as mine?â Thereâs a bit of annoyance in his tone, but thereâs genuine curiosity in his eyes.
You shrug, pressing your lips together before diverting your gaze.
Haechan gasps. âDonât tell me you donât know what you want to do, yet, because I wonât believe it.â
âItâs not that I donât know,â you reply, a low huff leaving your lips. âIâd like to try different things out, being a PR manager sounds interesting too. And Iâm also pretty good at dancing, so that could be a career path.â
âItâs a shame we didnât start practical courses, I would love to see you dance.â
âYeah, sure, so you can mock me some more,â you groan.
He shakes his head. âNo, you wouldnât enroll in a program if you werenât absolutely perfect at it, so I canât come at your skills.â
âYouâre so kind, I think I might love you,â you mock, moving closer to him and pouting before pushing him away with a light push on his chest and focusing on your papers again.
âAnd by the way, I know the characteristics of sound,â he says, right next to your face. Â
You smile and think to yourself that this might be fun. âGood, go on and tell me.â
You donât get why Haechanâs roommate bicker so much. Not that you could lecture them when, as soon as you walk inside his room, your talks wonât be much different than theirs (worse, probably). But you think you and Haechan, at least, have a reason to fight so much. His roommates are⊠weird. They are close. They all are, in an annoying way almost, always moving in packs and breaking their back to meet up even if their institutes are scattered around in the Academy. Yet, they get heated pretty easily when they sit in the living room, and you can only blame it on stress as you chuckle, standing against the countertop with a glass of water in hand.
âDonghyuck left you all alone?â Jeno enters the kitchen, distracting you from Renjun screaming at his painting and Mark cursing while he tries to come up with a melody for a small assignment you decided to not worry about âyou have Haechan to worry about now.
âYep, told me to be here at 2 pm just to be in the shower instead,â you reply with a tight smile on your face that makes him laugh and scroll the black hair out of his face.
âMy fault,â he explains while pouring himself a glass. âI convinced him to stay at the basketball field when we finished and he couldnât meet up with you smelling like rotten leftovers forgotten under the august sun.â
âCreative writing?â You ask after you chuckle at his description.
âNope, photography, Renjunâs worst nightmare.â
You laugh. âItâs because you leave all those big things around his room, right?â
âOur room,â he says, empathising on the first word.
âOkay, communism king, your room but I donât think your comrade is happy about it.â
Jeno laughs, and hums before gulping down a sip of water. âIâm not rich yet to afford a studio so heâll have to deal with his bestie working, sweating, and crying his way to the top.â
âYou couldâve been a nepo baby and have everything handed to you.â
âSucks not to be one. I wouldnât even bother being in Uni, just leaving my best life with my camera and daddyâs money.â
âWhat the hell are you talking about?â Haechan says entering the kitchen, hair still damp and casual housewear on.
âNone of your business,â you reply, placing the glass in the sink and walking to the door. âCome on, we have a song to create. It could be our first Billboard number one.â
Haechan sighs, snatching the bottle of water from Jenoâs hand, briefly confused at his grinning face, and then follows you quickly.
âAre you trying to hit on my friends?â He asks, closing the door behind.
âWould you mind?â
âYes, Iâd hate having to deal with you in our group hangouts.â
âYou already deal with me. More than you should since you always come to me even when we could not be together,â you say, tilting your head to the side, and sitting on your assigned chair. âAre you perhaps jealous? Do you want me all to yourself?â
âNah, you can go and fuck all of them right noââ
âOkay,â you donât even let him finish and youâre at the door, but he springs after you and stops you.
âWhat are you doing? I was kidding!â
âWhy? Since when you can tell me what to do?â
Haechan groans and drags you back to your place, but he doesnât sit just yet, heâs bent over to be close to you. âI need you here with me to work on this goddam song, and then you can go and have a gangbang in the living room, I donât care.â
âYouâd be mad you wonât be part of it,â you joke, having the time of your life watching his pissed-off expression as he stomps loudly back at his place. âAccept that you will never win with me, and maybe you wonât be so triggered every time we talk.â
âShit, itâs late,â you murmur, lifting your head from the lyrics youâre trying to write down. Now you got the theme âitâs a love song that you hope wonât turn lameâ and even a faint idea of a tune, and while Haechan tried to get inspired by other songs and tried instruments he wants to add to the track, you worked on the words.
âDonât you think weâre trying too hard?â He whispers, placing the guitar on his bed before standing up and stretching.
âWhat do you mean?â You ask, lifting your neck so you can look at him after you turn around on the rotating chair.
âMusic should come to you, it should be⊠spontaneous.â
Youâd want to roll your eyes, mostly for the spontaneous part, but heâs right. Most artists donât think about the songs they make, the song comes to their mind when theyâre not thinking about it.
âYes, but do you think weâre doing such a shitty job with this?â
He shakes his head, walking closer to you. âNot totally, I just think that if we want to be on top, we have to work around it differently.â
You gulp when he hovers over you and grips the side of the chair tightly. âLike?â
âWe should⊠relax. Take our mind off of it and just wait for it to come,â he glances at the desk, studying the crumpled tries you gave up on and the only three phrases you were happy with written on the tablet. âWe should get inspired,â he whispers, and youâre once again so focused on his face that you donât feel his hand on your thigh, under the long black skirt youâre wearing, it surely mustâve been on you for a while if the fabric was already crumpled up and his fingers teased the hem of your panties between your hips and stomach.
âIs â is this how you inspire people?â You ask, glancing down with a rising chest but for some reason not pulling away.
âDonât know, Iâve never done it before,â he chuckles, slowly moving closer to your core, observing the small signs of your body. âShould we see if it works?â
You hate him. You should be working on that lyric for the last half hour you have left. You hate him. Heâs making it impossible for you to stick to your ïżœïżœïżœminding my businessâ plan that had worked through all your school years. You hate him, you do, and yet you nod, humming a feeble âyes,â in response.
âGood,â rolls out of his lips, and it sounds so different from his usual tone, you canât help but feel hot.
Your nails sink in the chair when his fingers slip right against your clit after he had your consent and starts teasing it.
âSo, itâs a love songâŠâ he says, and you frown, heart pumping louder as for a second you think he led you on and you looked like a pathetic horny loser, but his hand is still playing with your pussy and his face is still close to yours. âChose that because you have somebody in mind?â
âWe literally picked it for a reason last week, you ââ
âGod,â he shushes you up, pushing the panties to the side and teasing your entrance, itâs already damp, but not enough how he wants it. âCan you stop being so rational for once? I know why we picked it; remember Iâm trying to inspire you.â
âWait, you really think some fingering can inspire me to write a love soââ your words shut down when he places a hand on your mouth, eyes widening but pussy leaking an embarrassing amount of cum.
He quirks a brow in surprise and, shortly after, a smug smirk curls his lips. âOh, so youâre into that?â
You canât reply, but even if you couldâve, youâre not sure you wouldâve said anything.
âSo, anybody in mind?â
You shake your head. Your love life has been anything but exciting, and after a few tries, you were sure it wasnât what you needed to focus on, especially because nobody sparked your interest. Nobody was worth moving your focus from your studies.
âGreat, so I guess thatâll have to be me.â
âWhat?â You mutter muffled, closing your legs and moving on the chair.
Haechan rolls his eyes in his skull, keeping you in place. âOh, come on, you can fake it for a few minutes. Donât act disgusted, Iâm knuckle-deep inside you,â he says.
âNot yet.â
âIâm knuckle-deep inside you,â he retorts after he pushes into you with two fingers, staring right into your eyes.
You bite back a moan and a curse under your breath. âFine, but I donât want to think,â you say. âJust, prove it to me. If youâre good, Iâll be inspired and Iâll come up with the lyrics, if you suck, weâll go back to our original method.â
Haechan hates that he constantly has to prove things to you, and he hates even more that he does it, almost as if heâs your dog and he has to follow your orders while you keep him on a leash. But if this will work to come up with a great song, and in his outer-songwriting-course-plan to distract you, he wonât complain.
Honestly, he couldnât complain even if it only meant to finger you. He might want to fight you every time he sees your face but, damn, what a face.
âShit,â you moan. You donât want to give him too much satisfaction, but he knows what heâs doing and itâs been way too long since someone touched you like that. Damn, even since you touched yourself like that. Maybe the whole âstaring at your goalsâ was taking some funny things away from you.
âDo you want to turn the song into a Hozier song?â
You huff, you just asked him one thing and his mouth is running again doing the opposite. âYou wish you were this good to inspire a Hozier type of song.â
âReally?â He taunts, pressing his thumb on your clit, starting to tease the throbbing nub in circles.
âYes,â your voice trembles, but your face shows confidence.
Haechan snickers, quickening the pace of his fingers, watching you fight against yourself to not show how much youâre loving it. âOne second of this mouth on your pussy and Iâd make you change your mind,â he whispers right against your ears, hot breath fanning your skin. âItâs a shame you donât deserve it.â
You groan, head rolling back in disappointment, and that makes him laugh.
âYou have to think twice before running that mouth, babe. Especially with me.â
âNever,â you talk back, opening your eyes and regretting as soon as they meet his. His gaze is too intense, and your brain is too far gone to keep it up.
Haechan only grins, enjoying your wrecked face and the sounds your pussy is making as his fingers keep working on you. You might try to deny him, but your body is speaking to him, and deeply so are you. Itâs in your eyes, and your lips trembling, and in the beautiful moans that are rolling out of your tongue.
âAre you close, brat?â
You donât have it in you to complain, or retort, the orgasm is right around the corner and you fear he would ruin the experience if you said something out of line.
âAnswer me,â he orders, lightly slapping your thigh.
âYes,â you breathe out, biting your lower lip to prevent the whole house from hearing you.
âGood,â he replies, smiling proudly and starting to move faster in and out of you, hitting your sweet spot every time he reaches the base, and torturing your clit with his thumb. And when itâs too much for you, you come. Body trembling against the chair, and legs pushing up as the shocks of pleasure run through you.
âAcid when you talk but sweet to taste,â he hums after pulling out his fingers from his mouth and you only glare at him as you quickly try to get yourself together again.Â
âItâs late,â he says, staring at the clock. âGo home and let me know if this was useful somehow. And not by replaying it in your mind at night wishing I was there with you.â He winks and you slap his shoulder hard. âWhat the hell!â
âI wonât come up with anything on purpose, and I swear if you keep being so annoying, Iâll be terrible at this.â
âYou would never, this makes up like 80% of our final grade.â He challenges you with a glare. Â
âIf I go down, you go down with me,â you retort, face to face, fiercely looking into his eyes. Â
âItâs not smart of you.â
âIt doesnât have to be,â you smile sweetly before it drops from your face. âItâs a threat.â
Itâs not like youâre trying to avoid him after what happened, but thatâs exactly whatâs going on. You donât regret the act per se, you just canât believe it was so easy for you to agree to do that with him. And you know he will use it against you for eternity.
A very dumb move from your side to give him the possibility to tease you even more and about something you couldnât defend yourself from.
But if you try your best to change corridors when you see him from afar, walk quickly back to your dorm room, and sit on the opposite side in class (you fail at keeping your mouth quiet, but you need to discuss with him during lessons), it seems like heâs doing everything he can to be on your path.
âIâm starting to believe youâre a stalker,â you huff, clearly scaring him when you stop abruptly in the middle of the library and make him stop in his tracks.
âIâm not.â
You raise a brow, staring at him until he huffs and throws his hands up in the air. âFine, fine, I was following you but only because I wanted to know what you will study.â
âWhy do you care so much about what I study?â
âSo I know how to beat you?â
âIsnât it more exciting if you beat me only using your brain by putting some knowledge in it without seeing my cards?â You say, pushing a finger on his chest and making him walk backwards until his back hits the bookshelf behind him.
âI think sneaky games are funnier, though,â he whispers, hand moving to rest on your side. âEspecially with you.â
You scoff, rolling your eyes, and taking a step back, freeing yourself from his hold. âThe games youâre playing are not sneaky. Why are you always in my business?â
He shrugs. âWhy not? So, what are we studying today?â
âWe are not studying together.â
âWhy? Isnât it funny? The same study method, same hours, but one of us will be better than the other. Thatâs a truly equal comparison.â
You run a hand on your face and keep walking to find what you need. âIf you didnât distract me every two seconds, I wouldâve already been like five pages into my studying session.â
âOh, please, you are wondering around the library anyway. Iâm just keeping you company.â His body follows yours like a shadow, his heat radiating so close to your skin that you think you might go insane.
âI donât want your company,â you say, moving your eyes swiftly over the books in front of you as you try to find what you are looking for in the sociology section. When you finally find it, reminding yourself you have to buy it so you can annotate directly on yours, you walk back to your table, but Haechan is still beside you like a puppy on a string. âCanât you just leave me alone?â
âI could, and Iâd want to, but I canât,â he says, sitting at your side, smiling widely when you glare at him.
âThis is a useless lesson for you,â you try to dismiss him.
âIs it? Because we have the same ones.â
âJesus, okay, fine,â you give up, throwing your head back and raising your voice enough to make some heads turn in your direction. His biggest talent is to exasperate you. âBut we give ourselves a timing, and then when weâre done, weâll have to answer five questions.â
âAnd who answers to them all?â He asks, thereâs a taunting edge in his voice, and a grin on his face.
âIs the best,â you reply as if itâs obvious.
âYeah, but there should be a prize.â
âBeing better than you is the prize.â
Haechan scoffs, and he hates to admit in his mind that he finds your snarky remarks so fucking hot, if you werenât in a public library and if his job on earth wasnât to detest you, he wouldâve already had you bent on the table.
âI love how youâre always so sure of being better than me.â
You snicker and send him a flying kiss. âHoney, I am better than you.â
âWait, I just left out a detail!â You almost scream when you compare your answers for the nth time because you canât believe he has done slightly better than you.
âThat detail is important,â Haechan replies unfazed by your indignation.
âNo, itâs not. We would have the same score if this was graded,â you insist, feeling more angered than you should. Itâs nothing serious, it shouldnât be serious, but with him, thereâs your pride on the line.
âBut this is between me and you, so I win. Also, my phrasing in the second answer is better than yours.â
âShut up, itâs not.â
âIt is, and you just have to admit you lost,â he insists, leaning over, staring at you with a challenging raised brow. Â
You swallow, eyebrows furrowing, and then you sigh. âYour advantage is minimal. And you only won a battle, because Iâm winning a war.â
âFine, Napoleon, I still won and youâre coming to my place even Saturday so we can do this some more.â
âHey, Napoleon sucked! He lost the most important battles, the only ones he shouldâve won.â
âThatâs why I called you that,â he winks, clicking his tongue mockingly. Â
âOh, you think you will win the war? Youâre wrong, honey, Waterloo is yours.â
Haechan laughs, standing up after putting his things in his bag. âIâm waiting for you on SaturdayâŠâ he says and before you can complain he starts singing, âWaterloo, I was defeated, you won the warâŠâ
âOh, shut up!â You say, hitting his arm as you push him away, but he giggles and walks away continuing with the tune.
âWaterloo, promise to love you forevermore. Waterloo, couldnât escape if I wanted toâŠâ
And you think that if only he didnât try to sabotage your final grades in Music History, you might even find him funny.
Haechan hates you.
If he was sure he didnât before, he is sure that he does now.
He canât wrap his head around the fact that you, Miss zero social skills, and negative 100 friends, can be so good at debating. On every fucking topic. Youâre well-spoken, witty, smart, somehow it looks like you know everything about everything. And even when you donât know (and you always specify it â which he shouldnât find so hot, but he does) you always come up with perfectly thought theories and analyses coming from the small knowledge you have on the topic. The thing he also hates is that you never sound like youâre showing off your skills, itâs just really nice to listen to you and âwhen heâs not the one intervening against youâ youâre the sweetest person ever and everybody in every class absolutely adores you.
He wonders if youâre a robot. Maybe youâre some sort of artificial intelligence sent there to conduct studies on humansâ stupidity, and he was unlucky enough to start a fight with you. You just donât seem real. And heâd love to dig deeper but he doubts he will find anything relevant.
You might be smart, but you also look incredibly boring. He tried to find out if you had interests, or anything that could distract you, but his research led nowhere. The biggest problem is that he hates you, but not to the point that he wants to get you suspended from University, so he has to find another way to make you slip.
Apparently, youâre playing the same game, but even at this, you are thinking faster and smarter.
âWhere the fuck are all my anthropology notes?â Haechan mutters as he looks through his library, moving books and notebooks around, thinking he has gone insane. âMark!â He screams, rushing to the desk to search again but he knows where he left everything; on the second shelf of the small library in his room, on top of the music theory book that hasnât moved since a week.
âYes?â His housemate peaks from the door only with his head.
âDid you mistake our notes?â
âWhat notes?â Mark furrows, backing away from his friend who looks out of his mind.
âThe anthropology notes,â he says, voice full of annoyance because, why does Mark never know anything? Heâs in the same course and, yet, heâs always somewhere else with his head.Â
âMan, I donât even take notes during that lesson.â
âWhat do you mean you donât? Ugh, never mind,â Haechan groans, rolling his eyes because he canât believe he canât count on anybody. âHave you seen them somewhere?â
âNope,â Mark replies, entering the room. âI mean, I donât know what they look like.â
âYou know right we have a test tomorrow? The winter break is close, and some courses have it. You are studying, right?â
âYeah, just not everyâŠthingâŠâ
Haechan rolls his eyes, shaking his head. âWhy donât you like it? I mean, I know itâs not really music related but it teaches you so much about other cultures and thereâs a whole part about how music is different from culture to culture.â
âNext semester, we didnât get there, yet. Itâs a bunch of complicated terminology and theories I just donât get,â Mark defends. He never understood why Haechan loved studying so much. He is only there for the music, and a few other theoretical lessons, but some courses donât make any sense to him. Â
âSo you plan on being terrible tomorrow?â
âI just want a decent result; I donât strive for perfection like you and your girlie.â
Haechan almost chokes on his saliva. âMy girlie? Whoâs my girlie?â
âThat girl in class you always get into heated arguments with, and then she comes here and Iâm pretty sure you make out when no oneâs watching,â Mark says so calmly it infuriates Haechan more than if he was teasing him. Â
âShut the hell up! Sheâs my mortal enemy and while you have been paired with Yangyang for the song project, Professor Park thought it was nice putting her and me together.â
âYeah, you can still make out with your mortal enemy,â he snorts, hitting his friend with a playful elbow hit. Â
âMark, shut up and leave, I have to study,â he tries to cut short, pushing his friend out of the room. Â
âWith what notes?â
âI donât know. I left them on the shelf, and nobody entered my room since Saturday when she â Oh, my God.â
When your name resonates in the empty classroom after youâve taken the anthropology test, your blood freezes for a second.
âHaechannie,â you cheer cheekily, turning around and pushing your tote bag far up your shoulders.
âDonât,â he warns, lifting a finger to stop you from starting anything. âI have to talk to you.â
âSure, the test was easy, right? You might have beaten me this time,â you say but you have to hold back a laugh when you scan his furious, pissed-off expression.
âYeah, if you studied, it was,â he retorts venously. Â
âAnd you surely studied,â you say, faking innocence. Â
âYou can study when you have something to study on,â he says through gritted teeth.
âYes, and you do,â you still play dumb, but when he calls your surname, you know heâs not joking anymore. âYes?â
âDo you, perhaps, know where the fuck my notes are?â
You look around, shrugging. âWhere are your notes, Donghyuck?â
âI donât know, Iâm asking you for a reason,â he retorts, plastering a fake smile that doesnât reflect in the darkness of his pupils.
âThey mightâve mixed up with my stuff when you invited me over Saturday?â You sing-song, tilting your head to the side and shrugging.
âMightâve,â he repeats, a hint of bitterness in his tone. âIt was just a coincidence.â
You shrug again, pushing your lower lip in a pout. âSometimes⊠things happen.â
âAnd if it wasnât on purpose, why couldnât you just text me?â
âBecause I didnât notice,â you reply innocently, batting your lashes, knowing it will get on his nerves even more. Â
He groans, closing his eyes to calm himself down before he speaks again, âthen how do you know?â
âDonât know, just making assumptions,â you say. âIt turns out Iâm really good at it.â
âI swear, I â I want to⊠I want to ââ
âTo what? Choke me because I got my revenge? Oh, it turns out itâs really not that funny when someone plays with you?â You mock, and in doing so you get closer to him.
âGoddamn,â he groans before your back meets the hard wall of the room and his lips meet yours in a heated kiss, his hands on your body and yours limp at your side as youâre too shocked to react. âI want to â I want to kill you, actually.â
You smirk, chuckling straight at his face. âFilled the space with the wrong letter, âcause youâre kissing me.â
âMaybe my kiss is lethal, maybe thereâs poison on my lips.â
âOh, youâre so romantic youâd die for me?â You coo, placing a hand on your heart.
Haechan groans, throwing his head back. âWhy are you always so, so, so, God,â he curses, running his fingers in his hair. âI want my notes back, now.â
âI donât have them,â you say, grinning because he looks wrecked. You know it wasnât very morally mature for you, but it was only fair. Also, you know he doesnât arrive last minute with anything, he had already studied everything and youâre sure he had answered everything on that paper, he just couldnât revisit.
âMy notes back when you pass by for the project or itâs war.â
âItâs already war,â you retort when he walks past you to leave. Â
Haechan turns around, locking his gaze with yours. âOh, honey, it can get so much worse than this.â
You felt like testing your luck when his notes werenât back on his desk, but you had no idea it could get worse than that, until it got.
When he deleted an essay from your computer and you had to remake and finish the work of five days in five hours, so you cancelled a project he was working on for another assignment you had. And then he erased the recording of a course from your phone, so you ripped his notebook in front of his eyes (and his roommates too). The list of petty things is long, and youâre not really proud (youâre sure not even Haechan is) of what you did, especially when things started becoming personal. You two want to destroy each other, but you are honestly just killing yourselves in the meantime.
Your book slams closed so hard that you almost zip your hands in it, and by protecting your fingers you lose track of where youâve been. âGet lost,â you whisper bitterly as soon as you recognize the hand that did that.
âNo thanks,â he replies, sitting next to you.
âIâm trying to read a book in the quiet of the library, so can you leave me alone?â
âItâs a public space, I can sit wherever I want,â he replies, leaning back into the chair, and widening his legs under the table. You know âcause you feel his knee push against yours and you have to retract your leg to avoid the contact. Â
You glare at him, breathing deeply through your nose because you canât make a scene here. You two almost got kicked out of a class two days ago, and that was humiliating enough. So, you think that ignoring him is the best thing you can do.
âWow, so you have a bit of self-control and donât talk back. Never thought Iâd see that day,â he replies sarcastically to your silence with an amused grin that curls his lips.
You hold back a scream and huff loudly, âI truly need you to get fucked right now.â
âNevermind,â he jokes, pulling a tight forced smile and you close the book again, now too annoyed to even focus on the words on the paper. âI came here in peace, by the way.â
âYeah, your peace is war in my country,â you reply bitterly, trying to shift away but those damn chairs make the loudest sounds at the smallest movements. Â
âThatâs because youâre full of prejudices.â
You inhale deeply, rubbing your temple to soothe the headache you know is about to arrive. âHaechan, tell me what you want and then leave me alone.â
He smiles, happy you are finally willing to listen, before he clears his throat. âOkay so, I have to say that some of this is funny. I mean, only the debates and these random talks, but Iâm not the biggest fan of all the other stuff weâre doing, so why donât we bring it back?â
âBring it back? As in?â You question, raising a brow in confusion.
âI liked it better when we would just compete without tearing ourselves down. If you cancel, ruin, or save one of my projects with the word boobs in it before sending it to the professor another time, I will go insane.â
You hold back a chuckle. You have to admit it was your lowest move, but it was quite funny when Professor Choi had a whole talk in class about being careful before sending out finished projects and exposed him in front of the class.
âNo, it wasnât funny,â he mutters sternly, watching you fight with all the muscles of your face to donât break into a laugh.
âNo, sorry, it was,â you defend, voice trembling, threatening a chuckle to come out. âLike Iloveboobsdemo1 is the best thing Iâve ever come up with. That could be the title of our song.â
âIf you want to get expelled from all the academies in the world that would be a perfect idea,â he says, trying to be serious because seriously it wasnât funny, but when you stare into each otherâs eyes for too long none of you two can hold back the laughter anymore. âOkay, fine. It was funny, but I donât want that to happen again.â
âSo? Do you give up?â You taunt, tilting your head after placing it on your palms.
âIâm not giving up, we are changing strategies of our combat.â
âOh, okay. You will lose anyway in the end, so if this can be more beneficial for me in the meantime, itâs fine.â
He sighs, rubbing his temples, and you chuckle. âDonât laugh,â he whispers distraught. âI⊠could you sometimes at least pretend to give me some kind of chance of winning with you and not feeling like youâll always have the last laugh?â
âI just replied.â
âNo, a reply wouldâve been âYes, Haechan, donât worry, we can change it.â
âToo wordy,â you comment, waving him off with a movement of hand.
âYou said like ten words more,â he replies, voice breaking in his throat in a whine, but you decide to act as if you donât notice. Â
âIt still flowed better. See, thatâs why the lyrics are in my hands. Youâre really not good with words.â
âYou keep doing that,â he groans, slamming a hand on the table, attracting some curious eyes on you before you glare them away. âBut itâs fine, okay, so⊠no more dirty games? No more sabotaging?â
âYes, no more. Well, not like this, but we can still play a bit, right?â You ask, retracting your hand right when youâre about to hold his to seal the deal.
âYes, but nothing weird, or you know what I mean.â
You hum, reaching out again and shaking his hand. âItâs a deal, then?â
âItâs a deal.â
The deal somehow turns into Haechan always being next to you. Heâs like a shadow, sitting next to you in class, studying with you in the library, and so on. You donât mind him when he minds his business, but he rarely does. Especially during lessons when you need to focus on what the professors are saying.
You roll your eyes when Haechan sneaks a paper next to your notebook and you read âhow would a dog wear pantsâ with two badly drawn different options on it.
âDoes it look like the right moment?â You whisper under your breath, side-eyeing him, and trying to keep your focus on the lesson. You see him nod and decide to mark the second option, thinking that heâd be happy with it, but he has the urge to hear a whole dissertation on something that will never happen, right now.
âWhy?â He asks as if youâre not in the middle of a lecture.
âNot now.â
âBut this lesson is boring,â he whines, poking your side with his elbow. Â
You huff, covering it with a cough when you realize it is too loud, and then take a sip from your bottle of water.
âYou didnât answer,â Haechan insists, this time poking your arm with the cap of the pencil.Â
âI picked one,â you mutter, pointing at the paper with your head. Â
âElaborate and change my mind.â
âYou think itâs the first one?â You say in disbelief, the utter shock causing the tone of your voice to be louder than you expected.
âAny problems there?â The Professor asks, and you feel your blood freeze.
âMh, no, nothing, my pen has no more ink, I was asking for another one,â you lie, thanking God you two are sitting far in the back of the class and the Professor canât hear and canât see that your pen isnât dead at all. So, with a suspicious nod, the middle-aged man goes on with the lecture while Haechan giggles beside you.
You glare at him, and he shrugs raising his hands. âIf you kept quiet, it wouldnât have happened.â
âIf you let me concentrate on the lesson instead of asking dumb questions, it wouldnât have happened,â you retort, and he laughs under his breath again, but doesnât ask more questions. He still ruins your notes with ugly flowers and other drabbles and you let him be because at least heâs being silent and paying attention.
âSo, you really are giving up,â you say when the bell rings and the class starts emptying.
âWhat makes you think that?â He asks, putting his things in his bag, just like you.
âYou didnât write anything down.â
Haechan shrugs. âWhy would I? I have your notes.â
âNo, you donât,â you say but before you can realize he rips the notebook from your hands and snaps a picture of the two pages you wrote. âHey! Thatâs not fair. Thatâs my work.â
âYour amazing summarizing skills and my artistic skills. I donât gift beautiful sunflowers to just anybody.â
âBeautiful sunflowers?â You snicker, starting to walk down the stairs, pushing the notebook into your bag as Haechan follows at your side. âIf Renjun saw them he would have a heart attack.â
âCanât compare Vang Gogh to Picasso.â
âKeep Picasso out of your mouth,â you say threateningly.
âStill, arenât you happy you will think of me while studying?â He bats his lashes, and you hold back an entertained grin.
âCanât wait to go through the absolute most painful ulcers every time I glance down on those things.â
He gasps offended, bringing a hand on his chest. âSee, this is what happens when you spend all your days on socials and your brain doesnât know how to appreciate real art anymore.â
âYou are so annoying, and distracting. Next time if you sit next to me, Iâll push you off the chair,â you warn, and only when a colder blow of wind hits you, you realize youâre walking back to your places together.
âRight!â He says and you think itâs the good time he leaves you alone, but no, heâs not done. âYou didnât explain why the dog would wear it only on its hind legs.â
âIs it really that serious? Why do you want to know so badly?â
âItâs funny. Iâm sick and tired of hearing you only discuss music, sociology, and the media and other stuff.â
You sigh. But you still have a bit to walk, so you might as well have to deal with him and his hypothesis about dogs. âBecause pants have to cover your lower body, so legs, and ass and everything else. If you wear them like the first option, half of the ass is out. And also, the back limbs correspond to our legs, weâre divided in half horizontally, not vertically.â
He doesnât reply right away, processing your answer. And you think you broke him.
âOh!â You exclaim. âZootopia, animals wear clothes like the second picture.â
âReally? You had a whole statement that made perfect sense and then you added a cartoon to your thesis?â
âBut it still makes sense,â you argue back. âAnd, most importantly, I made you agree with me,â you wink before stopping when you reach your complex.
âFine, fine, youâre right,â he gives up before looking behind you. âYou live here?â
You nod, searching for the keys in the tote bag, and you think itâs time to stop pretending thatâs Mary Poppinsâ bag and throw away some useless stuff.
âI thought there were only rooms here,â he states, looking at the big complex a few meters away from the university. Â
âThere are common dormitories, and then there are some one-room flats. I got one with a scholarship when I graduated. Itâs less expensive than an apartment and I get a small place all to myself.â
âOh,â he whispers. He doesnât know why he thought you had roommates. âSo, youâre alone, alone?â
âNo, you canât come in,â you say.
âI didnât ask that,â he frowns, offended you would even imply that. âI thought you⊠well, oh, never mind.â
âYes, Iâm alone, so I can do whatever the hell I want. If I want to cook, I cook. If I want to stay up all night to study, I do that. If I want to dry the clothes in the middle of the living room, that is also the bedroom and the kitchen, I do that.â
âIs it really that small?â
âItâs decent, I guess. Itâs spacious enough to live in it comfortably but not big to the point I have to waste days cleaning it.â
âMaybe we could study there, no loud roommates screaming in the living room.â
âI like the mess of your place, and Iâll be there Friday.â
Haechan rolls his eyes. âCome on, I hate the library. Canât we for once study at your place?â
âI never invited you to my studying sessions,â you groan.
âBut you love it.â
âNo.â
âYes, you have an orgasm every time you know something better than me.â
âPlease, shut up,â you wave him off, starting to walk away.
âI donât care, Iâll be here tomorrow,â he screams when youâre too far, clearly running away from him. Â
âAnd Iâll be at the library!â
You never go to the library, to be honest, you were just unlucky enough that the washing machine thought it was the right moment to leak all over the floor and Haechan found you at home with your coat on the couch, the tote bag next to the door and your jeans half soaked as you tried to fix the mess on the pavement.
From that moment, your meet-ups become more and more periodic, whether itâs at your place, his or at the library. You hate to admit it, but the competition drives you forward, and you love seeing his face every time you defeat him somehow.
âAre you busy this Saturday?â He asks while he strums with the guitar to come up with a chord progression for your song.
âYeah, why?â You reply, poking the cap of the pen to your cheeks, drifting your eyes on him.
âWant to go out with me?â
âWhat? Saturday is my day to study and do my things like I want to,â you say. It was the only day, along with Sunday, you had to fix all your notes without being wrecked from the lessons of the day, or listen to lessons while cleaning the house, and so on. You tried to squeeze everything there so Sunday could be your free day and you could dedicate it to your hobbies and to write for the magazine you worked for, nothing too serious, just some money to add to the survival costs that your parents would send you, and the monthly entrance you had when you would get called to help a dance studio downtown.
âGreat, weâre going out tomorrow.â
You huff, slumping back on the chair. âNo, weâre not. Iâm busy.â
âYou can take one afternoon for me,â he replies, placing the instrument next to him. âCome on, it will be fun.â
âWhere would you even take me?â
Haechan smirks. âItâs a surprise.â
When Saturday afternoon arrives, you donât know how to feel. You spent the whole night trying to find a positive thing about it, and the good thing is that for once you are leaving the house to do something funny âyou hoped soâ not all by yourself. The bad thing is that the person you are going to do this thing with is Haechan.
You try not to worry about it too much, heâs not that bad when he wants to, and heâs funnier than youâd like to admit, so maybe taking a small break from the obsessive studying and tidying, will do you some good.
When you hear the knocks on the door, you grab your coat and your bag and head to open it.
âHi,â he says. âAnything to fix before we leave?â
âDonât say that, they will hear you and break all together.â
Haechan laughs, briefly looking at your body, mostly covered because itâs still cold outside and you have way too many layers on you. âToy Story for home appliances?â
âYeah, that would be my life,â you reply, closing the door behind you and walking outside of the complex. âSo, where are you taking me?â
âI told you, itâs a surprise,â he says. âDonât expect anything big, I just donât want to hear you nag about it.â
âHey, I appreciate almost everything.â
âYeah, itâs the almost that worries me,â he says. âHop in the car.â
âYou have a car?â
âYeah, itâs right in front of your eyes,â he answers, gesturing to the space next to you. Â
You turn around, holding back a laugh when you see the old blue car, itâs surely a Hyundai, you have no idea about the model, but you know for sure itâs falling apart. âThis is the car?â
âYes, Iâm sorry Iâm poor.â
âIt will get us killed,â you say opening the door, letting out a breath of relief when the handle doesnât stay in your hold.
Haechan rolls his eyes and sits in. âCan you donât be overdramatic for one second?â
âIâm stating facts. Are the airbags still working? Is the oil level high enough? The battery? And the water for ââ Your eyes widen when his lips crash on yours. At first, itâs a harsh attempt to shut you up, but then his lips shily go for more, moving along yours with a small flame of need.
âI wonât kill you, but please shut up,â he begs when he pulls away, sooner than you want to, later than he shouldâve. Â
You gulp, trying to shake the dizziness and the way his kiss made you feel lightweight. You might occasionally still want to wrap your hand around his neck but heâs quite good at being a charmer.
âIâm giving you the privilege to pick the music,â he says once youâre on the open road, the lights of the city shine against the windows and the other cars pass beside you.
âYeah, can I connect my Spotify to the car? Oh, wait, this model from the future directly brings the singers into your backseats so you can have a live concert,â you joke after seeing the car radio. Â
âWanted to take the metro?â
You laugh. âNo, Iâm just⊠why did you say that as if I could connect the aux or the Bluetooth? It was funny.â
âFine, youâre forgiven,â he says. âJust play it through your phone.â
You hum, already deep into the scrolling of your music catalogue. âCan I put my driving playlist?â
âYou have a car?â
âNo, I have a driving playlist.â
âWhy would you have a driving playlist if you donât have a car?â
âBecause right now it comes useful,â you wink, pressing play without waiting for his answer.
Haechan smiles, quickly glancing at you before his attention is fully on the road. âBaekhyun?â He asks with surprise when the second song starts. âYou listen to Baekhyun?â
âEverybody should listen to him,â you reply, already getting defensive because his next words could be the last straw of your ârelationship.â
âOh God,â he whispers.
âIf you tell me youâre a hater Iâm jumping out of the running car and changing the trajectory of your life forever,â you warn, turning to the side to have a better view of him.
âMe? A Baekhyun hater? Heâs my father! I just canât believe you have some sort of sense and taste.â
You slap his shoulder, making the both of you break into a light-hearted laugh.
âYou scared me for a second,â you say, placing your hand on your beating heart. Â
âSorry. So, it turns out we have one thing in common,â he jokes, creases creating at the corner of his eyes as his features soften and a genuine smile blooms on his face.
You shrug. âI mean, we have many things in common, actually. Thatâs why we get along so badly. Maybe itâs true, opposite attracts and thatâs why we donât attract.â
âI think we do attract⊠proved it a few times.â
âOnce,â you reply immediately.
âTwice, with the kissâŠâ
âYou did that to shut me up.â
âI donât shut up justâŠâ anybody⊠âI felt like kissing you.â
You smirk, loving watching him struggle. âNothing wrong to admit you find me attractive,â you tease.
âUnfortunately, your mouth ruins everything.â
âMy mouth is the thing that attracts you the most about me, or else you wouldnât keep lingering around me like bees on honey.â
âBees make honey, theyâre not attracted to it. Bears are.â
âYeah, you look like a bear, you know?â
He glares at you, and you laugh. âBears are cute.â
âAnd attracted to honey.â
âAnd do I look like honey?â You ask teasingly. âWait! You always call me honey!â
âItâs a mockery honey, not a sweet honey. Youâre not my honey.â
You think about it. âYouâre not my honey⊠could be a line of our song.â
âNo academy talking today. Itâs forbidden. You have to forget about uni.â
âFine, Iâll forget about it just for today.â
The dates with Haechan, you can call them dates, right? Well, anyway, whatever they are, they become more common. At first, you tried to reject his weird, most of the time, last minute, proposal, because they would throw in the air all of your plans, but after a while, you somehow still found a way to go back on track without screwing up your academic goals.
âWhy donât you stay?â Haechan asks. Itâs another Friday afternoon, and you two met up to go on with the songâs project. Much to your dismay, you have to admit you are the one whoâs holding you two back. Itâs like words canât come out of you, not like you want to, at least. But Haechanâs not mad at you. Actually, you like the atmosphere around you when you lock in his room for those sessions. One time, he even made you try edibles to see if you could come up with something, but you ended up making out on the floor instead, so you stopped going for that path.
âI donât know,â you say, huffing when you glance at the words in front of you and remind yourself that they donât make sense. âI was thinking of going home and maybe listening to your tracks andâŠâ
âCome up with something?â He drags the chair closer to you and steals your papers to read them. âItâs not as bad as you made it to be.â
âYeah, itâs a good song, but itâs basic. And I feel like itâs a bit⊠clichĂ©.â
âYou do know that everything has already been written?â He jokes, but itâs not a teasing remark, itâs the truth, and heâs genuinely trying to lift your spirit. Â
âI know, but itâs not my style, this is not how I usually write, I ââ
âYou write?â He stops you and only then you realize what you said. âLike, you have written songs before?â
You nod, shame pervading you when he stares at you with an expression you canât comprehend. âAre you going to make fun of me?â
âNo, I just thought you preferred lyrics over production, but I had no idea you were a lyricist.â
âNow, lyricist⊠I try, sometimesâŠâ
Haechan smirks, poking your tummy making you cover it with your arms. âSo there is something youâre insecure about.â
âOh, I knew you were going to have a ball about this,â you groan, rolling your head back.
âNo, hey, itâs just⊠Iâve never seen you like this about something you do. You are confident, usually,â he explains with no hint of mockery in his voice.
You sigh, looking at your feet tapping the ground and then look back at him. âItâs just⊠very personal,â you confess. âI think itâs clear I donât have lots of friends. I used to, back at home, but here Iâm alone. But even back then Iâve always felt like there was something I couldnât completely let out. Thatâs why I love dancing, I can express myself in a different way, but I found out it still wasnât enough and when I started playing the piano again I⊠started writing. It started almost as a joke, and it was a cheesy break-up song when my ex cheated on me, like the cheap version of drivers license,â you joke and he laughs with you.
âBut it was still better than this, I guess?â
You hum, shaking your head. âNah, my first song was a mess, but then it was like I just couldnât stop writing, so my songs became my diary. Every time something happens, I write about it.â
He hums, moving the chair closer until your legs intertwine. âSo, to write a love song you would need to fall in love?â
Youâre taken aback by his question, and donât reply right away. âNo, I just need to be inspired. Iâll watch some movies, and it will come to me.â
His face twists in mild disgust as he shakes his head. âMovies are fake, itâs better to live things on your skin.â
âI donât have time to date, and I canât just find someone that easily,â you say laughing. âBut donât worry, I wonât make us fail. Iâll try to edit this and make it work if I really canât come up with anything else.â
Haechan is not convinced, itâs clear in his face and the way his leg is bouncing nervously, but he doesnât get back on the conversation. âAre you staying?â
âI have some notes to edit and ââ
âYou have tomorrow,â he cuts you off. âCome on, I have to do it too.â
You groan, hating the way you canât say no to his big eyes staring at you. âFine, but not too much.â
Itâs useless to say that none of you get those notes written better.
âGod, are you fucking Professor Kim?â Haechan growls, grabbing your wrist and stopping you in the college corridors right out of Music History class, the last lesson of Tuesday.
âWhat?â You babble out, surprised by his angry tone and his speculation.
âNo cause youâre his favourite and itâs driving me insane,â he utters under his breath, glaring at you.
âIâm his favourite?â You tease, tilting your head to the side, loving the fire that turned on between you two. It had been three calm months, the bickerings were too intellectual and you missed this.
âYeah, I gave him the exact same answer and he found the tiniest thing to say I wasnât right, just so he could hear yours instead and praise you.â
âOh, poor baby boy, Professor Kim didnât give you head pats and now youâre mad?â You pout, patting his head in a mockery gesture.Â
Haechan groans, throwing his head back, and pushing you into the nearest empty class, closing the door behind.
âHaechan, what are yââ
âShh,â he says, shushing you with a stern gaze and a squeeze of your wrist. âYou passed by his office the other day, didnât you? Needed extracurricular help âcause you didnât understand something,â he mocks with a high-pitched voice. âTaught you how to play his flute in a historically accurate way?â
Youâd love to laugh at his terrible blowjob-music reference but when his gaze darkens, you only chuckle, and thatâs enough to drive him mad.
âGod, for you is just a game, isnât it?â
âYou really think I fucked Professor Kim?â
âNo, but Iâm pretty sure he fantasizes about having you bent over his desk and, fuck, it drives me mad.â
âYou wish he fantasized about having you bent on his desk?â You joke, smirking.
He groans. âNo, I hate the way he looks at you, and talks to you, the last thing he had to do today was to call you a good girl in front of the whole class.â
Your lips curl in an amused grin, but your heart âand something elseâ flutter at the way he says âgood girl,â you try not to show it and go on with your teasing. âNot my fault Iâm good, and Iâm interested in his subject.â
âYour fault you lick his boots,â he groans, pushing you flat against the door, standing so close to your nose. âI know youâre smart and you donât need to ride a dick to be first in class butâŠâ he stops, inhaling your scent, and leaning against your forehead.
You lift his head with two fingers under his chin, and lean in, whispering, âyou still want to see me bent over a desk, and you want to be the one railing me, isnât it?â
He doesnât reply, not verbally at least. The only answer is a guttural moan and two arms lifting you, making your legs wrap around his waist as he kisses you roughly.
âHyuck,â you moan into the kiss when he starts walking toward the desk, sitting you on the edge.
âYeah?â
âWe canât â we â this is, we can get expelledâŠâ
He snickers. âBe quiet and nobody will even hear us.â
âWhat if they lock us inside?â
âShut up,â he groans again, kissing you another time as his bag drops on the floor. âYou drive me so fucking mad, you have no idea.â
You snicker under your breath, but your heart loses a beat when his hands roam on your thighs, moving closer and closer to your heat. âWait,â you whisper.
âWait, what?â He hums, cupping your chin and lowering your head, staring straight into your eyes. Haechan scoffs when your thighs squeeze against each other and he can see you gulping. âDonât act like you donât want this,â he whispers, leaning closer to your lips, making you believe heâll kiss you, but you only get a taste of his thumb rubbing over your full lips, âdonât act like you donât want me.â
âHaechan!â You scream when he rips off your tights, the tear of the fabric resonating in the room as you look down in shock. âIâm gonna kill you,â you groan but heâs not bothered in the slightest.
âThey were getting in the way, and I get rid of everything that gets in my way,â he says with a smirk.
You laugh mockingly. âThen why am I still here?â
His brows furrow and a small pout forms on his face but he shrugs it off. âIâm taking care of you, I told you,â he groans, kissing you harshly. âYouâre not winning the war.â
âOh, and your military strategy is to fuck me?â
âYeah, until you forget everything.â
You huff loudly when he finishes ripping the tights from your legs, the only pieces left the ones trapped in your shoes, and youâre glad the skirt is long enough to donât make you freeze on the way back home.
âSo much better,â he says proudly, staring at his work of art, letting his hands wander on your now bare skin. âAnd, now, letâs find out if thereâs a way to shut you up.â
You look at him in anticipation, waiting for his next move as if your life depends on it. And you hate to be so eager, you hate you fantasized on it more than you shouldâve, but you want to know what his lips feel like. And itâs almost as if Haechan hears your secret thoughts.
âWhat do you want, sweetheart?â He taunts, kneading his fingers on your flesh.
âNothing,â you mutter, trying to sound more confident than what you are.
Haechan laughs at you, shaking his head as he slowly gets on his knees, looking up at you. âYou are always so fucking proud and annoying.â His hands rest on your knees before he pushes them far apart, forcing you in place as you uselessly try to close your legs. He tsk, shaking his head. âDonât act ashamed, Iâve already felt you, and tasted you.â
You donât reply. Itâs hard to keep eye contact but this is bigger than sex, this is a game between you two and, he might not beat you in class, but heâs beating you right now.
His laugh brings you back to earth and you hate the smug smirk thatâs sitting on his face. âSo you do get quiet, thought I needed to give you a taste of my mouth to shut you up.â
You open your mouth to retort but the stern glare that flashes on his face is enough to put you back in your place.
âGood girl,â he says and your body trembles before you can even try to hide it. âShould I get a better taste of you?â He stares at you, waiting for an answer that doesnât come, not like he wants to at least. âUse your words, babe. You know how to run that mouth when you want to, so, beg for it.â
âFuck, no,â you retort, trying to move away but his hold on you doesnât give any signs of loosening up.
âOkay, then,â he says, slowly standing up, and grabbing his bag. âSee you around.â
âWhat?â You squeal, grabbing his wrist. âWhat are you doing?â
âLeaving,â he replies, shrugging.
âThatâs not fair,â you reply, and he snickers.
âWhat? Are you wet? Do you want me?â
You donât expect that reply and struggle to find the words, even more now that heâs standing between your open legs, keeping them apart, and his eyes are staring down at you, pinning you down in place. âI donât want you,â you lie, swallowing the gulp in your throat when his right hand sits on your waist. âI just⊠I want to fuck.â
âOh, do you? Well, there are plenty of people here, Iâm sure many of them would want you. You know, even if you donât pay attention to anybody, people look at you,â he whispers, caressing your jaw with his other hand. âFirst on the list is Professor Kim. Donât you want to feel the thrill? Come on, go to his office now, so I can have something to hold against you forever.â
You chuckle. âYeah? Want to blackmail me so I can do all the essays for you? Maybe youâll get the best grades like this,â you tease, pulling him closer by the collar of his shirt and making him groan.
He licks his lips, staring at yours, and you smirk. âI donât need you to be first, and you know it.â Â
âDo I?â you tease. âWant to be first at something?â
âDonât,â Haechan warns, eyes darkening even more while the tent in his tight pants becomes even more evident.
âWhat? You can be the first one who fucks me on a desk if you quit playing hard to get.â
âIâm not playing hard to get,â he replies, leaning even closer, your bodies are pressed together and you can feel his hard dick press against you. âI wonât be the one begging, especially to eat you out,â he groans, cupping your chin unexpectedly. âDonât act as if you didnât think of this before. Iâve seen the way you get lost in my fingers when we study together. You see me twirl a pen in my hand and you wish I was inside you, donât you? And when we argue? Thereâs always a small fragment where you lose focus and stare at my lips. Where do you want them, honey?â
Your brows furrow but your entire body reacts differently, a small shake, while wetness pools down your panties, soaking them even more, and your eyes close because you canât bear his smug glare.
âI said,â he urges, giving a quick squeeze to your chin, âwhere do you want my lips?â
âOn â on me,â you breathe out, voice muffled by the firm hold on your face.
His lips twitch as he leans closer and kisses your cheek. âHere,â he says, holding back a laugh when your eyes widen. âThat was where you wanted them, right?â
âOh, fuck off, you know what I meant,â you huff.
âNo, Iâm the dumb one, remember? You are smarter than me, you know everything. Iâm always a step behind, I need you to guide me step by step,â he mocks in a condescending tone, pouting.
You take a deep breath. âI hate you.â
âOh, I know,â he laughs. âBut if you use just three magic words Iâm sure youâre going to love me for a while.â
You donât want to give up but youâre on fire, and you fear that the more time passes by the more someone could find you out.
âIâll ask nicely one last time,â he whispers against your lips. âThen Iâll ask you to do something for me and youâll lose my lips for the second time. Where do you want them?â
âOn my pussy,â you whisper, not meeting his eyes.
âFucking finally,â he laughs. âWas it so hard Miss big brain?â
âStop mocking me!â
âMocking you?â He asks, getting on his knees again before grabbing your panties to pull them down. âI might hate you but it would be dumb to not recognize your qualities, right?â
You donât reply, you have other things to worry about. For example, your mortal enemies kneeled between your legs in an empty class of your Academy, staring into your soul, ready to eat you out.
âSo, since youâre so good with words, here we go again. Beg.â Haechan craves putting his lips on you just as you do, but this is the only moment he can have some power over you. And after the humiliation of todayâs class, he has to make you pay for it a bit. Or maybe he just wants to hear that even if youâd choke him and slap him, you still want him.
âPlease, Donghyuck, please,â you plead, looking into his eyes.
Heâd love to hear you beg for him more, but the way your cunt is dripping on the desk is already enough to tell him how much you want him, and for now, itâs enough.
When his lips come in contact with your skin your legs immediately hook around his shoulders and you can feel the chuckle on your wet folds.
âEager, honey?â
âJust, please, eat me out already,â you barely have time to finish that he stops playing around and starts moving his mouth on you. Your head falls behind while your thighs squeeze tighter around his face. Your hands clench on the edge of the desk as you try to keep your balance, but it gets harder with every lick of his tongue.
âKeep quiet, the door is closed not locked,â he reminds you, pulling away from you just to pick up again.
You try to donât be too loud, but heâs better than you expected and maybe this was the wrong time to try this out. You shouldâve simply begged him to fuck you, but now that youâre in the middle of this, the last thing you want is to stop him.
One of your hands is brave enough to let go of the hold on the desk and reach his hair to push him closer to your body, surprising him.
Haechan always thought you were much more shy than this, honestly, he didnât even hope much for this to happen. But you surprise him, not only you let him have you in a random class at your university but you are also pushing him closer.
âYou are eager,â he muffles against you, he canât pull away when youâre pressing him down with so much force, but the way youâre acting is setting him on fire. He loves hearing you moan and whimper, not a word coming out of your pretty lips to confront him, just bliss on your face and voice. And that pushes him to give you even more, putting his entire self into eating you out until he almost drags screams out of you, making both of you forget where you are.
Youâre not sure how many minutes pass by but when the orgasm rushes in your body you feel itâs too close. Youâd probably force him down for another round if you were in any other place but you donât feel brave enough.
âSo? Disappointed?â He asks, cleaning his chin as he stands up, reaching you again. âDonât lie, youâre still dripping down the desk, youâre even more turned on than last time.â
âIâm not,â you lie. You know you are, and Haechan knows it too.
âWhat is it? The thrill of being caught? My skills? Just me, or something else?â
You donât know why you reply with what you reply, but you do. âMaybe someone else,â you tease, not even sure heâll take the bait, but heâs too caught up in you to see the games youâre playing.
âYeah? And whoâs that?â
âSee, I always believed you were perspicacious and could catch details, I canât believe you didnât get it. Youâre so sure Professor Kim wants to fuck me, ever thought I want him too?â You bat your lashes and Haechan tries to silence a groan, but you feel his fists clench at your sides.
âDonât play with me, Iâm not falling for this.â
You shrug. âFine, Iâll still think about him while you fuck mââ he shuts you up with a rough kiss, pushing you down the desk with a quick movement that makes your heart jump to your throat.
âHeâs not even that hot,â he groans, turning you around before bending you on the desk, and pulling your skirt up around your waist. âAnd heâs not even that old, thereâs not even the charm of the dilf.â
âHeâs smart,â you talk back, not sure how much you can pull your luck.
Haechan scoffs, slapping your ass. âNot smarter than me.â
âYouâre not the professor soâŠâ
âA degree means nothing,â he says, his chest pressing against your back. âWhatâs that you like so much about him?â
You chuckle. Youâre not sure if heâs playing into your game or is just so easy to fool, but either way, you decide to keep going. âEverything. Donât you see him?â
Haechan groans. Out of all the people, out of all the professors, he has a very personal beef with him that started at the start of the year and the way you just praise him so much âeven outside of this specific situation where he got youâre messing up with himâ drives him insane.
âBecause heâs the best at everything? Isnât he?â
You nod, expecting him to talk back but the only answer you get is the sharp sound of his belt being pulled away from his pants and smacked against your ass. âFuck,â you curse, hating the way your body buzzes with pleasure at the impact.
Haechan chuckles. âI wonder what he would think of you if he saw you like this.â
âHe wouldnât think,â you say. âHeâd act, fucking me like I deserve instead of wasting time like you.â
When his cock fills you up with no warning you almost scream but his hand is quicker at reaching your mouth.
âYeah, would he fuck you better?â
You groan in his hand, but your brain goes blank with each thrust into you, pulling his hips back before he snaps them forward, so forcefully that you slide upward on the desk and he has to pull you down so that your hips donât hit the wood.
âAnswer me,â he urges, making a makeshift ponytail with your hair to force you up. âWould he?â
âI⊠I donât know,â you cry out, feeling him deep inside of you, filling you perfectly. Â
âYou just have to test me until I snap, donât you?â
âHe seems âfuckâ fitter than you.â
Haechan snickers mockingly. âYes? You want to be thrown around? Like youâre worth nothing? Do I have to do that to make you feel good?â
You shake your head, ass perking up, your feet on their tips as you try to keep balance.
âNo? Is being fucked in a class enough for you? Does it satisfy your needs?â He hisses, eyes rolling back when he focuses them where your bodies meet, your cum dripping down his length and balls. He canât believe how turned on you are. âThought you were innocent but look at you.â
âNot my fault you donât catch details,â you retort with a small bit of sanity ânot reallyâ you have in you.
âDetails? Or maybe youâre just an actress. Making everyone believe you only think about grades and studies and here you are, drooling while I fuck you over a desk. Begging for my dick.â
You donât even realize you are drooling down the desk and when youâre about to clean your chin, Haechan grabs your hands and pins them in place behind your back.
âNo,â you whimper, falling flat with your chest pressing down the wooden table. Â
âYes, honey,â he mocks. âI want to see you become a mess for me. Should I take a snap of you like this? Send it to Professor Kim so he can see he will never have you like this?â He whispers against your ear. âThink I donât know it was all a play? Not only you donât like him, but you wouldnât risk your reputation for a terrible fuck when you have a brain like yours.â
Your pussy clenches. Itâs the way his voice sounds like velvet, itâs how deep itâs hitting you, itâs in his words, and the way it turns you on that your number one rival, the one that despises you, still knows your value.
âStill, Iâm pretty sure he wishes he could see you like this,â he adds, biting your earlobe. âA shame he canât, right?â
âY-yes,â you mumble in a pathetic wail. Â Â
âBut maybe I could still keep it to myself,â his hips start moving with more force and you canât hold back your moans as you clench around him. âYeah? Want me to take a photo of you like this?â
You wish you could reply but words just donât come out of your lips, brain emptying and eyes rolled back in your skull.
âMaybe another time,â he says, breath getting ragged as he keeps fucking into you with determination. âDonât really want to pull away to take a pic of us.â
âThere â there wonât be âfuckâ another time,â you reply, forcing yourself to speak. Â
Haechan snickers. âThe mess between your legs tells me otherwise,â he mocks, reaching in front of you to play with your clit, making you shake. âDonât be so hard on yourself, you deserve good things, even a good fuck from me.â
âToo much,â you cry out, feeling your eyes getting wetter as the orgasm starts choking you.
âNo, you just havenât had a decent orgasm in ages,â he retorts.
âShut up! You know âshitâ you know nothing.â
âHoney, I can only imagine you playing with yourself, but your hands or toys donât come close to me,â he says, so smugly you can feel the smirk on his face. Â And you canât even retort because âas much as you hate itâ heâs right.
âCome here,â he says, putting a hand over your shoulders to pull you closer to him. âAre you close?â
You nod, biting your lower lip until it bleeds because youâre sure the sound of your ass slamming against his hips is already a giveaway of whatâs going on inside this room. You clench around him when he bites down your shoulder to muffle a louder groan as his hips start moving faster as he chases his climax.
You feel your legs give up as the second orgasm hits you and you hold against the desk again because you donât know where else to hold on to. Haechan tries to keep his curses low, sticking his face in the crook of your neck and you feel you could come again just by his voice alone; his moans the pretties sounds youâve ever heard.
âOh god,â you breathe out when he gently lets go of your body and you can relax on the hard surface again, squirming in discomfort when he pulls out of you.
âI hope you didnât tear my panties apart, too,â you say, rolling on your back, making him laugh.
âDonât move, youâll stain the skirt, itâs the only clean thing on the table,â he says, grabbing a napkin to prevent you from making even more of a mess.
âAnd whoâs fault is that?â You ask, glaring at him.
âYou should just thank me for the orgasm, better, two orgasms, I gave you.â
You huff, rolling your eyes, but still letting him clean you up, after all, the cum was his, so itâs his place to clean it. After youâre sure you wonât ruin the last untouched piece of clothes you have, you sit up, taking your âuncomfortablyâ wet panties to put them on.
âSoâŠâ he whispers as he cleans up the rest of the mess on the table and shoves your broken tights in his bag, âit was just for fun, right? You have no intentions with MrâŠâ
You break down laughing. âYouâre so easy to fool. You seriously think Iâll ever let him see me like this?â
Haechan scoffs, finishing fixing his clothes before walking to the door. âItâs not about what you would do, is if you think of him.â
âI donât,â you reply, following him even if you feel like your legs could give up any second. âI wonder if your jealousy was also a play,â you tease, nudging him as you two walk down the corridor to leave.
âIt wasnât jealousy, you would just have terrible taste if you truly liked him, and I have beef with him.â
You chuckle, deciding to believe him.
âWait,â he says, stopping to search for something in his bag.
âIâll go for the door, reach me,â you say, starting to head on, youâre not even sure you two could be there at that time. âLee Donghyuck,â you curse when you try to push open the front door. âWhat did I say?â
He walks toward you nonchalantly and shrugs. âYeah?â
âThey locked us in!â
He smiles, shaking his head, and grabbing your hand. âCan you run?â
âWhat?â You blink a few times, trying to understand how his question fits the situation.
âAfter I fucked you like that, can you run?â
âShush,â you scold, fearful someone might hear, youâre not sure who since you seem to be completely alone, but better safe than sorry. âAnd no, I donât know, I⊠why would we run?â
âDo you trust me?â He asks, reaching out his hand for you to take.
âNo,â you say resolutely. Â
âGood,â he smirks before he starts running into the corridors, giving you no chance but to follow him, cursing and damming every life decision that led you here, with cum threatening to leak out of you after you finished having sex in the class of your Academy and are now running to go God knows where, locked inside the institute.
âHyuck!â You scream when he runs up the stairs and you swear you never felt so much adrenaline rush in your blood but when he looks back for a second and shows you his big bright smile with his hair falling in his face perfectly, you swear the world stops and all your worries are lifted from your shoulders. Maybe you trust him. Maybe you need to be this carefree sometimes.
Your heart jumps in your throat when he pushes open an emergency door and the mild breeze of March runs over you. You breathe in deeply, pushing into your lungs the air and the first early spring scent, letting the wind play with your hair and your clothes while your hand never lets go of his.
And then you both start laughing. Never looking back, and terribly looking forward, watching your steps as you run down the emergency stairs. You laugh, and youâre happy and you canât believe your fingers are still intertwined with the ones of your mortal enemy.
When you reach the ground floor, hidden in the back of the palace where the sun doesnât shine, there are still some tears spilling out of your eyes. You two pant, trying to catch your breath, and look at each other before you have to look away or else you will start laughing again.
You canât believe you followed him blindly.
Your hands are still intertwined.
With each passing day, Haechan is convinced he has a perfect plan. Itâs all part of the original plan, but if he gets you to try out romantic things, not only will he distract you from your perfect grades but he will also make you come up with a song that will give him a perfect score.
There are some small details that Haechan didnât even consider. Detail number 1: where this could lead you two and your relationship. Detail number 2: that while distracting you, he will inevitably distract himself. But he doesnât get it until itâs too late.
Haechan canât remember when you started to dress up so much every time you hang out. You always dress well, or maybe he is biased for thinking that even the most basic white turtleneck shirt and cargo pants when you are too done with life to put up your skirts, dresses, or cutely styled other types of outfits, look amazing on you. Yet, during these last few dates, you started doing more, playing more with your hairstyles, trying different make-up, and always looking perfect in whatever clothes you put on your body.
Haechan hates you. Now more than ever because this was supposed to be your silly little race to the top of your second academic year and yet here he is, feeling his heart pound in his throat as you walk toward him. With your hair in a slicked-back ponytail, a freaking heart-shaped side part, your short red dress, while the white cardigan covers your arms and shields you from the light breeze, and your red short heels tap on the asphalt and bring his attention to the white socks that reach you right below your knees, while your hand clench around a heart-shaped bag.
He hates you because he wants you too badly and heâs terrified this is crossing the lines of bland and stupid physical attraction.
You smile, calling him Hyuck and heâd love to scream because he canât be so smart and yet so dumb at the same time. But he tries to ignore it, and smiles back at you, addressing you with your surname so he can put some distance between you. You donât even get mad anymore, it makes you smile tenderly as you lower your face to the ground and tangle your arm with his to walk to the car. Now he hopes that the old sardine can will make you two blow up, not to kill you, but to donât make you accept a date from him anymore.
But that old car struggles but doesnât crash, and drives you to the restaurant safely.
âThis place is so pretty,â your voice rings in his ears, bringing him out of the thought heâs struggling with since you walked out of your apartment.
âYeah, itâs musically themed, thought it was a good idea.â
âAnd the dishes also have song names? Thatâs the best thing Iâve ever seen,â your face lightens up when you scan the menu and in reflection, he does too.
What the fuck are you doing? He curses when he catches himself lost on you, too focused giggling like a child as you catch the references between the songs and the plates. You look like a clichĂ© embodiment of love, and he thinks youâve done it on purpose. Itâs way past Valentineâs Day, but he feels that Cupid is flying right above you, ready to play him a dirty trick.
âSo? You picked?â You ask, bringing him out of his thoughts, and he shakes his head, coughing while glueing his eyes on the menu.
âNope, Iâm a bit uncertain,â he says, pretending he wasnât just too busy staring at you a few moments ago.
You laugh, humming. âOh, I know.â
âWhat did you get?â He asks, meeting your eyes above the paper in his hand.
âI wanted to get the Summer 69â appetizer first,â you reply and he smirks.
âAre you hinting at something?â
âOh, shut up, you perv! It just looks tasty, there are different appetizers from different parts of the world and itâs a cold start.â
âThen we can take the big one so we can share?â
âSure,â you reply, smiling at him. âOh, and then âI wanna dance with somebodyâ as the main dish.â
âDo you?â He winks.
âIâm not sending you signals, Iâm just starving,â you reply, rolling your eyes, but he hears the low giggle that you try to hold back.
âFine,â he smiles. âIâll take âManeaterâ in your honour.â
âIâm a maneater? Oh, thanks, the best compliment ever actually,â you say playfully.
He smiles, stopping for a second after he hands you his menu. âYou look beautiful tonight, by the way.â And when your mouth parts and no sound come out of it, he thinks he screwed it up. Itâs not the first time he compliments you but well, the other times didnât sound so serious.
But then your face breaks in a smile, and your eyes light up, shily diverting the gaze as you thank him before the waitress saves you both from the embarrassment thatâs tangible in the air.
âKaraoke? Are you being extremely nice, borderline perfect, tonight so you can show me the biggest twist ever?â You gasp when the karaoke downtown enters your line of view. Youâve been walking for a while now since he couldnât find a spot nearby, but he never mentioned where your next stop would be.
âIâm always nice to you when we go out on daâ like this,â Haechan replies, opening the door of the place for you to get in first. âAlso, since weâll have to record the song soon, I think itâs time to test our vocal abilities.â
You giggle, waiting for him before you start walking to the desk to book a room.
âKaraoke is for fun, never to show off youâre like Celine Dion.â
Haechan chuckles, nodding in agreement while you reach the booth that the lady at the counter assigned you.
âRight, Iâm more like Ailee, actually,â he jokes, closing the door behind you.
âProve it to me, I always hear your mouth run to talk shit but never to sing melodies, soâŠâ
âShould we go for a duet?â He asks, starting the TV to scroll down the songs listed.
âNope,â you say, sitting on the couch. âA solo song first.â
âFine,â he says, humming as the titles pass in front of your vision. âMhh, what about Dean?â
âLove him, would love him more if he came back from the death and dropped another album of the year,â you say, sitting back to fully enjoy Haechanâs performance.
He chuckles at your comment. âThis one was a painful reminder,â he says before clicking on âInstagram,â making the logo of the place appear before the countdown, signalling the beat was about to start.
You never thought you would find yourself so caught up in him but when he opens his mouth, you feel like youâre being taken to another world.
His voice sounds like honey, so raw yet so lovely. And as he keeps singing, you think that he would be wasted as a producer, a voice like his deserves to be heard by everyone. But when he finishes, you donât show any of the emotions you felt.
âYour performance was very touching,â you say while standing up to grab your mic, âbut Iâm a performer, so Iâll go with Queen Britney.â
âCanât wait to see your Superbowl worth it performance,â he snickers, sitting back against the small couch in the room as he watches you getting ready.
âYeah, yeah, yeah,â you start, winking at him and swinging your hips to follow the rhythm of the music.
Haechan would love to find it as funny as he does at the start, but when you start singing for real, and moving around in the small boot, he gulps, feeling the air around him starting to dim. And it only gets worse when you turn around and start to perform for him. Of course, you know the song by heart, you donât need to read the words, and you donât need them to change colour to know when each verse, chorus and bridge starts.
âOops, I did it again, I played with your heart,â you wink, tilting your head to the side, still moving your body to the beat. He canât tell, not right at the moment, but he thinks youâre replicating the choreography. Thatâs the last worry in his mind.
I played with your heart.
And Haechan thinks you really did that. This doesnât feel like a game anymore, and not even like sex. He looks at you, even right now, that youâre sensually singing a Britney Spears song, and he can only fucking smile like an idiot.
âWow,â you exhale when the song ends, fanning yourself with your hand, âitâs really hot in here.â
âIt definitely is,â he whispers, drifting his gaze from you.
âSo? How was I?â You ask, head tilted to the side, and a big, bright smile on your face.
âGood,â Haechan mutters, catching himself staring at you for too long again, shaking his head, the red blush on his face is humiliating. âYou were good.â
âYes,â you cheer, clapping your hands. âShould we duet, now?â
He hums, grabbing the remote again and searching âduetsâ in the search bar. âSad, sexy or silly?â
You roll your eyes. âReally?â
âWhat? Iâm trying to understand the vibe we want to go with.â
âIâll let you pick,â you say just to regret it when you see the song choice on the screen. âSeriously? Anything you can do?â
âWhat? Itâs fitting for how relationship,â he says nonchalantly.
âThatâs a crazy choice.â
âWorried you canât actually do better than me?â He winks, passing you the mic as the song loads on the screen.
âYouâll see,â you challenge with a glare.
One minute into the song you regret having agreed to that, not remembering the last time you sang like this, but the look on his face when itâs time for you to hold a long note for 15 seconds is worth it. And it keeps going until the end, as you both surprise each other with all the skills that this song requires. Â
âWow, youâre good,â you both say when the song ends and you break down laughing, a sound that grows bigger when the screen lights up to show a perfect score.
âMaybe we make a great couple together,â you say, laying back on the couch, tired from the singing.
Haechan turns to you, smirking and nodding. âI guess we do.â
You sit up, resting your chin on his arm. âCan you take another one?â
âOh, donât test me, baby.â
âSo, ice cream is good for vocal cords?â You giggle as you walk to the side of the Han River with the ice cream in hand. It seemed like Haechan didnât want to end the night anytime soon, but you donât feel like complaining.
âYeah,â he hums with conviction, licking another stripe of chocolate. Â
âOn which book youâve read this scientific fact?â
âThe ice cream ghost came to me one night and whispered the secret to my ear,â he jokes, making you laugh.
âUhm, yeah, I think that ghosts are much more reliable than old men in white coats in a lab,â you joke, but then you remember something you wanted to talk about since youâve walked out of the karaoke. âMhh, you know what I was thinking?â
Haechan shakes his head, waiting for you to talk.
âI think weâre going down the wrong path with our song,â you voice out. âEspecially me. A warmer, darker, I dare to say more sensual vibe, fits us better.â
Haechan chuckles and you glare at him. âWhat?â
âNothing,â he giggles, but he canât lose against you so he goes on. âThatâs the production, you know?â
You huff, rolling your eyes, and jumping on the handrail to sit. âI never said it wasnât important.â
âWhatever,â he snickers. âSo I have to scrap everything Iâm working on?â
You shake your head, cleaning your hands after swallowing the last bite of the cone. âNo, I was thinking about the second base you were working on, the one with the guitars and violins, remember?â
He hums, but heâs dangerously close to you, and you donât understand why his hands wrap around your waist.
âI think we could use that and ââ you gulp when he places his feet on the handrail under you and reaches your height, âand then I can change small things of my â my writing to fit more. What do you think?â
He smiles before it turns into his usual smirk. âI still think youâre worrying too much and youâre not letting it come to you,â he whispers, and the air of his breaths puffs on your lips before he erases the space between you and kisses you.
You feel your breath taken away as you feel like youâre falling behind in the river as the wind blows harder and your hands immediately leave the handrail to reach for him.
Youâre not sure that wasnât an attempted murder from him, but you canât care when you feel your heart flutter and your legs give up as he deepens the kiss.
âLet it flow,â he whispers, kissing you again, whispering against your lips, âand the song will come at you.â
You know itâs not what heâs talking about, but you kiss him again, this time pushing him down so your feet are on the ground again. Your hands are holding tight on his sweatshirt as you pull him even closer and he does the same wrapping his arms around your frame tighter.
You find yourself in the same position in the living room of his apartment, struggling to make it to his bedroom without waking some of the others up. Not that you care much, it would be fair payback for all the chaos they make when you and Haechan are studying together.
The clothes fall on the floor as quickly as heâs on top of you on the bed.
âI hate that I have to ruin your pretty face,â he whispers, fingers deep inside your sopping wet cunt, pumping in and out painfully slowly as he stares at your face, a cute mix between ecstasy and annoyance because heâs giving you something but not enough. âThe red eyeshadow looks really good on you, you know?â
You groan, rolling your head back. âItâs not time for compliments.â
âIâve been complimenting you all night,â he says, teasing your clit with flicks of his thumb but without giving you much. âIt is a shame you will look like a mess once Iâm done with you.â
âWe canât be loud,â you say, hating that, for one reason or another, you two always have to keep quiet.
âNah, Jeno has his headphones on playing games with Yangyang. Renjun has headphones on with music to donât listen to Jeno. Markâs not home and not even bombs wake Jaemin up.â The explanation is particularly non-sexy now that he has his fingers inside of you and it doesnât make you relax much, but you hum nonetheless and beg him to keep going.
âPatience, honey. Weâve got all night,â he smirks.
âYeah but ââ
âAh, ah,â he says, clicking his tongue and silencing you with a finger on your lips. âWhat did I tell you before? Let it flow.â
âIt was different it was âugh,â you mumble when he covers your mouth with his hand, eyes widening before they narrow to send him a deadly glare, but he only smirks. He has control now. He always does when he has you underneath him, he still has to fight with you a bit, but you both know this is the only time he can ever win against you. And tonight is special, he wants you to let go of the reins completely, he wants you brainless, because even if your brain is the sexiest thing of you âyeah, yeah, and the thing that is making his college years hell on earthâ your brain is also the thing that makes you obsess over the smallest thing and doesnât make you follow your heart so freely.
Yeah, tonight Donghyuck wants you free, but for the sake of the dirty talking later âand to fool himself he doesnât care about you that muchâ heâs going to say he wants you dumb.
And heâs starting strong tonight, his beautiful, long fingers reaching deep inside you, hitting right against your sweet spot, causing so much cum to pool around them and drip down while your pussy clenches hard and your hips buck up to ride the pleasure with him. And you donât have it in you to fight; it feels too good, especially when he starts rubbing your clit and whispers dirty talk about how well youâre taking him.
Your eyes flutter open, just in time to catch the proud smirk on his face as he stares at your body, you dare to say, in awe. It shouldnât warm your heart, but it does. You donât even care if he sees you like a prize he won, right now, because even if he does, you know he only fights hard to win the trophies he cares about. He wants you, he likes you, even. Between the hate and the tension, something about what attracts you two together makes this work. And itâs fine.
âHyuck,â you breathe out, chest panting and toes curling as you feel the familiar knot in your stomach. But you donât expect the next words that come out of your mouth. âKiss me.â When you realize what you said, you anticipate him mocking you, your ears already hear the snicker you know, oh so well, but it never arrives. What arrives are his lips on yours as he leans down, pressing his chest against yours while his fingers keep working wonder inside you.
The kiss is passionate, but not rough like the ones youâre so used to sharing. Thereâs no anger in it, just need and greed, and chemistry. So much chemistry, your hands have to run in his hair and tug them, making him moan and his dick throb against your thigh.
âI want you so bad,â he slurs against your lips. âI will do some dumb shit one day for you.â
You donât get what he means. You donât even know what he could mean by that given the nature of your bond, but his words, mixed with the sultry tone of his voice, are enough to make you come. You barely register the orgasm, hitting you like a singular explosion of a firework, leaving you gasping, exploding as quickly as it came yet slowly running through your bones as the feeling tones down.
Haechan snickers softly. âYou love it when I get in trouble for you, donât you? Even when itâs just a promise.â
Your lips part to reply but he shuts you with a kiss. âNo talking, not unless I tell you to. I know everything I need to know, your body tells me that,â he says, grinning like an idiot when he shows you his cum coated fingers, tapping them against your lips, silently ordering you to taste yourself. You would never do that, but tonight itâs like heâs commanding you like a puppet on a string, and you obey. Closing your lips around him and sucking hard.
He smirks, feeling his dick get even harder as he stares at your lips. âThatâs what I do to you, pretty girl. And Iâm not even started.â
Your pussy throbs in anticipation while he pulls his fingers out. You know heâs one to keep promise, and you canât wait for whatâs to come. But heâs taking too long, and you can feel his hard dick against your leg, so your hand creeps down to touch it.
âYouâre not in command tonight, angel,â he says, grabbing your wrist to stop you from moving your hand on him.
âBut I want you,â you whine, trying to win him with a pouty look on your face.
It doesnât work as he pushes your hand over your head and leans in. âPatience, princess. Keep quiet, donât be greedy and just trust me. Can you do that? Or is it too hard for you?â He groans against your ear, making your hips buck up.
âI â I can,â you whisper but he stops with a glare and your brain replays his words âquiet, no words from you tonight,â and he means it. So you nod, breathing in deeply as you feel weak in the knees for the way he looks at you.
âGood girl,â he says, pushing up to stand between your legs, pushing them open.
When he slips inside you, you gasp, dragging your nails on his back. âAre you alright?â
You nod, forcing yourself to look into his eyes.
âGood, and now,â he whispers, kissing your lips, and dragging out of you, âI want you to give into me and completely turn your brain off. You have me, thatâs all you need right now.â
When he starts moving in and out, your body succumbs to the pleasure. Your muscles relax as you let him take care of you. His lips trace over your sensitive skin, leaving kisses on your neck and chest. His hands run over your body, touching and squeezing every inch. And he reaches so deep inside of you that you feel you can barely breathe.
âJust like this,â Haechan whispers close to your ear, gently biting the skin on your jaw. âDonât think about anything,â he groans, hitting you deep after pulling out of you completely. âNot a single worry in that pretty brain of yours.â
You rarely let him win, but you have to admit that the way he makes you feel, the way he can lift all the stress off your shoulders, is a talent. He knows what heâs doing, and the scary thing is that he knows how to get you. So easily wrapped around his fingers, crumbling into nothing at his tiniest touch.
You whimper loudly when his fingers press against your clit, seeing stars at the new stimulation.
âYou can take it,â he groans. Youâre about to talk but he traps your lips in a messy, wet kiss as he pulls you closer by your waist, hitting even deeper. âYouâre a good girl, right? You can take it.â
Youâre doubtful, but you do take it, over and over again. You lose track of time and stop counting your orgasms after the third. Thereâs no need for that. All you need is the pleasure Donghyuck gives you, fucking you until both of you canât do it anymore.
Thereâs nothing left once itâs over, no strength to talk or clean up the mess, just the warmth of your bodies cuddled against each other.
âGood morning, I will kill Lee Je â what the hell,â Renjun exclaims, entering the kitchen, making you turn around as if youâve been caught stealing, holding the mug full of coffee in your hands and giving him a shy smile. âWhat are you doing here?â
You gulp, pushing your hair out of your face before coming up with a lie. âWe studied too late.â
Renjun steps further into the room, staring at you with a raised brow before he tilts his head and studies how youâre dressed. Youâre wearing Donghyuckâs sweater and pants.
âOh, now they call it studying? Last time I checked youâre not med students, didnât know music had anatomy in the program,â he taunts, grinning at you as he comes to your side. Â
You choke on your saliva and donât have time to come up with a reply because he strikes again.
âOh, no, maybe you were exercising vocalization, itâs better when itâs done together, right?â He winks and you glare at him.
âItâs not what you think,â you lie, but honestly you feel so embarrassed about everything. You didnât think anybody else would be up this early on a Sunday, but itâs clear you donât know Renjun well. You couldâve left, but you didnât want to. It was slowly starting to sink in that you didnât like the solitude of your life anymore.
âDonât worry, I wonât tell anybody,â he says, sitting in front of you. âCome here, donât stay up.â
You do as told, and smile when he offers you a pack of biscuits. âI wouldâve cooked something usually, but Jeno kept me up all night.â
You chuckle. âItâs fine, normally I donât even have breakfast.â
âYou donât?â He gasps, and you nod.
âYeah, just coffee.â
He looks down at you, shaking his head in disappointment. âItâs not healthy.â
âI know, I know, Iâll try to eat more, okay? For you.â You reach out your hand and he takes it.
A fit of cough brings both of your gazes to the door and you see Haechan stand against the frame. âOnce itâs Jeno, another time itâs Renjun. I bring you home to study and you flirt with my friends.â
âDrop the bullshit, Hyuck. He knows,â you say, rolling your eyes.
Haechanâs eyes widen, but he slowly fakes indifference. âKnows what? That you donât have time for a relationship so you canât date him?â
âThat you two fuck,â Renjun answers instead, making him cough.
âThatâs not true,â he defends. âI hate her,â he says, laughing, but when he meets your eyes and sees them sadden, he feels pain in his heart. âNo, no, I donât hate her, but weâre⊠you know our relationship, why would we fuck?â
âWhoâs fucking?â
âNot you, Jeno. Not you for sure,â Renjun says, rolling his eyes.
âHey! Why do you always gotta be so rude,â Jeno whines.
âI doubt heâs not getting laid,â you chuckle, and Jeno winks playfully.
âSee, words of a wise woman,â he brags, walking to the fridge to grab something.
Renjun sighs loudly. âA woman that doesnât know you.â
âWould you fuck him?â Haechan asks out of nowhere and you glare at him.
âI just said that heâs hot and smart, I donât see how he can have a hard time finding somebody,â
ââCause heâs annoying,â Renjun answers, but Haechanâs not listening.
âI didnât ask that,â Donghyuck says instead, his attention is all on you as if thereâs nobody else in the room. Â
âI donât answer stupid questions,â you reply before sipping from your cup and drifting your gaze away.
âWait, why are you here?â Jeno asks, only now realizing youâre not supposed to be at their place, not in the morning at least⊠wait⊠âWait! Are you two fuckââ
âNo,â Haechan answers sternly, glaring at him. âWeâre studying. And it got late, so since we were closer to my place, I let her stay the night.â
âI thought you left yesterday saying you had a date, though,â Jeno says confused.
You chuckle under your breath before you feel Haechanâs hand wrap around your writs to pull you out of the room, not even giving you time to finish your coffee. âA studying date, and now drop it.â
When you reach his room, he groans loudly, walking to the closet to pick something to wear. You watch him move for a while, but then you canât keep your thoughts inside your head anymore.
âAre you ashamed of me?â You ask and he turns around with wide eyes.
âWhat?â
âAm I something to be ashamed of? Do I donât fit in the standard of the people you would usually fuck?â
He sighs, shaking his head. âNo, I donât want them to get invasive, they donât let me live once they know something. And with you, itâs more embarrassing because of our historyâŠâ
You giggle, trying not to show the relief youâre feeling because, for a moment, you thought he was one of those types of men.
âWhy canât you ever make things easy for me?â He asks, annoyance in his voice. You have so much power over him, more than he likes to admit, and he feels like he canât even be too mad at you about it.
âSorry, itâs just, itâs funny having a history with you,â you explain. âMy mortal enemy, always ready to steal my number ones, and my good grades.â
âYouâre so annoying, youâre never sleeping over ever again.â
âYeah, âcause I wonât let you fuck me ever again.â
âLiar,â he says. âAnd now move, Iâll drop you home.â
you can find part two on my account on the story masterlist or haechanâs masterlist (i canât link it because if i do the post wonât appear in the tags)
general taglist: @froggyforhyuck, @wingsss45, @tddyhyck, @technologyculturedneo
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#nct fanfiction#haechan smut#lee haechan smut#donghyuck smut#lee donghyuck smut#haechan fluff#lee haechan fluff#donghyuck fluff#nct smut#nct 127 smut#nct dream smut#haechan scenarios
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ââ§âË⧠[ Sweet As Honey ] â§Ëââ§
Summary: You were too gone, too fucked stupid to realize what was happening. You were still riding the high of your orgasm, still drooling and twitching. Your eyes were rolling around and the only thing that could leave your lips were soft moans and whimpers⊠Then, you felt it. A slight burn- a slight stretch, a pressure that made your eyes open wide and a gasp escape you⊠His knot filling you, forcing your body to mold around it to accommodate the sheer size~ ⥠⥠âĄ
âïœĄËàšà§ËïœĄâ â Pairing: âZevlor x F!Tav/Reader
âïœĄËàšà§ËïœĄâ â Content: âNSFW - Knotting - Fat Creampie - Stuffed To The Brim With Cum - He Wants To Breed You Over And Over - Stuffed Deeply - He Uses His Tail To Bind Your Hands - Lactation - Milky Mess - Calling Him Commander - Nipple Sucking - Titty Groping - Stretched So Good - Cervix Pounding - Your Body Gets Bullied So Lovingly - Pregnancy - Comfort - Age Gap
âïœĄËàšà§ËïœĄâ â Notes: I just needed to get this off my chestâŠâĄ
Zevlorâs hands traveled over your belly. You had grown so big the past few months, but not enough to where you couldnât straddle him like you were now.
âI cherish this aspect of you, the one that nurtures our child. It fills my heart with a warmth that words can scarcely capture. You really are beautiful, my everlasting light.â
Zevlor looked up at you with a smile, his hands still massaging the sides of your stomach. He was so proud to be a father. And even more so to be a father with you, âThank you, for giving me this chance.â He brought your hand up to his lips and kissed it, âFor allowing such a washed up rag to love you.â He let out a playful huff remembering thatâs what Astarion has called him.
You smiled, cupping his cheek and rubbing the rough ridges on his cheekbone, his smile was so warm and gentle, even with his sharp teeth, âIt was fated, my love. It almost feels as though the gods crafted us for each other. I couldn't imagine a world where we weren't together, even when I didn't know you⊠i still felt a longing and now, here we are. You have filled me with so much love. More than I thought was possible."
His lips curled as his hand moved from your baby bump up to your very engorged breasts, âHow fortunate I am to witness a young woman like you flourish with the life Iâve planted within you. I vow to honor every inch of your being, cherishing you until the sands of time run their course.â
Just the feeling of his large, warm hand delicately handling your breasts was enough to cause you to throw your head back in a sigh. They were so tender and sensitive that he didn't need to do anything else to make you moan, âZ-Zevlor~â
He grinned at the way your hips squirmed against his lap, grinding on his cock which was already half hard and begging for attention.
âYouâre leaking,â He purred, gently thumbing the soft skin of one of your nipples, watching as small beads of milk began to drip down from your hard bud.
Zevlor leaned forward to place a kiss on your nipple before looking up at you, his tongue slowly rolling out and lapping at the drooling bud, collecting the small drops of milk and suckling gently. He could smell it, sweet like honey and warm, it was delicious and Zevlor found himself groaning softly as he was rewarded with sweet liquid on his tongue.
Biting your lip, you watched as he hungrily drink from your tit, his eyes never leaving yours as his tongue teased you, his warm mouth surrounding your nipple as his fangs barely grazed the soft skinâŠ
You could feel how your belly tightened with his touch, your clit throbbing as you desperately bump and grind against his cock, desperate for any kind of friction.
Zevlor was slow, careful. He always treated you like a precious jewel, a delicate flower. He was so gentle, so tender and loving.
âZev-hahhh~ m-more please. I need mnâmore~ please, I-I can't- ngh~ i can't wait anymore~â
His other hand left yours and reached up to your neglected nipple, his fingers pinching the bud until a small stream of milk ran down his fingersâŠÂ
âAh~â you gasped, your eyes closing as you continued to rock yourself against him, wanting him inside of you, needing him to fill you and quench the burning fire that was in the pit of your stomach.
With a quiet pop, Zevlor pulled off your breast, a string of his spit and your motherly milk connecting his lips to your swollen nipple⊠You were panting, sweating, and looking down at him with hooded eyes. Gods, you were lovely⊠so heavenly looking.
Zevlor smiled, his tongue snaking out to lick the string of milk and spit, breaking the connection, humming in approval before reaching down. The hand he squeezed your breast with, slick with your milk, wrapped around his throbbing member, spreading the creamy liquid along his length. A low, guttural moan escaped the commander as he palmed himself, the mixture of your milk and his pre cum creating such a wondrous lubricant.
âPatience, my dear- ngh- a-all in good time-âÂ
Small little infernal curses slipped past his lips Just as his cock twitched in his hand, already oozing with anticipation. The tip was a dark shade compared to the rest of it, and the thick veins that lined his beautiful meat pulsed with every pump.
You stared down at his cock, salivating at the sight of him as your core clenched, your cunt aching, âmâzev⊠itâs glistening~ looks so pretty~â your eyes practically had hearts in them as your eyes followed the bead of pre cum that seeped out of him and rolled down his length.
Your hand reached down, your finger brushing the tip of his cock to collect the pretty droplet and a bit of your smeared milk on the pad of your finger. Bringing it up to your mouth, you placed the digit between your lips, licking the drop off your finger with a satisfied moan. You didn't think you could taste something so delicious, the combination of your milk and his precum had you wanting even more.
This pregnancy had you acting so lewd, the sight of you lapping at your fingers, making such a show of it had him blushing, his cock twitching and his balls tightening...Â
âI-I canât wait Zev~ I-I can't, mn- i need it- need y-you! Please, please put it in!!â
He was taken aback by your sudden desperation. But he knew better than to deny you. His sweet, loving, needy, desperate girl.
Zevlor grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you down, his lips meeting yours as he held you in place, getting you in perfect position so that he could guide his cock into your waiting depths, that wet sloppy hole of yoursâŠ
Slowly he pushed himself inside, inch by agonizing inch.
That bulbous tip of his was thick and girthy, and every time he entered you, it took some getting used to. It didnât matter how many times you both fucked- how many times you made love, your pussy was so tight around him, making him fit so snuggly. The stretch burned, but the pain was always a delicious one.
And the moment his cock stretched you fully, your breast couldnât help but respond. A slow stream of milk trickled from your chest, coating yourself in a dairy delight.
You moaned, breaking the kiss to catch your breath, throwing your head back as he pushed deeper into you, âw-Wwwhaaa~~ pushing- pushing so deep inside ~!!!â his tip prodding that spongy spot deep inside you. Your eyes fluttered, and your body jerked violently when as he kept teasing your sweet spot.
His other hand rested on your belly, rubbing the taut skin in a circular motion, his voice breathless as he whispered in your ear, âpu-put your arms behind your- hah- y-your back-âÂ
âC-commander~â you whimpered, doing as he said. The stretch in your arms caused your tits to jiggle, another spurt of milk spurting out of your nipples- your hands on the opposite arm, your elbows were locked and holding yourself up.
âTh-thatâs my good girl,â his tail maneuvered to where it brought your hands together, coiling around your wrists behind your back to bind them together as his hands found purchase on your ass. lifting you up, and then dropping you down, Zevlor filled you with his thick, hot, pulsing tiefling cock.
Your tits bounced, splattering droplets of milk everywhere, leaking all the way down your front- over your swollen belly. It took him a moment, but he eventually realizes that you were making a mess- coating his chest as wellâŠ
This, all of this made him emotional⊠The fact that he had a child with you, this young thing that came out of nowhere months ago... Stumbling into the grove, a little light, just as the day seemed darkestâŠ
A tear pricked the corner of his eye, and a small chuckle rumbled from his chest, his cock twitching inside of you, âI- I love you.â
He lifted his hips, thrusting himself up and into you, watching as you fall apart.
âAh~ i- Zevlor~ I- I- I love YOOOOOOU~âĄâĄâ
You were screaming, you were loud, and your nails dug into the skin of your palms as they were kept bound, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He needed this. You needed this.
Fuck, he honestly wishes he could keep you like this forever, knocked up and leaking, always wanting him and needing him like some kind of desperate whore, always craving his touch, his voice, his love and affection.
He thrusted, hard, the tip of him begging for entrance to the deepest parts of you, the tip hitting the entrance of your wombâŠ. Repeatedly knocking against your cervix- kissing it and asking for permission to enter.
You were crying-, âZE- COM-COMMANDER~ PLE-PLEASE- HAHH- Z-ZEVLOR~âĄ~~~~~ PLEASE DON-DON'T ST-STOP, KNOCK-KNOCKING SO DEEP INSIDE- IT- IT FEEEEEELS TOO GOOD- YOU FE-FILL ME UP SOO-SO WELL- MHMNNN~âĄâĄ~~~â begging, pleading, until your eyes rolled into the back of your skull as you came⊠Gushing all over his cock- soaking his lap, his balls, his thighs, and the sofa beneath you both...
Zevlor groaned, the wet sounds of your sloppy, squelching pussy echoing in the room as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm. His toned arms wrapped around you, pinning you against his chest- his tail coiling tighter around your wrists surely enough to leave a tail shaped bruise.Â
He could feel the wetness of your milk as you laid on him, the liquid dribbling down the sides of his torso, catching on every ridge and mark that adorned his well aged body.
You were drooling, your body twitching, convulsing, trembling as he continued to plow into you. He was so close. And the way your insides were squeezing him had him teetering on the edge. But he couldnât give in yet. He was a soldier- he was a commander⊠or at least thatâs what he tried to tell himself. But with you he was just a man- a weak, old, pathetic, love sick man.
He grunted, his balls tightening- ready to spill his load deep within you⊠Zevlor knew what time of the year it wasâŠHow as soon as he would let himself spill, his knot would lock you both together⊠âFor-Forgive me dear- ah- fâfor any discomfort I may cau-cause.â His eyes fluttered shut as his head tilted back, groans and moans falling from his lips like a prayer, his hips picking up the pace.
You were too gone, too fucked stupid to realize what was happening. You were still riding the high of your orgasm, still drooling and twitching. Your eyes were rolling around and the only thing that could leave your lips were soft moans and whimpers.
Then, you felt it- a slight burn- a slight stretch, a pressure that made your eyes open wide, a gasp escaping youâŠ
The wonderful feeling of his cum pooling into you with a baby already inside you made his balls tighten, his muscles to flex, and his jaw clench. His knot was stretching you wider and wider- the bulge in your lower abdomen growing and growing with every spurt of his thick, hot load- painting your insides a beautiful, creamy white, âH-HAH-AHHH- OH GODS, IT-IT'S T-TOO MUCH-NGH- TOO MUCH-Z-ZEVLOR-HNNGH- I CAN-I CAN FEEL IT- I CAN F-FE~â
Zevlor growled, his hands holding you tight, his sharp nails digging into the soft skin of your ass. You were too tight. Too wet. Too warm. Too perfect. His mind was reeling, his heart racing.
The knot in you grew, forcing his fiendish cock against your cervix- cramming it in further⊠keeping the precious load of cum he just painted your insides with from spilling outâŠ
He couldn't think- not like this. Your warmth was making him melt- and the sound of your cries were driving him insaneâŠ
It grew easily to the size of his fist, maybe even a little more, forcing your body to mold around it- keeping you nice and plugged.Â
You felt so damn bloated and cramped as you gasped, struggling to pull in breaths as he filled you so much, âhah- Z-evvvv~ ah hah huff~ I- I forgot- forgot how f-fat you got~âĄ~ âĄ~ oh gods- oh gods- oh gods- I- I canât g-get enough~ l- love you sâmuch~â
The commander was a panting mess, his eyes closed tight as his entire body was stiff, his toes curled and his fists clenched. His knot was throbbing and pulsing, his heart beating loudly in his chest.
He loved you too. Gods- he loved you more than life itself⊠he owed you everything, yet you were the one who would beg him for a kiss or a touch- for his praise and approval. He didn't deserve you. Not at all.
But here you were, a pregnant goddess, tied to him and full of his seed, covered in your own milk- his sweet, wonderful, Tav~
#bg3#baldurâs gate 3#baldurs gate 3#baldurs gate#zevlor#tav#zevlor bg3#bg3 zevlor#bg3 smut#monster smut#monster fucker#monster fucking
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Obviously today is mother's day ân now I'm just thinking about how Daryl would be on it because I am down bad and imagine too much of my life with this man đđ (Can you blame me?)
He'd check the calendar and the community one so many times to make sure he had the day right, since obviously that kinda got screwed up with the apocalypse and y'all had to kinda reinvent it, and still it's really easy to get off track.
But he was sure today was the day, and carefully crept out of bed earlier in the morning to surprise you. He picks flowers from the community, maybe slipping from the walls for just a moment to find one he's missing, then carefully arranges them in a vase he'd picked out on a run once.
He quietly goes to wake up your daughter, and together they prepare a luxury arrangement of pancakes/waffles/french toast (whatever be your favorite), and a bar of toppings ready to be added like fresh fruits, homemade honey and maple syrup, freshly whipped cream, and so on.
When you'd come down the steps, rubbing sleep from your eyes, he'd quickly come over to wrap you in his arms and kiss you. âG'morninâ sunshine. Happy momma's day,â
He'd lead you over to the table where the vase and breakfast bar sit, your daughter presenting a card she'd made for you. And that was just the beginning of it. Daryl secretly worked with her to create all sorts of little crafts and gifts for you.
Later, he'd take you both out to a quiet lake, somewhere he was sure was clear where no walkers or anything would come and disturb you. He'd sit behind you in the warm and soothing sun, keeping hands on you and massaging you, peppering kisses to your shoulders and the nape of your neck, whispering endless praises in your ears as you watch your daughter collect little blossoms and such not far from you, playing with Dog.
âLook at her⊠you gave me that. Thank you DarâŠâ You say quietly in wonder and gratitude.
âYa gave me thaâ. Thank you. Ya deserve everythinâ. Best damn momma in tha world.â Another kiss to the soft spot behind your ear.
And later, he'd cook you dinner â some fancy cut of venison he'd only ever make for you, then having a campfire in the backyard, the three of you stargazing till your daughter soon falls asleep in your laps. He'd carry her up to bed, and you'd split glasses of wine in the kitchen.
And with the kid asleep, his hands find purchase on your waist, smoothing over your clothed frame as you'd exchange flirty comments. He was so drunk on love for you, mouth sucking lightly at your jawline and neck, trailing down, eager to continue on the skin of your chest.
It wasn't long before you were stumbling to your bedroom, Daryl's hands caressing every single inch of your body, never able to get enough of you.
His head would stay buried between your thighs for as long as you'd want it â no matter how fatigued his tongue got, how sore his jaw became, he didn't even notice it as his focus stayed locked on listening to your every moan, watching you writhe and buck up to his touch.
He'd thank you in every single way imaginable for being a mother. The mother of his child. For everything you do for him, everything you do for your daughter, and everything you do in general, reminding you just how perfect you are. and maybe making you a mother twice over.
And the best part of it all; it didn't need to be mother's day for Daryl to do this. He'd do this any day, ever, no matter the occasion. He does most of these on a regular basis anyway. That man was never religious till he met you and you became the Goddess to which he will kiss the ground in every spot you step, bend to your every will and command and do anything for you, worship you till his dying breath.
#daryl dixon#daryldixon#daryl dixon headcanon#daryl dixon imagine#twd daryl#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon x female reader#daryl dixon x you#daryl dixon x y/n#norman reedus#twd#normanreedus#the walking dead#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl drabbles#dad!daryl#norman reedus x reader#daryl dixion imagine#daryl imagines#daryl x reader
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A couple more playlist suggestions that I thought of only after I sent the ask. orz I hope you like at least some of them!!
Yonji @ Sanji
"The Lament of Eustace Scrubb" by The Oh Hellos
"Be My Escape" by Relient K
"Start Again" by RED
Yonji @ Judge
"Monster" by Starset
Yonji @ his family right before he left
"Goodbye" by Ramsey
Yonji @ his family after he left
"Echoes of You" by Marianas Trench
So I discovered this AU about 5 hours ago and it has me in a chokehold. Your Yonji is a precious bean and he must be protected at all times, and Sanji being a big brother is everything I didn't even know I wanted. <3 I hope you don't mind the influx of questions I have after going through the whole tag.
So speaking of Sanji being a big brother, have he and Yonji ever hugged? If so, what prompted it? Is Yonji more touchy-feely than Sanji in general, or are they both pretty touch-averse?
How does Yonji fight? Did he develop his own style of fighting after leaving Germa 66, much like Sanji did, or does he still fight the way he did when working under Judge? Is he still really good at fighting, or does he easily become a nonfunctional, overwhelmed mess, bombarded on all sides with everyone's heightened and fraught emotions?
Does Yonji's prosthetic arm have attachments and hidden weapons? How does he upkeep it? Does he know how it works decently enough do to it himself, or does he have a mechanic that he goes to for tuneups?
Who taught Yonji tailoring and fashion? Sanji had Zeff to help him become a master chef, so did someone take Yonji under their wing in a similar fashion? Or is he entirely self-taught?
Does Yonji ever feel bad for leaving his brothers and sister behind? Unlike Sanji, who had normal human emotions from the get-go, Yonji's been on both sides of the fence, and he knows what it's like to be the sociopathic killing machine their father turned them into. Does he wish there was some way to trigger what happened to him in them as well? Do he and Sanji ever talk about their family? We know Sanji was the only one to regularly go and visit their mother, but do you think Yonji has any memories of her as well? Does he beg Sanji for stories about her?
Where does Yonji live? Does Sanji swing by to visit him every so often, or do they keep in touch by air mail, does Yonji join the Strawhats or just travel with them?
Does Sanji ever have a "O shit, I think I might actually love him" moment when it comes to Yonji? It could be something domestic like laughing together in Sanji's kitchen they work together to prepare a meal, or something like seeing Yonji about to be injured or even killed in the middle of a fight and going "This is the only little brother I've got, not on my watch, dammit!"
Lastly, do you have any songs in mind for you AU, aside from the ones you've used for your animatics? Some that came to mind for Yonji are:
"Stray Italian Greyhound" by Vienna Teng
"To Be Human" by Sia
"Zephyrus" by The Oh Hellos
"Stigma" by V
And I think "Soap" by The Oh Hellos maybe fits Sanji's feelings toward having his brother back in his life and being willing to extend a second chance to him after seeing how he's changed.
Holy shit that's a long ask! Lemme see...
So speaking of Sanji being a big brother, have he and Yonji ever hugged? If so, what prompted it? Is Yonji more touchy-feely than Sanji in general, or are they both pretty touch-averse?
They've hugged, mostly at WCI arc. But for the most part they're touch adverse (despite being touch starved). Yonji enjoys instigating physical affection to anyone but he's not great at taking it.
How does Yonji fight? Did he develop his own style of fighting after leaving Germa 66, much like Sanji did, or does he still fight the way he did when working under Judge? Is he still really good at fighting, or does he easily become a nonfunctional, overwhelmed mess, bombarded on all sides with everyone's heightened and fraught emotions?
Yonji very rarely fights anymore. He usually quickly gets overwhelmed and becomes a mess, yes, due to all of the emotions. Whenever he gets into a fight he loses control of his Haki and it's a bad time. However, if he has a goal, (protecting someone, getting something etc.) he can power through it. His fighting style is still mostly brute force punching because he hasn't learned any other way. However, when he joins the Revs, he gets taught to be more smart about it.
Does Yonji's prosthetic arm have attachments and hidden weapons? How does he upkeep it? Does he know how it works decently enough do to it himself, or does he have a mechanic that he goes to for tuneups?
It used to! He broke a lot of them/refuses to use them. He knew how it worked enough to keep it functional up until he meets the Strawhats and upon finding the frankly horrendous state of the prosthetic, Franky helps make Yonji a new one, specialized for tailoring! He rarely gets issues with the new are but if he does he can usually troubleshoot himself or attempt to contact Franky.
Who taught Yonji tailoring and fashion? Sanji had Zeff to help him become a master chef, so did someone take Yonji under their wing in a similar fashion? Or is he entirely self-taught?
For the most part, he's self-taught! Maybe I'll give him a mentor but I'm usually pretty adverse to making OCs for my AUs. Hmmmmm. He definitely had a training arc under some big name shops at one point though.
Does Yonji ever feel bad for leaving his brothers and sister behind? Unlike Sanji, who had normal human emotions from the get-go, Yonji's been on both sides of the fence, and he knows what it's like to be the sociopathic killing machine their father turned them into. Does he wish there was some way to trigger what happened to him in them as well? Do he and Sanji ever talk about their family? We know Sanji was the only one to regularly go and visit their mother, but do you think Yonji has any memories of her as well? Does he beg Sanji for stories about her?
*smacks yonji on the head* This good boy can fit so much guilt complex in him! He's guilty about everything all the time! Yes, he does want to help Ichiji and Niji, which comes into play post WCI. While Sanji and Yonji tend to avoid talking about Judge or their siblings, Sora has been brought up before. I know I haven't mentioned it on tumblr yet, but I sometimes draw Yonji with a necklace, which is supposed to be a trinket of Sora's that Reiju gave to him when Yonji ran away. Yonji's memories of Sora is hazy and he pretty torn up about it. Yeah, he asks Sanji for stories about her. <3
Where does Yonji live? Does Sanji swing by to visit him every so often, or do they keep in touch by air mail, does Yonji join the Strawhats or just travel with them?
He lives on this random island along the Grandline! Something kinda like Saboady or Hand Island. The Straw Hats (specifically) Sanji has visited few times post the initial meeting but Yonji does not actively travle with them. He might had, like, one adventure with them but otherwise he's not part of the crew or anything. He does get the SH's den den mushi number and keeps in touch that way. Occasionally he'll send packages- usually at the behest of Sanji at the behest of Nami, lol. Later, Yonji ends up getting roped into joining the Revs and he splits his time between being at his shop and at Baltigo.
Does Sanji ever have a "O shit, I think I might actually love him" moment when it comes to Yonji? It could be something domestic like laughing together in Sanji's kitchen they work together to prepare a meal, or something like seeing Yonji about to be injured or even killed in the middle of a fight and going "This is the only little brother I've got, not on my watch, dammit!"
YES! Specifically Yonji crying and gushing about how good Sanji's cooking is. Yonji is a little foodie and while he can't cook to save his life, he does happen to know a good bit about how food gets made and really learned to appreciate the effort that goes into cooking. Sanji is not normal over this fact. He has the "Don't touch my brother!" moment at WCI screaming at Judge. Which sends Yonji into a blubbering mess. (A lot of things happen WCI lmfao.)
Lastly, do you have any songs in mind for you AU, aside from the ones you've used for your animatics?
My ass doesn't actively listen to a whole bunch of music but I have made a playlist for this AU! The vibe mostly is like upbeat songs with sad lyrics lol.
Forgive my terrible terrible taste in music:
Thank you for the songs! Gonna snag 'em and add 'em to the playlist hehe.
Also, thank you for the ask!!!! <3 <3
#one piece#good yonji au#xi asks#xi replies#tysm for answering!!#I know it was a long ask so i wasn't expecting an answer straightaway so this was a nice surprise!#poor boys need so many hugs :((( I hope they start giving each other more after WCI#makes perfect sense that Yonji barely fights anymore even if he still knows how#being an empath must suck man :(#as would fumbling along for years on a semi-functional prosthetic sheesh I hope Franky read him the riot act for letting it get that bad#never again sir!!#oooo a mentor OC! hey man you need help with OC making just lemme know I will be more than happy to help!!#currently picturing a sweet but no nonsense old lady who is super knowledgeable and skilled in her craft#because the Vinsmoke siblings deserve a grandma dammit#and I think she'd be pretty nonthreatening when it comes to Yonji's triggers#she's not a harsh older man like his father or someone he would be tempted to simp over#at least those be my initial thoughts idk I'M JUST THINKING OUT LOUD#he needs so much therapy fr. I do remember seeing that necklace. at least he has something of his mother's to remember her by#i'm glad Sanji tells him stories can be a brotherly bonding activity <3#asfdjhlrjlkwajrklwa the way to Sanji's heart is by complementing his cooking good to know XDD#Yonji probably never got to eat Sanji's cooking before either so he's probably amazed at all the miraculous things Sanji can do with food#I wonder if Sanji has a similar moment when it comes to Yonji and textiles#ooooo a playlist!! I see Ghost by Mystery Skulls on there nICE#ooo and a song by Henry I don't think i've seen interesting#thanks for adding some of my own songs too! <3
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hiiii đ i need to see how rafe shows off his latina sweetheart ESPECIALLY when it comes to her being around other guys ty tella
one thing is for certain: rafe cameron has never been one to shy away from putting his girl on full display, nor was he afraid to publicly stake his claim on you in many different ways. rafe is a man of grandeur, and as much as he loved being the center of attention, but loved having you showered and adorned, even more. he knew the challenges that came with being with a girl like you - you were precocious, your swollen lips expanding into a dreamy that could make any man fall to his knees, your naive, yet aware cadence magnetized those around you, but rafe could not and would not allow just anyone to approach you. at the end of the day, you were his - his girl, the only one who could make his entire world crumble with a snap of your baby pink, acrylic-nail enforced finger.
rafe was quick to dress you in the finest jewelry, dainty white gold chains, bracelets, and rings adorning your limbs, his initials either dangling from or engraved into each individually crafted piece of jewelry. the young man couldnât find the strength to ignore the swell of pride that came with seeing you wear his initials for the first time. it took everything in him, not to knock you up with his first child the moment he laid his eyes on you.
âhow do i look, papi?â you asked sweetly, your swollen, glittery gloss covered lips expanding into a stupidly sweet smile as you joyously bit down into your bottom lip, eyes wide with anticipation as rafe approached you.
rafe carefully lifted the diamond-encrusted âRâ that dangled from the dainty chain, his hand lightly resting around the base of your throat, âyâlook beautiful, baby, just donât take that off, okay?â he instructed, his eyebrows raised with authority as you nodded furiously, before sliding your delicate hand up his tense chest.
âthank you, itâs so beautiful,â you beamed, bouncing on your heels as rafe brought his hand to your wrist, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead, before taking a close look at your empty, for now, ring finger.
aside from outrageously expensive gifts, rafe made it a point to have you under his arm, at all times. there was a substantial height difference between the two of you, rafe making sure to use his staggering height and long arms as means for keeping you tucked close into his side. if it was a seated moment, you were prettily perched atop of his lap as rafe kept one of his arms loosely secured around you.
this, of course, came with rafe being obnoxiously public about his displays of affection towards you. quite frankly, rafe didnât give a fuck who was around, if the mood struck, heâd have you held by the back of your neck as his lips swallowed yours in an erotic kiss, his tongue sliding against yours as he put on a show for any guy who believed that they had even the slightest of chances of getting to you, let alone with you. there was even a time where rafe had felt as though, topper was looking a bit too closely in your direction, so he decided to up the ante.
âopen your mouth, mama,â he rasped, his hand wrapped around you throat as your eyes widened with fear and exhilaration, maybe it was the coke that heâd painted on your gums a few minutes prior?
you complied with ease, your swollen lips parting as rafe pulled you in closer, by the base of your throat, his bright blue eyes locked on topper as he softly tilted your head back, before allowing a line of spit to roll off of his tongue and fall into your welcoming mouth. a low moan escaping your throat as you swallowed happily, before leaning back against rafeâs firm chest. rafe lightly slapped the side of your thigh, finally peeling his eyes away from a now dumbstruck topper, allowing his head to roll back against the couch as you licked and sucked at the taut skin on the side of his neck.
you see, this was only a taste of how sadistic rafe could be. sometimes, rafe would push the limits, even going as far as to stuffing his cock deep inside of your pretty little pussy, while his boys sat awkwardly in the next room.
the sound of rafeâs hips slamming into the plush fat of your ass, coupled by the squelch of your wet hole swallowing his length could be heard, echoing through the kitchen as you let out a throaty moan, your hand slapping onto the smooth surface of the counter as you ached to grab onto the nearest object you could find.
âfuck, baby - shit, uh top what the fuck were you trying to tell me about?â rafe smirked, his stomach tightened as his balls slapped against your ass, his arm sliding around your waist, in an effort to pull you straight up against his chest. a sharp exhale left rafeâs lips as he relished in the new angle, pressing his hand flush against your lower abdomen to feel the small bump whenever he fully thrusted into you.
topper stood in the main living area of tannyhill with his mouth slack open, his eyes blown with disbelief as he struggled to figure out just how he would be able to carry a conversation with rafe, âuh, sânothing too crazy man, i just-â
âfuck, rafe, sâtoo much,â you moaned, looking up at him through your doll lashes as he continued to fuck into you with no change in his impressive stamina. you let out a high-pitched whine as rafe pressed you closer against him, his sharp teeth nipping at your jaw.
âi know, baby, just let me finish talkinâ to topper, aâight?â he cooed, his rapid and hard thrust now decreasing into slow and deep rolls of his hips against your ass, your increased wetness resulting in louder and more frequent squelches coming from your pulsing pussy. a smile now played on rafeâs lips as you nodded weakly, his large hand now covering your mouth, âsorry man, what were you saying?â he called out.
topper ran his fingers through his hair with a forced laugh of embarrassment as he shrugged, âyeah, uh i donât even know what i was saying man, iâm going to head to the backâ topper gave up, the hum of your muffled moans and sopping pussy becoming all too much for rafeâs best friend to withstand as he rushed towards the backyard, eager to get away from the awkwardness that came with hearing rafe fuck your brains out.
and to top it all off, rafe cameron was not one to hesitate when it came to his impulsive behaviors, heâd rather deal with broken knuckles and cut cheekbones than have any man try to challenge him when it came to who you belonged to. rafe wasnât new to fights, nor was he ever scared to get in one. sure, there was a new pang of guilt that ached in his chest as he heard your cries and attempts to get him to fall back, but rafe was a very proactive man, he had a reputation to protect and uphold, even if it was strained and volatile.
there was no way in hell that rafe would ever allow a man to walk away unscathed, especially if he had the balls to touch you. sure, rafe could do without the look of disappointment that glazed over your pretty eyes, but he had a job as a man, your man, to protect you, and heâd be damned if he felt ashamed for it. âstop looking at me like that, baby,â he scolded, nudging your chin with his free hand as he continued to hold onto the steering wheel.
you huffed, pulling your head away from rafeâs touch as you relaxed into the passenger seat. your threaded eyebrows furrowed with attitude while you remained silent and disobedient.
rafe scoffed, before turning to look at you, âknock it off, yâshould not have even been that fuckinâ close to him,â rafe spat, his free hand now pointing a finger at you, before returning to the steering wheels, his bloodstained knuckles now strained from his tight grip, âhey, iâm serious, drop the attitude.â
you sighed, a pout now playing on your lips as you reached for rafeâs arm, bringing his hand to lay on your thigh as you leaned your face against his tight bicep, your eyes lowering to take in the sight of his swollen knuckles.
âi donât like when you fight, you always get hurt, rafey,â you sighed, clinging to rafeâs arm as he rolled his eyes, carefully turning the steering wheel.
âyeah? well, if you stopped being so fuckinâ friendly, i wouldnât have to do this, mama,â he sang, his tone teetering on being condescending as you pressed your cherry stained lips to the skin of his bicep, the glint of your gifted chain glinting against the streetlights.
as long as you wore that chain, as long as you were his, rafe wouldnât stop until the entire world knew just who it was that you belonged to.
#anon#rafe cameron prompt#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron imagine#obx imagine#obx#rafe cameron#asks#sweetheart!reader
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dreamer's envy
|| dan heng x reader || E/18+ || first time, comfort, lore || wc: 13.4k  || ao3 ||
Dan Heng is haunted by the memories of a man he no longer is. You are all to willing to help him.
minors, antis and ageless blogs dni
notes: ahhh!!! beloved dh... df... yx... this fic is a bit of a love letter to reader insert character studies and ship fic. making my two faves kiss on the mouth fr. thank you so much to @yinyuedijun for beta reading along the way!! hope you enjoy đ
CW: reader is referred to with they/them pronouns and afab anatomy, previous dan feng/yingxing, descriptions of gore, descriptions of intimacy issues, author-created lore (plot crafted prior to penacony release), interpretations of HCQ lore, multiple characters experiencing post-trauma
NOTE: this piece is written in two points of view. one is from dan hengâs perspective, where the âyouâ he is referring to, is you, as in the reader. the other perspective is second-person pov where the narrator ('you') is dan feng. in these portions, 'you' have a cock and the assorted anatomy. these portions are written in italicized text.
Your hands shake. Your thighs tremble. Yingxing lays between them, your cock nestled in his mouth. Itâs not sizable enough to hit the back of his throat, but Yingxing, ever the sensitive man, still has tears pricking the corners of his eyes. You stifle a moan into your hand, hastily slapped over your mouth.
Yingxing will not have it.
A strong, calloused hand grabs your wrist and yanks it. He pins your hand by your side, intertwining your fingers. He pulls off your cock with spit-slick lips and smiles.Â
âBeloved,â Yingxing speaks in a purr, soft and gentle and comforting against your ears. âYou know I love to hear all of those sounds of yours. Youâre not getting shy on me, are you?â
Thereâs a hint of mischief to his voice. You huff and kick at his back.
âHurry up,â you snap at him. There's a bite to it; you mean there to be. Yingxing only looks amused by your toneâ the only one on the entire Luofu who could possibly look joyful, when met with your distinct ire.
âCanât I take my time?â Yingxing asks, licking from your balls, to base, to the head of your cock. Youâreâ wet. Leaking pre down your shaft. âMay I undo you, my flower?â
âYouâre an awful man. I will have you imprisoned.â
âYouâd never.â
âYouâre right, Iâd do worse.â You have so many ideas brewing behind your eyesâ ways to punish this wretched man for toying with you. Treating you so kindly and with such humor and wit. There is no one else like himâ no one else in your many, lonely years who has lanced you in the way that Yingxing has. How treacherous of him, to steal your heart.Â
âYouâll have to tell me all about the ways youâll punish me,â Yingxing hums, pushing the tip of your cock against his lips. Itâs obscene. The skin at the corners of his eyes crinkle. âAfter you cum down my throat, though.â
Yingxing, that bastard of a man, takes you into his mouth against, bobbing his head, sucking and running the flat of his tongue over the bottom of your cock. Itâs too much, all at onceâ
And how prettily you moan when you become undone (again) under this wonderful, awful manâ
â¶Â  â¶Â  â¶Â  â¶Â  ⶠ â¶
Dan Heng wakes up with such a start, he nearly vomits. He does dry heave, snatching the conveniently placed trash can nearby and dropping his head inside to sputter. Spit dribbles off his lips and falls in globs to the bottom of the basket.
He sets it aside and rubs the heels of his hands over his eyes.
Again.
Again, again, againâ he has these dreams all too often. Of a life that is not his, of a lover that couldnât possibly, ever be his. Theyâre visceral, vividâ as though Dan Heng is experiencing them in real time, and theyâre not some awful figment that clings from a past life.
They plague him, simply. He hates every moment of them.
The pleasure of them feels poisonous. That man is not him. Yingxingâ is not his. The body that writhes and gasps is not his own. Heâs an onlooker, a distant stranger looking in on something intimate and dead. Itâs torture, really, but Dan Heng is an expert is quiet endurance, so he copes.Â
He stands, still wearing day clothes, and drags himself from his sleeping bag on the floor. His companions on the Astral Express all stated their initial concern with his choice of lodging and lack of a bed, but theyâve since calmed. Everyone on the Express has their quirks. Itâs like how March sleep walks, Stelle occasionally glows from her chest, and you only sleep once every few weeks and never in your own room. Dan Heng enjoys his spot in the Archives due to the various motors and machinery that lay under the floor. Itâs warm, far toastier than any other room, or bed for that matter.Â
(He is not Dan Feng. However, Dan Heng cannot deny that his more draconic instincts are somewhat intact.)
Dan Heng throws on his slouchiest sweater, threadbare and worn, and wanders to the parlor car. An hour or so of pacing usually cures him of any antsiness, and he can nurse a cup of tea while he walks too.
This night, however, you sit in the parlor car as well. Dan Heng slows as he sees you.
Youâreâ an enigma to him really. Everyone on the express is a bit of a misfit, but you are a newer addition to the bunch, and he and the rest of the crew are still grappling with your oddities.Â
Dan Heng has, since the moment he first met you, accepted he would never fully understand you. He made peace with it, moved on and has kept his distance except when necessary. It is better this way.
Youâre staring, side-long, out of one of the wide windows of the car. Your chin is perched on your palm and your perpetually blood-shot eyes are half-lidded. Dark circles are punched beneath them. You look like shit. You always look like shit, and you have assured the crew that this is normal, despite Marchâs initial fretting.Â
When you notice him staring, a kind smile curls on your lips and you wave, good-natured.
âHey there, sleeping beauty. Are you doing alright?â
âIâm fine.â Itâs not the first time you two have met like this. The Parlor Car is empty, except the two of you and the dimly glowing whale fixture that hangs from the ceiling. It feels familiar, much more comfortable than the... unwelcome familiarity of his own dreams. âIâm just fetching a cup of tea.â
âAh, a night cap?â You hum, and crack your neck. âSounds needed. That last dream of yours was wild.âÂ
Dan Heng frowns, âIâve asked you before to quit that, please. Itâs invasive.â
âI would if I could,â You shrug. âBut, I canât. Besides, your dreams are loud, Dan Heng. Iâd be unable to ignore them even if I was at the back of the train.âÂ
âCan you at least not mention them?â
âI mean, I can not. But... they clearly upset you, donât they?â You tilt your head, eyes soft. âWould you like to talk about them at all? I donât mind listening.â
âThey arenât your concern.â
âIâm aware of that, but that doesnât stop me from caring. I know theyâre distressing.â
âYouâre prying.â
âIâm asking, Dan Heng.â You sound a little desperate. Standing, you pass by him, in the direction of the passenger car. âYou can say âno, my fellow Nameless, I would like you to never speak of me and my upsetting sex dreams,â and I wonât ever mention them again. I donât mean to be a thorn in your side, but the past is easier to bear in the present if you can lean on folks.â
Dan Heng is silent, stewing and stirring under his skin.Â
By the time he has a reply formulated, you have left the parlor car. The only sign that youâd ever been there to begin with is a patterned knit blanket left where you were sitting.Â
Dan Heng snatches it up before he can convince himself not to and returns to his room to add it to his ground-bound nest.
...
Welt had found you outside of a space station, idling around a refueling station. Youâd been wearing a dirty utility jumpsuit with the emblem of some IPC-owned subsidiary screen-printed on the pocket. Your eyes had been glassy and far away. When Welt asked if you were alright, you had smiled and told him, âActually, Iâve never been worse.â
The Express loves strays. Itâs ultimately what he, Stelle, and March are. Welt to some extent as well, especially considering his several layers of mystery. Himeko has the disposition of a kind leader and the heart of a mother, and for all of Pom Pomâs fretting, they are always interested in a new face aboard the Astral Express, for however long they choose to be there.
Itâs sensical that you were given a shower, a hot meal, and a room before you even fully understood what you were signing up for with the Express.
Dan Heng was, notably, wary of you. It was the way you looked at him after the first night you slept on the Express (one where he had predictably been plagued with images of a body that wasnât really his being fucked and loved in a way Dan Heng couldnât conceptualize his actual self receiving). There was clear concern etched in your expression, however you never voiced it. Not at first.
It was only after a few weeks that March pointed out you hadnât slept since your arrival that you revealed your hand.
A bloodline blessed by the Aeon of Dreams, Sacha.Â
Dan Heng had heard of the Aeon, distantly. A seldom-traveled path, one for those with imagination run wild and a penchant for long naps. There were whispers that the Aeon was asleep, constantly. Otherwise, dead. Regardless, you bore the Godbeingâs blessing in some way.
You revealed this during a routine coffee break, just before Welt, March and Stelle descending to a little sandy moon. Perched on a chair, legs curled over your chest, youâd laughed when March pointed out your lack of good sleeping practices.
âI donât need to, so I tend not to. Itâs a difficult habit to break.âÂ
You had explained to Dan Heng and Himeko that you and your kin, a race descended from a small planet from a dead solar system, all bear this blessing. No need for sleep andâ
âI perceive the dreams of others.â
Dan Heng had questioned, immediatelyâ âPerceive?â
âThatâs the best way to put it.â You meet his eye and you look slack in your shoulders. Unbearably calm and tired. âWhat you dream, I experience along with you. The more I focus in, the more vivid it is.â
(Dan Heng is horrified and doesnât speak to you for a week.)
After some significant, quiet panic, Dan Heng had politely asked you to not perceive his dreams if you could help it.Â
Youâd told him youâd do your best.
And Dan Hengâ appreciates the effort. Even if it's clear it's not working. You are so often up when he rises for his customary tea and jaunt, and tend to prod him a little. At least stop him to chat for a moment or tea. Youâll sneak in a cheeky comment or two, usually, but theyâre so quick Dan Heng canât do much more than blush and stumble over his next sentence.
You look highly amused and soft, those nights.
You never ridicule him, which he appreciates. More often you look pleasantly neutral, as if trying to emulate the aura of a familiar house plant near a skittish black cat.
(Dan Heng knows he is the skittish black cat.)
Itâsâ too much really. Dan Heng would rather bear it alone, take his cup of tea and do his laps, but he also canât find it in him to tell you off too harshly. You tend to favor the parlor car, anyway. You get lost in the stars and galaxies they traverse easily. It would feel cruel to ask you to sequester yourself to your room simply so Dan Heng can brood more effectively.
Dan Heng does not know what to do about his own haunting (arousing) dreams, nor does he know what to do with you and your unfazed smiles.
...
You straddle Yingxingâs lap, thighs tense as you roll your hips. Your loverâs length grinds inside of you, stroking something small and hot and so good you could get drunk on it. You chase the sensation, selfish. Your hands are braced behind you, on Yingxingâs thighs as he is sprawled below.Â
His cheeks are flushed and his hair is a knotted mess. A hastily ripped piece of fabric binds Yingxingâs wrist together and secure to the stained wood of the bed frame. You were kind enough to carefully pull out his favored hairpin (a gift, one you commissioned him to make... for himself. Without his knowledge. Yingxing was moderately huffy about it until you tucked it into his hair yourself.) and set it aside.Â
Yingxing is not a weak man, but you are a Dragon, and therefore keeping him restrained and tethered is not difficult. Usually, you allow Yingxing the privilege of carving out your insides at his leisure and pace. Thereâs a sweet torture to it you have found yourself having grown fond of.Â
There is no other soul, mortal or otherwise, short-lived or long-lived, that you would allow to exert such control over you. Yingxing is an exception for you in so many ways. How dear this (foolish) craftsman has become to you.
âB-Beloved,â Yingxingâs voice is tight, strained. Thereâs sweat beading on his temples. âMight I persuade you into moving?â
You hum. Your tail wraps around his leg, from ankle to thigh and squeezes. The feathered tail flicks at Yingxingâs tense muscle and he jolts under you. A glittering laugh leaks from the corner of your mouth.
âPersuade me then.â
âY-Youâre not making this easy, are you?â
âI told you I wouldnât. And you still agreed.â
âI thought the great Yinyue Jun would grant me some mercy at least. Excuse my wishful thinking. I thought that my dearest husband would forgo being a brat for at least a single nightââ
You scoff.
You roll your hips, slow and deliberate. Yingxingâs words are cut off, killed in his throat as his eyes roll back into his skull. Keeping your core tight, you bury his cock in your hole to the hilt. Youâre flush together, panting. Itâs a tight squeeze, it always is. But the slight burn is familiar and welcome as you throw your head back and moan.
The sound is sin. If any of the Preceptors knew what this man did to you, heâd be drowned in Scalegorge within the day.Â
Yingxing curses in a tongue you donât knowâ itâs his motherâs language, he once told you. He tries to buck up into your heat, but you hold him down and steady. Clicking your tongue and racking your nails down his chest. Thin welts rise in your wake. Yingxing lets loose a choked gasp as you slide down on his cock. The stretch is so, so good. You crave this ache. You fantasize about it when you surely shouldnât. It haunts yourâ
Dreams?
â¶Â  â¶Â  â¶Â  â¶Â  ⶠ â¶
Dan Heng wakes up so hard it physically hurts. He gasps, muffling a half-there sound into his pillow. Itâs shameful. He feels out of his mind as he flips onto his stomach and ruts into his nest of blankets. The friction is dry, scratchy, and barely enough. Howeverâ the phantom sensations of a dead lover crawl over him. Nostalgic and tragic and nauseating.
He comes with a sob that he prays no one hears. He stains the front of his boxers as he grinds his oversensitive cock against the wet fabric. Itâs too much. Heâs too sensitive. It hurts, but Dan Heng doesnât know what else to do.
He feels ashamed as he sits up and runs a hand over his face.Â
Itâs usually not this bad. Usually he can will away any arousal with logic. Reminding himself that the pleasant touch and face he remembers is long gone and was never his to have to begin with. Only on a few occasions has he woken up disoriented enough to forget himself to actually get off.
He needs to shower.
Dan Heng blearily leaves his room with his towel slung over his arm. The showers are on the other side of the passenger car. Dan Heng turns the spray on the highest heat, cooking himself as much as he can bear. Thereâs a latent energy in him that always swirls, begging him to push and pull the water around him, harness it for even a momentâ
Before Dan Heng can entertain such things, he exits the spray, flushed bright red with his towel around his waist.Â
As he exits the shower, he finds you.Â
Youâre perched one of the plush couches, tucked into a nook in the passenger car. Your signature blanket is not with you. You lookâ like shit. Dark circles stamped but your eyes look alight.
Dan Heng freezes as you notice him.
â... You alright?â You ask him.
âIâm fine.â
âYou sure, bud?â
âYes.â
âUh-huh.â
âYouâre patronizing me.â
You stumble, âI donâtâ I donât mean to. That was justââ
âPlease do notââ
âA lot.â
Your cheeks are flushed as you rub at them. Your gaze flits up to his then averts to the floor. You look... shy. Itâs an expression heâs never seen you wear before, even when you were pulled onto the express filthy and in a heavily patched jumpsuit.Â
Something in Dan Hengâs chest squeezes. He doesnât know what to say. He feels entirely too exposed. Heâs not fully dry, and he can feel droplets of water dripping from his hair down to his shoulders. His throat bobs as he gulps you watch the movement with rapt attention.Â
He coughs.
âI asked you to refrain from viewing my dreams.â
âThat one was loud.â You frown. âIncredibly loud. Like banging pots and pans, fireworks and explosives kind of loud. I couldnât have ignored it, even though I very much want to. Iâd love to give you your privacy, Dan Heng, but sadly the intricacies of your mind happen to make your dreams essentially unignorable.â
âMust you comment on them?â
â... I heard you crying after.â Your expression looks uncharacteristically torn up. Your lackadaisical smile and humor are nowhere to be found. âI was worried.â
âI can assure you, I am fine. You donât need to worry about me.â
âI do, regardless. The whole Express does.â
âI appreciate it. Though, itâs unnecessary.â
âOf course. Sure. Because youâre the paramount example of ânot needing careâ.â
âIâm self-sufficient.â This time, he frowns.
âYou are.â You stand up and walk toward him. ââSufficientâ implies adequacy, not prosperity.â
âWhat are you implying?â
Your hands ball into fists at your sides, âThat you, Dan Heng, seem like you could use some help. I wonât pry at your past, Iâm aware itâs not my place to do soâ however routinely having uncomfortably vivid sex dreams about a man who you clearly have complex feelings about, probably isnât good for you. Thereâs an inevitable amount of strain. One that I think that youâre ignoring.â
âWhat help do you think I need?â His voice remains level, but your proximity has him wriggling under his skin.
â... Iâ could be a decent listener. I have all the time in the world. Iâm always around at night.â You struggle to meet his gaze, but after a moment, your usual, easy smile erupts on your face. âOr, would you prefer more... direct assistance? I could help with that too.â
âSpeak plainly.â
âWas the last time you had sex with the man in your dreams?â
Dan Hengâs throat closes up. The cloudhymn that are under his skin thrum and encircle him, for just a moment. Your eyes widen at the colors and hum of it and jump back. You almost stumble. The surge of power and energy shakes the passenger car. The whale-shaped light fixtures dance above you.Â
Dan Heng swallows.
âAnd if it was?â
You look at him, really look at him, and your eyes soften. Your center looks wide and vulnerable despite the churn in the air, âThen, do you think it could, perhaps, be helpful to add some more recent, pleasurable memories for your dreams to play with?â
Dan Heng flushes so quickly, he feels faint.
The instinctual cloudhymns around him die in an instant. He retreats, a firm grip remaining on the towel around his waist to keep it in place. He mumbles out a hasty âgoodnightâ.Â
He is unsure if you hear him.
...Â
In the days that follow, neither Dan Heng nor yourself, bring up your proposition.Â
The next morning, you look expectedly exhausted, but do not prod or pry at him any further. You sit at the long table for breakfast and munch on a piece of bread and some jam while Himeko goes over your next destination.Â
The few times you look at him, your smile is lazy and easy, however you turn away quickly.Â
You continue to skillfully avoid him.Â
Dan Hengâ feels a bit bad about it. Maybe a lot. If he enters common spaces like the parlor car or dining car, you quickly leave after a peripheral greeting. You must be doing so as to not tip off the rest of the crew that thereâs some amount of⊠tension between the two of you. Under different circumstances, Dan Heng would have appreciated the purposeful discretion, however something about it irks him.Â
The Expressâs next destination is a repurposed space station at the edge of a solar system. A false sun, powered by a Stellaronâ something to that effect. Stelleâs bodily composition is of some intrigue to the scientists looking to craft a replacement, while other factions wish to harness the Stellaron more directly than a not-so-distant source of light and heat.Â
Himekoâs engineering expertise is being requested, along with Weltâs understanding of Imaginary energy. March wants to go due to the complex system of bioluminescent algae that teems in the space stationâs plentiful aquaponics infrastructure. (âIt looks so pretty! I need photos!â)
There are very few reasons for Dan Heng to accompany them; the partyâs already full. There are even fewer reasons for you to join, who, despite all of your assurances, looks particularly haggard and worse for wear. Both March and Himeko mother hen you into staying aboard the Express to keep Pom Pom company.
Dan Heng should make an excuse to leave as well. Something in his gut tells him it would be best to keep his distance from you.
(It would be easier that way.)
However, Dan Heng finds himself waving goodbye to his companions as they dock at the small port. Pom Pom has requested at least a single treat from their excursion while they wave exuberantly from his side.Â
You stand on Pom Pomâs right, lazily waving as well. Your shoulders are slumped.
As Pom Pom aways to dust the fixtures in the parlor car, Dan Heng faces you and speaks without thinking.
âYou should rest.â
You blink owlishly at him. â⊠Thatâs not necessary.âÂ
âYou donât look well.â
âYouâre quite the charmer, arenât you?â
âI am being serious.â
âSo am I.â You roll your eyes and shrug.Â
You attempt to walk away from him, but Dan Heng finds himself reaching out to grab your arm. His hand wraps around your forearm securely, firmly.Â
You still, wide-eyed.
âYou can sleep, canât you?â
â⊠I mean, yes?â You frown, glancing at his hand then back to his face.Â
âWould it help?â
âHelp what?âÂ
Dan Heng deadpans. âYouâre exhausted.â
â⊠Dearest Dan Heng, I am always in this state. I apologize if my withered countenance has caused you grief. I am fine.â
You attempt to wrench your arm from his grip, but he doesnât let you go. Your frown deepens.Â
âBeing intentionally daft isnât wise.â
You stare at him, âIâm not being âintentionally daft.ââ
âI beg to differ.â
You mutter something in a tongue that Dan Heng doesnât recognize. âWhatâs your deal? I apologize for getting into your business previously. I have been trying to give you ample space and shut out your dreams to the best of my ability. Is that not enough?â
âNo.â No, no, noâ thatâs not really. It. Dan Heng isnât sure what it is, but at this moment, his mood has little to do with your knowledge of his horrible, awful, persistent wet dreams, but something else. âIâm not upset at you for that.â
You stare and your hands ball into fists, âSo, youâre really pestering me over my well-being?â
âYes?â
âAeons, Dan Heng.â You say his name in a croon and it makes him shudder. He wants to scream. âIt really isnât a big deal.â
âIs it straining you to not⊠perceive my dreams?â
Your expression goes blank. âI mean. Yes. But, itâs not a big dealââ
âYou look awful.â
âYou canât have both.â You are clearly frustrated. Dan Hengâs grip is unrelenting. âI canâtâ I canât attempt to block out your silly sex dreams without a not-insignificant amount of effort. Iâm either going to be very keyed into that pretty silver-haired man who you clearly wish was in your bed, or Iâm going to look a bit more worse for wear. The latter, Dan Heng, does not bother me. Fretting over me isnât going to make me less worn down.â
âAnd you just⊠donât care that youâre tired?â
âIâm always tired.â You smile then, the same lazy, curling quirk of your lips that you so often wear, ever since the Express dragged you aboard from that rest stop. Dull-eyed and wearing a filthy utility jumpsuit. âI donât want to cause you all any additional grief. I wish you wouldnât worry about me.â
Dan Heng doesnât know what to say.
â... That isnât your choice.â The words feel paltry, half-there.
You pull your arm from his grip, thumbing at the spot where he held you. Your soft day clothes have rumbled under his grip, âThatâs hilarious, coming from you, Dan Heng.â
âThis is different.â
âHow so?âÂ
âBecauseââ Dan Heng clicks his tongue. Somethingâ something simmers just under his chest. Something bigger than himself, salty like the sea and heavy like green stone that writhes as you stare him down. âBecause my dreams are my business. The manâ menâ in my dreams are my ills to carry. They should not affect my present. You shouldnât be affected by them.â
âWell, crazy, but I amââ You go nose-to-nose with him and huff. Dan Heng backs into a railing behind him, back curving. âBecause I donât like seeing you in painââ
Something kicks Dan Hengâs shin and he hisses. You jump away from him with a stumble, looking down at a glowering Pom Pom. Their tail twitches.
âNo fighting in my parlor car!â Pom Pom huffs. âDoes Pom Pom need to get Miss Himekoâs âget alongâ shirt?â
âThatâs not necessary,â Dan Heng rushes to say.
Youâre already walking away, out of the parlor car with a shake of your head and one last wistful look.
...
You tear your heart from your chest.
It is expectedly painful, even if you braced for it. Even if in your deepest meditations, you simulated the pain of such a loss with cloudhymn to prepare for this moment, on the off chance you would need to lose your heart from between your ribs and give it to your beloved. So few of Longâs scions retain the ability to rebirth with multiple heartsâ only a handful of high elders, really. You can imagine what they will say about you, think about this act youâre committing.
Sin. And a painful one.
The blade in your hand clatters to the ground as you hold your heart in your own palm. Itâs largeâ a dragonâs heart. It will not fit in the chest of a mortal.Â
(But, you will make it fit.)
Yingxing isâ isâ heâs dead. Heâs a corpse on the ground below you. One of his arms is missing, while the other is twisted at a most unnatural angle. His star silver hair is a tangled knot in the dirt, Yingxingâs favored hairpin shattered somewhere in the foreground. The color is no longer pure. Itâs a dirty scarlet. A mix of your belovedâs blood and Shuhuâs.Â
Yingxingâs eyes are half open and dull. Purple turned bruised-petal lilac. His lip is split and blood trickles from the corner of his lips,
This is not to say anything about his middle which isâ
Not really there.
It makes inserting the heart easier. You think so anyway. Your hands shake (they never have before, not like this) and you cry (you have not cried like this before) as you shove the heart into Yingxingâs necrotic chest. You have to further break his ribs to shove your heart into him. Cloudhymn spins around youâ a storm, a gale for you. It dulls the screams from your younger companion begging you to stop. A beast roars in the distance, above it all. The sound makes the air tremble and split. Your ears would bleed, were you a weaker species.Â
(A necessary sacrificeâ sheâ she was already dead. Past saving. You only have two hearts. One which is yours and one which is nowâ)
Yingxingâs.
Your beloved flinches. Lurches as unnatural growth burgeons from him. He wails on the ground as magics spin within him. You are doing the most unholy thing to him. But, you must, right? You cannot lose him. You cannot lose Yingxing. You have given everything, always, as every self, to your role and its meaningâ can you not have this one thing? May your beloved not stay by your side, however unfair and painful the circumstances?
Unblemished, ghostly pale tissue regrows from Yingxingâs body at an alarming pace. It rejoins his upper and lower halves together as he screams.Â
Yingxingâs hands wrap around your neck and youâre shoved into the dirt. You are not expecting the force and the impact, even less so. The air knock out of you and the cloudhymns shudder. The magics are thinner for a moment, you could see your other companions if you chose to. You could see how many Xianzhou cloud knights have fallen to the beast you created.
You ignore them.
You ignore them all to look up at your beloved. Eyes now a wild red, teeth glimmering white and stained with blood. His hair has darkened, silver turned dark, like it had been dipped in thick, viscous oil. Yingxing bares his teeth and screams at you.Â
âWHAT DID YOU DO!â
âWHAT HAVE YOU DONE, DAN FENG!â
â!
â¶Â  â¶Â  â¶Â  â¶Â  ⶠ â¶
Dan Heng awakens to a silent Astral Express. The trainship is still docked and itâs running on ancillary power in the meantime.Â
Itâs entirely too quiet. All he can hear is the pounding of his own heart.
He scrambles to grab at his own chestâ thereâs no gaping hole. Thereâs noâ thereâs no blood on his hands (not real, material blood anyway . Various parties would beg to differ as to if he has any actual blood on his hands. But, the past is the past, isnât it? These dreams are the afterimages of the life of a deadman. Thatâs all they can be. The man that chases him across the universe bears a different name and a younger face. The man who will always make time for him on a Godship, so very far away, may use his name âDan Hengâ, but is that who he truly sees when he looks at Dan Heng?)
Dan Heng dry heaves into his hands.
He barely manages to crawl to the little bathroom attached to his room to puke his brains out. He hasnât had much of an appetite over the past few days, and most of what comes up is water, pile, and half-digested rice porridge.
By the time he withdraws and flushes, wiping his hand over his mouth, he feels winded. Disgusting. Sweaty and entirely too wet.Â
Shower.
Dan Heng methodically grabs his few supplies and walks across the silent Astral Express to the showers. He could take a bathâ maybe it would help. March keeps minty bath products out and available that are so strong that they tend to pull any of the Expressâs passengers out of a funk if used. Thereâs a little basket of them in the tiled common area of the baths. Thereâs a hand-written note in Marchâs perfect scrawl that says âPlease take oneâ€ïž!)Â
Dan Heng snatches a few before picking his favored, individual shower. Thereâs a little atrium before entering the shower itself, where he sheds his drenched bedclothes and hangs them, along with his towel. He turns on the shower and idles for a moment, listening to the dull roar of it.
Water splashes onto him in droplets. Thereâs a (dormant. Dormant. He swears itâs dormant) instinct to ball the errant water up and toy with it with cloudhymn. The pearl that idles in the center of Cloud Piercer has many different ways to harness its power beyond a weapon of steel thatâ
(Isnât his, is it?)
Dan Heng wants to vomit again. He steps into the spray before the nausea overtakes him.
The spray is coldâ he usually takes cold showers, regardless of if itâs after a particularly intimate dream. He prefers cold water. He enjoys cold baths, but theyâre a luxury he enjoys only once in a while, and usually for the better part of a day. Heâll stay submerged for what would be a worrisome amount of time (if he didnât bear the spare parts of imbibitor lunae) and, despite his assurances, worries the rest of the crew. As sedentary and reclusive as Dan Heng can be, camping out in the baths for the better part of a day causes a stir amongst the express.
Theyâre a treat, a bothersome one.
Now, he washes himself thoroughly. Itâs a mechanical and rhythmic thing. It soothes him. His breath comes steadier.
Dan Heng hasnât had a dream that unpleasant in quite some time. He has always had the more gruesomeâ of tragedies beyond this knowledge. But, theyâre rarer. He is haunted more frequently by memories of pleasure and that almost makes the shadow of Dan Feng more cloying. The gruesome are just thatâ gruesome. He has put together pieces of Dan Fengâs sin, though he refuses to touch the Archiveâs documents ported from the Luofu on the subject.Â
Ignorance is bliss and Dan Heng feels knowledgeable enough. The breach between his own memories and Dan Fengâs is less solid than it once was. Dan Heng will more than likely find out with time.
It despairs him for a moment as he turns off the water and towels off. He feelsâ more lucid. Better.Â
Heâs surprised that you havenât sought him out.
Thereâsâ no way you didnât perceive that dream. Dan Heng canât be entirely sure what you mean when you call a dream âloudâ, but he knows the very real pain he felt during it could constitute as such. He listens closely as he dresses in new bedclothes. The Express is still quiet aside from machine hum.
Dan Heng could check on you. He thinks about it. Your room is just past Stelleâs and considering you werenât in the parlor car, youâre probably there.
You shouldnât have seen that. But, itâs not like Dan Heng can help it, right?Â
The tangle of feelings within Dan Heng writhes as he exits the showers. It grows even more unruly as he notes a change in the parlor car.
Resting on one of the plush seats is a hastily folded blanket, a still-steaming cup of tea, and a small, folded note.
Dan Heng approaches and reads.
DH
iâve noticed you like my blankets. take this one. itâs one of my favorites.
have some tea and rest if you can.
â [name] â°(*°âœÂ°*)
The penmanship is shaky, and clearly quickly written. None of the paperâs folds match up with each other. Thereâs a spill of tea on the coffee table that looks half-wiped away.Â
Something heavy settles in Dan Hengâs gut. He gathers the blanket, the tea, and your note and heads back to the archives with a pit in his chest.
Like heâs still missing a heart.
...
Things come to a head a few days later. The rest of the Astral Express crew is still sorting things on the space station, and you and Dan Heng only have so much space to dodge each other.
And, truthfully? Dan Heng stopped avoiding you the day before yesterday. Now, he is actively (read: passively but passionately) trying to seek you out. This involves listening keenly for when you leave your room, but lately, those trips are few and far between. And always occurring while Dan Heng is asleep. Pom Pom confirms this, looking increasingly uneasy at the clear tension between the two of you.
Dan Hengâ doesnât know what to do. He is good at running from his problems. He put Cloud Piercer throughâ Bladeâs chest any number of times and hopped to the next planet more times than he cared to think about. He ran from the shackling prison, the Luofu, and its General without looking back even in a cursory way. Dan Heng finds sentimentality to be a new feeling, a new fixture within his person and does not know how to handle it. He does not want to run away from youâ he wants to run toward you.
The blankets of yours (three in total) are in his nest. He paces the passenger car each night hoping youâll reveal yourself. He hovers outside of your door, hand poised to knock, but he never does.
He does not know what heâd say.Â
Dan Heng does not have confidence in his words in that way. He can speak wellâ itâs an overhang from Dan Feng, and he is grateful for it, but on more than one occasion, March has (rather explosively) shouted at him for being so... blank-faced in the heat of an emotional conflict. The two of them occasionally do butt heads, usually when March is attempting to run headfirst into a situation without proper forethought, and those encounters have ended with March tearfully screaming at Dan Heng to just be âhonest with his face!âÂ
His lack of expression is also an overhang for Dan Feng.Â
No matter how well-crafted his sentences and well-spoken his words, Dan Heng cannot connect them to how he feels... effectively. Itâs disjointed. Like armor made with incorrectly sized plates that cannot possibly be pieced together. Clothing created with a misdrawn pattern, never able to be sewn in a wearable way.Â
If he were to face you, he is certain he will not be able to voice how he feels.
He can at leastâ do something. Give you something, since you seem so hellbent on leaving him special tea blends youâve stashed away and BLANKETS.Â
(Do you have any idea what youâre doing to him?)
Dan Heng stops trying to run from you. He resolves to do something or say something because it's better than the widening rift thatâs currently being run through the Astral Express, between the two of you.Â
Dan Heng gets his opportunity in the late evening. Heâdâ feigned sleep. Intentionally. A deep state of meditation for long enough that you might think he was enjoying a dreamless night of sleep, however, heâd only be idle, waiting for sounds of any of your activity in the direction of the parlor and meal car.Â
Dan Heng hears your door slide open down the hall as he sits upright, cross-legged in his nest of many blankets and pillows. Your steps are quiet, the lightest pad against the flooring outside. He strains to hear you.
He does notice, however, how you move even slower as you walk past his door. So clearly intentionally trying to keep quiet for his sake.
Dan Heng waits a few minutes until heâs certain youâre either in the Parlor Car or Meal Car before uncrossing his legs and bounding from his room. He meansâ to be more put together about this. But, heâs nervous heâll miss his chance, and youâll retreat, and be gone for longerâ
Dan Heng finds you in the meal car, poking over cold dinner leftovers with a sullen expression. Your brows are heavy, eyes dull. You lookâ awful. You always look awful, heâs sure youâll assure him, but now you look bad. You look ill. Unwell. The oversized shirt hanging from your shoulders billows in an uncomfortable way. It has too many undone buttons, leaving a deep v, exposing too much of your chest.
You look up at him, eyes widening.
âI thought you were asleep.â You say softly, putting down the tongs you had been using. You didnât bother picking up any food, your little bowl is entirely empty.Â
Dan Heng opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He snaps it shut a moment later.
Your eyes soften and you sag. You look like you could melt into the Expressâs floor at any moment. Your eyes radiate... pity.Â
âDid I wake you? I try to be quiet.â You laugh, looking sidelong, out one of the many windows. âSorry about the fuss. Iâll get out of your hair.â
Dan Heng is frozen.
You idle, only for a moment, holding your breath, before shaking your head minutely. Itâ it makes his palms sweat. You try to shuffle past him. Dan Heng is blocking your only exit, and you attempt to side-step him as he gapes at you, unmoving. Unsure.
Dan Heng grabs you by the forearm as you pass.
He holds you there. Steady. His grip is firm and unyielding. Maybe too tight, based on your sharp intake of breath as you wobble in place. Dan Heng steadies you with his other hand. Withoutâ thinking, his palm lands on your ribcage and you jump with the contact.
You stare at him, wide-eyed.Â
And you face each other.
âYouâre avoiding me.â Dan Heng speaks first. His words feel sure, but thereâs a sticky feeling in his chest.
â... Perhaps.â You smile easily, despite how worn you look. âIt seems like you have a lot on your mind. I didnât want my presence and what it entails to burden you, dearest Dan Heng. I apologize if that wasnât clear.â
âWhat do you mean by your âpresence and what entailsâ?âÂ
You look like youâve been punched. Dan Heng feels ill.Â
âExactly what it sounds like.â
âPlease be straightforward.Â
âKind Dan Heng, I amââÂ
âPlease, explain yourself.â Dan Heng feelsâ frustration bubble up into the back of his throat. Itâs acidic. He looks from the grip he has on your arm to your face, lingering on the chapped lines of your lips before meeting your eyes. âWhy do you think you would burden me?â
You look at him sadly, âI thought weâve been over this.â
âWe havenât, to my knowledge.â Dan Heng frowns. You look like youâve been slapped.
âI apologize.â You shouldnât be. âDan Heng, donât I know too much?â
He locks his jaw.Â
You continue. âYouâre an incredibly private person. I donât want to know about a past youâre clearly not comfortable sharing. I cannot help what I am able to perceive, however I can create some distance between the two of us, so as not to suffocate you with the fact that I know about your dirty laundry without your expressed consent.â
Dan Hengâs mouth is dry.Â
Youâre an unbearably earnest individual. As mysterious as you make yourself, you donât tend to lie. Youâre blunt in a way thatâs disarming, heart flayed open as if rended with a short, sharp blade, on display for anyone who would like to view and poke at it.Â
âI apologize for communicating that more effectively,â You add more softly. You place your hand over his, the one bracing your arm. You squeeze. âIt must be hard to bear those things, and youâve made it clear you wish to do so alone. I want to respect that and you, Dan Heng. My door is always open, but I thought it might be easier for you to not... be reminded so easily, by my presence.â
Your eyes are wet as you look away from him, to the floor. You take the smallest, most guarded intake of breath. It looks like youâre trying not to cry. Â
Dan Heng feels something cold and large in his chest. Big enough to swallow him whole.Â
He says your name, even and unwavering, with the weight of the sea behind it. You glance up at him, straining to give him your same lazy, forced smileâ
And he kisses it off your lips.
Itâs not an action Dan Heng thinks about. Youâre almost close enough to feel each otherâs breath regardless. One moment, he is staring at you with his own frown, and the next his lips are on yours, tilting his head to search for the best angle. The force of the action has you stumbling back into the wall behind you. The hand he kept on your ribs moves to your waist, bracing you.
It takes a moment for you to react. A startled little (whimper, a whimper) sound gets muffled by his lips as he cradles your jaw. Deepening the gesture. You react andâ return it. Moving your lips against his, leaning into his grip.Â
Only to freeze, and shove at his shoulders a moment later, âW-Wait.â
Dan Heng pulls back, panting.
âYou donât have to do this,â you tell him. Thereâs an urgency in your voice like youâre scared. You nervously run your hands up and down his arms. Dan Heng doesnât even think youâre aware youâre doing so. âIâ I offered sex to you seriously, butâ donât just take my affection because you want to close the distance. Thereâs other ways to be intimate, you know?â
âIâm aware,â says Dan Heng. Your lips are just barely kiss bruised. He wants to make it worse. Itâs an easier expression of the gulf in his chest that writhes with your closeness. âHowever, I want to fuck you.â
The dullness of your eyes is stolen as they widen. Heat rises in your cheeks. Youâre stunned speechless.
...
Dan Heng wants to eat you.
As in, he wants to have you in his mouth, under his teeth and tongue, and get you in his gut so you never go away again. Itâsâ a draconic instinct. Something carnal and old that could swallow him alive. It is another overhang from Dan Feng. Such bloody impulses arenât... uncommon for Dan Heng. However, he has learned to temper them with training, combat, and more recently, some expression of cloudhymn.
Never sex, however. Because your initial guess was correct. Dan Heng has not ever had sex, and the last time Dan Feng had had sex, he is fairly certain was a teary, bloody affair with a half-dead, bloodied Yingxing.Â
This encounter, however, is very different.
There is no swirling Scalegorge and broken, coral-lined streets. There is no sand grating against his knees over Yingxing's almost-corpse. There is no tempest of his own making, cracking the sky in two, and tearing the world asunder.
Rather, there is his nest of blankets and pillows, and your soft body below him. He straddles your waist, protecting the curve of your thighs with his own. The lights of the Archiveâs room are dim, the machine hum below is lulling background noise and comforting. And youâ youâre warmâ not cold or bloodied. Your eyes are soft, but keen in a different way from the man in the echoes of memory. Thereâs no sharpness to you, not in your words or your presence.
Youâre gentle as you cup Dan Hengâs jaw and drag him closer to kiss him.
âYouâre thinking pretty hard.â You murmur against his lips. âAre you sure you want this?â
The question makes himâ angry. He still doesnât know how to voice it, so instead he pressed you down into the floor. A bodily expression.
Your hands tangle in his hair and stroke at the lower curve of his skull. Itâs gentle, rhythmic and lulling. Itâs nothing likeâ
ⶠâ ⶠâ ⶠâ â¶
Yingxing tears at your scalp, hands wound into your long hair. His cock is buried in your throat, bullied there at your request. Heâs seated so deep that your nose is buried in the bristly, silver hairs at the base of him. His scent is intoxicant, musky and unclean. Instinct tells you itâs impure, but you have learned thatâs conditioning.
You want to swallow him whole.
You swallow around his cock as Yingxing grinds into your throat. You gag, you always do, but Yingxing ignores you in favor of fucking your face with more vigor. The sounds that drag from you are obscene. Ugly things, guttural sounds. Tears drip down your cheeks, spit down your chinâ
ⶠâ ⶠâ ⶠâ â¶
You kiss him softly, pliant beneath him and snake a hand lower, easily. Itâs practiced. Like youâve done this a hundred times. The rhythm of intimacy seems easy. You palm over his increasingly hard cock and smile against his lips.
âDoes it feel good?â you ask, voice soft and curling.Â
Before Dan Heng can reply, youâre licking up his jaw, to his ear. You nip and suck and Dan Heng canât help the way his eyes roll back in his head. He groans, rolling his hips against your hand. The friction is dry, but itâs something. Something new and different and not an arousing nightmare. But an arousing reality.
He moans at the contact. The sound startles him.
You seem pleased as you hum against his ear and kiss down from his most sensitive spot, lower, licking over skin with practiced motions. You nip at his collarbones, laughing under your breath when Dan Heng twitches with the pressure of it.
Dan Heng feelsâ thoroughly disarmed. The feeling grows more intense as you coax him to flip your positions in the next moment.
His back hits the mound of pillows softly. You cradle the back of his head as he moves and massage his scalp.
Itâsâ the care of it that feels different. There was clearly care between Dan Feng and Yingxing. Too much, in Dan Hengâs opinionâ (they shared the kind of care that tore history asunder, love so brilliant and cloying that it could only bring sticky destruction). The kind you give him is different. Thereâs a warmth in your gaze which is foreign. Yingxing held passion and a brightly burning heat that would surely burn itself out too young. Branding heat.
Yours is tender, the warmth of a hearth you stacked and lit yourself. You beckon him closer with a smile on your lips and hands tangled in his hair. You tug on it, with the barest edge of pain. Dan Heng likes it.Â
Your knee slots between his thighs, something to grind onto. He canât help the way he yearns for more contact, and seeks the friction. His pants are too tight, but he doesnât want to remove them yet.
ⶠâ ⶠâ ⶠâ â¶
Yingxing tears off your clothes. Your finest robesâ the ceremonial ones, silks with intricate embroidery and beaded with perfectly cut crystalsâ are in tatters by your bedside within moments. Yingxingâs want is unyielding. The lips that move against your own are so much, and so good. You crave it. Yingxing licks into your mouth and you moan loud enough for your entire home to hear. Never mind your attendants and preceptors.Â
Let them talk. Let them gossip. You have never cared for legacy regardless.
Yingxing rips away your undergarments. Gossamer things, thin and mostly see-through. Youâre already hard, leaking, aching for touch. Yingxing spits on his palm and strokes you. He doesnât stop as you squirm. Youâre not used to touch, especially not like this. No matter how often Yingxing takes you like this, your body cannot fully acclimate quickly.Â
It takes a moment.
Yingxing uses this to his advantage. He holds you like he has something to prove as he swipes away pre from the head of your cock and licks it off his thumb. He looks smug, smitten, vibrant, and enthralled.
âHow many times can I make you come tonight?â Yingxing purrs, voice rough and silken all at once. You feel your cock twitch in his hand. He smirks. âWhat if I break you?â
âIâd throw you through a window.â You snap at him.
âYou wouldnât.â Yingxing rubs down to the base of your cock and plays with your most tender parts. You try to kick him and he catches your ankle. Yingxing, the bastard he is, presses a kiss to your ankle. Reverent. âYou like it when I break you.â
âYouâre terrible.â
âAnd Iâm yours. And Iâd like to make Yinyue-Jun cry tonight.âÂ
Itâsâ humiliating the way he speaks to you sometimes. He adores you. He loves you. And for that reason, he knows he can get away with goading you on and shoving you around as he does. He knows intimately what it all does to you. The way your cheeks flush and your cock leaks down its shaft are enough of an indicator. No one sees you bare. Justâ him.
Just him.
ⶠâ ⶠâ ⶠâ â¶
Dan Heng starts to remove your clothes.Â
You seem surprised when he does. You try to take over the task yourself, but Dan Heng bats your hands away.
He wants to do this.
Dan Heng is methodical with each button and overly careful. He watches the rise and fall of your chest, noting how it hastens as he works on the last few buttons. The garment is pushed off your shoulders and discarded into his nest.
Seeing you bare isâ vulnerable. Surely. You attempt to smile butâ Dan Heng sees the cracks in it. As lax as you try to be, this is something different for you as well. Another mystery woven into you that Dan Heng wants to pick apart.
He rubs at your hips, up your ribs and to your chest. You gasp with his touch, leaning back to brace yourself on his thighs. It exposes you more, andâ gives him more room to indulge. He cups your breast and steels his resolve when you whine.
Dan Heng has never done this. He wasnât sure he ever would. It feels foreign and odd to touch you this way, but Dan Heng likes it. The heat that rises in your cheeks when he pinches your nipples. The soft puffs of breath and the sweat of arousal thatâs growing on your temple. You roll your hips down onto his clothed cock, seeking the same contact he does.Â
Thereâs a tumble to it then. The task of disrobing continues, and you end up entirely nude on top of him, while Dan Heng is still fully clothed.
â... Is this more comfortable for you?â You ask. You arenât... shy about your body. But thereâs an unfamiliar squirm in your upper half that Dan Heng reads as discomfort.
Youâre exposed. He is not.
âSomewhat.â Dan Heng lays his hand flat over his navel. He imagines what his cock would feel like inside you and he nearly blacks out.
âWhy?â
Dan Heng thinks for a momentâ
(Itâs because Dan Feng liked power. He loved the games where he could have all of the power and control in his hands, and those where it was torn from him as well. He reveled in both. Thisâ want is an afterburn. One that is not Dan Hengâs. Just like every other thought of intimacy and sex that Dan Heng has ever feltâ)
âDan Heng,â You breathe his name and pet his cheeks. Youâre closer now, chest to chest. âCan you tell me why? Itâs okay if you canât.â
âItâs too complicated.â
â... Could you try to tell me, still? We have time.â
âI want to fuck you.â
âYou can. After.â
Dan Heng frowns at you. He wants to tell you thatâ he wants it now. And that patience is something he has in spades but you are testing the limits of. Your poking and prodding, he wants to toss it aside in favor of the literal you in his lap.
He wets his lips as you look at him expectantly. You stroke over his cheek, soothing him as if he were an angry kitten.
âI like thatââ Dan Heng starts, and his words die in his throat. What he wants to sayâ
(âI like that I can see all of you, while not revealing any of myself.â)
You seem like less of a mystery like this, bare and sweaty over top of him. Thereâs less of you that you can obscure. Youâre not hiding from him, dodging him, or flaying him open with honesty while so much of you remains tucked away. You cannot hide your own arousal. Your cheeks are hot with it, your pupils dark and dilated, and your lips are licked and wet.Â
âHm?â You hum, a devious smirk stretching over your lips. You grind down onto his cock, with enough pressure that it almost hurts. His eyes roll back into his head. âCanât you tell me, Dan Heng? Why do you like hiding the way you do?â
Dan Heng stills, opening his eyes to blink at your incredulously.
â... Why do âIâ hide?â Dan Heng asks. His tone is rude. He internally slaps his own wrists then forgives himself, because in the next moment, you have your palm over his cock, gripping the length of him through the fabric of his pants. You flick your thumb over where the head is concealed and look smitten with the way his hips jolt.
âI am not a fool.â You toy with the button on his trousers. âDan Heng, the Nameless, who hides and hides and hides. And feels so infinitely bad when a single card in his hand is revealed. The shame you carry, doesnât it burden you?â
Dan Hengâs mouth is dry, âIââ
âYou can hide like this. I wonât stop you,â You hum, still smiling, still lax in the shoulders. You run a hand up his navel, over his shirt, careful to retain his frail modesty. âPerhaps a bit bashful, yes. But, youâre hiding. How can you crave intimacy when youâre seeking it from behind a veil? Dearest Dan Heng, I will indulge you, because you are dear to me, but will it be fulfillingâ?â
You prattle on.
Dan Heng is... seething. Quietly and carefully. Because, you are not wrong. Thereâs truth to your accusations. You speak no lies, yet the way youâre... delivering the truth is frail and in fragments. Your own eyes look hazy. Your touch grows shaky. Your voice is too soft around the edges for the sharpness of your words.Â
Dan Hengâ
He knows that look.
ⶠâ ⶠâ ⶠâ â¶
You have never had sex before.Â
Youâve read about it, because your Preceptors made sure you did when you were young. This was in the case that you were raped, that you would know what the experience was, so it could be reported in an appropriate and timely manner.Â
Your exposure to sex beyond that was minimal. Though Vidyadhara copulated, it was not for the sake of procreation. It was based in pleasure, supposedly. You had learned that the humans and foxians of the Xianzhou had sex for the sake of pleasure and power which... you cannot understand. You donât endeavor to understand it, as you have all of the power that you need.Â
(You are naive for this, you will learn in time.)
The first time Yingxing implores you to have sex, you know the rote motions. You assumeâ that since he is a human, this is what he wants from you. You let Yingxing push you down on your own mattress, and you lay there. Yingxing speaks as he disrobes himself, then tends to you.
Each layer of clothing he removes from your body feels like youâre being cut with a knife.
You havenât let any attendants dress you since you learned to adeptly use Cloudhymn to assist yourself instead. You frequently wear three, sometimes four, layers of silken clothing, even when you are around your own home.Â
No one sees Yinyue-Jun bare.
And yet, Yingxing peels back each garment without much reverie. He undoes metal and mother-of-pearl clasps with a dexterous flick of his fingers and a dashing, sharp-toothed smile over his lips.Â
You look down at his own chest when he pushes away the final layer. Your skin is milky, untouched cream. Youâre too skinny, the muscle you have is wiry without enough fat. You watch your own chest rise and fallâ so quickly. Too quickly.Â
When you look up at Yingxing, whatever smile he had worn is gone. He wears concern so transparently over his brow as he cups your cheek. His lips move, and you do not hear him. Your own lips still move, an instinctual reply even if you do not register your own words. You can predict what youâre saying.
(âI am fine.)
(âThere is no need to worry about me.â)
(âYou are foolish for worrying about me.â)
Yingxing softens after you speak, and thumbs over your lips. The pads of his fingers are rough. You can feel the heat callouses, born of friction and incidental burns. Itâs so much different from your own flesh, constantly-healing, pure and so rarely bruised.
Yingxing deftly falls to your side, and scoops you in his arms. He smells like iron and smoke. Youâre stiff at his side.Â
He speaks directly in your ear, nosing the shell of it, âAs much as I would love to bed Yinyue-Jun, I can recognize when I need to be a gentleman about it.â
â... Pardon?â You swallow. Your voice is foggy in your own ears.
Yingxingâs hand settles on his hip. He pulls back just enough to look at you, nose to nose, violet eyes soft in the amber sway of candles in the room.Â
âYinyue-Jun is very brave, for a virgin.â This time, Yingxing smiles like a menace. You punch his back and he seems unperturbed. âLetâs take our time. You have plenty of it, and I have enough to show you how to enjoy this well.â
ⶠâ ⶠâ ⶠâ â¶
Dan Heng understands, then.Â
In a smooth motion, he raises his palm to fit over your mouth. You stop speaking beneath it, and you snatch his wrist up in your own grip.
âIf I am hiding, then so are you,â Dan Heng says. There is no waver to his voice anymore. âAnd you are terrified.â
You freeze above him.
Itâs enough of an opening for Dan Heng to knit his legs with your own, and drag you down into his nest. He wraps his arms around you, chest-to-chest (covering you, hiding you himself, keeping you safe and sating that fanged, draconic howl in his chest that will never fully quiet). You remain stiff in his arms, eyes wide and youâre not smiling.Â
Your gaze flickers up to his and holds it, unrelentingly.
âI donât mind doing things scared.â You tell him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.
âWill you enjoy it if youâre scared?â
â... Maybe less, but itâll feel nice.â You shrug, nosing at his jaw. âI like you, Dan Heng. I wouldnât have offered sex if I didnât want to have it.â
Dan Heng locks his jaw. He noses down your jaw, down your neck, to the juncture where your shoulder meets it. The flesh is tender. You have your free arm draped carefully over your chest, covering your most exposed, vulnerable portions as he tries to do the same to you. Your breath is soft, bated as he hovers.
âI donât want to have sex with you if it will only feel âniceâ,â Dan Heng says into the hollow of your throat.Â
âHow demanding.â
The bar is on the fucking ground. âI do not think so.â
Dan Heng slides a hand lower, between your thighs. Youâre only wearing shorts, soft amiri-cotton that sparkles in the lowlight of the archiveâs room. Itâs a thin garment. It takes nothing for Dan Heng to cup a hand over your sex. With dexterity and focus, he presses his middle finger closer. The seam of your cunt is wet, even through the fabric.
âAre you scared or nervous?â He asks.
âHm, what about you?â
âDo not dodge my question.â He squeezes over your cunt and you clutch at his shoulders with a gasp. âJust answer it.âÂ
You consider his question, and open your mouth like youâre going to attempt to parry him, then close it again. Your lips are smooth, petal-soft as he thumbs over them, urging them to stay closed until you have an answer.Â
Dan Heng struggles with eye contact, but forces himself to stare you down.Â
âBoth?â You ask behind his finger. Thereâs a hint of mirth behind your words.
Dan Heng frowns, âHow can it... be enjoyable for you?â
â... Thatâs a good question.â You look far-off for a moment, not there in his nest. âNot quite sure, but Iâm sure I can.â
Thereâs an implicit âI have beforeâ that you do not say. However, with the way your head falls limply to the side in his grip, Dan Heng immediately knows he hit one of your rare soft spots. Heâ he immediately regrets it. Heâs in uncharted territory that he strong-armed his way into. And heâ he doesnât know the way out. Heâs a sexless virgin who masturbates once every three months and his most emotionally (and sexually) charged relationship is with the living ghost of a man insistent on killing him.
ⶠâ ⶠâ ⶠâ â¶
Yingxing does not remember much of his youth.
Dan Feng knows this intimately.Â
The short-lived have expiring memories that seem to muddle the old over time. Dan Feng cannot understand, as his memory is pristine and clear from the time he emerged from the ancient sea in a jade-colored egg.
Yingxing remembers the Zhuming, vaguely, and then remembers arriving on the Luofu. He vaguely remembers his first meeting with Baiheng, and sleeping on a little cot in her tiny apartment while he worked his way up in the Artisanship Commission. Lucidly, these are his earliest memories.
Outside of lucidity, Dan Feng knows Yingxing remembers more.
Occasionally, something will make Yingxing remember his unpleasant, smallest youth. The loud boom of the Luofuâs biggest fireworks. A snarling dog. Splintering wood. The scent of burnt hair.
It makes Yingxing stiffen, tense, and draw up in himself.
Dan Feng has done his own research early on. In his adolescence, Yingxing was nothing more than a scrappy refugee with nothing to his name.
Yingxingâs home planet, a lush-planet... abundant in jungle lands and river systems, was plundered by abundance. Borisins. Most of its population was wiped out. Yingxing escaped due to good fortune, luck, and no doubt sacrifices he couldnât remember.
He understands Yingxingâs passion and revulsion much better after he learns these things.Â
It all enrages Dan Feng.
Yingxingâs fragmented memory, which continues to weather with time, can only give him the basest impulses when faced with something that makes him remember that frightening time. Even if he cannot remember in the mind, then he does in the body.
Dan Feng does not tell Yingxing that he knows. Yingxing is too proud a manâ heâll take offense and cause trouble. Dan Feng thinks it is better that he himself hold the knowledge, and soothe him how he can. Dan Feng can stew within himself, hone Cloud Piercer, and cut those who slighted his beloved.Â
It is something beyond duty.Â
An expression of care, one that tastes briny and bloody on Dan Fengâs fangs.
ⶠâ ⶠâ ⶠâ â¶
âCan I help?â Dan Heng asks.
You blink at him. He strokes down your cheek. You hum and press your lips into his palm.
âCan you?â
âIâ I will,â Dan Heng stammers. âHow can I make this less... scary, for you?â
Can he?
Your gaze penetrates him. Itâs something sharp, seeking. Looking for his weak spots for a moment. Youâre searching for danger in him.
You soften and cozy up closer, a moment later.
âJust... take your time, and Iâll take mine.â You kiss him, and speak against his lips. âItâs easier if we both can ease into it.âÂ
Dan Heng nods. He... he wants to fuck you. He will.
...
You pick each other apart. Bit by bit, piece by piece.Â
It is a slow affair, one neither of you truly lead. You spur Dan Heng on, and he follows.Â
He guides you when he can, when it feels natural and normal. You seem content in those moments, more relaxed and soft-eyed.
You do not wear a full facade all of the time, but Dan Heng now knows that you are careful to keep yourself skillfully hidden.Â
Dan Heng finds this out, intimately, while he is between your thighs, tongue against your slit. He laps at you, in the motions you describe. Your hands are buried in his hair, directing him with your grip and the gentle grind of your hips against his face. It isâ heavenly. Your thighs around his ears, the scent of you. He left a few pointed bite marks on your thighs, which you had yelped at.
He enjoyed giving them.
You fall apart against his mouth in a way he hasnât seen before.
Itâsâ so good to watch. When he looks up at you, you gasp, you whine, and throw your wrist over your mouth to muffle the sounds youâre letting out. Each gasp has Dan Heng earnestly trying to wring more out of you. He watches your eyes roll back as you crest. Your thighs clamp around his skull and a broken sound rips from your throat. He guides you through it, then moves to your hole, lapping at your essence until heâs sure heâs drenched in it.
You pull him up for a kiss, and lick into his mouth. Your hands shake as they pet over his cheeks and jaw. Against his lips, you tell himâ âyou did so wellâ, âthat was so goodâ, âthank youâ â
The praise is almost unbearable Dan Heng has to hide his burning face in your neck to escape the vulnerability of it.Â
You pay it no mind, and just laugh at him, smothering your lips into his mused-up hair.
Itâsâ itâs good. Itâs good and soft and nothing like the dreams heâs carried with him for fair too long.
âDid you enjoy that?â You ask him, forcing him to look at you.
âI did.â
âGood.â Youâre smitten with the answer and rub at his waist. Youâdâ clawed off his shirt at one point. Bare to each other. Dan Heng only has on his final layer of underwear that is increasingly tight and wet, with a growing patch of pre on the front.
âDo you want me to suck you off?â You ask. Your hand, gentle, slides down his front, between your bodies to rub over his cock.Â
Dan Hengâ struggles to find words as you tease the head of it with the tip of a finger. The smile you wear is devilish.Â
âMaybe laterââ He manages. âI want toâ be inside you.â
He wants to be closer.
You look content with that, and pet him some more.
âIn due time,â You kiss his cheek. âWill you allow me to be cruel, and make you wait a little longer?â
âItâs not cruel.â
âOkay, mean then.â
âYouâre the furthest thing from mean.â Dan Heng frowns. He bites your cheek in retaliation without thinking and you squirm, pinned beneath him. A laugh bubbles from your throat, and Dan Heng canât help but twin the sound.Â
âSo kind.â
...
Time stretches out, between languid kissing and the feel of your bare bodies so close, the night and day cycles the Express regulates do not seem of consequence. Itâs the most relaxed Dan Heng has been in recent memory. You make it easy to be so.
You have no expectations when you touch him, other than the easy exchange of heat and spit.Â
By the time Dan Heng has your legs wrapped around your waist, cock against your hole, heâs light-headed. He wants, so much. The image of you laid out before him, bare and covered in various marks of his, will be with him for years. Thereâs nothing lazy or unfocused about your gaze now, thereâs only desire, so hot and needy that it makes Dan Hengâs throat feel tight.
You flex your hips, pushing the tip of his cock against your clit. You both gasp.
âPlease, Dan Heng?â You say smugly as you play with the sweaty hair at the nape of his neck. âWhenever youâre ready.â
âIââ The words die in his throat.
He strokes up and down the flesh of your stomach. Your muscles are relaxed, soft. Youâre no longer playing a role, he thinks. Youâre here, wanting, edging toward begging him. The head of his cock is purple from strain and prolonged arousal.Â
He presses into you slowly.
You are stretched, and Dan Heng isnât particularly large, so he does not see any strain cross your features. If anything, thereâs relief. If you were relaxed before, youâre boneless now, taking as much of him as he will give you.
Dan Heng fucks you in earnest then, under the glow of the Archiveâs many machines and fixtures. You grab at his shoulders and bury your face in his neck. Dan Heng didnât think he shared Dan Fengâs proclivity for pain, however the way your nails wrack down his back has him throbbing from inside you.
By the time he spills inside you, heâs gasping, sobbing with each thrust because it is so much. Closenessâ like thisâ thatâs real and tangible and in his grasp and within his body (only his, no one elseâs) feels so vibrant and violent, it cleaves him open. He comes with a broken sound muffled into your throat, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh there. You let him, spasming with the pressure and letting out your own half-cry with the pain. Dan Heng fucks you through his orgasm, until he canât support his weight on his knees, and he falls on top of you.
You let out a little âoofâ, and then laugh, wrung out and happy.Â
Dan Heng cherishes the memory.
ⶠâ ⶠâ ⶠâ â¶
You are most tired, but you must continue to move forward.
Despite your aching rear and scratchy eyes, there are duties to attend to. Never mind that your husband is in your bed, knocked out, regardless of whatever regenerative cloudhymns you could give him. Yingxing is mortal, and no matter how much of you he consumes (figuratively), it only slows his aging, never stopping it completely.
Yingxing will die, long before you do. And that is if he dies of old age and not the diseases and maladies of the short-lived. Or some violence that you and the rest of the Quintet will be unable to protect him from.
This will not do.
You enter your study with sweeping, loose robes. You tell your attendants to leave you be. Your ritual obligations are not until the evening. Until then, you will be confine yourself in your study and continue to pour over the scrolls, documents, and books you have been able to find. It has been hard to procure some of themâ having Sanctus Medicus texts brought to the home of the High Elder would be treasonous. It has required careful planning to amass the library you have, and you are diligent in keeping it hidden. Even from your lover.
He would not forgive you, were he to know.
You have never been selfish, not once in your life. In any of your lives. You have lived for your people, the Luofu, and a dead Aeon that you remain the after-image of. You have played the part well, smiled when necessary and remained cold enough to rarely stir dangerous interests. You have healed many without complaint.
As you settle into your nest of pillows and blankets, and pick up your newest scroll, you donât feel that guilty. You will let yourself have this one thing. If nothing else in any of your lifetimes, this one fucking thing will be yours.Â
You unfurl the scroll with a yawn. Itâs a text, an old one, from the High Elder that followed Yubie. They lived a short life for a high elder, two hundred years. However, they were a prolific scholar. Most of their works have been hidden away with time, as some are downright blasphemous and utilize the Abundance in a way that both the Vidyadharaâs high council and the Luofuâs Charioteers could not tolerate.Â
This particular one has not seen the light of day since that High Elderâs time. It is titled:
[The Twin-Hearted Dragon Theory: The Permanence and Abundanceâs Coalescing]Â
ⶠâ ⶠâ ⶠâ â¶
âWhat a weird one.â You say with a yawn. Dan Heng can hear your voice through your chest, where his cheek is pillowed on your bare chest. Heâ thereâs a spot of drool thatâs cooling unpleasantly. He blinks awake and rises off you, to rub the stickiness away, blushing furiously.
âHey, hey, itâs okay. It was cute. You were sleeping good, for once.â You tell him and muse up his hair. âBesides, youâve gotten me far messier than that.âÂ
You both are messy. Dan Heng can feel the stickiness on his softened cock, and he imagines youâre leaking between your legs. He sneaks a hand between your body and gently feels along your thighs to confirm his suspicion.
You gasp when he grazes your core. Youâ you are dripping. Cold, too. It must be uncomfortable. Dan Heng frowns.
âDonât worry about that.â You assure him, voice shaking. âWe can clean up in a little bit.â
âIsnât it uncomfortable?â
âMaybe,â you hum, unsure. âI donât mind it, regardless.â
Dan Heng raises himself up off of you, and braces his hands on your inner thighs. Heâs warmed with the combined heat of the Archives, his nest, and you. Youâre chilled under him andâ Dan Heng. Canât have that. He canât totally trace why, he pulls a blanket up and over your bodies.Â
You let him arrange you as he sees fit. He brings you to his chest, and fits your head under his chin. He tangles your legs, indulges in the contact and tries to transfer some of his volcanic heat into you. You look content as he does, nuzzling into his throat.Â
Your own eyelids droop.
âAre you going to sleep?â He asks.Â
â... Probably not.â You say with a yawn.
âYou look tired.â
âI am,â You nod and push closer. âBut, I donât need to, and itâs hard to get myself to sleep. Itâs more trouble than it's worth, trying to sleep.â
Dan Heng doesnât think before speaking. âHas it always been hard?âÂ
You pause, breathing even and slowly, âNot always.â
âWhy did it get harder?â
You choose your words carefully then, despite your evident exhaustion. Your brow droops, and you rub at Dan Hengâs sides. Your thumbs skitter over his ribs.
âHow much do you know about the Kin of Sacha, Dan Heng?â You ask. âIt provides context. Iâd hate to bore you.â
â... Very little. The databanks only has limited information.â
âOh, you looked for me?â You nip at his jaw, playful, even as Dan Heng prepares a nervous rebuttal. You soothe his distress before it can get anywhere. âIâm kiddingâ and it makes sense thereâs not much about us out there. There arenât that many of us to begin with.â
â... How many?â
âIâm not sure, truthfully. Probably less than a thousand. Maybe half of that. Unless Sacha has... awoken to bless more. But I doubt that.â
You rarely mention the Aeon who provided you your sleeplessness and dream-seeing. You even more seldom mention anyone you knew prior to your time on the express.
You sign, âTypically, the Kin of Sacha work as mystics or laborers. Some societies we encountered saw the Aeonâs gifts as a psychic boon to be cultivated. Others, like the one I was raised in, saw the Kin as a well of infinite, tireless labor. You learn quickly under those expectations that even if you could sleep, itâs more ideal not to.â
Conditioning, then.
Dan Heng thinks back to when he first saw you at that rest stop. How youâd swayed on your two feet, eyes glassy and far away. How long they took to focus. How the embroidered logo on your breast mustâve belonged to whatever company youâd been under the employ of. Pieces fit together, and Dan Heng feels slightly sick.
âYou donâtâ need to be like that, now. You should sleep.â
With your hands braced on his chest, you lean back to look at him. Your gaze is soft, unguarded. You look almost plush with it.Â
â... I guess I should.â
(I guess I could.)
Thatâs all it takes, really. You nearly collapse back into the nest, and Dan Heng settled himself to be curled around you. Ifâ If he still deigned to manifest his Vidyadharan tail, perhaps it would be curled around you both.Â
But, Dan Heng does not manifest any tail. You do not need to stay awake. You both rest under the filtered, soft light of the Archives, and that is all you must do.Â
#lore writes#dan heng x reader#dan heng x you#hsr x reader#SOUP!! COOKED!!#the format of this story was so fun to write hehe#enjoy loves <3
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A/n: hey yall this is my first ever yandere collab that I did with my dear mutual @yandere-dreams-but-not-really and Iâve never knew how much fun itâd be collabing with others until I did so with them ïŒ3
â*:.ïœĄ..ïœĄ.:*â â*:.ïœĄ..ïœĄ.:*â â*:.ïœĄ..ïœĄ.:*â â*:.ïœĄ..ïœĄ.:
Yandere company Bros
The eldest brother
â*:.ïœĄ..ïœĄ.:*â â*:.ïœĄ..ïœĄ.:*â â*:.ïœĄ..ïœĄ.:*â
â CW: Yandere tendencies, unhealthy coping methods, obsessive/possessive behavior, Judas needs a hug, internal company conflict
Synopsis: ăYou were a new intern for hire at the grand Acer international company ran by the Kinzen family. And you stood out amongst your colleagues by being capable, ambitious, and dedicated to the craft! All the qualities of a true corporate slave which may have attracted some unheeded attention from the future inheritors of said company itself. Ultimately you ended up getting sucked into an internal family succession battle between the youngest and the eldest brotherâŠLetâs just hope you make it out in ONE PIECE.ă
â*:.ïœĄ..ïœĄ.:*â â*:.ïœĄ..ïœĄ.:*â â*:.ïœĄ..ïœĄ.:
ăEldest brother! Judas was never the type to believe in love at first sight. Despite his father always ranting on about how he fell for his strict mother at first glance. He never truly understood what it meant to feel a romantic love for someone. Throughout his highscool and college years heâs never had a crush or been in a relationship for that matter.ă
ăBut all his reservations went out the window when he saw you, a well put together newbie walking past the doors of the well established business owned by him and his family. Encompassing an essence that of a fresh summer breeze which completely disarmed him.ă
ăTruly he thought he worked himself to death and was blessed with the sight of an angel who came down to take him away from his mundane life. Of being in his mother, Isidoreâs shadow as a prominent businesswoman. Known across the world for her cutthroat business conduct.ă
ăEldest brother! Judas was at a loss for words as you stepped up to him with those bright attentive eyes. And offered to help take on the loaded stacks of papers he was lugging into his office with an altruistic smile. The fact that he knew you didnât know who he was at that time and was this naturally sweet. As opposed to everyone else who usually try coming to his aide with ulterior motivesă
ăMade His motherfucking heart grip at the enclosure of his rib cage at how you just politely interjected yourself in his space to go ahead and take half of his work load off of him. while he was stunned stupid too flabbergasted to even utter a sentence.ă
ăThis socially stunted stoic man was trying his best to keep his mind afloat as heâs never been affected by such intense emotions before in his 23 years of living. He didnât know how to act as he tended to isolate himself from his peers. In turn for studying business till his nose bled and working himself up the corporate food chain.ă
ăEldest brother! Judas resembled that of a black cat who was looking in pure awe of his new fixation which wasnât work or studying. His pristine appearance was now unkept with hairs falling flat in his face from how caught off guard he was. Finding himself mindlessly trailing after the new bubbly intern in long strides.ă
ăWhen yall reached his office he struggled to find the words to thank you. But his haywire brain opted to abruptly encase your hand in his and bring it towards his bleeding heart. as he gave you what seemed to be a death stare inherited from his mother but in reality was an expression full of gratitude, obsession, and adoration.ă
ăCongratulations youâve unknowingly seduced the eldest heir of the Kinzen family. And thereâs no take backsies.ă
ăEldest brother!Judas is the type to be more or less clingy with his darling. Always calling them to his office to ask for âhelpâ on some assignments. which caused onlookers to give him surprised exchanges. Since the famed hermit workaholic never came out of his dumpster fire of an office to request help of any kind.ă
ăHe just loves seeing you breathe in his general direction. It makes him impulsively grip at the sides of ball pen till it damn near snapped in two. From how His heart is was overflowing with so much pure and genuine infatuation for you.ă
ăThe eldest Kinzen was a ticking time bomb since he always kept everything little thing bottled up inside and never had anyone to confide to unlike his youngest brother Dexter who was a social troglodyte.ă
ăSo as time progresses Judas spends each and every waking moment fantasizing. About what it would be to show you all the admiration that he feels for you. To convey how youâve turned his world upside down and to emphasize how utterly precious youâd be underneath him due to size difference ahem his management. Working alongside him as his lovely equal/assistant manager.ă
ăOnly one strand of restraint was holding him back from pouncing on you as if he had no good sense. But it was waning with how his meddlesome brother Dexter kept interfering with yâallâs pleasant time together.ă
ăEventhough he may have been born with a diamond spoon he was never the one to indulge in it. Not that he could since his mother Isidore was a hard fashioned woman with a strict traditional upbringing. She instilled in her sons that what you earn is what you keep and how there was nothing such as free handouts in the world.ă
ăAnd yet since he was the eldest, Isidore made sure to remind him how it was his responsibility to steer his brother in the right direction. Taking her words to heart he always made an effort to accommodate his brother to an extent.ă
ăIn their childhood days whatever Dexter wanted something from Judas. The eldest willingly gave in to him since he could be fussy if he didnât get what he wanted. But once he noticed the eyes Dexter made at you whilist making you laugh from his charm.ă
ăSomething snapped inside Judas. He didnât like the way Dexter was trying to put dibs on you in his subtle hand placement on your waist. He despised how happy you sounded from the half baked jokes of the Youngest. He hated how easy it was for Dexter to strike up a conversation with you and be in your general presence without need for work excuses.ă
ăDonât look at his brother look at him sure he may not have the best social ques or a way with words but heâll treat you right. Judas will take care of you as if you were a queen to the throne of his heart.ă
âIâll be good, Iâll be perfect just for you⊠All I want is for you to look at me, focus only on me, Please donât look elsewhere with those eyes of yours. I just wanna be yours. So choose me, not him.â
ăHeâd seldom show you in the most intense ways possible, the depraved man heâs become. Falling weak to his needs to hug you, to kiss you, to embrace you, to show you all the love that he can possibly show you. Within his iron grasp since youâre the one thing that heâll never give up to his youngest sibling no matter how much tries to tempt you away from him.ă
#yandere drabble#yandere oc#yandere x reader#yandere imagines#yandere male#yandere male x reader#yanderecore#yandere concept#yandere content#yandere scenarios#yandere headcanons#yandere x y/n#yandere x you#yandere x darling#Judas the eldest#yandere brother#yandere brothers collab#yandere eldest brother#yandere writing#male yandere#yandere Judas#yandere community#yandere confession#youngest brother Dexter
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TRICK OR TREAT!!!
fuck, i love this concept.
sour skittles + ghostface + the craft, pls đ€Čđ»
(smut is always welcome, although i know that is highly dependent on whatever it is i just chose, lmao)
â Pairing: Vernon x afab reader
â Summary: Vernon has been one of your best friends for years. Shy, quiet and calm, heâs always been a steady rock for you. He has no idea youâre in love with him, but thatâs neither here nor there. After a strange series of events on Halloween night, Vernon seems a little⊠different, and the new version of him both terrifies and thrills you.Â
â Word Count: 21,558
â Genre: Supernatural, Friends to Lovers, Thriller
â Type: Smut, Angst
â Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.
â Warnings: Explicit language, recreational drinking and smoking, crude humor, some of the members of SVT are a bit of an asshole in this - it is not a reflection of how I think of them, mentions of occult practices, a NOT ACCURATE spirit summoning/ritual, mentions of a murder suicide case/event, mentions of murders, light mentions of blood, mentions of infidelity, catching someone in a sexual act (not the main couple), Vernon is a bit of an asshole at times, mentions of insecurities/confused feelings, I owe Chan and Mingyu an apology for how I wrote them, sexual tension, some angst, sexually explicit content including thigh riding, oral (f. receiving), nipple play, a lot of biting and scratching, choking/breath play, vaginal fingering, a lot of spit and cum mentioned, unprotected sex, references to sub space, Vernon takes a dom role but it is not explicitly established, Vernon gets a little bit possessive, calls reader a slut a total of one time, some light finger sucking, reader is at several points annoyed with the women in this fic which can come off a lil bitchy, general creepy scenes in woods and in some dark spooky places.Â
â Additional Content Warning: It is implied by the end of this fic that Vernon is possessed to some degree by a spirit in this. I make zero distinction as to whether itâs Vernon or the spirit calling the shots or if there is even a difference/distinction between the two, which poses the fair question of consent in parts of this that I do not address or provide nuance to. The lack of clarification is due to the POV of this fic being entirely from readerâs perspective and she doesnât have a clue whatâs going on until the very end, and thus we are unable to unpack to what degree this character is or is not himself. If that lack of nuance bothers you, that is valid but this is not the fic for you.Â
â A/N: This was supposed to be a drabble. This was supposed to be a drabble. THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A DRABBLE. Anyways, Jade my beloved you got Vernon + Friends to Lovers + Slasher and honestly itâs less slasher and more supernatural so I actually totally apologize but I leaned too far the other way Iâm so sorry soifsdiofjdfiogj I love you love all the specific easer eggs for you and also show you to Jade because they specifically helped me write the Mingyu âgraveyard smashâ line thanks bye
â A/N 2: Alternative summary for this fic is Hali repeatedly drags Chan because she loves him so muchÂ
â Reader Notes: This reader is never explicitly gendered as girl/she/her etc. so I have listed them as an afab reader.Â
â Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.
Main Masterlist â Tag List Request Form â Ask â Haliween
Cool wind lifts the pages of your book, threatening to flip them over. You press your fingers flat to the page, fighting to keep them from flitting over and losing your place in the story. Thereâs not much daylight left in the sky as the afternoon dies to make way for the evening, but youâre eager to finish the chapter, craving to unravel the mystery youâve been working your way through the past week.Â
Atmospheric sounds play in your headphones as you read. Your legs are crossed, book in your lap as you sit on the concrete wall separating the quad from one of the sidewalks on campus. Now that thereâs a chill in the air, you crave being outside, finding the opportunity to sit wherever you can on campus to crack open a book before the sunlight finally fades.Â
Flipping the page, you only get a split second warning of the shout you hear through your headphones before something hits you in the back of the head. You yelp, dropping the book to the ground as your headphones clatter from your head to the grass from the impact.Â
Scowling, you swivel around to see Mingyu jogging over, his hand over his mouth as apologies start pouring out of him. A flush creeps up your neck as he approaches, his friends and fellow fraternity brothers watching from afar. Some of them are bent over cackling, the others have their hands on their head, visibly stressed from hitting you with their football.
Again.Â
âI am so sorry,â he pleads, running a hand through his sweaty hair. âSeungcheol threw wide.âÂ
âMaybe play on a rec field, then?â You snap, sliding from the wall, picking up your headphones and book. You kick the football toward him, irritated. âThereâs literally so many other places you can play. Donât you have a yard at your little frat house?âÂ
âItâs being used for float building for the Halloween parade.â
âConvenient.âÂ
For the most part, Mingyu isnât so bad. Heâs a little loud and obnoxious, but heâs always nice and he does seem to mean it when he picks up the football and apologizes again. Itâs more than a lot of his fraternity brothers would do, though itâs not much now that theyâve managed to hit you twice with the same ball.Â
Someone like Mingyu wouldnât even pay attention to you if it werenât for Vernon, though. As Mingyu retreats, the reason youâre even friends with Mingyu appears on the sidewalk, coming toward you with his hands in his pockets, hood pulled up on his head and headphones on. He lifts his chin in greeting to Mingyu, but Vernonâs brown eyes focus on you, his true destination.Â
Vernon pulls his hood and headphones down when heâs within a few feet, jerking his thumb at Mingyu. âWhat did he want?âÂ
âHe was apologizing for hitting me with the football. Again.â
âAgain?âÂ
âYeah. They hit me earlier.â
Vernon hums, displeased. He doesnât say much, instead turning to lean against the wall, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets again.
The last embers of sunlight hit his side profile, stunning you to momentarily silence. In a halo of fiery light, Vernon looks like a god. His light brown eyes turn burnished gold, reflecting the dying sun. His hair is spun copper, strands dancing in the breeze as he watches the world around him.Â
Not for the first time, you think that you understand why Helen of Troy inspired a thousand ships to come after her. Vernonâs face is the kind of thing youâve read about in all of your mythologies and folktales for your Occult Studies major, so beautiful that it canât be real. Â
If Vernon notices you staring, he doesnât say anything. Instead, his eyes watch the other members of his fraternity play football, one of them crashing into someone on a lawn chair. He shakes his head and mutters under his breath, wearing his second-hand embarrassment silently as he watches them apologize for the millionth time.Â
Vernon is nothing like the rest of his fraternity. Youâre still unsure why he even joined. It was something he had done his freshman year going into school, wanting to put himself out there and make friends.Â
He certainly looks the part - heâs handsome and in shape from playing soccer in highschool, and heâs got good fashion sense for a college student. But heâs quiet and a little awkward, unsure how to navigate conversations with most people who arenât in his immediate circle of friends and shy to an almost crippling point.Â
It had taken Vernon seven weeks of being your lab partner before he finally spoke more than three sentences to you. For the longest time, youâd assumed it was because he thought you were beneath him. It wouldnât have surprised you. Greek life on campus tended to stick with their own.Â
Now, you know it was because he didnât know what to say or how to start a conversation. Youâd only managed to get him to talk to you when he noticed a song by Frank Ocean bleeding from your headphones, piquing his interest.Â
Four years later, talking to Vernon is easy. Well, maybe not easy. Youâve got years of friendship between you now and you know what makes Vernon tick, but the butterflies you get when youâre around him and the way your heart swells when he does something so simple makes it a little harder.Â
Like now, as day fades to evening and the world is awash in purple and gold, and heâs looking at the watercolor sky like it's the most fascinating thing in the world, completely unaware that while heâs in awe of the sky, youâre in awe of him.Â
Vernon jerks forward, making you flinch. You have no idea what heâs doing until his hand is in front of you, smacking down the football that has been sent your direction again. You huff in frustration, watching as this time itâs Chan who jogs over to get it.Â
âAre you all fucking serious?â You demand. He slows his approach, eyes darting to Vernon as though looking for help from his friend. Vernon says nothing, bending over to pick up the football and toss it to Chan. âI should shove that football up your ass.âÂ
âMaybe not the football,â Chan quips, catching it. He looks you up and down, head cocking to the side a little. His mouth lifts at the corner and thereâs a glint in his dark eyes that makes you even angrier. âIâm open to other things, though?âÂ
âYouâre so gross.â
âWhat? Youâre hot when youâre mad.âÂ
âGo away, Chan!â You shriek, flustered and angry as you spin around to grab your things and storm off. You only get a few feet before realizing Vernon is still leaning on the wall. âAre you coming or not?â
He scrambles after you, nearly tripping over his own feet to catch up. Chan is snickering as he runs back toward where the others wait for him, yelling a trilling bye toward you and Vernon as you charge north toward the main campus parking lot.Â
âHeâs so annoying,â you gripe, shoving your book in your bag. Vernon hums, noncommittal. You glance at him. âNothing more to add?âÂ
He lifts a shoulder. âItâs cause they think youâre hot, Lovecraft.â
You smile at the nickname, fondness sweeping through you. Heâd started calling you Lovecraft your freshman year after learning about your major, deciding that it just fit. You like it - at least coming from Vernon, who understood Occult Studies was more than just spooky and magic and the metaphysical.Â
âThey think anything with a set of tits and a hole to stick their dick in is hot. Iâm sure a blowup doll would blow their fucking mind.âÂ
Vernonâs mouth twitches at that. âYouâd hate Chanâs room.â
âDonât give me that visual!âÂ
His laugh is warm. He bumps shoulders with yours, grinning at you as the two of you walk. You feel the telltale sign of your traitorous heart beating extra hard at his closeness, your gaze shooting to the floor as you try to hide any evidence of your feelings that might lurk on the surface of your expression.Â
Thankfully, Vernon never seems to notice. Youâre glad that he doesnât. You donât think youâre very good at hiding how you feel, but he is equally bad at picking up on it, totally oblivious to the long stares and the way you fumble over your words when he gets too close.Â
Vernon has that effect on a lot of people. His proximity to being attractive has always outweighed his inability to make small talk among the female population on campus. The amount of times youâve watched girls openly flirt with him and whisper about what it would take to get him to crack was insurmountable.Â
Autumn wind kicks up leaves at your feet. Neither one of you says anything as you walk, simply content to be together. Itâs one of your favorite things about him, never feeling pressure to perform or to have conversation. Being with Vernon is just⊠easy. Natural, even.Â
The parking lot is slowly emptying as the rest of the late afternoon classes end. A few unlucky evening class students pull in, slamming their car doors and rushing off to their auditoriums. Vernonâs car is easy to find and you let yourself in, sliding into the passenger seat like itâs yours - it kind of is.Â
âPizza?â he asks, engine humming to life.Â
âPlease.â His lips twitch in a soft smile as he nods, flipping on the radio. You hum, leaning forward and turning up the volume. âI love this song.âÂ
Vernonâs smile increases as you lean back, the sounds of Emotional Oranges filling the car. He rolls the windows down once heâs on the road proper, cool wind kissing your skin. You pull your feet up onto the seat, leaning toward the window as the fading twilight brushes past you.Â
Outside the car, the world smells like pine. You take a deep breath in, loving the way the October air feels just right. Fall is always your favorite time of year, and with the music playing in the background, wind in your hair and Vernon drumming on the wheel, you donât think there could be anything better in the world.Â
Salâs Pizzeria glows against the dark, a beacon of hunger and hope against the night. The giant pizza slice on the roof blinks rapidly, the neon a little bit broken. Gold light glows through the windows as you climb out the car, gravel crunching beneath your feet.Â
A bell chimes as the door opens and a group of students pour out, laughing and carrying boxes. Vernon catches the lip of the door and holds it open for you, gesturing you to enter first. The smell of bread and warm air hits you in the face, your lips curving as you tell the girl at the host stand two.
College students and local residents fill the restaurant. The hostess leads you to a booth in the corner, the vinyl seats creaking under you as you hop-slide your way in. She hands you the menus, her eyes lingering on Vernon as she does, lips twitching when she asks if thereâs anything else you need. When he doesnât answer, you shake your head, shooting her a thin-lipped smile.Â
Sheâs hesitant to leave but she does, casting one last look over her shoulder as she heads back to the stand. You look at Vernon too, studying him. Heâs none the wiser, brown eyes scanning the menu even though you know heâs going to order the same thing.Â
When the server comes, Vernon does as expected: orders a diablo pizza with a side of fries. You shake your head a little, asking for the white feta pizza, handing over the sticky menus. When the server is gone, Vernon leans back in the seat, sipping his coke as he drinks you in, wordless.Â
You kick your feet up on his side of the booth next to him and he lets you, patting your ankle fondly when he sets his drink down. He has no idea how torturous that alone is, the simple comfort of his familiar touch enough to send your eyes averting across the room, trying to control your breathing.Â
âWhat are the favorites and least favorites this week?â he asks, balling up the paper his straw came in.Â
Favorites and least favorites is a game you like to play with him. Itâs not so much of a game as it is a routine where you tell him your favorite piece of material from your classes and your least favorite. Most people dismiss your major as too peculiar for interest. No one knows what youâre supposed to do with Occult Studies but it fascinates you.
And Vernon, who has always had a keen interest in the goings on in your classes and homework.Â
âWeâre in the psychology of the occult module.â He nods, eyes fixed on you. âMostly covering the psychology of community as it relates to the occult. We have sections on covens, clans, actual cults, sects and more modern mass followings.âÂ
âHmm. So like⊠Twitter stans.â
You smile a bit. âSomething like that. We covered the maenads in class today. Ever heard of them?â He shakes his head and you lean forward, elbows on the table. âThey were women in Ancient Greece devoted to the god Dionysus and they were believed to be possessed by the god. They were said to have wild parties in the woods with one another where theyâd do all manner of sordid things, all while under the influence.âÂ
âA Friday night for Chan.â
âExactly. A lot of historians call them crazy and speculate they were raving mad, but if I was a woman under the thumb of men in Ancient GreeceâŠâ
âShit, Iâd get fucking crazy in the woods with my friends too.â
âExactly. It was more about reveling in female companionship and being unfettered from the male-dominated societal norms.âÂ
The arrival of your dinner interrupts the conversation. Both of you lean backward, making room for the hot plates and Vernonâs basket of fries. You slide your feet down from his side of the booth, leaning to grab the red pepper flakes from the corner of the table. He grabs salt, immediately dusting his fries.
âUgh, you could have at least let me have some first.â He looks up at you through his lashes, brows raised. âTheyâre already salted, Vernon.â
âNot enough.â
âYou know, if you were haunted or possessed youâd never want the salt.â He gives a questioning hum. âSalt is used in purification rituals. Itâs believed spirits hate it because itâs used in banishing spells and rituals. Itâs why a line of salt keeps them out.â
âGood thing Iâm hungry, not haunted.âÂ
You snort, taking a piece of your pizza from the tray. âSpeaking of haunted, are we going to your Halloween party this weekend?â
âMy halloween party?â
âYou are in the fraternity, Vernon. Yes, yours.âÂ
He makes a face and tears into his pizza. You shake your head as he lets out a sound, huffing and tilting his head backward as he tries to deal with the too-hot food in his mouth burning him. âYa,â he says around the slice. âI guess so.âÂ
âWhat are you going to wear?â He raises a brow at you, swallowing down the hot bite. You pout, sagging in your seat. âDude, you have to dress up. You canât just go in a black shirt and a baseball hat.âÂ
âWhy not?â You kick him under the table and he winces, ducking down to rub at his shin. âShit, fine. Okay, what do I go as?â
You grin, picking up your appropriately cooled pizza. âLeave it to me.âÂ
-
âThis makeup itches,â Vernon mutters, looking up at you through long lashes. You hush him, putting the finishing touches on the black line down his mouth. âCouldnât I have gone as something easier?â
âWhat is easier than black jeans and a jacket you already own, huh? Stop talking, Iâm gonna fuck up this line and this makeup is perfect so far.âÂ
Itâs true. Youâve outdone yourself on turning Vernonâs face into a skull, taking inspiration from American Horror Story for the costume. Vernon is a low effort kind of person, so getting him into costume is a lot easier when all it requires are clothes he already owns and makeup that you have to do anyway.Â
Stepping away from him, you admire your handy work. His eyes are painted black, hollowed out for the skull. His dark hair is slicked back, the perfect skeleton. He looks⊠good. Painfully good, which makes you nervous and turn away quickly, heart flipping. Youâre not sure what it says about you that Vernon staring at you while painted as a deadly skeleton makes your heart race but⊠it does.Â
âHow do I look?â
âTerrifying,â you admit, turning back to him. âBut good.âÂ
He grins and if it were anyone else but Vernon, youâd be terrified. Maybe you did a little too good of a job.Â
âWhat are you again?â
âOne of the witches from American Horror Story Coven. Close your eyes, Iâm going to use setting spray.âÂ
Darkness blankets the sky by the time youâre both scrambling down the steps and into an Uber. The driver does a double take when they see Vernon, eyes watching nervously in the rearview as you give him the address.Â
âThatâs at a closed down gas station.â
âYep,â you agree, leaning back into the seat.
The driver mutters something about fucking college kids and fucking holiday but otherwise says nothing about the questionable location. He doesnât need to know that a mile from the abandoned gas station is also an abandoned farmhouse notorious for unsanctioned parties and being distinctly haunted.Â
Haunted isnât your favorite thing in the world. You didnât like to mess with ghosts, despite your area of study. You were infinitely more interested in the intersectionality of occult studies and modern culture and society and less enthused about the idea of drinking stale beer from a foamy tap in the middle of a murder house.Â
If the driver thinks thereâs anything weird about other people being dropped off at the gas station - youâre sure he does - he says nothing, ignoring the two of you as you get out of the car and dive into the night air. Vernon is close behind as you take a few steps away from the car, eyeing the old gas station.
The windows have long since been broken and cracked, foggy with time. The stations are stripped of their labels and stickers, just white residue left behind and no pumps. A few people lounge around the building smoking, dressed in a variety of halloween costumes.Â
Nervous, you look up at Vernon. His smile is small and he juts his chin toward the dirt road that leads through the woods. Nodding, you both fall into step, sand and gravel crunching beneath your feet as you go. Vernon recognizes a few people associated with his fraternity and others, throwing a casual wave or a nod as you pass by people.
Music echoes down the road. Itâs a little less foreboding in the dark trees when you can hear Michael Jacksonâs thriller coming down the way and the dull roar of voices. The bend in the road straightens out, the line of trees giving way to flat land.Â
The farmhouse is pretty, even in old age. Itâs two stories, glowing from within from all of the battery lanterns and lights being used to light the party. A generator roars somewhere behind the house, light flooding the yard where people mingle and crowd the kegs.Â
A chill slithers down your spine as you enter the yard, the broken gate doing a poor job at keeping trespassers out. Even with the lighting, shadows dance as you navigate through people, the strange anxiety crawling up your throat worsening as you near the house.Â
Vernon pulls the sleeve of your dress so that youâre closer to him, his fingers steady and calm as he leads you up the steps where you can clearly hear Mingyuâs howling laughter inside.Â
Bright light fills the house. As do a crush of people and beer pong tables, the abandoned home turned into a raucous display of drinking and debauchery. If you werenât so distracted by the wave of people pushing you into Vernonâs arm, you might be impressed at how much you could forget the farm home was abandoned because someone had been murdered here.Â
âI need a drink,â Vernon announces, continuing to pull your arm after him as he plunges toward what used to be the kitchen.
Itâs where you find Mingyu dressed as a lifeguard - and loudly yelling directions. He blows his whistle shrilly when he sees you and Vernon, pointing at the two of you and spitting the whistle out of his mouth to scream, âNOT WET ENOUGH!â
âWhat a weird way to offer drinks,â you mutter. Chan, who seems to be on lifeguard assistant duty - while dressed in a horrid felt dinosaur costume - scrambles to get you drinks, spilling rum as he tips it over into a cup. âNo ice?âÂ
âThereâs not a fridge,â he pouts, shoving the cup in your hand. His eyes drink you in. âAre you a hot goth or?âÂ
Instead of answering him, you roll your eyes and turn to Mingyu, who blows the whistle again. Both you and Vernon wince, the latter throwing back his drink to chug it all before thrusting the cup back at Chan. âThatâs gonna get real tiring.âÂ
Mingyu comes around the corner of the old island countertop, pumping his fists in the air to the music rattling through the house. âVernon you look fucking sick!â He and Vernon do the little hand-clap-to-half-hug men do. Mingyu turns to look at you, eyes dark. âAre you like, a hot goth?âÂ
Your smile is plastic as the whistle around Mingyuâs neck. âSure.âÂ
Mingyu, dancing and moving toward the living room, reaches out to you. âCome dance with me! This song fucks.â
âDecidedly not!âÂ
âGo ahead, Lovecraft!â Vernon urges, pushing you toward the obnoxious lifeguard with a shit-eating grin as he imitates Mingyuâs voice. âThis song fucks.âÂ
Before you can chastise him for egging his fraternity brother on, Mingyu has you sucked into the dancing crowd, throwing his hands in the air as he swivels his way through the crowd. You try to knock back as much of the lukewarm drink as you can, cringing at the burn of cheap rum and not-iced coke.Â
Bodies pressed in. Mingyu is close to you, a hand going to your waist. You frown and look over your shoulder, eyes scanning for Vernon. You know heâs probably lingering on the edge of the crowd, watching you with a smirk over the rim of his cup as he watches Mingyu roll his hips toward you.
âMingyu,â you snap, turning back to him when you donât find Vernon. âItâs the Monster Mash, it doesnât require grinding.âÂ
âI mean, if you wanna graveyard smashâŠâ
âYouâre all insufferable! All of you!â
Still, you sway back and forth, trying to stomach finishing the rest of your horrid drink. It takes an effort, but shaking your head at Mingyu and judging him silently gets you most of the way through it until Soonyoung - dressed in the same tiger costume from last year - crashes through the crowd into the pair of you, thrilled when he realizes who it is he has slammed into.Â
âHot goth!â he screams, pointing at your outfit. âWhere is your other half?âÂ
You donât have to ask what Soonyoung means and both the drink and the accusation have you flushing. You shrug a shoulder, eyes surveying the party. Before either of you can find Vernon, Joshua appears at Soonyoungâs side, leaning to his ear to murmur something. Soongyoungâs face lights up and he grins at you, grabbing you by the wrist to yank you through the crowd.Â
âHello?â you demand, pulling your wrist from his grip. âHave you heard of asking?â
âCome on, I want to show you something.â
âThe last time I heard that was promptly followed by you showing me that stupid peach tattoo on your ass.â
âFirst of all, that tattoo is amazing.â He heads to the stairs, which you eye warily. âSecond, Vernon is already upstairs, come on. You like weird ghost shit, youâll like this.â
Without waiting for a reply, Soonyoung thunders up the stairs. You cringe, waiting for a foot to go through a dry plank and send him falling. It doesnât happen, though. Tentatively, you creep up the stairs after him, eyes glued to each of the steps as you go.Â
Itâs colder upstairs, the windows in the rooms open to the elements. You shiver, looking down the hall to Soonyoung heading into a bedroom. You tentatively follow him, stopping at the threshold of the doorway to survey the people inside.
Vernon is one of them, back pressed to the wall near the window, his eyes focused on his boots in front of him, hands tucked into his pockets. A girl next to him dressed as Red Riding Hood is leaning close, speaking to him rapidly. Nothing on his face indicates heâs listening. Then again, his expression is hard to read while painted as a skull, mystifying and dark as you follow Soonyoung down the hall.Â
Soonyoung goes straight toward a pile of things on the floor next to Seungcheolâs feet in the corner of the room. The president of Vernonâs fraternity pays Soonyoung no mind, eyes totally focused on the pretty fox in front of him, bottom lip tucked between his teeth.Â
Suddenly, the room feels too intimate for you, like everyone is a couple tucked away. You have half a mind to go back downstairs when Vernon looks up at you, dark eyes zeroing in. His face is ten times more intense with the skull paint, pinning you to the spot.Â
Everything dulls to the background for a second. You donât dare breathe, too afraid to shatter the moment as he stares at you, unblinking. His eyes glitter in the darkness of the room, two amber pools reflecting the moonlight.Â
Joshua enters the room behind you, shattering the spell as you step out of his way. You turn back to Vernon, clearing your throat. He pulls a hand from his pocket, beckoning you over. Mouth dry, you obey, skittering over toward him quickly as you observe the materials that Soonyoung is sifting through in the corner. Candles. Matches. Salt. A bell.Â
âSoonyoung,â you say sharply, slowing your step. âWhy do you have ritual materials?â
He looks up at you, his grin wide. âTold you that youâd like this.âÂ
âWhat is this?â You turn back to Vernon, who shrugs one shoulder.Â
Hesitantly, you take the unoccupied space next to him, casting the girl at his side a cursory glance. She observes your costume. âAre you a hot goth?âÂ
âJesus Christ,â you mutter, head thunking against the wall as you watch Soonyoung stand, materials in hand. Vernon coughs next to you, trying to cover his laugh. You glare at him sidelong and he says nothing, but his skeleton mouth is screwed up in a smirk. âWhat is he doing?â
âNo clue.â
Soonyoung walks over to the bedroom door, looking down the hallway before shutting it. You fight a shiver, disliking how quiet the room becomes, cut off from the rest of the world. The window near you is the only source of light, and the only one shut on the second level of the abandoned home.Â
âWhat time is it?â Soonyoung asks Joshua.
â11:45.âÂ
âPerfect.â Soonyoung spins, eyes falling on you. âWant to talk to a ghost?âÂ
All eyes turn to you in the room. You open and close your mouth, confused. âWhat?âÂ
âDo you want to talk to a ghost? Like someone who died?âÂ
Your eyes drift to the candle, bell and matches in Soonyoungâs hand. A tingle spreads over your skin and your spine stiffens. âSoonyoung that better not be to invite a spirit in.âÂ
His grin grows. âCome on, you are the ghost major or whatever. You should be thrilled to do this.â
âOccult Studies. And that doesnât mean I fuck with the unknown or make a mockery of the dead. Weâve been over this.âÂ
âItâs basically the same thing, come on. You learn it all in class.âÂ
âNo.âÂ
He pouts. âYouâd be best at it, though. Rumor has it that when the veil is thinnest, you can talk to the spirit that haunts this house.âÂ
âThe murderer? Or the murdered?â Soonyoung shrugs. âI doubt either would be very happy a bunch of drunk college kids are trying to bother them. My answer is no.âÂ
âUgh. I was kind of counting on you doing it.âÂ
âDo it yourself.â
âI donât study ghost shit!â
âOccult! Studies!â
âGhost shit,â Soonyoung assures the room confidently.
âIâll do it,â Vernon sighs, pushing off the wall. âLeave her alone.âÂ
Soonyoungâs eyes are alight as Vernon steps toward him. You reach out to grab his wrist, pulling him back. âDonât.âÂ
âItâs fine.â
âVernon.â
His eyes are soft when he looks at you. As soft as the terrifying makeup allows, anyway. âItâs fine, Lovecraft. Let me. Heâll stop asking.â
âIâm right here.â
âWe know,â you and Vernon say in unison. You feel warm, chewing the inside of your cheek before nodding. You drop his wrist and turn to Soonyoung, eyes hard. âGive me that, youâll do it wrong. Tell me what the mythos is.â
âWhat math? You need math?â
âThe story, Soonyoung. What is the fucking story of this house?â
âRight. Apparently some dude murdered his girlfriend in here and then hung himself in that closet.â He points to a door you didnât see when you walked in, dark and far away from the window. âLegend says at midnight, ring the bell three times and step into the closet with a candle. If the candle blows out, the spirit is with you. If it doesnât, it didnât work.âÂ
Grabbing the items from Soonyoungâs hand, you look at Vernon. âWhen youâre done, ring the bell three times again and say: Thank you, I dismiss thee. Go in peace.âÂ
âThank you,â Vernon repeats gently, taking the bell from your hand. âI dismiss thee. Go in peace.â
âEveryone else take candles,â you direct, voice rough with irritation. You glare at Soonyoung and Seungcheol in particular as you shove candles in their hands. âStand in the four corners of the room. Did you bring sage, Soonyoung?â
âBring what?â
âOf course not, why would you?â Everyone starts moving to the corner of the room, using matches to light their candles. The room feels unnaturally cold now, despite your long sleeves. Turning back to Vernon, you say, âItâs probably a stupid rumor.â
âProbably.â
âIf your candle goes out, just ring the bell, say the words, and dismiss it.âÂ
âRight.âÂ
âYou donât have to do it, Vernon.â
His mouth kicks up at the corner. âIâm not worried, Lovecraft. You are.âÂ
Letting out a breath, you give a laugh thatâs only half-there. You are nervous. You donât like the idea of inviting a spirit into Vernonâs space, and though Soonyoungâs little ritual doesnât really sound right, youâre not going to correct him.Â
Still, you feel unsettled as you light your own candle and then Vernonâs. He cradles it in his hands as you escort him to the door. Tucked under your arm is the canister of salt. Crouching down, you pour the salt in a thick white light in front of the door, careful to ensure that there are no breaks and that it covers the entire entryway from corner to corner.
âBe careful when you step over it and when you open the door,â you instruct, standing up. The candle in your hand flickers unsteadily. âDonât break the line. The idea is that if Soonyoungâs stupid summoning works, the spirit canât get through the salt.â
âBanishing and all that,â Vernon recalls with a smile. Your heart flips. âI remember.âÂ
âCome on, you only have a minute!â Soonyoung calls eagerly.Â
Shooting him a glare that silences him, you turn back to Vernon. âRing the bell three times. Thank you, I dismiss thee. Go in peace.â
âGot it.âÂ
Unsettled you shuffle back from the door a little bit. You donât go to a corner of the room like youâve asked everyone else, unwilling to totally leave him by himself. Heart hammering, you hold your candle in front of you, cradling the warmth like a second heart.Â
Vernon is unbothered. You can see it in the loose set of his shoulders and the way he sighs, already tired of Soonyoungâs antics. The party downstairs feels a million miles away as you watch Vernon stand in front of the closed closet door, looking up at it, unimpressed.
âItâs midnight,â Joshua whispers from the corner.Â
Vernon doesnât make any sound that heâs heard Joshua, but he lifts the little bell in his hand. Itâs a hand bell, the wood grip worn and cracked. You wonder where Soonyoung got it from, having half a mind to ask him when the first clear ring of the bell disrupts your thoughts.Â
The note sings through the air, your blood turning to ice in your veins. It feels like your pulse is throbbing in your neck as Vernon rings the bell hard a second time, the sound chasing the echo of the first. The third ring feels like a tremor in the air, warbling as Vernon quickly sets the bell on the floor, careful not to extinguish his candle flame.Â
You hold your breath when he sets his hand on the doorknob. No one makes a sound as he twists it open. He pulls on the door and it comes away with a silent swing. The darkness on the other side is gaping, like thereâs no back to the closet, just a wide hole of nothing.Â
Vernon doesnât seem to mind. He steps over the line of salt carefully until heâs in the middle of the closet, pivoting to face you. The orange flicker of his candle casts a haunting glow over his skull face. You swallow down a brief moment of fear before he winks and leans forward to pull the door shut.
For a long moment, thereâs nothing. You feel your heart hammering in your chest, the thudthudthud so loud you swear everyone else in the room can hear it. No one moves, everyone fixated on the door. The silence is so piercing that your ears start to ring, the sound of the party completely unreachable over your mounting anxiety.Â
âWell?â Soonyoung whispers somewhere behind you. âI guess it didnât work.âÂ
Vernon begins pounding on the door. Someone screams behind you followed by a bunch of curses. You leap forward, heart in your throat as Vernon screams something unintelligible on the other side. You drop your candle, completely throwing caution to the wind as you grab the doorknob and twist.Â
It doesnât move.
âVernon?â you ask, voice spiking with fear. âLet go of the doorknob, let me turn it. Vernon!â
The pounding doesnât stop. He is screaming in a way youâve never heard before, his fists rattling the door against the frame. You shriek his name back, yanking at the door frantically, your panic mounting as he screams and-Â
When the door opens, you nearly fall backward with the force of it, stumbling over your feet. Soonyoung steadies you, to your surprise. You hadnât realized he had left his corner of the room to help, his hand warm and firm.Â
Vernon stands on the other side of the door, mouth pressed in a firm line.Â
âYou fucking asshole,â Soonyoung swears, throwing his unlit candle at Vernon. Vernon laughs, dodging it. âYou fucking suck.â
âYeah, well donât ask me to do stupid shit.â Vernon steps out of the closet, eyes dropping to you. His mirth is edged with something sharp, a glint in his eyes that is wholly unfamiliar. âI was kidding.â
âYou fucking asshole!â You screech at him, slamming your hands into his chest and knocking him back a little. He smirks and says nothing, letting you hit him a few times. âWhy would you do that to me? What is wrong with you?âÂ
âSorry.â
âYeah, you sound really fucking sorry.â Anger sours your mouth. Turns your words to poison. Your throat tightens up and you feel the telltale sign of tears, equal parts livid, embarrassed and offended that Vernon would do such a thing. âFuck you, Vernon.â
Someone laughs awkwardly as you storm off. Vernon calls your name but you ignore him, bolting down the hall and down the stairs. The wood creaks uncertainty under your feet but you donât care. You want to be anywhere but here, the hot lick of embarrassment burning your heels as you go.Â
You blow past Chan on your way out, his bleary eyes following you. âNooo,â he whines. âHot goth, come back to me!â
âShut up, Chan!â You scream, slamming down the steps as you go.
People nearly dive out of your way, swiveling to watch the wake of your wrath as you leave the party. You ignore them, not wanting anyone to see the hot tears that spill over as you hit the dirt road, boots crunching.Â
Itâs hard to tell whatâs worse. The fact that Vernon had played a joke on you he knew you wouldnât like, or the way you had panicked and lost all resolve to be the one in charge. Both feel awful, but the sting of Vernonâs joke is the sharper of the two, cutting you to the quick.
Vernon has never dared to do something like that in your entire friendship. You have no idea why he did it now. Was it because he had an audience? Was he drunk? Was he actually like the members of his fraternity he associated with?Â
You had no idea, which only made things worse. Above anyone else, you thought you knew Vernon best. But perhaps, you didnât know Vernon at all, which was far worse than any sort of haunted spirit you could imagine.Â
-
The next morning, you donât hear from Vernon. It makes your blood boil, a nasty feeling forming in the pit of your stomach as you put your phone on Do Not Disturb. You put on a big set of headphones, blaring music to keep you sane as you set about cleaning your apartment furiously.Â
Itâs an okay distraction. The lull of clinical cleaning is nice and the music soothes the sting that nips at your heels like an incessant hound. When you run out of things to clean, though, youâre forced to face the fact that itâs nearly evening and Vernon still hasnât said anything to you.
You donât want to text him first. Your pride is wounded from the night before and youâre shocked he hasnât apologized - he should apologize. The silence only makes you angrier, and with nothing left to clean in your apartment, you decide to think of all the things youâre going to say to him when he does finally reach out to you. Because youâre not saying anything first.Â
Vernonâs radio silence makes it nearly impossible to sleep. You toss and turn in bed, unable to get comfortable, checking your phone and social media. Itâs difficult to remember the last time you went over twenty four hours without hearing from Vernon, and the realization forms a pit in your stomach.
Maybe the silence was good. Maybe you were too reliant on his friendship, the one constant that you had grown far too fond of. Maybe he was into that girl last night, making a show of you because he wanted to make her laugh or maybe he was just putting you in your place.
The insecurity wars with your logic that Vernon wouldnât do that. Heâs never had a history of that kind of behavior before, and though he might tease you on occasion, you have never been the butt of his jokes or the target of his humor.Â
Jokes like that arenât even Vernonâs style. He doesnât like cruelty, and thatâs what pretending to be screaming for help was. It was cruel, and strange and it hurt.Â
What hurts more is the silence continuing into a second day. By the late afternoon, though, the hurt has morphed into something else. You sit on your couch, staring at the phone on your coffee table. Your pride was begging you not to text him, but your worry was starting to chip away at you.Â
Heaving a sigh, you pick up the phone. The tap of your nails against the glass screen is loud in your quiet apartment, the final rays of sun melting through the blinds while a candle burns on the counter.Â
[You 5:14 PM]: So are we not talking?Â
Setting the phone down, you immediately start making dinner. It doesnât matter that youâre too early. Youâre nervous waiting for his text back, which makes you feel ridiculous. Then you feel ridiculous for feeling ridiculous, validating yourself that it is totally okay to have feelings and be nervous.
âGod,â you mutter under your breath. âIâm exhausting.âÂ
By the time youâve had dinner and watched a full episode of Alice in Borderland, Vernon has said nothing. Worry eats away at the lining of your stomach. You pause the show and pick up the phone again, dialing his number.
On the other side of the line, the phone rings. And rings. And rings.Â
You hang up when you get the automated voicemail, frowning. Itâs all strange, and a nagging feeling tugs at your nervous system but you canât put your finger on it.
Just as you set the dishes in the sink, your phone starts to ping. Youâre grateful no one can see you in your apartment as you lurch to the phone, picking it up and unlocking it to see if itâs Vernon. It isnât, but your heart starts to thud when your group chats with other friends and classmates in projects flood with the same rumor over and over.
A dead body had been found on campus.Â
Vernon doesnât live on campus, but it doesnât stop you from calling him again. And again. And again. When the voicemail turns on a fourth time, you seethe into the phone, fingers gripping it so hard it feels like itâll break. âCall me back you fucking asshole! Someone died on campus and youâre not answering and I just need to know itâs not you. Fuck!âÂ
Time passes and you get so desperate you do the one thing you didnât want to do unless it was dire circumstances. You hit dial and bring your phone up to your ear, pinching the bridge of your nose to prepare yourself for when Mingyu answers the phone.Â
âAm I dreaming?â he says by way of greeting. âIt was the life guard costume, right?âÂ
âMingyu, it wasnât a costume. You were shirtless with board shorts.âÂ
âBut it worked, right?â
âHave you heard from Vernon?âÂ
âNah, why?âÂ
âLike you havenât seen him at all since the party?âÂ
âMmm. I donât think so.â Thereâs a muffled sound on the phone like heâs trying to cover it when he yells, âChan, have you seen that fuck head Vernon?â You wait impatiently, holding the phone further from your ear as Minguy yells. âChan hasnât seen him either.âÂ
âIsnât that weird? I havenât been able to get a hold of him.â
âNah, I mean we never really see him. Usually heâs with you.â
âRight. And he isnât with me, I havenât seen him since the party.âÂ
âWell have you checked his apartment?â You hesitate. âHelloooo?â
âNo.â
âWell. Do that. Heâs probably sleeping or some shit, who knows.âÂ
âGreat. You were so helpful,â you deadpan.
Mingyu sounds genuinely happy when he says, âIâm so glad!â
You hang up the phone before he can say anything else.Â
Chewing your nail, you stare at the wall, mind racing. Mingyu has a point that itâs normal for them to never see Vernon. He is usually with you, or heâs solitary. There is little in between. He also has a point that most of the time if you were looking for Vernon, youâd just swing by his apartment.Â
The thought of seeing him again makes you want to curl in on yourself, but your concern weighs out. You get dressed and grab your keys, trying not to let your fear of what you might find there keep you from leaving.Â
Opening the door to your apartment, you get one foot out the door and then slam directly into Vernon. You reel backward, eyebrows shooting up as he steadies you by the elbow, equally surprised to see you as though he wasnât at your doorstep.Â
âEasy there,â he greets, a half smile on his face.
Vernon looks totally normal. He definitely doesnât look like he was murdered, and heâs dressed in his usual jeans, plain black shirt, and a backwards hat. For a second, you just stare at him, totally shocked and utterly relieved he isnât dead.
Then, the anger comes.Â
You slam a hand into his chest, cursing at him. âWhere?â Slap. âHave?â Slap. âYou?â Slap. âBeen?âÂ
He takes the blows in stride. His chest is firm beneath your palm, heart beating steadily. Alive. And now that youâve established heâs not dead, you feel so much anger ripple through you that you donât let him answer before youâre pivoting on your foot and storming back into your apartment.
The sound of the door closing behind you followed by his shuffling as he takes his shoes off tells you he hasnât left. A small part of you curls in satisfaction with the domesticity of his arrival, but it is blotted out by the hurt and rage at the surface of your emotions.
âWhat the fuck is wrong with you?â You demand. It isnât as eloquent as your practiced rant, but itâs something. âYou better explain yourself. And quickly.â
Vernonâs dark eyes connect with yours, simmering. You feel your heart lurch as he slinks over to the kitchen, never taking his gaze off you. The back of your neck tingles. Vernon never keeps this much eye contact and itâs both thrilling and unnerving.Â
âI want to apologize,â he murmurs, pitching his voice low. You watch with trepidation as he reaches out to gather your hand in his. He folds your fingers under his, pulling your hand to his chest. Your breath quickens, pulse throbbing as he cradles your fist to his chest, his heartbeat steady. âI fucked up. I wanted to fuck with Soonyoung but I did it at the expense of you, and for that Iâm deeply sorry.â
Warmth spreads from his hand to yours. You donât know what to make of the apology - itâs so unlike him. Vernon has no problem apologizing when heâs wrong, but heâs usually not so confident, so well spoken. You stare and stare, that pitless gaze of his pinned on you.Â
âI justâŠâ You chew the inside of your cheek. âYou really hurt my feelings, Vernon.â His hands tighten around yours and he tugs a little, pulling you closer. Itâs harder to think when youâre this close, fingers wrapped in his. âYou really scared me and then you vanished for nearly three days. Why did you do that?âÂ
âI wasnât feeling well and I slept most of the days away. Honestly.â
âYou werenât feeling well?â
He gives you a look. âI see the skepticism. Iâm serious, I just⊠wasnât myself. I tried to rest and I didnât hear my phone and Iâm sorry. Really.â
Vernonâs apology settles around you like a weight. You watch him, contemplating what to do next. He doesnât look ill, his gold skin as flawless as ever, his rosy lips tucked under his teeth as he watches you, waiting. His heart thuds under your palm, his thumb absently brushing back and forth over the top of your hand.
Breathing becomes difficult. Vernon isnât overly affectionate, but the way he presses your hand to his chest now sends you down a dangerous path. The desire for him bubbles just below your surface and youâre terrified itâll boil over, exposing everything youâve ever thought about him.
âAlright,â you say softly, pulling your hand from his. He lets you. âDonât ever do something like that to me again. It was scary and I felt stupid. And I thought you were dead.â
âWhy?âÂ
Gesturing to the couch, the two of you plop down, seemingly back to normal. Youâre still a little off kilter, but you report back to Vernon what your classmates had been saying. He grabs your remote and turns on the news, settling close enough to you that your thighs brush against one another. You shoot him a questioning look but heâs fixated on the TV, leaning forward to press his elbows into his knees.
The reporter on the news confirms the body of one of your fellow students had indeed been found on campus. Names and details were not yet available, but they were interviewing students about whether or not they felt safe on campus. By the second interview, Vernon was turning off the TV and leaning back.
âFreaky,â you murmur, tapping the arm of the couch. âWeird timing, right?â
âHow so?â
âWe just had a Halloween party in a weird murder house.â
Vernon goes silent. You turn to look at him, eyes searching. He stares at you, again the eye contact unsettling. Even though it feels like your Vernon sitting next to you, there is an edge to him thatâs new. You donât know what to do with it, shifting in your seat a little.
âForget the murder house,â he says eventually, flicking his fingers in dismissal. âThat party sucked and Iâd rather forget it.â
âYeah,â you murmur, eyeing him as he looks out the window. You swear heâs agitated, but you canât pinpoint why. âMe too.â
-
Someone sitting down roughly next to you draws your attention away from your essay, barely audibly over the sound of Current Blue playing through your headphones. You raise a brow as Vernon slings his belongings on the table unceremoniously, uncaring how loud he is in the library.
You glance around, seeing that heâs attracted the attention of a few people at nearby tables, some scowling, others blushing. When you turn your gaze back to him, you see his mouth moving as he divests his bag of its contents, but you canât hear him.Â
Pulling your headphones from your head, you ask, âWhat?âÂ
âCan you help me with my organic chem assignment?âÂ
âI hate chemistry.âÂ
His mouth twitches as he opens his laptop. âRight, but youâre good at it. Youâre the smartest person in school.â
Again, something nags at your instincts. You canât pinpoint it, examining Vernon more closely. He looks totally normal, dressed in black jeans, a black shirt, and a jean jacket pulled over it. Heâs without a hat today, his hair falling in messy strands over his brow as he sets up his area to study.
Sensing your gaze, he turns to look at you, eyebrow raised. âWhat?âÂ
âYou seem different.â
âDifferent how?â He types on his computer to start bringing up his chemistry homework. âDifferent as in going to fail organic chem without your help?âÂ
âOh shut up. Iâm obviously going to help you.âÂ
His mouth is wicked when he grins. âGood.âÂ
When Vernon looks up at you, the world stops a little. His gaze today is fathomless, dark eyes smooth like the surface of a lake with no end. You tip into that gaze, letting yourself drown in it for a moment. Normally, Vernon would break eye contact by now, easily distracted or unrealizing that heâs got you stuck on him.Â
Now, he doesnât do that. He looks right back at you. Heat crawls up your neck and your breaths quicken. For the first time since youâve known him, Vernon looks at you like he knows everything inside your locked-tight heart.Â
You lick your lips and his gaze dips to your mouth. Inside your chest, your hummingbird heart hammers, threatening to break free. The corner of Vernonâs mouth tilts upward as his eyes meet yours again, and you watch, completely frozen, as he leans toward you.Â
Vernon is so close you can smell the spicy cologne on his skin. Itâs heady and makes you dizzy, and you watch, totally lost as he wraps his hand around the leg of your chair and tugs hard. You yelp, startling a few people around you as he yanks your chair next to his, your thighs pressed together.Â
âWhat are you doing?â you whisper harshly at him, throwing an apologetic look at the people youâve disturbed for a second time.Â
âHow are you going to help me from over there?â
âYou could have asked me to move my chair.âÂ
The problem isnât that he moved your chair. Not really. The problem is how close he is, leg pressed against yours and elbows touching as he shrugs and turns his computer screen toward you. The problem is how at ease he is with you nearly on top of him, his lazy smile making your thoughts tangle and your breath quicken.Â
This Vernon is still the one youâre used to but thereâs something about him that keeps you on edge. Keeps you looking at him when his hand brushes against yours to grab a pen, or when he leans back and puts his arm across the back of your chair, idly playing with the hood of your jacket.
Itâs almost like heâs flirting, and you spend half the time stumbling through his homework, barely able to assist him in a meaningful way because youâre busy decoding the subtle touches and the light teasing. You feel yourself blush more and look the other way to collect yourself more in the hour you help him than you have your entire friendship, unsure whatâs happening or how to handle it.Â
Homework completed, Vernon stares off into the distance, his finger twisting in the string of your hoodie absently as you try to write the rest of your paper. Itâs nearly impossible to concentrate like this, the intimacy more than youâre used to.Â
âYouâre very distracting today,â you comment as you reference a text to the right of your screen. âAre you aware of that?âÂ
He hums. âThis is hardly a distraction. I could try harder, though.â
You cut a glance at him. He seems utterly serious, any sort of mirth nonexistent in his expression. Thereâs just that shadowed gaze, that spark of something right where you canât reach it. You abruptly stand, surprising him as you knock his arm away from you and clear your throat.Â
âI need a different text. Itâs downstairs, though.âÂ
âIâll come with you.â You raise your brows and he shrugs. âIâve got nothing else to do.âÂ
âSure.âÂ
Without another word, you pivot on your heel and nearly run for the far set of stairs that lead to the subterranean level of the library where all the old texts and books exist. Vernon follows you at a casual pace, still totally at ease despite the fact that youâre obviously unraveling.
You have no idea what his sudden interest in you is and itâs making you unspool, thoughts wild and racing as you reach the stairwell that leads down.Â
Damp air greets you as you start down the steps and it smells like wet carpet. You cringe, hating every time you have to come here. Itâs always poorly lit and damp, not at all what one would expect from a library trying to keep books from molding. But no one really comes down here anyway, only the history majors and people like you, who require weird books long retired from the main shelves.
Itâs eerie in the old stacks. There are lamps above head casting a burnt orange glow over the green, shag carpet but otherwise itâs nearly impossible to see in the shadowy parts of the room. You certainly could never read a book down here.Â
Vernon is silent behind you but you can feel him, his gaze burning into your back as you navigate toward the last set of rows. As you approach, you hear a sound, stopping you dead in your tracks. Vernon crashes into you, nearly knocking you over but his hands grab you, steadying you and holding you close to his chest.Â
For the first time today, youâre able to ignore his nearness in favor of straining your ears for the sound you heard, a small whimper, perhaps. You hear it again, distinctly human. Your heart starts to pound as you remember that just the day before there was a body found on campus, mind racing with thoughts as you stand rooted to the spot, Vernon pressed against you.
Craning your head, you look up at him. His expression is unreadable as he looks at you through long lashes, face shadowed. Thereâs a soft bang, like someone knocking something over. He looks over your head and back at you, shrugging his shoulder as if to say your choice.Â
Slowly, you move forward. Vernon keeps close, his heat radiating behind you like a furnace as you creep through the last few rows of shelving. As you near the third one, you stop and peer around the corner, eyes trying to adjust in the shitty lighting.Â
What you see has you snapping back around the stack, mouth dropping open. Vernon, curious, leans around you to peer around the stack. He raises his brows and steps backward, mouth pressed in a firm line to conceal his laugh.Â
In the next row over is a girl you vaguely recognize, naked from the waist down while someone who is very much not her boyfriend, pumps their fingers between her legs. Slapping Vernonâs chest you point toward the door, silently screaming at him to turn around and hightail it out of there.Â
Vernon, for a second, bites his lower lip and wags his eyebrows at you, suggestive. You glare and shove his chest. He goes easily, grinning at you playfully as he turns on his heel and heads back up to the main floor.Â
When you reach your table, you drop down in the chair, totally shocked. Vernon drops down next to you, laughing. âListen, when the urge hits, I guess.â
âI guess,â you agree sharply, shaking your head. âThat was not her boyfriend, though.â
âNo shit?âÂ
âYeah. Sheâs dating some dude in Sigma whatever.âÂ
Vernonâs gaze turns sharp and his eyes trail back toward the far side of the library, resting on the stairs. âInteresting.âÂ
âNot really. That seems to happen a lot among you Greek lifers.âÂ
âI would never do that.â The severity of his declaration has you looking up from your notebook. Vernonâs expression is cutting, his jaw flexing. âI would never participate in infidelity. Ever.âÂ
âI didnât mean you, Vernon.âÂ
âIâm not like that.âÂ
You soften a little, guilt tugging at you. So often you remember that Vernon isnât like a lot of the people around him and grouping him in is unfair and insensitive.Â
âI know. Iâm sorry, I didnât mean it like that.âÂ
He nods once, turning from you to pack up his stuff. Somehow, you canât help but feel like youâve said the wrong thing.Â
-
âOh shit,â Vernon mutters. You look up from where youâre flipping a grilled cheese in the pan. He holds his phone out to you from where he leans against his kitchen counter. âThey found another body. Same MO or whatever as the first.âÂ
âNo way?âÂ
Putting down the spatula, you grab his phone from him where he has the article pulled up. Sure enough, thereâs been another murder on campus. Your eyes drink in the details, similar as before: student victim, stab wounds, message written on the wall.Â
âWhat is the Hello Darling Murder?â you ask, more to yourself than Vernon. âItâs linked here as a reference to these being copycat murders.â He says nothing. You read out loud, âThe Hello Darling Murder is a case of a murder suicide that happened in the same town in 1979. It was the townâs first violent domestic crime in years, and drew national media attention for the gruesome crime scene in which a message had been written on the wall in blood.âÂ
Vernon makes an amused sound. You look up at him sharply, staring. He has his arms crossed over his chest, staring at the floor with a mildly bemused expression. You kick him and he looks up at you. âWhat?â
âWhy are you laughing? Thatâs not funny.â
âThe way people sensationalize murder is weird.âÂ
âI mean, I agree. But what is funny?â
âItâs not funny as in funny ha ha,â he clarifies. âItâs funny stupid. The media is going to sensationalize this and turn it into an entire thing.âÂ
âYeah, well. Thatâs their job.âÂ
Off put by his dark mirth, you turn back to the article, reading further. You skip over the old murder, more interested in the details of the two new ones. Your heart seizes in your chest when you see the name and picture of the second victim, stomach roiling.Â
He sees your expression, pushing off the counter toward you, hands shooting your arms. âWhat? Whatâs wrong?âÂ
In any other scenario, youâd be overwhelmed by the sudden care and affection. Now, you just turn the phone toward him, showing him the photo. âItâs that girl from the library. Her name was Sidney. Sheâs the one I told you was cheating on her boyfriend.âÂ
Nothing registers in his face when he looks at the phone, his hands still resting on your arms lightly. He looks away from the screen and at you instead, a sharpness to his gaze thatâs there so often youâre starting to grow used to it.
âYouâre burning the grilled cheese, Lovecraft.âÂ
-
Mosquitos nip at your skin as you walk down the narrow path between trees. You slap your hand against your neck again, muttering under your breath. Vernon chuckles next to you, keeping his pace even as you struggle to step over a fallen tree branch.Â
You hate the woods at night. Itâs not your first time going to a bonfire deep in the woods off campus, but you donât know why you keep coming back. Tripping over another branch, Vernon catches you by the arm and steadies you, stopping to make sure youâre okay before he lets go.
Scratch that. You do know why you keep coming back. For as long as youâve been friends, youâve been Vernonâs permanent plus one to all of his parties, formals and events, even if both of you hate going. Itâs become a weird obligation to show up at things like this as a pair.Â
They arenât always terrible, you have to admit. When Mingyu isnât absolutely hammered, heâs mostly tolerable to be around. Soonyoung isnât bad either, though youâre still pissed off at him for the Halloween party incident, unwilling to talk to him.Â
But nights like this where you have to trek out into the middle of the woods using your phoneâs flashlight to navigate, you sort of loathe your unspoken oath to attend with Vernon.Â
Instead of focusing on the distaste and the inherent anxiety the shadows of the trees give you, you let Vernon help you slide down a ditch and climb up the other side. His fingers are firm on your wrist, not quite holding your hand but keeping you connected.Â
Your skin is warm and tingles when he lets go, deeming it safe enough to let you walk yourself. Itâs easier to see now, too, the orange light of the massive bonfire casting a circle of orange glow that only grows as you near the party.Â
Party is perhaps too strong of a word for it. There canât be more than twenty people in the small clearing surrounding the roaring fire the Soonyoung tends to, foldable chairs and coolers arranged in a circle. Chan is trying to roast a marshmallow and failing, the white snack immediately catching fire and singing in the heat of the fire.Â
Mingyu whistles when he sees you, catching your attention to wave you over to a pair of seats by him and Chan. You make your way there, navigating through groups of people clutching plastic cups and stepping over various sizes of coolers.Â
The heat from Soonyoungâs inferno is nearly unbearable, making you cringe back as he adds something that cracks and pops, sending bits of orange ash floating toward the sky.Â
âJesus Christ, Soonyoung!â Seungcheol complains from his seat where a girl sits on his knee. âEnough, itâs fucking hot!âÂ
âSorry,â Soonyoung answers, sheepish.Â
Backing your chair away from the fire a little, you sit down and curl into the folding chair, accepting the drink Vernon hands you before moving his chair closer to yours and sitting down. A shiver ripples through you at the cool can in your hands. You crack the top and take a sip, trying to cool down from the blast of heat youâd taken while passing the fire.
Mingyu turns to you and Vernon as Chan pops a burned marshmallow in his mouth, the two of them immediately launching into discussions of the murders. You shift uncomfortably in your chair, listening as they recount the details in the news mixed with the rumors on campus.Â
So far, two bodies have been discovered and linked together. The authorities donât want to call it a serial killer, attempting to avoid a media craze and inspiring the killer to go on a spree, but denying the murders are connected is impossible.
Youâre unsure what the victims have in common. The first had been a male senior who was in the business track, discovered by the dorms near the lake on campus. The second had been the girl youâd seen in the library in her apartment off campus, and Sidney had been in the education track and a junior.Â
Neither of them were friends. You donât go to a large university, but there are enough students that itâs normal to have a ton of people that you donât know. From what anyone can tell, there was nothing the two victims had in common.
Except that theyâd been murdered by someone who had left a bloody Hello Darling written at the crime scene.
A chill sweeps over you as Mingyu mentions the Hello Darling Murderer. It was the same story as before - a man had murdered his girlfriend in the 70s, a shocking and violent domestic crime that had unsettled the citizens and local university. Heâd promptly killed himself after that, leaving only a bloody Hello Darling on the walls.
Authorities didnât even know who the blood had belonged to - it took them so long to realize the couple was missing before they did a wellness check that by the time they investigated, theyâd been dead a week.Â
Vernon snorts at that and mutters something about the ineptitude of law enforcement. You cut your eyes at him. Though you agree, Vernon is usually the last person to make degrading comments - or comment at all really.Â
Not for the first time in the last two weeks, you canât help but sense that honed edge to him he has now. Youâve attributed it to him moving with more confidence, talking to people directly and making actual eye contact. You donât know where the sudden swell in self-conviction has come from, but youâd be lying if you said it didnât look good on him.
Still, itâs got you a little uneasy, trying to adjust to this version of him.Â
The topic shifts to football and you find yourself tuning everyone out, sipping your cider and staring at the fire as it warms your feet. More people arrive and drag chairs up. Someone hauls a few kegs into the firelight, cheers going around the fire.
Vernon stands and holds his hand up for your empty can. You give it to him wordlessly and he heads to get you a refresh, tossing the trash into one of the trash bins.
Turning to Mingyu as he goes, you ask quietly, âHas he seemed different to you lately?âÂ
âWho?â
âSteve Jobs,â you deadpan. âVernon, obviously.â
âI donât think so? Heâs around a lot more lately and actually talks to us.â Mingyu pauses, thinking as he cocks his head to the side. âI mean, I guess that is kind of weird for him. He also actually goes to places with us now.âÂ
âExactly what I mean.â
âHey! We are friends, you know?âÂ
You hum uncertainty, your attention trailing back to Vernon. You observe him, noticing all the little details that are different. He stands a little bit straighter, inserts himself in conversations where he didnât before.
Now, he stands near the keg, nodding along to something the girl next to him is saying. Theyâre standing close - you realize itâs the same girl from the Halloween party that had been talking to him, except this time, heâs talking back.Â
Vernon leans in close to her and says something, making her laugh. He bites his lower lip a little, watching her with half-lidded eyes. Your stomach turns a little, eyes glued as he brushes her arm when he reaches for the cup that Joshua hands him.Â
Turning away from them, you tune yourself into Chanâs conversation, needing a distraction. You try not to count the minutes until Vernon returns. When he does, the girl is with him. He drags a chair over so she can sit on the other side of him.Â
Itâs close, their knees touching when he sits and hands her the drink he was holding for her. He turns and holds out your drink to you, which sloshes a little when you snatch the cup from his hand. He arches his brows but you say nothing, taking a large gulp and turning your back on him to ask Chan about football instead.Â
âYou watch football?â Chan asks cryptically.Â
âSure. Go Green Bay Ravens.âÂ
He stares. âPackers. Green Bay Packers.â
âThatâs what I said.â
âHey, Iâm not arguing with you. In fact, if you want to tell me whatâs what more often-â
You scoff. âShut up, Chan!â
Stuck between Vernon flirting with the girl next to him and Chan and Mingyu being - Chan and Mingyu - sours your mood. You try to lose yourself in your cup, going mute as you stare at the fire. Vernon hardly notices the shift in your mood, leaning in to the girl as they chat.Â
You canât help but notice everything about them. Itâs impossible not to see the way she leans into him, bumping shoulders when she laughs. He lets her, watching her with a gaze you can only describe as hungry. The grip on your cup tightens as he knocks their knees together when he shifts in his chair, leaving it pressed against hers.Â
It reminds you of the way heâd behaved in the library with you, brushing against you on purpose, making his words come out in a playful pur instead of what youâre used to, and seeing him do it with her now makes you snap.Â
You stand abruptly, drawing the attention of Chan and Mingyu but not who you want.Â
âIâm going for a walk.â
âNeed company?â Chan offers. It seems genuine, but you give him a sharp no before youâre walking away, sticks snapping underneath your boots as you go.Â
Chill air licks your face as you get further from the fire. There are plenty of people dispersed throughout the general area, some people pulled far away for intimate conversations, others pulled away to pass a joint in a circle, the pungent smell chasing you as you pass them.Â
Away from the smoke and the noise, you feel like you can breathe a little more. You find a fallen tree, thick enough to sit on. You test your weight on it first before deciding itâs safe, swinging your leg to straddle it and look off into the dark trees.
Thereâs just enough light from the silver moon above your head and from the distant fire to feel safe. Wrapping your arms around your middle, you hug yourself and close your eyes, breathing in deep. The fire smoke isnât strong here, the air clean and crisp.
Opening your eyes, you look at the sky. This far out in the country, you can see the stars. Out of habit, you start mapping out all the constellations you know, eyes tracing Orion the Hunter. You skip over to Andromeda, counting each star before moving to the east to spot Cassiopeia.Â
It reminds you of the time you taught Vernon all the different constellations. Heâd been a silent and attentive listener, watching as youâd pointed them all out while sitting on a bench at the park. Youâve caught him drawing them more than once in his chemistry notebooks, little dots of perfect constellations memorized.Â
An ache youâre familiar with fills your chest. Itâs the same ache you had when you realized you had feelings for him but didnât want to tell him. The same ache you had when heâd hurt your feelings on Halloween. The same ache as when youâd seen him actually look back at someone who's interested in him, for once.Â
Crying seems silly, but suddenly you have the urge to, throat twisting as you stare at the sky and try to puzzle out the direction your friendship has gone since that night. As you sit on the tree, a prickling sense of awareness creeps up your spine, tugging at you.Â
Looking around, you see nothing. You can generally see in a good circumference, but the sudden instinct that something or someone is watching you drives you to get off the branch, hitting the ground with both feet to stride back toward the fire.Â
As you go, your foot gets stuck in a tangle of tree roots again, making you stumble. You curse, bending down through squinted eyes to untangle your foot. Your fingers are a little cold and shaking, anxiety creeping up slowly as you pull the weeds and roots away from your shoe.Â
Something snaps behind you. Your fingers freeze, head whipping around to look for the source of the noise. Again, you see nothing but your heart is hammering. You donât dare to breathe, holding your breath as you strain your ears to hear anything else. Thereâs only crickets and an owl in the distance, no more snapping branches.
In that moment, it occurs to you that youâve decided to wander out in the woods at night and alone after two recent murders. The stupidity of your actions land like a blow.
Turning back around, you wrench your shoe free and stand up, nearly colliding with Vernon who leans backward to avoid smacking into you as you shriek in surprise, stepping backward. Vernonâs hand darts out to grab you, catching you and tugging you forward into him before you can lose your balance fully.
Heart hammering, your fingers dig into his biceps, keeping yourself standing as you hiss, âWhat are you doing?â
âWhat do you mean what am I doing? Youâre wandering out in the middle of the woods while there is an active serial killer in town.âÂ
âOh please, like you noticed.â
He frowns. You drop your hands and try to step away from him, eager to put some distance between you. Vernonâs grip on you tightens though, keeping you where youâre standing. âIâm here, I obviously noticed.â You snort derisively and his grip tightens a little. âIs there something you want to say?â
You open and close your mouth, scowling at him. Heâs never so direct youâre unsure how to approach the question. So you try for a little bit of honesty. âI wasnât having fun.âÂ
âOkay, so letâs leave.â
âYou look like you were having fun.âÂ
Silence hangs in the air. Vernonâs face is indecipherable. Then, âAre you jealous?â
âDonât be ridiculous.â
Your response is so fast that it even sounds practiced and hollow to you. Itâs hard not to wince, hoping that as always, he doesnât see through your cellophane defense. Vernonâs touch drops from your biceps to your wrist, delicate. Youâre afraid to look him in the eye, instead staring at the buttons on his jean jacket.Â
âI noticed you were gone.â His voice is gentle, a low purr. You dart a quick glance at him to see the intensity of his gaze. It makes you squirm, unsure how to respond. âI always notice when youâre gone.â
âAlright. Well.âÂ
âI notice everything about you.âÂ
The way he says it is a soft whisper. A promise, a suggestion. Again, it feels like Vernon has discovered your loose thread, tugging lightly on it. If he tugs again, you think you might unspool all the way, showing him everything you donât want him to see.Â
It feels like he wants to, and thatâs what scares you more. That suddenly heâs looking at you like he wants to see past the veneer of your words, like heâs ready to look inside. You hear the double meaning. Itâs so terrifying that you look away from him, ready to hide.Â
âDonât tease me,â you whisper.Â
âIâm not. If youâre not having fun, letâs go home. I came here with you.â He tugs your wrist. âCome on. You canât be walking around out here alone with a killer on the loose, Lovecraft. Iâll be forced to fight them off.âÂ
The tension fades. You let out a breath and laugh, looking at him skeptically. âYeah? Youâre going to fight for me?âÂ
His grip on your wrist tightens. You wonder if he can feel the speed of your pulse under his thumb, the way it hammers when he smirks. âYeah, I am.âÂ
-
Salâs Pizzeria isnât your favorite place to do school work. Itâs too loud and bright, the promise of food is way too distracting for you to focus for much longer than a few minutes at a time, and usually your fingers are too slippery with pizza grease to type properly.Â
You only have a narrow window to finish writing your paper before going to the bar for Jihoonâs birthday. You barely know him, but heâs someone Vernon is decently close enough too that you feel obligated to attend. More importantly, youâre finally almost done with your paper youâve been working on for two weeks, eager to celebrate hitting submit.Â
âYou know that dude who was killed first was a rotten cheater?âÂ
The girls sitting behind you catch your attention. Your brows knit together and you turn your head a fraction to eavesdrop, eyes unfocusing on the words on your screen. There are four of them behind you that you donât recognize but assume go to the same school as you, based on the attire and the backpacks.Â
âYeah! Sam told me about that. Apparently he was sleeping around with a bunch of freshmen. Maybe his girlfriend found out and went all psycho killer on him?âÂ
âEw, how scummy. But whatâs with the hello darling message shit? Can you say weird?âÂ
âI know, right?âÂ
Their words give you pause. The first victim had been someone known for his infidelity too? Turning back to your screen, you pull up your web browser and type in Hello Darling Murderer to the search. The original murder from the 70s hadnât given you much thought beyond assuming someone was being a copycat, but now you feel something nagging at you. Something youâre missing.Â
All of the top stories are of the recent murders. You amend your search to the 70s and get older articles and links to podcasts covering the initial incident. Clicking on a story from a reputable journal, you start reading in detail about the first murder and his victim, skin prickling as you go.
As an Occult Studies major, a lot of people think youâre into murder mysteries. In truth, youâre not. They have little to do with what you study, and youâve spent countless times telling people that occult and people obsessed with true crime are two totally different things. You have no idea why theyâre lumped together so often, but on more than one occasion youâve had to explain youâre not interested in serial killers or their stories.
Except now. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you unwind the story of Thomas Ellswater, who had apparently murdered his girlfriend at the time before promptly killing himself. The initial investigation hadnât dug up much, assuming that it was a case of domestic violence gone as bad as it could.Â
But the journalist who had written the story had other details. Accounts from family friends that detailed Elsswaterâs girlfriend, Maya, unhappy with their relationship. One even insinuated that she had been cheating on him for a long time, though with who, they were unsure.Â
Further down in the article, you stop. Read the paragraph again. Look at the picture of the house. A sickly chill coats your skin as you lean forward, taking in the details of the house. Youâve seen it before, though your memory of it at night surrounded by floodlights and full of drunk college students makes it almost unrecognizable when you see it on the screen.Â
Thomas Ellswater lived in the same house that youâd partied in on Halloween night, where Vernon had played that horrible prank in the closet. Thomas or Maya had been the haunting spirit Soonyoung had been attempting to summon.
And now someone was killing in the same exact style..Â
The server bringing you two trays of pizzas and a basket of fries breaks you from your trance. You close the article, a sick feeling in your stomach as you try to piece together the puzzle. Was it just a spurned lover who was paying homage to someone who related? Or was it a serial killer poking fun at the MO?
Vernon crashing into the seat across from you startles you. He gives you a grin, eyeing the pizza in front of him and rubbing his hands together. Rolling your eyes, you grab the red pepper flakes and salt, passing the latter over to him.Â
âSo I learned something weird today,â you venture, pulling a slice of pizza from the tray.Â
âTell me,â he answers over a mouthful of pizza, once again burning himself. You roll your eyes, shaking your red pepper onto your slice. âWhat is going on in the world of occult today?â
âActually, not occult.â He gives you an appraising look, popping some fries into his mouth. âWhat, no salt today?â
He pauses, looking at the basket of fries. âNah, I need to cut back on the sodium.â
âGood idea. Anyway, itâs about the murders.âÂ
âDo tell.â
âThe girls behind me said the first victim was known for cheating.âÂ
âItâs college. Apparently there is a lot of that.âÂ
âBut remember that day we saw Sidney in the library? She was cheating too.âÂ
âRight.â He rips into his pizza, gaze sharp as he looks at you. âSo this town is full of a bunch of lowlife fucking cheaters.â
You flinch at his vehemence, leaning back in your seat. Vernon drops his gaze, tearing into his slice in silence. âSorry,â he says after swallowing. âIâm hungry.â
âRight. As I was saying, I looked up that Hello Darling Murder.âÂ
He pauses, gaze flicking to you. âAnd?â
âAnd it was ruled as a case of domestic violence gone wrong, but there were some people who think the Maya Caravalo was cheating on Thomas Ellswater, who killed her.âÂ
âIâm sure cheating is the leading cause of crimes of passion.â
âIn the house that we were in on Halloween.âÂ
Vernon frowns. âAh. Weird.âÂ
He doesnât elaborate. You watch him as he chews on more pizza, shoving fries into his mouth on occasion too. He seems totally at ease - and more normal than heâs been in weeks. You watch, mildly disgusted at the way college men eat.Â
âThatâs all you have to say?â You ask. âWeird.â
âIt is weird.âÂ
âKind of an insane coincidence.âÂ
He becomes still, only his eyes moving as he settles his inky gaze on you. For a second, you canât help but think he looks a bit like the cat who ate the canary, eyes glittering. âSo tell me what theory is in that pretty head of yours, Lovecraft.âÂ
Ignoring the way your heart leaps at him calling you pretty, you sigh, picking at the wooden table with a thumb nail. âI donât really have one. I just think someone came across the original murder and thought I could write that at my crime scenes. I donât study criminology, I canât figure out motivation.â
âYouâre the smartest person in school, Lovecraft. Try.âÂ
âI guess⊠I donât know. The new killer was probably cheated on recently, came across what happened in the 70s, and has been taking out their rage on other adulterers because they feel some sort of kinship with Thomas. Maybe like finishing his work or ridding the world of a common enemy.âÂ
Vernon hums. âMaybe so. Do you think they deserve it?â You look at him sharply, mouth downturning. âThe victims. Do you think they deserve to be killed for their infidelity?âÂ
âI donât know that anyone is deserving of murder.â You chew the inside of your cheek, watching Vernonâs face for any sign of what heâs thinking. Heâs totally closed off, a blank canvas. âThis is why Iâm in Occult Studies and not law, Vernon.âÂ
He gives a wolfish grin. âTouche. Come on, eat your pizza. We have a bar to go get drunk at.âÂ
-
The bar in question is teeming with people. Youâre immediately overwhelmed, squeezing your way between chairs, tables and people as you navigate to your group of friends. Vernon keeps you close, his arm encircling your waist as pulling you to him as you go.Â
He either ignores or doesnât notice the sharp look you give him. Instead, heâs focused on keeping the two of you attached, shouldering his way through the crowd, the press of his fingers on your hip dizzying and steadying at the same time.Â
At the far back of the bar, an entire section of people associated with Vernonâs fraternity crowd from wall to wall. Vernon manages to get you onto a stool at the bar top, shouldering one of the pledges off the seat with a narrow-eyed look. You raise your brows at him and he winks, leaning his elbow on the bar top to order you both drinks.
Spinning to face him in the stool, you give him a quick once over. Youâd been so engrossed in your murdery mystery findings at the pizzeria that you haven't really looked at him until now. He looks good, dressed simply in dark jeans and a dark, long sleeve shirt that shows how broad he is. Has he always been that broad?Â
Vernon catches you staring. âWhat are you looking at?âÂ
âNothing.âÂ
He grins, accepting drinks from the bartender and sliding one over to you. You burn under the full weight of his attention as he pops his straw into his mouth. âTell me.âÂ
âYou look nice tonight.â
âYou look nice every night.â
âOh shut up.âÂ
âWhat?â he laughs. âI mean it.âÂ
âWhatever.â
Spinning in the chair again, you place your back to the bar, facing the crowd to watch people. Vernon is content to stand next to you in silence, both of you sipping your drinks as you observe the people around you. Someone jostles him a little closer, his arm shifting to lay across the bartop along your back.Â
Heat creeps into your cheeks and you try to remain breathing normally. Vernon leaves his arm there, pressed against you but not exactly wrapped around you. There is a distinct difference, but this is still new. Still confusing.Â
People who recognize you both come up and say hi. You keep the conversation polite and short, especially when you see the girl who has lingered at the last two parties slink toward you, her eyes only for Vernon.Â
âHi,â she yells over the crowd, totally ignoring you. âI didnât expect to see you tonight!â
âWhy wouldnât you? Iâm friends with Jihoon.â
The girl opens and closes her mouth, lips pursed at that. You sense the serrated edged to Vernonâs words, casting a glance his direction. Heâs not looking at her, eyes instead scanning the crowd. Uninterested. Even you know she didnât literally mean she wasnât expecting to see him - it was just a conversation starter.Â
Using the opportunity to sip from your straw to hide your laughter, you have to admit youâre a little relieved to see Vernon missing social cues again. Itâs more him, a Vernon that you're used to. Maybe a little meaner than usual, but this is closer.Â
âRight,â the girl says. Her eyes flicker to you for the first time. âItâs his birthday, right?âÂ
âAccording to the giant sign in the corner and all the balloons, yes.âÂ
Okay, maybe itâs not entirely normal Vernon. Usually he isnât so callous. In this case, you donât mind, watching as she tries to puzzle out how to keep the conversation going. Vernon decides for you, turning from her to press his mouth close to your ear.Â
âIâll be right back,â he murmurs, breath hot against you. âIâm gonna greet Jihoon really quickly.âÂ
All you can manage is a breathy, âAlright.âÂ
Vernon finishes his drink and pushes off the bar, fingers dragging against you as he goes. He ignores the girl standing and watching, her eyes darting from you to him until he vanishes in the sea of bodies. Without Vernon there, she has nothing to do. She tilts her chin up, sucking up her pride and turns on her heel to walk a direction distinctly not the same way as Vernon.
Alone at the bar, you swivel in your seat to order you both another drink. You assume Vernon is drinking a whiskey coke, hoping thatâs right as you flag down the bartender. While you wait, someone slips into the spot next to you. You turn, thinking Vernonâs already back only to find someone you definitely donât know.Â
âSorry,â he shouts over the loud voices and music. âDid not mean to get in your personal space, this spot was way smaller than I thought it was.âÂ
âThatâs okay! Getting a spot kind of sucks.â
âNo kidding.â He grins at you, turning his attention back to trying to get anyone to take his drink order. âHow long do you think itâll take for them to notice me?âÂ
âAbout seven years.â
âYikes. Iâm Seokmin, by the way.â You give him your name and he grins. âWhat brings you to this shit hole ass bar?â
âA friend of a friend's birthday. You?â
âA friend of a friend's birthday indeed.â
A bartender finally comes over to take Seokminâs order. He leans forward to shout over the crowd, his shoulder knocking into yours. You donât mind - heâs nice. He looks over at you, a question on his face. âYou like tequila?â
âNo!â
âLet me rephrase - want a shot of tequila?âÂ
âShe doesnât.â
Vernon slides behind you, his palm pressed flat to your back. You startle, looking up at him in surprise. He isnât looking at you, his eyes zeroed in on Seokmin. You slide Vernonâs drink toward him, eager to dispel the sudden tension thrumming through him.
âWhiskey and coke?â
He looks down, eyes rounding out a little as he softens. âMhmm. Thank you.â
Drink in hand, Seokmin turns to you both and waves. âYâall have a good night!â
When heâs gone, Vernon leans against the counter again, his tone flat as he says, âHe was nice.â
âHe was, but what do you sound bothered by it?â
âMaybe I am.âÂ
âWhy?âÂ
He lifts a shoulder. Instead of answering you, he picks up the lime in his drink and squeezes it, stirring it with his straw before taking a long pull straight from the rim of the glass.Â
You nudge him. âIâm going to say this again: youâve been different, lately.âÂ
âDifferent how.âÂ
âI donât know. You talk more. Youâre a lot more engaging. Youâre a littleâŠâÂ
âA little what?â
âCockier?â He hums, eyes dropping down to your mouth. âLike that,â you point out, voice a little weaker. âYou do that now, and you didnât used to.â
âI always did. Iâm just a little more obvious about it now.â
Tension crackles between the two of you. Your mouth feels dry as you watch him, reading the minute expressions of his face. Finally, when you canât unpuzzle him, you say, âI donât know what youâre doing.â
âWhat do you mean?â
âI canât tell if youâre coming onto me or if itâs some sort of game to you.â That makes him frown as he sips his drink again. Your fear and frustration clash, wrestling for dominance. âIt makes things confusing.â
âWhy didnât you say so? Iâm happy to clear things up.âÂ
You grip your glass, trying to keep your fingers from quaking. This moment feels like itâs all or nothing. Vernon puts it out on the table so easily, leaving the option to you. Either you can ask for clarity, or keep playing this new game of cat and mouse. But you have to decide.Â
âI would appreciate it if you did,â you say eventually.Â
Vernon nods and finishes the rest of the drink. He sets the glass down before he leans forward, hand going to the underside of your chin to lightly tip your face upward with his knuckle so he can press the worldâs most gentle kiss to your mouth.Â
You freeze. When he doesnât pull away, lips soft and warm, you sigh into the kiss, eyes fluttering shut. He feels you relax, mouth curling in a smile against yours. He steps into your space without breaking the kiss, finding the space between your legs as his lips press firmer to yours.Â
Vernon smells like his cologne and something distinctly him. It makes you dizzy, and the way he tastes like whiskey and lime makes the room spin. When he pulls away from him, you feel like youâre going to fall from the stool, leaning toward him.Â
His hands grip your thighs, squeezing generously as he leans in and drags his mouth to your ear. âDoes that clear things up?âÂ
âActually, no?âÂ
His groan is throaty, turning into laughter as he buries his face in your neck. Your hands tentatively settle on his waist, a little hesitant. âI always said you were the smartest person at school, but maybe not.â
âHey!âÂ
âCome home with me.â He feels your delay, laughing. âCome home with me because I like you. Is that clearer? Because I want you to come home with me, and I donât want anyone else here.âÂ
Your heart goes bolting like a rabbit, running in circles. Vernon pulls away from you to study your face. You watch him for any sign that heâs kidding, that he doesnât mean it. You find none. In its place, you only see honesty. Hunger. Fiery desire burning at the surface.Â
âReally?â Your question is small. Vulnerable. âDo you mean that?â
âI do.â He tugs on your thighs. âIâm not playing games with you. Come home with me - Iâll prove Iâm serious about you. You are what I want. I just had to be sure.âÂ
Lightheaded and heart slamming, you let Vernon pull you from the seat and lead you out of the bar.Â
-
Vernonâs apartment on the north side of town is a place youâve been a million times. You recognize all the cars in the parking lot, and you know exactly what building and floor belongs to him. You even recognize his neighbors come in mat that youâve always hated.Â
He catches you staring at it with distaste now, laughing as he shakes his head and inserts his keys. âYou and that mat.â
One hand works the keys into the door while the other is stretched behind him, fingers linked with yours. Your hand is warm and your heart is still racing as he gets the door open, pulling you inside the dark of his home.Â
âThey could be inviting anything in,â you assert, a little breathless as he pulls you to his chest. He kicks the door shut, the frame rattling as it slams. âYou should never have a doormat that just welcomes whatever shows up at your door inside. You could end up with a vampire in your home.â
âA vampire, huh?â Vernon ducks his head towards your neck, lips skimming your throat. Your fingers twist in the hem of his shirt, eyes fluttering closed as his teeth scrape against your pulse point. âSounds scary.âÂ
âIt is. Thereâs nothing to disprove that vampires exist.âÂ
Vernon bites down and you whine, melting into him. His laugh vibrates through his chest as his tongue presses to the bite mark, soothing the pain. His mouth closes over the spot and he sucks gently, sending a shiver through your body.Â
âI promise the only thing biting you will be me.â
The full weight of his words hit you between the legs. You feel like putty in his hand as he navigates you to the island counter in his kitchen. He presses your back into it, careful not to jam you too harshly against the marble.Â
Heat licks through your stomach as Vernon steals your lips in a kiss. Itâs different from the gentle one he gave you at the bar. This one drinks you in, pries you open and lets you spill out into him, all the feelings and bottled thoughts you have free for the taking.
You get lost in him, hands wrapping around his neck to pull him close, fingers sliding through his hair. He moans and you respond, curling your fingers to scrape your nails against his scalp. His hips twitch forward, pinning you between him in the counter as he sucks your bottom lip harshly.Â
âBe careful,â he warns, a hand drifting from your chin to your neck. He doesnât wrap his fingers around your throat, but his hand rests there, heavy and wanting. âIâm trying to be gentle.âÂ
You steal a kiss, nipping his bottom lip sharply. âDonât be.â
His resounding groan makes you dizzy. His kisses become rough and heated, using his tongue as much as his teeth. He presses you hard into the countertop now, the marble digging into your back as he nearly folds you in half with the weight of his body.Â
It feels like the air has left the room. Vernon is the only thing you need to breathe in, fueled by the way his tongue licks into you, the gentle squeeze of his hand at the base of your throat. His fingers press against your pulse, not enough to cut off any airflow but enough to send a bolt of pleasure and thrill through you.Â
âYou have no idea,â Vernon pants, pressing sloppy, wet kisses to your jawline. âHow long Iâve waited to do this. I could have had you this entire fucking time, but I held myself back.âÂ
His thumb presses under your jaw, angling your head to the side. With more access to your throat, he peppers you in bites and kisses, tongue soothing each sting. âI have wasted so much time,â he mutters, almost like heâs talking to himself. âBeing a fucking coward.â
âDonât say that,â you gasp as his other hand presses between your legs. The ache in your cunt is already throbbing, and he does nothing but make it worse by adding pressure but doing nothing more. âPlease donât tease me.â
âIâm not.â He pulls away from you. Before you can complain, he gives you a quick kiss, tugging you toward his room. âI shouldnât have waited until I had a little⊠encouragement to do this. Iâm going to give you everything you want, love.â
A quiver slithers down your spine at the shortened version of your nickname. The new endearment hits home when you see the way he looks at you, the want and desire more unrestrained than anything else youâve ever seen on his expression.Â
Hand in yours, he pulls you into the bedroom, spinning you to sit you down on the edge of his bed. You look up at him through your lashes, admiring the shape of his face and the way you can just barely see his freckles in the soft glow from the nightlight in his bathroom as he slots himself between your knees.Â
âIâll give you whatever you want,â Vernon whispers, voice like velvet. He slides a finger under your chin, tilting your gaze even higher as he watches you, eyes blown. âIâm entirely devoted to you and you only. You know that, right?âÂ
Vernonâs thumb pulls at your bottom lip. You open your mouth on instinct and he growls low in his throat. He pushes his thumb past your swollen lips, pressing down on your tongue. You taste the lime from earlier and the hint of salt on his skin, closing your mouth as you suck gently.Â
âFuck,â he swears, thumb pressing harder. âYou really have been a little slut for me this entire time, huh?âÂ
Hearing Vernon say it in that deep, whispered voice of his does something to you. Thereâs a note in his voice youâre unfamiliar with, a dangerous edge that you want to lean into and cut yourself on. So you nod, lashes fluttering as you bat them up at him.Â
âYeah, thought so.â He pulls his thumb from your mouth, dragging it spit-slicked down your chin. âLay back on the bed for me, love.âÂ
You do so immediately, shuffling backward so that you can lean back. The sheets smell like him and you tilt your head to the side, nuzzling his comforter a little. You try to ground yourself, feeling a little staticky as he kneels on the bed, mattress dipping.Â
Vernon plants a knee between your legs, leaning forward to cage you in with a hand on either side of your head. His kiss is all consuming, any sense of delicacy gone. You let him devour you, your hands pulling at his belt loops to bring him closer.
Heâs not close enough, never close enough.Â
Having him like this is everything youâve ever wanted and more. Heâs familiar, the scent of him and the warmth of his skin and the little sounds he makes but heâs also entirely new. He is rougher than you imagined, sharper than you thought. He drags his blunt nails over your collarbone as he pulls your shirt away from your neck, giving his mouth access to litter your skin with kisses.Â
Your hands slip under his shirt, curious as you press the pads of your fingers into his stomach. You feel the muscles flex and he hums low in his throat, enjoying your exploration as you slide your hands around the perfect taper of his waist to the small of his back.Â
Vernon slides his knee higher, pressing it directly to your clothed cunt. You twitch against him, a questioning sound leaving your lips as you breathe in sharply.Â
âGo ahead,â he mumbles against your chest, one pulling sharply at your shirt. You hear the seams rip and you donât even care. âTake what you need, love.âÂ
The rawness of his words fucks you up. You do as he says, rolling your hips against his thigh for any sort of pressure and friction. It helps relieve the tension a little, but not nearly enough. Your breathing turns ragged as he harshly bites and kisses his way to your bra.Â
Yanking hard, he rips the rest of your shirt. You let out a throaty laugh and he looks up at you, eyes like burning coals. âWhatâs so funny, hmm?â
âI did not expect you to be able to rip my shirt.âÂ
âOh?â
The dangerous note in his voice makes your hips stutter and stop. He runs the tip of his tongue around the soft curve of your chest, watching you all the while and fuck. If youâd realized that this was the type of Vernon youâd get, maybe youâd have been braver sooner. Because this Vernon is something else, confident and cocky and ravenous.Â
âWant me to rip this too?â He teases, teeth pulling at the cup of your bra. Your chest rises and falls as you try to catch your breath, a little overwhelmed. âSay the word.â
âMaybe salvage some of my clothing, Vernon.â
âFine. I will not salvage you, though.â
You believe him. Nothing about the way Vernon peels your bra off of you is gentle. Nothing about the way his hand cups your breast, squeezing before he lowers his mouth to give a generous suck to your nipple feels like he has your survival in mind.Â
Squeezing your eyes shut, you let Vernon have his way. It feels like heâs peeling you open layer by layer, plucking every string connected to your pleasure that he can find.
His mouth is a weapon, tongue lazily circling your pert nipple until youâre whining and squirming under him. He laughs and drags his tongue to the other side of your chest, licking his way to your peak to tease you further.Â
âShit,â you whisper, one hand leaving his back to tangle in his hair. You donât know if youâre pulling him away or pushing him closer - maybe both. âVernon.â
His teeth scrape your nipple and you whine. He shuts you up by closing his mouth around you, sucking sharply. When he pulls away with a loud pop, you let out a shaky breath.Â
âYou can barely keep it together,â he observes. He placed closed mouth kisses on your stomach as he descends, pulling his knee from between your thighs. âWhat are you gonna do when I eat you out, huh?â
Flushed and embarrassed, you cover your face as his tongue licks the skin above your jeans. âCat got your tongue, love?âÂ
âYou - youâre - ugh!â
He chuckles, popping the button of your jeans. âIâm ugh?âÂ
âYou know what I mean.âÂ
Vernon tugs on your jeans. You try to lift your hips to help him, but your thighs are like jelly already, turning you useless. He coos at you, pressing a kiss to your hip gently. âI got you.âÂ
Unsure if he means about your inability to get out your fucking pants or he understand what you mean, you let him peel them down the rest of the way. His hands skate up your calves, squeezing and firm as he sinks to his knees on the floor.Â
Bracing yourself, you brave a look between your legs where he presses your thighs open gently with his palms. Verononâs eyes are on the apex of your thighs, entirely focused on where your underwear stick to your folds. He licks his lips, hand brushing up and down your thighs.Â
His gaze flickers to you. For a moment, the two of you just stare at one another. You feel overly exposed, naked from the waist up, cool air pebbling your spit-slicked chest. The weight of his gaze presses you down like a physical thing, but itâs comforting. Warm. Reassuring.Â
The air is charged between you as he keeps watching you while he drags a hand up and between your legs. He presses a thumb between your folds and you whimper, feeling the way he prods at your aching entrance, only the thin fabric keeping him out.
âAre you always this wet for me?â he asks, thumb slowly dragging up the damp patch to your clit. He digs in sharply, pressing firm enough that your pleasure spikes and your hips pop off the bed. He hisses at you and smacks your thigh, making you lower your ass to the bed again. âEverytime we were together, did you get like this?âÂ
It takes effort to rasp, âSometimes.â
Vernon hooks his thumb in the side of your pants, pulling. The fabric peels back achingly slow, cool air hitting your cunt and making you whine. He hums thoughtfully, placing the fabric to the side.
âLike what times?â he questions, blowing cool air against you. You thrash and he laughs, pinning you down by the hips. âIâm curious. Elaborate for me.âÂ
âUmm.âÂ
Itâs the only word you can get out before he renders you speechless, the flat of his tongue sliding slowly up your pussy. You go boneless, breath stuck in your chest as his tongue lazily circles around your clit and drags back down. He repeats the motion, the slow-soft brush of his tongue driving you insane instantly.Â
âYouâre not elaborating,â Vernon notes. He presses a kiss that is far too sweet for the moment to your bundle of nerves. âI wanna know all the times you were with me where you felt like this. Go on.âÂ
âI donât,â you breath catches when his tongue curls through your folds. Heâs soft and slow as he licks you, a lazy smoothless to it that makes you see stars. âKnow how to speak when youâre doing that.âÂ
âShould I stop?âÂ
âNo.â
âTry,â he murmurs, dipping his tongue in your dripping entrance. âI want to know.âÂ
Fuck. Trying to pull together any coherent thoughts is like wading through thick water. Youâre distracted by the way Vernonâs mouth closes on you, sucking gently. He takes his time, fingers pressed into the meat of your thighs as he keeps you open, enjoying you fully.Â
âI - shit - I guess sometimes when we go out,â you manage. âI like when you wear your hat backwards.âÂ
He flicks his tongue back and forth over your clit, making you clench, toes curling. His mouth is wet and warm, closing around your throbbing bundle and sucking gently. Your hips lift but his grip is firm, keeping his mouth to you.Â
When he pulls away, the suction is audible, a string of spit and arousal connecting his lips to your pussy. âTaste so fucking good,â he whispers. You think itâs more to himself than you, his tongue carving through you again. âTell me more.âÂ
âHalloween night. When you were in skull makeup.â
His tongue starts circling your clit again, the indirect stimulation driving you wild. Your hands tangle in the sheets, sweat slicking your skin as Vernon works to firmer motions. You realize he knows exactly how you like it, gentle to start, working you to firmer motions, a little hungrier.Â
It makes him all the more lethal, the way he can just figure you out like that. âYeah?â he asks, sucking harshly against you. âWanted me to fuck you like that?âÂ
âGod, yeah.â
âYou should have asked. Iâll fuck you however you want.âÂ
âDidnât think you liked me.âÂ
Vernon is too busy to answer, increasing the attention of his mouth. Your hands slide down to his, nails digging into the tops of his hands where he holds you. He lets go of your hips in favor of linking your fingers, pressing your clasped hands to the mattress.Â
His name drips from your mouth, eyes falling shut as you sink into the pleasure deep in your stomach. He makes little sounds of pleasure, grunting and groaning as his mouth becomes more fervent. You feel yourself toeing the edge of an orgasm, so so so close.
He can tell too. He finds a harsh rhythm, pulling you closer and closer to your high with each sharp suck of his lips. You twist in his grip, fingers squeezing his so hard you think you might break his hands. You donât, feeling your breath catch and hold as you come hard, thighs squeezing as you writhe on the bed.
You draw in a ragged breath, desperate for air as he kisses your cunt once. Twice. His slick mouth presses against your thighs, teeth dragging against soft flesh as he mouths his way to your knee. He gives you a moment, letting you pant against the sheets.Â
Fabric sticks to your skin as you wiggle against the bed. He stands up, crawling up you again to find your mouth. You lean forward, catching him in an open-mouth kiss that is more tongue than anything, your taste heady in the heat of his mouth.Â
âTurn over on your stomach for me,â he groans. His hands squeeze your side as he gives you room to follow his direction. You do, but not without his help, your orgasm making you a little clumsy. âCan you get on your knees for me?â
âMaybe?â
âIâll help you in a second.â
Instead of moving, you lay slumped on the bed, fully intending to let him do the work. You turn your head to watch him pull his shirt off, revealing firm, tan skin. Vernon is beautiful, the sleek lines of his body reminding you of a painting. He kicks off his jeans before shuffling back on the bed behind you, looking down and snorting.
âDidnât want to move like I asked?â You shake your head. He pats your ass lightly. âCome on, darling. Help me get these panties off or I will rip them off.âÂ
Huffing, you do as he says. He does lend you his strength hauling you up by the arm as you lean up on your knees. The room is cold, making you shiver but he presses your back to his chest, mouth dusting kisses over your shoulders.Â
Vernonâs fingers dance along your sides until heâs pulling your underwear the rest of the way down your thighs, helping you kick out of them. When heâs got you full naked, he presses your back to him, crowding your space as he angles your head to kiss you slowly. Fully.Â
Behind you, his cock presses firmly into your ass. You push back against him, putting pressure against his shaft. He hisses, biting your shoulder harshly.Â
âCareful,â he growls, teeth at your neck. âOr I wonât be very nice.âÂ
âWant you, though.â
âYouâll have me when I say you can.âÂ
One of his hands slides up to your neck, gripping your throat lightly. He pauses, leaning to catch your gaze. His eyes are round and soft. Honest. Open. âThis okay?â He questions gently. He gives a little squeeze to indicate what he means. You nod eagerly, reaching a hand to close around his, making him press harder. âFuck youâre perfect.âÂ
You lean your head back against his chest as he holds you by the throat, one of your hands dropping to his elbow, the other reaching behind you to sink your fingers in his hair and tug. The sound he makes is feral, the hand he has placed on your waist dropping between your legs, fingers pressing between them.Â
âOh,â you squeak, feeling his deft tough on your clit. His movements are aided by your earlier release, fingers circling smoothly as he squeezes your throat, thumb pressed perfectly, to make it just a little harder to breathe. âShit.âÂ
âCan you tell me a safe word? Not gonna go hard, just wanna know if it becomes too much.âÂ
âMaenad.â He snorts and you huff. âI just wrote an essay on them, donât start.â
He laughs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. âAlright. Just please use it if itâs too much - any of it. If you canât talk, pat my arm, alright? Just wanna do this right.âÂ
You nod, so in love with him it takes all of you to stop yourself from blurting it.Â
Vernon shuffles behind you, letting you tilt forward a little. The hand between your legs leaves and he instead brings it behind you, prodding at your pussy with his fingers from behind. You let out a loud sound and you can almost feel his grin as he presses a finger into your heat.Â
Heâs slow at first, the same way he was with his mouth. He explores what you like, testing the way his fingers drag against your walls combined with different grip strengths on your throat. You feel light headed. The room spins as he finds a rhythm that draws the most noises from you, that makes you clench down on his finger the most.Â
All of your weight is against the hand around your neck, barely able to hold yourself up as he presses another finger in. This time, his fingers prod right against that soft spot inside of you, making you see stars. He must realize heâs found it, because he starts finger fucking you in earnest.Â
The grip on your throat loosens a little, careful not to keep you short of breath for too long as he works your cunt with his hand. His lips find your shoulder, peppering you with light kisses that are delicate and butterfly soft in comparison to the way his fingers fuck into you.Â
âVernon,â you whisper, only able to think of his name. âVernon vernon vernon.â
âDoing so good, darling,â he whispers against your skin. He kisses his way to your ear, sucking the sensitive spot on your neck. âSo fucking good for me.âÂ
His words hit below the belt. You shudder in his hold, letting him drive you toward another release. You never imagined Vernon to be talkative in bed, but he is, his voice like velvet. Just like that. Perfect for me. There you go, come on.Â
Everything about him is perfect, driving you to mania. His grip on your throat tightens suddenly, sensing how close you are to your second peak. Your breath quickens until you canât breathe, going mute against him as his fingers press hardly into that spot over and over and over.
A high-pitched ring winds in your ears. You hold and hold and hold and when Vernon lets go of your throat, a gust of air flooding your lungs, you shatter around his hand. You collapse backward against him, head knocking into his. You donât even care, twitching and gasping against him as his hand stills.Â
For a few moments, you just lean against him like that, sweaty and lost and in a dream. Slowly, you become aware of his pounding heart against your back and the slick between your thighs. Vernonâs mouth is pressed to your shoulder, waiting patiently as you blink a few times, the room swimming into view.
âHi,â he murmurs, watching you with shadowy eyes.
âHi,â you croak, voice rough.
âGood?â
âVery.âÂ
âWant to stop?â
âNo. Unless you want to.â
His gaze darkens. âI donât.âÂ
âI want more. I can take more.âÂ
He lifts his head and presses a sweet kiss to your temple. âYouâre perfect for me. Do you know that?âÂ
Reverent hands help you lay back against the pillows. Vernon touches you like youâre something delicate - not because he thinks youâre fragile, but because youâre something important to him. Valuable. You see it in the way he looks down at you, taking a moment to drink you in.Â
Thereâs something else there too. Something edged with a knife, a little wild. Covetous. There is something in the way Vernon grips your leg briefly, a language heâs trying to communicate to you with touch.Â
Mine, it says. Mine and no one else's.
With hooded eyes, you watch him peel his briefs off. Your eyes shoot to where his cock hangs heavy, beads of precum dripping at his tip. You reach a hand up toward him but he shakes his head, careful as he shuffles toward you.
âLater,â he promises. âI like touching you.âÂ
âI want you to feel good.â
âYou make me feel good. Seeing you unravel makes me feel good. I like seeing how much you enjoy me touching you.â
You can tell he means it. His lips are swollen and soft when he kisses you. You open your legs open for him, letting him settle between the softness of your thighs. Vernon runs the head of his cock through your messy fluids, earning a whine for you.
âSensitive?â he asks against your lips, nose nudging yours. You nod and you feel him smile. âSorry.â
âFeels good,â you assure him, pressing a kiss to his jaw. âWant more.âÂ
âGreedy thing.âÂ
âIâm Your greedy thing.â
Your words have the desired effect. You feel a shiver ripple through him, Vernonâs grip on your leg turning to iron as he opens you up wider. He presses his cock into your entrance slowly, pausing just as the tip pops in. You throb around him, whispering his name - begging him to keep going.Â
Vernonâs grin is sharp as he sinks in further, the slide tortuous and wonderful and so much as he finally finds home, hips pressed as far as he can go. He stays like that, tangling your tongue in a messy kiss as he sits there, fully seated in your heat. Your pussy spasms around him, pressed open to the max.Â
âFeels so good,â he whispers, dropping his forehead to yours. âIâm going to come embarrassingly fast.â
âSo do it.â You wrap a leg around his waist, your hips tilting upward. Both of you moan at the angle change, so close to breaking. âI wanna see it.âÂ
Instead of answering, he nods. He drags his hips backward slowly before slamming back in. He punches the breath out of your lungs with each slide home, the stroke slow but deep. Your head falls to the side, breaths rasping as he sets a steady, slow pace.Â
It feels good, your legs curling around him to keep you close, hands tangle in his hair to keep him tethered to you. His hair is damp with sweat, your fingers curled in the strands, tugging a little. He seems to like it, making a needy sound in his throat that has you grinning.Â
âMine,â Vernon whispers to you, words muffled by your neck. âYou are only mine, darling. You will only ever be mine. You were made for me. No one else.â
âNo one else,â you agree.Â
His hips move faster, a little messier. You egg him on, legs squeeze, cunt spasming around him. He lets out a feral sound, driving himself further to his orgasm. He drags you with him, another swell reaching you. Vernon can tell, chasing it like a predator, pinning you down and slamming his cock into you until youâre melting around him again, vision blotted out.Â
Vernon comes to the sound of his name on your lips. His movements become sloppy until he canât go anymore, holding himself above you, trembling. Carefully, he drops next to you, pulling his cock free. You feel your joint fluids run down your leg, but youâre too tired to care.Â
Reaching for him, your hand finds his chest. He wraps his fingers around yours, holding your palm to him, his heart thudding wildly under your touch.
âFor you,â he mutters. âOnly for you, darling.âÂ
You fall asleep like that, hand pressed to his chest.
-
Waking up in Vernonâs bed is not new to you. Youâve fallen asleep numerous times at his apartment or stayed the night after going out, but youâve always had the bed to yourself, Vernon opting to take the couch.Â
The bed is empty now, but still warm. You stretch as you roll over in his sheets, groaning as you feel the soreness between your legs and mostly everywhere else. Pressing your hand to your chest and shoulders, you feel all the tender places Vernon mapped his affection with tongue and teeth. It makes you smile fondly as you lay in bed alone for a minute, breathing in the scent of his room.
Slowly, you peel yourself from his bed. With an awkward waddle, you make it to the bathroom, flicking on the light. You shield your eyes at first, going about your morning routine and washing your face to try and feel human again.Â
On your way out, something catches your eye. You frown, walking back toward his laundry hamper where you see brass glinting in the light. You reach for it, pulling the bell from the tangle of his clothes. It has an old wooden handle with cracks, a little hand bell used for-
Well. Used the night of halloween. You have no idea why Vernon still has it, the memory of that night like poison in your mouth. You toss it back into the hamper on top of another shirt that catches your eye. Itâs one of his dark green t-shirts, but the collar is stained dark brown.
Curious, you pull it out, shaking the shirt out in front of you. Itâs mostly unmarked, save for the spatter of something dark brown and dried. You run your finger around the edge of it, puzzled. It looks like dried blood, but you canât recall any injuries heâs suffered recently.Â
You take the shirt with you into his room, tossing it on his bed as you get dressed, stealing sweatpants and a hoodie. Grabbing the shirt again, you trail out toward the kitchen where Vernon is making breakfast, the smell of bacon crackling in the pan.
You grin, leaning against the doorframe for a second to watch him. He looks so at ease, flipping pieces of bacon while he sings to some seventies song you donât know the name of.Â
Pushing off the wall, you head toward him. He catches you in his peripheral, turning his head and smiling at you. âHello, Darling.âÂ
The nickname gives you pause. You slow as you come around the corner of the counter, stopping completely as the endearment pricks you sharply on the back of your neck. Vernon goes back to flipping bacon, singing along a song you vaguely know, but donât know why Vernon does. Heâs never liked music from the 1970s, and-
Your ears start to ring. Several things occur to you at once.Â
The memory of Vernon screaming and banging his fists against the door, begging for help. Youâd been so afraid that you ripped the door open, crashing through the line of salt.Â
Vernon, sharp and confident, the new edge to him as he interacts with people, a little harsher. A little darker.
Nah need to cut back on the sodium had said when you asked about the lack of salt on his fries.
The way heâd called you darling the night before, whispering it against your skin.Â
70s music that Vernon has never listened to since youâve known him. Â
The bell sitting in the hamper used to call a spirit on Halloween.Â
In the house that belonged to the Hello Darling Murderer.
Brown stains - like blood - on his shirt.Â
Carefully, you learn toward the middle of the counter, watching Vernon like a prey skirts a predator. With trembling hands, you gently grab the salt from where it sits next to the pepper. You hold your breath, trying not to draw his attention as you unscrew the top of it, placing the metal lid on the shirt to keep it quiet.Â
With as silent steps as you can manage, you cross to the other side of the kitchen where youâre out of his line of sight. Tipping the salt over, you pour it across the tile from counter to fridge, eyes darting between the barrier of white and the man standing in the kitchen humming.Â
Your heart hammers.Â
Your hands shake.Â
Salt shaker empty, you set it on the counter and take a few steps back. Itâs an unbroken line of salt, and though it doesnât trap him in the kitchen, at least itâs there.Â
Vernon turns around with the pan of bacon. He sees you and his humming stops, cocking his head to the side. He notices the empty salt shaker. Frowns. Looks at you. Looks at the ground where youâve drawn a line of salt.Â
For a second, he just stares at it. His eyes flick back up to you, warm and brown but narrowed.Â
âWhy is there salt all over my floor?âÂ
âCross it.âÂ
âHuh?â
âStep over the line of salt.âÂ
Silence stretches between you. He remains standing in the kitchen, pan in hand, music playing in the background.
When Vernon doesnât move, you can see everything so clearly.Â
Vernon hadnât been joking when he slammed his hands on the door begging for help on Halloween. A sick feeling roils in your stomach as you remember the panicked screams, the way his fists hammered the door.Â
Your next words come out as a hiss. âCross the line of salt, Vernon.â
He looks at the salt and purses his lips before sighing and setting the pan down on the stove. He tosses the rag from his shoulder and shakes his head, striding over to the white line you made against his tile. He stops in front of it, looking at you with his eyebrows raised as if to say really?
âWell, do it.â
Vernon looks down at the salt. Looks back up to you. Down at the salt.Â
And then he laughs.Â
âFuck, you really are the smartest person in school.â He sighs heavily, a gaze darker than anything youâve ever seen on his face as he stares at you. âYou know I canât cross that line of salt, darling.âÂ
-
TAG LIST:
Tag list has not been used for this fic - there weren't enough character blocks left over for it because Tumblr sucks.
#vernon smut#chwe vernon smut#hansol smut#chwe hansol smut#vernon x reader#vernon fic#svt smut#svt fic#svt x you#vernon x you#svt x reader#haliween
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bullyâ.àłàż*:
the endings
âË⥠zbully1 smut series masterlist! hanbin, jiwoong, hao, matthew, and taerae included. click here for game day (group) chapter.
âË⥠wc: member endings are ~1k each, group endings are less than 500 words each! (in total: ~5k)
âË⥠reader: no pronouns used for reader at all in any of the endings :)
âË⥠series summary: five bullies. six days. it's gonna be a hell of a week, babe. stay hydrated.
âË⥠endings summary: choose your own ending! jiwoong, hao, matthew, hanbin, taerae, group (quasi-poly), and group (revenge) are all included. most are angst/fluff and some are suggestive.
âË⥠warnings: there is no smut in these endings, but they allude to smut that happened previously or suggest smut that would follow these endings. please, minors dni still with this post! member endings are all happy (with angst). revenge ending is also happy, depending on what makes you happy! lol.
I'M SO SAD IT'S OVER. writing the bully series was so much fun! thank you to the anon who suggested it in the first place a couple months ago and for everyone who has given positive feedback/input! i appreciate it so much. these endings are all crafted with so much love! let me know which one you love most. maybe i'll put a poll at the bottom lol. ily, catch you in the next series!!
ËăăăăâŠăăă.ăă. ăâËă.ăăăăă . âŠă
jiwoong đ
âso iâll hand out these scripts and weâll get started right away,â professor lee announces, walking around the room and handing out scripts for everyoneâs assigned scenes. mina sits next to you as usual, except this week sheâs staring daggers at jiwoong from across the room. you guess it beats her making googly eyes at him.
mina had called you last night to rant again about how much of a jerk âjiwoong-sshiâ is. note the absence of the word âoppaâ. you were sorry that heâd stood her up, but you knew what kind of a person he could be long before last week.Â
and she unfortunately didnât seem to care how much of a jerk jiwoong was when you were the one bearing the brunt of it.
but you donât want to dwell on it. youâd just fucked him and four of his friends in the campus activities lounge and had no plans to tell her. sheâd asked you how the ârevengeâ went, but youâd kept it all pretty vague. mina was no prude, but she might have the urge to gossip a bit with news as insane as that. you wouldnât blame her if she did.
still, you didnât regret what you did saturday. not even a little bit. in fact, it made you feel kind of proud every time you thought about it.
you spend all of class working on a scene with mina in which you play a really outrageous set of characters trying to escape arrest. itâs a role that youâve never opted to take beforeâ one that requires you to be bold, funny, and brave.Â
professor lee praises you after you present it at the end of class. âexcellent work. whatâs gotten into you, (y/n)-sshi? whatever it is, letâs keep peeling back that shell!â
you smile with pride, eyes scanning the rest of the room until they happen to land on kim jiwoong.
heâs smiling, too.
when class ends, you pick your bag up off the floor and toss in your marked-up script. youâd normally throw it in the recycling bin, but you want to keep it this time. as a reminder of what youâre capable of when youâre sure of yourself.
mina giggles as you walk out the door together and into the hallway. âiâm surprised, but you really pulled that off!â
âiâm not.â
both of your heads whip around to find kim jiwoong leaning against the wall behind you. Â
âyou just needed some... encouragement,â he says with a smirk, but thereâs a noticeable warmth in his eyes.
âand what exactly do you need in order to be able to show up to a commitment you made?â mina asks with a scowl. your eyes narrow at him, too.
âlisten, iâ... iâm really sorry, mina,â he responds sincerely. the fact that he even got her name right has you stifling a gaspâ let alone the apology that prefaced it. âi shouldnâtâve stood you up. that was mean. so iâm sorry.â
mina sucks in her cheek, looking at the ceiling as she considers his sentiment.
âbut i actually have something else to apologize for, too,â he adds quickly, gaze moving back and forth between the both of you. âi... i wasnât really interested in you in the first place. i wasâ... i used you. to get a reaction out of the person iâm actually interested in.â
his eyes meet yours. your lips part in shock at his sudden confession. you stare at him for a long moment, unspeaking untilâ
âAREYOUKIDDINGMEYOUABSOLUTEDICKOFAHUMANBEINGYOULIETOANDSTANDUPMYFRIENDANDLEAVEHERINFUCKINGTURMOILOVERYOUANDTHENâ.â
you glance over at mina, expecting to see tears running down her face but instead...
sheâs grinning. from ear to ear. and not in a joker sort of wayâ just genuine happiness.
âi knew it,â she says, clasping her hands together in front of her face and jumping excitedly. âi KNEW it! i knew you both liked each other!â
âyouâ... what!?â you exclaim, eyes bugging at this bizarre turn of events. âwhat do you mean, âyou knew we liked each otherâ!?â
âiâm also confused,â jiwoong says with a frown. âconsidering i didnât really know until, like, yesterday.â
âwell, i knew you were going to like each other. eventually,â she says with a nod. âyou know, shy, quiet person and arrogant, attractive person trope. itâs destiny!â
âif you really thought that, then why did you wanna go out with him so bad?â you ask through furrowed brow.
ââcause heâs hot. duh,â she says, shaking her head with a smile as if your question was very silly. âcan you blame me for wanting a taste first?â
âwell, if itâs just a taste weâre talking aboutâ,â jiwoong starts to offer with a smirk.
âone more word and the only thing youâll be tasting isââ you interject, balling your hand into a fist.
âaw, first loversâ spat! iâll leave you guys to it,â mina says quickly before sprinting off down the now-empty hall.Â
you look down at your shoes awkwardly. âi have nothing else to say to you.â
âthen, you wonât mind if i talk?â jiwoong asks, not waiting for a response to continue. âwhen hanbin made me start bullying you last year, i honestly didnât want to. you were pathetic enough already without my help.â
âgee, thanks,â you reply with with a frown.
âbut then i sort of started to have fun with it. the way you reacted was absolutely intoxicating. you made it all so rewardingâ coming up with a new plan to drive you crazy every day,â he explains. âthen last week, when we started that competition, i found a whole new way to drive you crazy. and i liked it a lot more.â
âthis is the most convoluted apology iâve ever received,â you remark with a sigh.
âafter saturday, seeing you like that... you were far from pathetic. and it made me proud. i think, somewhere along the way, i just became really fond of you,â jiwoong confesses, stuffing his hands in his pockets. âand i also desperately want to buy you better clothes.â
âokay, iâm leaving now,â you announce, turning on your heel.
âwhat a coincidence. me too,â jiwoong says, grabbing your hand and lacing his fingers with yours as he starts to drag you with him down the hall. âyouâre hungry, right?â
you start to protest, but as you look at his handsome side profileâ dark hair covering the tips of his earsâ you realize you are, in fact... hungry.
âstarving,â you answer.Â
he stops walking to look at you, eyes widening with surprise. âyeah? what would you like to eat then?â
staring at his lips, you canât help but lick your own. âminaâs right, yâknow.â
jiwoongâs head tilts, the corner of his lip upturning slowly as he registers your expression. âis she?â
âmhm,â you answer, pressing your lips to his. he responds quickly: soft, lazy, and stupidly addictive. you canât believe you let him get away last week without kissing you. you could give him just one chance, couldnât you? âbut what she doesnât know...â
he attaches your lips again, free hand cupping your jaw.
âis that one taste of you...â
jiwoong inhales sharply as you gently bite his bottom lip.
âjust isnât enough.â
ËăăăăâŠăăă.ăă. ăâËă.ăăăăă . âŠă
hao đ»
you rush into orchestra on tuesday, already five minutes late. unfortunately, your regular bus never showed at the stop. and then your back-up bus also never showed. which means you had to walk all the way to campus when you hadnât planned toâ your violin case in tow.
rehearsal having started already, you make a beeline for your seat and frantically open your violin case. luckily youâd warmed up your instrument before youâd left your house this week and your bow is ready to play when it hits the violin strings.Â
or, it would be, if you didnât just realize you forgot your sheet music.
âoh, for fucks sake,â you mumble, looking up at the sky and begging for the sweet release of death in this tragically embarrassing moment.
a soft creaking noise draws your attention to your left, where you find haoâs music stand is suddenly angled in your direction.
he doesnât say anything or look at you. he just keeps playing. and so you follow the first chairâs lead.
rehearsal goes surprisingly well. youâre sure you managed to correct all of your mistakes from last week after being able to put more rosin on your bow.
âthird and fourth chair are falling behind the tempo,â hao replies when professor ahn asks him for notes about the performance. your eyes widen when he names a violinist other than yourself that needs correcting. âit makes it harder for first and second chair to successfully introduce and complete the next movement.â
first and second chair? hao was voluntarily grouping you together?
professor ahn seems as surprised as you. she nods, writing down her own notes in the binder on her music stand. she waves her hand, dismissing the orchestra for the day. you clean your violin, getting it ready to be put back in its case as your classmates begin to file out of the orchestra room.
â(y/n)-sshi,â professor ahn calls suddenly from the doorway. your heart drops to your stomach at the mention of your name. âyou actually played quite well today. iâll assume itâs because you had the help of the concertmasterâs annotations. donât be late again.â
you nod quickly, bowing your head respectfully to her. âthank you, professor-nim. iâll play even better next time.â
youâre left alone with hao as usual, both cleaning your violins with the utmost care. when you finish, you place your instrument in its case before fishing around in the side pocket and pulling out something small.
hao locks his violin case, placing it sideways at his feet. finally, he looks at you.
you hold out the cake of rosin that heâd given you last week and told you to bring to your next rehearsal. youâd be remiss to notice that even though you didnât show him until after class, he never told professor ahn that youâd stolen it like he threatened.
hao examines the rosin, completely ruined from what youâd both done with it. there was no cleaning it and you couldnât use it if you tried.
you expect to catch some attitude, but, to your surprise, he smiles. âguess it couldnât be salvaged, huh?â
âguess not,â you agree with a shrug. âat least you got some use out of it.â
âmm,â he hums after a moment before reaching down and reopening his violin case delicately. his hand disappears into one of the side pockets and pulls out a fresh cake of his premium rosin.
and then he hands it to you.
you stare at it in your palm, wide-eyed. âw-what are youââ
âyouâre a pretty decent violinist,â hao says matter-of-factly. âsometimesâ not oftenâ but sometimes i feel like you have the potential to be almost as good as me. but youâll never reach it if you donât start using higher quality products to care for your instrument.â
âoh,â you reply, brow furrowing as he locks up his violin again. âso youâve decided to take pity on me now?â
he smirks. âsomething like that.â
âi guess itâs better than pure hatred,â you respond, rolling your eyes as you tuck the box of rosin into your own violin case.
âi never hated you,â hao says with a frown. you sit back up, lips parting as your eyes meet his. âi didnât particularly like you, but i only told professor ahn about the mistakes you were making because they were careless. you always came in the next week with those same mistakes completely perfected.â
âso you were motivating me through public shame?â you clarify, one brow piqued in disbelief.Â
âdoing whatever it takes to improve the sound of the orchestra is what sets a great concertmaster apart from a mediocre one,â he explains, deciding to paint himself as a misunderstood martyr.Â
âoh, iâm sure it was so difficult for you to step up and take one from the team,â you mock, a laugh escaping you at haoâs audacity. âdo you hear what youâre saying? youâre so fucking full of yourself. who gave you the right to play god andâ?â
hao leans in, connecting his lips to yours mid-rant. your breath hitches in disbelief as he pulls back.
âwould you be mad if i said i wanna get to know you better?â he asks, hand resting on your thigh.
you look down at his long fingers on your soft skin. âfurious,â is what you answer.
he presses his lips together in a hopeless smile. âiâll take it that means you donât feel the same way then.â
âyou always think you know everything about everything,â you huff, grabbing his hand in yours and bringing it further up your thigh. âbut you donât. so i guess you will have to get to know me better if you wanna keep being an insufferable know-it-all.â
as soon as a smile appears on haoâs face, itâs replaced by the cutest frown. âiâm sad now.â
âwhy?â you ask, not sure how your answer couldâve possibly made him sad when it was the one he wanted.
âi took for granted how absolutely fucking adorable you are when youâre angry,â he whines, a disheartened little pout on his pretty lips. âkind of makes me wish i could keep making you angry from time to time.â
you blink at him, looking around awkwardly as a reluctant smile grows on your face. âi meanâ... i guess iâd have to worry about my playing skills suffering if you stop completely. that wouldnât be very responsible of concertmaster-nim.â
âno, it wouldnât,â he replies, biting his lip in a smirk. youâre fully aware of what this title does to him. âso what should i do to keep you playing well?â
you look up at the ceiling, considering your options. âmaybe you could see what other things in the music room fit up myââ âthatâs depraved,â hao scolds, shaking his head at you in shock before a grin peeks through. âare you free right now?â
ËăăăăâŠăăă.ăă. ăâËă.ăăăăă . âŠă
matthew đȘ
with three weeks left of your soccer unit in phys. ed, you braced for an awkward class on wednesday. as you wait outside in the warm, spring breeze with your classmates, you waited anxiously for matthew to show up.
he doesnât.Â
coach yang blows his whistle, signaling for you to form a straight line in front of him. luckily one of your classmates asks the question for you.
âcoach-nim! whereâs matthew hyung?â the younger boy asks in front of you. âwe wanted to talk to him about the game.â
âah, matthew-sshi is on a strict regimen of weight-training and cardio until the championship,â coach yang answers with a sigh. a little quieter, he adds, âand maybe thatâll teach him to stay in line.â
maybe, you think. maybe not.
itâs a surprisingly pleasant p.e. class. your classmates are respectful, giving you as much grace during the game as possible. your sunbaenim from your calc class even pushes you behind him when a ball comes a bit too quickly towards your face.
âthanks,â you say with a smile.
he smiles back. âdonât mention it.â
this class sure was different when someone wasnât trying to kill you the whole time. that being said, youâre pretty disappointed that matthew isnât here. you canât help but wonder how he wouldâve treated you today after saturday night.
when class is over, coach yang hands you a hose, some rags and a ball trolley. he still canât look you in the eye after what happened. âhereâs your supplies. shouldnât take you more than an hour.â
you nod ashamedly, getting to work right away.
âand a word of advice,â coach yang adds over his shoulder. âdonât be afraid to put him in his place from time to time. you played well today without him. itâs nice to see you have some more confidence, (y/n)-sshi. good luck.â
the last thing you were expecting today was a pep talk from coach yang. you walk over to the right side of the field and pick up a muddy, grass-stained ball and bring it over to the hose. washing it thoroughly and buffing any stains with a rag, you drop it into the ball trolley and make your way to the back of the field to retrieve a couple more.
you grab one from behind the goal, turning around to fetch the other one. but as you do, you come face to face with matthewâ tossing the ball gently back and forth between his hands.
âhi,â he greets shyly.Â
your lips press together in an awkward smile. âhi.â
he doesnât say anything else for a moment, so you brush past himâ bringing your ball back to the hose. he follows behind you quietly, placing his soccer ball on the ground beside yours. you pick up the hose and douse them both in the cold water. matthew picks up a rag and kneels down on the ground next to you, buffing the soccer ball youâd brought over.
you pick up the one he brought over, doing the same. âthat one was mine.â
his eyes widen, holding out the ball to you wordlessly in an attempt to give it back.
you canât help but laugh. âi was just kidding.â
âright,â he replies with a nod, returning to cleaning the ball. âsorry.â
you raise one eyebrow at him quizzically. âare you okay?â
âhm?â he asks before nodding quickly. âoh, yeah. iâm fine.â
âare you sure?â you question further. âbecause this is my punishment and youâre helping me when you should be getting ready for practice.â
matthew shrugs. âit was my fault.â
âit absolutely was,â you agree, tossing your soccer ball into the trolley. âand you got away with it scot-free.â
suddenly, matthewâs hand reaches toward your foreheadâ thumb brushing over the tiny scar from where the ball he kicked had scraped your skin. âi shouldnât have.â
well this is... new. matthew taking accountability for his actions? you never thought youâd see the day.
âiâ... um...â he stutters, starting to pick at the grass in front of him. âi think i should probably be punished. for that. and for a lot of things.â
oh.
so heâd really liked it.
âoh. should i tell coach yang toâ,â you play dumb, starting to stand up like youâre about to march right into his office yourself.Â
âNO! ... no. no,â matthew grabs your hand, keeping you seated next to him. he bites his lip, clearly embarrassed by what heâs about to say. âwant you to do it.â
âhuh,â you reply with frown. âi thought you didnât really prefer people who were tainted.â
âyou arenât tainted,â he says, shaking his head. âthatâ... that was really immature of me to say. and gross. and iâm... iâm sorry.â
you look at him for a long moment, studying his eyes to see if heâs being genuine or not. thereâs no obvious signs of lying. heâs very nervous, but itâs not because heâs being untruthful. maybe itâs because he finally is.
âand i can also assume that you said sorry to the waterboy?â you ask, pressing your lips together in an attempt to not laugh at his panicked expression. âand that defense player on the other team? actually, you should probably just draft a mass apology and send it to every university team youâve ever played against. it would save some time.â
matthew nods sullenly. âyeah. i can do that.â
you have to admit, you like matthew quite a bit when heâs like this. heâs agreeable, apologetic, and distressingly adorable.
âi appreciate your willingness to cooperate,â you reply, patting him on the shoulder gently. âi think... maybe... we could make this work.â
matthewâs eyes light up at this. âreally? youâd wanna keep doing... this?â
you smile. âyeah. it doesnât sound so bad, now that youâre being nice to me.â
matthew smiles with embarrassment, avoiding your gaze. âi guess i shouldâve tried this approach last year. but iâ... have you ever heard of alpha male podcasts?â
âmatthew,â you groan, palm flying to your forehead in disbelief. âyouâre gonna unsubscribe from every single one of those, okay?â
he nods frantically. âof course. they didnât get me anything anyway, except a light âroid addiction.â
âdo not tell anyone that, oh my god,â you reprimand, hitting his thigh. âyouâre also gonna throw all of that out immediately.
âah, it was so expensive though,â he winces, tilting his head as he weighs the consequences. âcanât i sell them instead?â
âJUST GET RID OFâ,â you shout, cutting yourself off when matthew suddenly leans over and kisses your cheek.
he grins. âyouâre so beautiful when youâre disappointed in me.â
âyouâreâ... youâ...â you stutter until matthew leans in again, pressing his lips to yours this time. he pulls back, leaving your brain hazy. âplease donât be so mean to me again.â
he shakes his head decisively. âi wonât. i promise.â
you smile, stomach fluttering as he beams at you.Â
âbut, like... youâre okay with being mean to me sometimes, right?â matthew asks, scratching the back of his neck.
âoh, absolutely,â you answer with a nod. âiâll start now.â
he laughs passively, obviously interpreting this as a joke. âsure, sure.â
you stand up, hovering your foot over his crotch. âfinish cleaning these soccer balls. now.â
matthewâs eyes widen with fear, hopping to his feet immediately, bowing his head to you, and sprinting off to the end of the field to complete his task.
ËăăăăâŠăăă.ăă. ăâËă.ăăăăă . âŠă
hanbin đ
âhanbin-ah!â you shout, running down the dimly-lit, empty hallway. how far could he have made it in the few minutes since heâd stormed out of the activities lounge without so much as a word.Â
âhanbin-ah...â
a banging down the hallway to your right seems to signal his location. you turn down it, running until you reach the end and a long hall of public lockers unfolds before you. to your left is a very distraught hanbin, clanging his locker door about as he holds a small book in his hands.
the floor is littered with torn up pieces of paper, that seem to be coming from the book heâs holding.
âFUCK,â he yells, ripping out another page from the book and crumpling it upâ tossing it onto the ground, where it lands at your feet.
you bend down and pick it up, carefully unfolding it and reading whatâs written:
what the fuck does (y/n) see in junseo hyung-nim? i thought that poem was for me. could (y/n) really choose him over me? is he better than me? i donât understand. what did i do wrong?
itâs a diary entryâ your name, mentioned twice. the confession contained in it sends a chill down your spine. hanbin had posted your poem about junseo sunbaenim out of spite.
out of jealousy?
you pick up another crumpled paper and unfold it, reading:
i just hung up all the copies of the poem around campus. i got the other guys in on it, too. maybe thisâll teach you not to take people for granted. maybe itâll keep you thinking about me.
hanbin throws his empty journal across the hallway, sitting down on the ground with his back against a locker as he runs a hand through his hair in distress.
you walk over to him cautiously, standing in front of him and waiting until he looks up at you. you hold out the pieces of paper from his journal and drop them on his lap. âso you decided to ruin my life because you couldnât have me?â
hanbin reads the writing on the crumpled papers, tears suddenly spilling over and streaming down his cheeks. he wipes them away as quickly as they come. his chin dimples up with sadness. it reminds you of something...
you look in his locker, finding his messenger bag and opening the flap. you dig around gently until your hand wraps around it.
you sit down next to hanbin, back against a locker as you place the little, plush hamster in his lap. he stares at it for a long moment before finally picking it up in his hand and giving it a gentle squish. a tear falls onto the hamsterâs nose.
âyou found this the other day?â he says, rubbing the back of his hand across his cheeks again.
you nod. âheâs cute.â
hanbin smiles. âi was hoping youâd think that.â
âwhat do you mean?â you ask, a confused pout forming on your lips.
âi was hoping youâd think he was cute,â he says, running his thumb over the hamsterâs fur, âwhen i bought it for you.â
âwhat?â
âon the class trip to the national library last year,â he continues. âwe sat next to each other on the bus and you pulled three plushies out of your bag like it was the most normal thing ever. and you told me all their names and what they wanted to be when they grew up.â
âhanbin-ah...â
âand we took those polaroids of each other outside on the grass. and ate kimbap at the picnic table in the garden. and ran around together finding the weirdest books we could. and then, in the giftshop, they had a bunch of cute plushies themed off of childrenâs books and...â hanbin rambles wistfully. âand i bought this one for you while you werenât looking.â
âhanbinnie, iâm so sorry,â you interject truthfully. you see the full picture now and you never had before. âi shouldnâtâve been so oblivious as to make you feel like i was leading you on, but i was. and i never shouldâve told you about that poem in the first place. iâm sorry.â
he blinks back at you before shaking his head adamantly. âitâsâ itâs not your fault.â
âbut i hurt your feelings,â you assert, meeting his gaze. âand i never wanted to do that. you were my first friend i made at university. actually, youâre the only friend iâve made at university. how pathetic is that?â
he shakes his head again, brow furrowing sadly. âitâs not. itâsâ... itâs my fucking fault that that happened. itâs... itâs all my fault.â
âhanbinnie, itâsâ... itâs okay, youâ,â you try to alleviate his burden, like the moral person you are.
âno, donât do that. donât say itâs okay, because itâs not,â hanbin asserts, rubbing his forehead with the heel of his palm. âi made you share something you didnât want to. and i betrayed your trust. and iâ... fuckingâ... all because i couldnât handle my own emotions?â
you chew your cheek nervously. âlisten, itâs okayâ.â
âyouâre the nicest person on the fucking planet if you can sit here and say thatâs okay,â he says, a sad laugh escaping him. âi donât deserve your forgiveness, but... i donât know if iâll ever be able to fully express to you how sorry i am.â
you donât respond, stunned by hanbinâs genuine apology.Â
âi could try, though, if you want me to,â he blathers on anxiously. âi could write a hundred thousand words worth of apologies and you could rip them all up and make me start again andâ.â
âhe looks like you,â you interject suddenly.
he frowns. âhm?â
âthe hamster,â you clarify, holding out your hand. eyes wide, hanbin places the hamster in your palm. âhe looks a lot like you.â
hanbin doesnât say anything, his eyes trained on the side of your face as you squish the little plush.Â
âitâs funny, actually,â you hold the hamster up for him to see. âlooking at this hamster and trying to be mad at him is a lot like how it feels when i look at you.â
eyes still wide, hanbinâs bottom lip finds its way between his teethâ not sure how to answer to your overwhelming mercy.
âyouâre right. that wasnât okay,â you say as you bring the hamster to your lips, giggling after you give him a little peck. âbut this is okay.â
âthis?â he repeats.
âdoesnât this feel pretty nice?â you pose, eyes locking with his. âus getting along?â
hanbin nods slowly. âyeah. it does.â
âwhat do you say we continue this?â you ask with a smile. âindefinitely.â
âiâ...â he stutters as a smile grows on his lips as well. âiâd really like that.â
âme too,â you agree, eyes abruptly narrowing. âbut itâll cost you.â
his brow raises, swallowing hard at your words. âabsolutely. anything. name your price.â
you hold up the hamster to the side of your face, doing your best to mimic his little expression. âi want him.â
if hanbinâs eyes could turn to cartoon love hearts, they would. but because heâs a human person, his pupils simply dilate. âyouâ... iâ... heâs yours. he was always yours.â
you grin, giving the hamster a hug. âthanks.â
âthank you,â he says, still reeling from your cuteness. âiâll miss him, but heâs where he belongs now.â
âmaybe you can visit him sometimes,â you offer, biting your lip shyly. âyouâre clearly his biological father, after all. iâm sure your presence in his life is nothing less than enriching.â
he laughs. âsome father i am. i didnât even manage to give him a name.â
you smile. âhe has a name.â
hanbin tilts his head curiously. âhe does?â
you nod. âhis name is binnie. jr.â
his cheeks turn red at this suggestion. âreally? you want to name him after me?â
you donât answer. instead, you ask softly, âhanbinnie?â
âyeah?â he replies eagerly.
âdo you...â you start, finding the confidence to finish your question. âdo you still like me?â
hanbinâs breath hitches in his throat. âum...â
âitâs okay if you donât,â you assure with a sigh. âi just... a year ago, i didnât even know someone like you would be interested in me. youâre so handsome. and smart. and the soccer teamâs star player. i never even considered the possibility that you felt that way about me. but now, iâ... i have more confidence. maybe you accidentally gave it to me, but i have it nonetheless.â
he looks at you intently, waiting for you to continue.
âand i think i realized that... i want you to like me,â you confess. âi wanted you to like me the whole time. i just didnât want to admit it because i was afraid it was too much to ask for. and iâ.â
â(y/n),â hanbin interjects with the fondest smile imaginable. âi like you so much i think my chest might explode.â
you canât stop the grin that spreads across your face. neither can he. hanbin brings his hand to cup your jaw, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours.Â
âoh and iâm sorry i fucked all your friends right in front of your face,â you say, pulling back momentarily.
hanbin laughs, shrugging it off. âi totally deserved it. and... it was pretty hot.â
âkeep kissing me,â you request with a smile.
âdonât have to tell me twice.â
ËăăăăâŠăăă.ăă. ăâËă.ăăăăă . âŠă
taerae đ€
after a completely bizarre session of portraits and quotes for the campus newspaper, the boys all awkwardly grab their things and head out the door. as you place your clipboard and pen on the activities directorâs desk, you see a familiar backpack shoved behind a chair. you forgot youâd stashed taeraeâs bag and phone in here when he didnât come back for it on friday.
you walk over to it, picking it up off of the floor and slinging it over your shoulder. you shut off the lights, walking down the hallway until you spot your former best friendâ sitting alone on the entrance steps to kang hall in the spring night air.
you plop yourself down next to him, placing his bag on the step in front of him. he turns to you, eyes red and watery.
âoh, tae,â you whisper, head falling instinctively to his shoulder.Â
âwhyâre you comforting me?â he asks with a sniffle. âyou should be punching me in the face or something.â
âwould you prefer it?â you joke, trying to get him to smile. âbecause i can absolutely justâ.â
âthis is good,â he says with a breathy laugh.
âgood,â you affirm, lifting your head to meet his gaze. âi love you.â
â(y/n),â taerae seems to plead. âi canâtâ.â
âi love you,â you repeat. âand i miss you so much.â
âiâ...â he stumbles verbally, but grabs your hand in his. âiâ.â
âwhen did you lose your virginity?â you ask, tilting your head curiously.Â
he gulps. âuh... a couple years ago.â
âand you didnât tell me?â you question, a little hurt that heâd kept this big news a secret from you even when you were still friends. âto who?â
taerae shakes his head anxiously. âitâs not that important.â
âoh, come on,â you urge, squeezing his hand. âi told you i lost mine to sungchan oppa during that pool party at minaâs dadâs house.â
he flinches at this. âi remember.â
âit was that same pool party where you threw up in the pool,â you say with a smirk. âan eventful night for both of us.â
âmhm,â taerae mumbles shortly. he was definitely growing more bothered with each mention of that party.
âand to think, a couple of years later weâd do what we just did,â you muse in an attempt to dig something more out of him. âweâve come so far from you throwing up in the pool at the thought of kissing me.â
âi never said that!â taerae exclaims with frustration. âyou said that. and i just... went with it.â
you shake your head, brow furrowing confusedly. âthen why did you throw up?â
âbecauseâ... because i was nervous,â he says softly. âi was so nervous to kiss you that i threw up in minaâs dadâs pool and then i was so embarrassed that i couldnât even open my mouth to deny that i was disgusted by the thought of kissing you.â
you blink at him in shock. âdidâ... did you have feelings for me?â
after a long moment, he nods. but thereâs more tension lingering under the surface. you know thereâs more that needs to be said.
âi really liked you,â taerae confesses softly. âi never wanted to weird you out or anything, but i just liked you from the first day i met you. i loved being your friend, but i just couldnât help it. when you told me at that party that youâd hooked up with sungchan hyung... i just got so jealous. i thought i could be cool about it, but i was drunk and...â
your eyes are wide, clinging onto his every word.
âand i hooked up with someone, too,â he admits with a pained expression. âi thought it might be the only way to make you jealous back, so iâ... iâ...â
you hold your breath.
âi hooked up with mina!â he exclaims quickly, looking down at his lap in shame.
âYOU WHAT!?â you scream, grabbing his jaw and forcing him to look you in the eyes. âthatâs not fucking funny!â
âi know itâs not,â he replies despairingly. âi regretted it instantly afterwards. noâ while it was happening. i was so disgusted with myself. i hated lying to you, but i just couldnât bring myself to tell you the truth. i thought i wouldnât have to until last year, when hanbin hyung came up to me in the hallway after class.â
your brow furrows at the mention of hanbinâs name.
âhe said he knew what iâd done with mina. apparently he had a few friends that went to the party,â he explains sadly. âand that if i didnât do exactly what he told me to, that heâd tell you what i did and heâd make things even worse for you. i just couldnât let either of those things happen.â
âhowâ... how did you even manage to bag mina?â you ask in a daze.
âwell, i mean,â taerae grimaces. âitâs mina.â
âsheâs a total slut,â you nod, catching on immediately. âmore power to her.â
âthe most power to her,â taerae agrees quickly.Â
âwhy didnât she tell me?â you wonder.
âoh, that oneâs easy,â taerae answers with a shrug. âshe said sheâd rather die than let anyone know we slept together.â
âthat sounds like mina,â you affirm. so the truth was out. itâs hard to wrap your head around everything all at once, but you were definitely relieved that taerae didnât actually hate you. he was just an idiot.
âiâm so sorry, (y/n),â he apologizes genuinely. âfor everything.â
you sigh heavily. âiâm sorry, too.â
taeraeâs eyes widen in surprise. âwhat do you mean? you donât have anything to be sorry for.â
âiâm sorry i bragged to you about losing my virginity. i couldâve been more sensitive with that information,â you reply. âand iâm sorry that i said you threw up in the pool, because you didnât want to kiss me and never asked you what the truth was. i couldâve been more considerate of my best friend.â
âi love you,â taerae says abruptly. âbeing without you this year was literally the worst thing thatâs ever happened to me.â
you nod in affirmation. âletâs never do it again.â
ânever,â he agrees with a wide, dimpled grin. that smile you missed so much. you watch it fade naturally, replaced by a fond gaze. but you desperately want to see it again.
so you do the only thing that you can.
you kiss him.
he pulls back after a moment, that perfect grin shining back at you. itâs enough to light up the night sky.Â
âi know i was using the past tense before, but,â taerae says, biting his lip. âi still really like you.â
you smile, pulling him back in to meet your lips again. âprove it.â
ËăăăăâŠăăă.ăă. ăâËă.ăăăăă . âŠă
group (poly) đ„”
you look around the room, every boy avoiding eye contact with you in an attempt to quell the awkward tension. it feels amazing. exactly how you were hoping it would.
"so, uh," jiwoong starts, scratching the back of his neck. "are we gonna do those interviews now?"
you shrug. "you can just text me a quote, if you want. probably easier actually."
they all agree nonverbally, the uncomfortable haze still lingering in the air.
"you can also text me about when you'll be free again," you add, the boys heads turning rapidly to look at you.
"uh... which one of us?" matthew asks with a frown.
you shrug. âwhoeverâs down.â
âyouâ⊠you wanna do this again?â hao asks, lips parted in shock.
âwhy not?â you answer honestly. âi had fun. but if youâre not into it, thatâs okay too.â
âiâm into it!â hao replies a bit too quickly. âi just meant that⊠i didnât know you would be.â
âi guess before last week, someone wouldâve had a hard time convincing me that iâd wanna do this onceâ let alone twice,â you admit with a smile. âbut i think iâve proved i changed.â
âand youâre okay with⊠changing?â taerae asks, worry in his eyes.
you nod definitively. âyeah. i am.â
âso, after all this, youâve decided you just wanna fuck all of us whenever you want?â hanbin asks, standing up from the desk heâs sitting on and walking over to you. âyou really think youâre hot enough for that?â
you smile at him. âno oneâs forcing you to participate.â
hanbin frowns, studying you as you hold eye contact.
âdonât be too upset, hanbinnie,â you say with a pout. âyouâre the one who wanted me to fuck your friends in the first place. you just forgot to consider i might end up really liking it.â
he stares at you for another long moment. and then, he smiles. âi guess youâve won your own game then?â
you smile back. âi guess i have.â
âthen i have to pay the price, fair and square. we all do,â hanbin nods with respectâ an undeniable warmth in his gaze. âcongratulations.â
you look at the other boys around youâ excitement reaching their eyes as you grin. were they really all yours now?
âthanks,â you say happily. âi couldnât have done it without you.â
ËăăăăâŠăăă.ăă. ăâËă.ăăăăă . âŠă
group (revenge) đ
ËăăăăâŠăăă.ăă. ăâËă.ăăăăă . âŠă
you look around the room, every boy avoiding eye contact with you in an attempt to quell the awkward tension. it feels amazing. exactly how you were hoping it would.
"hey, is that camera on?" jiwoong suddenly asks, pointing at the camera you set up by the photo wall to take portraits for the campus activities interviews.
at least, that's why you told them you set it up.
"there's a little red flashing light," hao observes with a frown. "to the left of the lens."
"didâ... did you record this?" matthew asks, fear palpable in his eyes as he looks at you.
you hop off the desk you're sitting on, grabbing your shorts and shimmying them on. walking over to the camera, you hit the record button again to stop filming. then you, take the camera off it's tripod and throw it in your bag that's sitting on the ground beside it.
"it was a pleasure doing business with you boys," you say, making your way towards the door.
hanbin stands up, grabbing your shoulder. "what are you gonna do with that?"
you shrug. "nothing."
his brow furrows tensely, not sure whether to relax or not.
"yet," you finish.
"(y/n), please," taerae begs from behind you. "please don't post that."
"i'm not gonna post it," you say, rolling your eyes. "i'm in the video, too, remember?"
the boys look around at each other, not sure what to do.
"but if i have to," you threaten, unlocking the door, "i won't hesitate. could anything be worse than what you've already put me through?"
"wait, (y/n)!" jiwoong calls. "we'reâ... we're sorry. we're all really sorry for everything."
"i'm sure you are," you reply, opening the door and exiting the activities lounge...
"i'm sure you'll stay sorry for a long time, too."
#zb1 smut#zerobaseone smut#zb1#zerobaseone#zb1 fics#zb1 imagines#zb1 x reader#zerobaseone fics#zerobaseone imagines#zerobaseone x reader#kim jiwoong#jiwoong#kim jiwoong smut#jiwoong smut#kim jiwoong x reader#jiwoong x reader#kim jiwoong fics#jiwoong fics#zhang hao#hao#zhang hao fics#zhang hao smut#zhang hao x reader#hao smut#seok matthew#seok matthew smut#seok matthew fics#seok matthew x reader#sung hanbin#hanbin
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Cheater Cheater Pumpkin Eater
Summary: You're happy with your husband, you swear. Except you actually aren't. You're so unhappy in fact, that you find yourself in a cheap bar late one night. Two men find you, and it leads to a night of fun.
A/N: Yeah. It goes without saying that I DON'T CONDONE CHEATING! I don't know why I wrote this. I actually used to really hate cheating fics, so much so that I would filter the tag out. They used to trigger me super bad. I'm not sure why I wrote this. Maybe as a way of doing exposure therapy, maybe just to practice writing things I normally don't write. Whatever the case is, here you go. I hope y'all enjoy! As always, I appreciate your guys comments so much, seriously!
CW: Smut, Vaginal Sex, Cheating (You Cheat on Your Husband), Hand Jobs, Cunnilingus, Face-Sitting, Finger Sucking, Spit Kink, Protected Sex, Threesome - F/M/M, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Alcohol, Dirty Talk, Humiliation, Praise Kink, Cum Swallowing, Hook-Up, No Strings Attached, Reader Feels Bad (Doesn't Last Long), Hair-pulling, Female Reader, AFAB Reader
W/C: 6,154
Credit to cafekitsune for the banner
Youâre happy.Â
You really are.Â
Those are the words you find yourself repeating like a mantra, a self assuring prayer on a loop in your mind.Â
You have a great life.Â
A wonderful job, a nice house, the perfect husband.Â
People live their entire lives searching for what youâve been so graciously dealt.Â
So why did it feel like you were lying to yourself when you repeated that mantra?Â
The words felt uneasy in your mind at first, the weight of them feeling unknown on your tongue. Youâd never really thought about it before. Were you happy? The more you told yourself that you were, the more the saying turned your stomach sour.Â
You were happy. You were happy. You were happy.Â
You werenât happy.Â
At first, it began like a tingle in the back of your throat. Not disruptive, but most certainly there, no matter how hard you tried to get rid of it. It was the most obvious when you felt like you should be grateful for something.
Before going to bed at night, finishing a big project at work, when your husband kissed your cheek.Â
The doubt simmers in your gut, barely a blip on your radar.
It was hardly noticeable, until it wasnât.Â
The thought became a raging forest fire, drowning out all your other senses. Every day was the same. It was so boring. Nothing lit a spark in you.Â
You werenât sure how to even remedy it. Not only that, but you would listen to your friends talk about their lives, and how it was monotonous for them as well. Maybe life just had to be like this.Â
Thereâs a pit in your stomach as you walk to your car. You really didnât want to go home tonight. Not when you knew your loving husband would be waiting for you; not when you knew you had all the reasons in the world to be happy, but you just werenât.Â
âHey, sexy lady!â A manâs voice rings out around you.Â
When you flick your head around you see a man whoâs much older than you sizing you up. Your knee jerk reaction is to be disgusted, but you arenât, not fully at least.Â
Youâre flattered.Â
When was the last time someone paid you a compliment like that? Your husband told you you were beautiful all the time, but it felt rehearsed, like the words had lost their meaning. Sure, a stranger calling you sexy was a bit half assed, but at least it was real.
âThank you! But Iâm married-â you reply, even though the man is long gone by now.Â
You straighten your shoulders and open your car door, accepting the fluke.Â
~~~
Youâre craving the attention again.Â
You feel like an addict craving their next hit. You didnât want anything else, other than a bit of attention from a stranger. It wouldnât hurt, would it?Â
Over the next couple of days you craft a plan. You were going to get dressed up and go to a bar, nothing major. You just wanted to put yourself in a situation where you could receive attention, maybe get a couple of compliments. It really wasnât that big of a deal.Â
Your husband texted you to inform you that he would be at the office late tonight. You try to ignore the pang of guilt that shoots through you when you tell him that itâs okay, you wouldnât be doing much anyway.Â
Liar.
The dress youâre wearing feels a bit too tight, fitting to your form like another layer of skin. You hadnât worn it in years. There never was any need to. You and your husband didn't go on dates much anymore, instead choosing to settle down for movie nights or dinner.Â
Your makeup is more extreme than usual. It highlights all your favorite features, and the colors are a bit dramatic. Even though it felt different, you had to admit that you looked good.Â
You fiddle with your ring, watching the way it catches the light. Reluctantly, you pull it off and put it in your purse. You feel naked not wearing it. Hopefully, more people would compliment you if you didnât have it on.
You sling your purse over your shoulder and turn your phone off, you wouldnât be needing it anyway, sliding your high heels on.Â
The bar you decide on is on the furthest edge of town, in a much seedier neighborhood. On any chosen day you wouldnât be caught dead on this side of town, and neither would any of your loved ones. Which is precisely why you chose to be there in the first place.Â
Nobody would recognize you. Not that it would be a problem if they did, you remind yourself. You werenât doing anything wrong.Â
The bar is loud as you enter, eager voices discussing a variety of topics over cheap alcohol. The smell of liquor is strong, the astringent scent nearly burning the inside of your nostrils.Â
You slide over to the counter and take a seat on one of the rickety stools. Itâd be a miracle if it doesnât break under your weight, it looks like itâs two seconds from collapsing on its own.Â
You order a mixed drink and smile as the bartender passes it to you, your heart fluttering at the way he grins back.Â
Validation springs throughout your body. It feels like youâre being rejuvenated, adrenaline coursing through your veins.
See? What you were doing wasnât so bad.Â
âWhat's a fine young thing like yourself doing over here?âÂ
When you turn around to catch a glimpse of the man shamelessly hitting on you, you feel your stomach turn. You had never seen someone so attractive before.Â
A head full of soft white hair, messy in an almost endearing way. You canât catch a glimpse of his eyes due to the sunglasses that rest on his nose. On anyone else it would come off as douchey, it was dark out and you were inside a bar, but for him it seemed oddly fitting.Â
Thereâs a cocky grin on his face as he leans against the counter where you sit. Heâs close enough that you can smell the soap he used to scrub himself with. An intoxicating scent, cedarwood and bergamot.
âEnjoying some alone time.â You reply, deciding on playing hard to get.Â
It would be nice to see him continue to try, even if you didnât make it easy.Â
âIâm sorry to interrupt. I just had to tell you how gorgeous you were.âÂ
He didnât sound sorry, didnât look it either.
âI know.â You take a small sip of you drink, staring up at him as you do so.Â
You would never be so forward in your day to day life. You much preferred to be humble. Humble was cute, humble was safe.Â
You were tired of being safe.Â
The strangers lips spread even further and you catch a glimpse of him running his tongue along his teeth. You canât see, but you feel like heâs staring down at you, gaze assessing your features. You hope he likes what he sees.Â
âSir, can I get another one of these for her?â He flags down the bartender and motions to your drink.Â
âI didnât tell you I wanted another one.â You reply, stirring the drink youâre currently nursing.Â
The man beside you raises a brow, before sliding out a wad of cash. He hands it to the bartender without looking away from you, confidence leaking from his pores.Â
âYou shouldnât have to. A gentleman should be able to notice.â
You feel a heavy weight drop on top of you. He was right. True gentlemen should take note of the small things, right?Â
Your husband hardly ever did.Â
The crack inside your heart begins to deepen; you know thereâs not going to be a way back from this. Do you mind that you wonât be able to recover?Â
No.Â
You donât.Â
You grin at him and toss back the rest of your drink before taking the new one from him. Itâs cold against your hand, a sickly sweet scent wafting up from the cup.Â
âWhoâs your little friend?â A second voice enters.
You flick your eyes from the man beside you to see whoâs talking. Long black locks and chestnut eyes.Â
âSuguru. This isâŠâ The first man talks.
You state your name, nerves beginning to take hold in your chest. When it was just one of them it was fine, but two of them?Â
âIâm Satoru Gojo, and this is Suguru Geto.â The original man says. âPleased to meet you.â He finishes, dipping his face down to look at you above his glasses.Â
Electric cerulean greets you, nearly taking your breath away.Â
He smirks and pushes his glasses back up before tossing a look over his shoulder towards his friend.
Suguru circles around you, and you canât help but let your eyes follow his movements. It feels like heâs sizing you up, a dark gleam in his gaze as he settles in the spot beside you.
It feels a bit like the walls are caving in on you, except the metaphorical walls are in the form of two bulky men.Â
You wanted attention, that much was true, but you werenât sure you were ready for this amount.Â
âWhat brings you to this dive bar?â The one called Suguru questions.Â
You take a sip of your drink as you ponder a response. What should you tell them? You were here with friends? The truth?Â
âNeeded to get out of the house.â You decide on.Â
Well, it wasnât completely wrong.Â
âSo you decided to come to this shit hole?â Satoru says.Â
âYou decided to come here too, didnât you?â You reply back.
Satoru looks away, his bottom lip pouting out. It was a shit hole. The two men looked oddly out of place. Their clothes looked to be worth more than half your rent, and there was an effortless elegance flowing from them. You were sure that they belonged anywhere else.Â
âWe were just passing through town, and this was the first place we found.â Suguru responds for Satoru.Â
You wonder how true that statement is.Â
Could it be that the both of them are also running away from something in their personal lives?Â
You could only hope.Â
Maybe it would make you feel less guilty.Â
Suguruâs nursing a whiskey now, lips shining in the low light from the tantalizing liquid. Itâs a bit hypnotizing, watching the way his lips pucker as he takes measured sips.Â
You feel like nothing can break you from the trance youâre in, nothing that is, until something brushes your thighs. Itâs Satoruâs fingers, skimming your skin under the guise of tugging your dress down.Â
âI like your dress,â Satoru murmurs, his knuckles causing goosebumps to erupt along your thighs.Â
You watch as he slowly drags his fingers back, letting your eyes trail up until you reach his face, only to see that heâs already staring at you.Â
âYeah?â You ask, breathless.
Satoru hums and flicks his gaze back down to your legs. Thereâs lead in your stomach as you watch his pupils flicker. You can only guess whatâs on his mind.Â
âSay, do you have any plans for the night?â Suguru questions, settling his arm around the back of your chair.Â
His thumb brushes against your shoulder, making your breath stagger. The ambiance is more than heavy, a thick understanding settling over the three of you.Â
âNo, I don't.â You take one last sip of your drink before looking at the boys once more.Â
âWant to go have some fun, then?â Satoru asks, an evil glint in his eyes.Â
You begin to understand how Eve could not resist the temptation.
âPlease,â you all but plead.
You reach a hand out and Satoru laces his fingers in yours, tugging you along until youâre forced to navigate through the crowds in the bar. Thereâs a heat behind you, and you register it as Suguruâs presence shortly following after you.Â
Thereâs something bubbling up in your stomach, anticipation you think, as you watch the back of Satoruâs head.Â
Heâs so tall.Â
You briefly wonder what it would feel like to run your fingers through his hair. Would it be soft? Would he like the way it feels?Â
Satoru pushes the bar door open, a gust of wind whipping your face. The sensation almost shocks you to your senses, but Satoru doesnât allow it.Â
He slows down and stops beside you, throwing his arm around your shoulder. Youâre being tugged beside him, smooshed against his lean frame as he walks you to their car.Â
âWeâre gonna have so much fun,â he comments, whispering into the crown of your head.Â
Your stomach flips. You think he may be right.Â
Suguru walks ahead and spins keys around his fingers before unlocking the car. Youâre unable to recognize the brand, only able to see that itâs expensive.Â
Satoru opens the passenger door and youâre greeted with fine black leather. It dawns on you that someoneâs going to have to sit in the back.Â
How was this going to work?Â
Were you supposed to sit in the back?Â
Wouldnât that be weird?Â
When you come to, you see that Satoruâs already sitting in the front seat, his hand holding yours as he looks up at you with an expectant gaze.Â
âCome on.â He murmurs.Â
He pulls you closer, spreading his legs to make room for you. He wants you to sit on his lap?Â
You look around, noticing how empty the parking lot is. You were already making bad choices, so you figure you may as well go all in.Â
You inch in the car, settling on top of his lap. His thighs are warm beneath you, your exposed legs shifting back and forth. He shuts the door, settling his hands on your body while Suguru starts the car. You never once stop to think about how this may be considered dangerous, all you can think about is how you want more of it.Â
âReady, princess?â Suguruâs voice is like velvet as it comes out.Â
As ready as youâll ever be.Â
âYes.â You fake confidence, shining a grin that feels entirely too exaggerated.Â
Suguru chuckles and reverses the car, the action fluid. Satoruâs still holding onto your thighs, the proximity to him causing your heart to race. You donât know who to focus on. Even their hands have you in a trance. Suguruâs fingers grip the steering wheel, knuckles making your mouth water, while Satoru holds your legs, his palms suspiciously moving further up.
You can feel the outline of something beneath you, and you think you know what it is, but you want to be sure.Â
You shimmy your ass a bit, turning your head over your shoulder to look at Satoru. Thereâs a dangerous grin on his face as he looks at you over his glasses.Â
âCareful there, baby.â He warns.Â
Your mouth immediately dries, desperation crawling up the back of your throat. The outline below you is much thicker than it was several minutes ago. He was hard.Â
The engine stops, and your stomach turns over. Youâre stopped at a hotel. Itâs on the nicer side of town, luckily the part of the city none of your friends ventured to. The building in front of you is at least twenty stories high, the air of wealth floating over to you.Â
Just what did these guys do for a living?Â
âCome on.â Satoru says, patting your thigh twice.Â
You snap out of it and hop out of the car, eyes drawing to the two men next to you. Suguru stuffs his keys in his pocket and slides beside you, snaking his arm up your back. His hand rests against the nape of your neck, softly holding you. The act feels borderline protective.
You peer up at him and he grants you a smile before leading you next to him, guiding you by your neck towards the hotel entrance. Itâs even nicer on the inside than it is on the outside.Â
A chandelier hangs from the ceiling, you know that it must be made of glass but at first glance it looks like diamonds. Thereâs little dots along the walls from the reflection of the fine material, hypnotizing you. A soft tune echoes in the background, Mozart you think, that lulls you into a sense of relaxation.Â
âGood afternoon.â The check in attendant nods at Suguru.Â
Does this scene look weird to him?Â
Suguru acts as though itâs completely normal, dipping his head down in response before facing forward again, heading towards the elevators. Maybe it was normal for Suguru.Â
Maybe theyâd done this countless times before, and you werenât special. You have to remind yourself that thatâs the point. You werenât any better. In fact, youâre pretty sure youâre objectively worse. Tonight wouldnât mean anything. Just a quick, nasty fuck.Â
Out of your periphery you see Satoru jab his finger into the elevator button. He seems a bit impatient. Excited, maybe.Â
Heâs bouncing on the balls of his feet, looking up as the numbers on the screen decrease, indicating the elevator was inching closer and closer.Â
Heâs a bit beautiful.Â
You knew that before. But his beauty looks different under the fine chandelier light of the hotel. The way he looked in the dingy bar, although still incredibly attractive, was a far cry from how he appears now. Almost ethereal, youâd say. The warm glow of the lights above make him look like a painting.Â
Suguruâs the same as Satoru. The lighting and surroundings of the hotel are making him appear even more stunning than before. When you peer up at him, he glances down and grins back at you. It feels like youâve been caught red handed. You look away quickly, just in time to watch the elevator doors slide open.Â
Satoru hops in and waits for you and Suguru to enter before pressing â18â.Â
The music inside the elevator is much more quiet, yet youâre still grateful for it. Youâre nervous, your fists clenching and unclenching at your sides. It was hard to believe that you were really doing this. The soft piano helps soothe your nerves, as you will your mind to stop racing.
Suguruâs hand slides off your neck and you find yourself almost missing the sensation. The warmth from his palm fades away, along with the sense of protection it provided.Â
You only have a moments reprieve before the other man jumps at you.Â
Satoruâs mouth is on yours in an instant, his tongue smoothing along your bottom lip. You groan in surprise before following along, letting your hands slide up his shirt.Â
Heâs muscular.Â
Images flash in your brain of what he may look like shirtless. Your mind paints up a mouthwatering scene, full of hard lines and bulging muscles.
Your mouth opens to accept him, his tongue quickly entangling with yours. Itâs hot and messy. Spit dribbles from the sides of your lips, and you can hardly catch your breath.Â
âDonât be so greedy, Satoru.â Suguru chides.Â
Shit, you had almost forgotten he was there.Â
Embarrassment fills your veins instantly. It suddenly hits you that you were going to have sex with both of them. How was this going to work? The idea seems daunting.Â
Satoru grunts in retaliation and you almost think he doesnât want to share. The man proves you wrong though, when he tugs you forward towards him. His body crashes against yours, and you have to hold his firm biceps to stabilize yourself. Suguru glides behind you, his hands quickly finding your hips.Â
Youâre trapped.Â
Satoru parts from your lips, a thin string of saliva snapping once he removes himself. Your mind is crowded by lust as you look up at him with heavy lids.Â
You want more.Â
Itâs a good thing there were two of them.Â
Suguru grips your chin from behind and turns your head sideways, pressing his mouth against yours. His lips arenât as sweet as Satoru, but it makes your knees weak all the same.Â
Suguru is more methodical in his approach. He waits until youâre reaching a hand down, squeezing his arm against your waist. With a chuckle he parts his lips, sliding his tongue along your mouth, the movement painfully slow.
Satoru has moved his focus to your neck now. Heâs kissing and biting down the column of your throat, the heat from his breathing making you shiver. You use your other hand to glide through his hair, urging him forward to continue his attack on your throat.Â
Only when he starts sucking do you realize the severity of his actions.Â
âN-no hickeys.â You tear yourself away from Suguru to say.Â
Satoru looks at you for a second before chuckling, dragging his tongue up your throat. âSure thing, princess.âÂ
Your shoulders sag in relief as you feel Satoru begin to go easy on you, only licking and kissing your tender flesh. Youâre grateful you caught him in time.Â
Suguru kisses you once more and you moan, a sound that spurs the two men on. Satoru raises a hand to paw at your breasts through your dress, and Suguruâs grip has tightened.Â
The elevator dings just in time.Â
Your entanglement felt longer than a life time, but it couldnât have been more than two minutes. Suguru reluctantly tears himself away from you, watching as you catch your breath. Satoru is a bit more stubborn, only stopping once you say his name.Â
Luckily the hallway in front of you is empty. The three of you step out, and you let them guide you to their room.Â
âHere we are.â Satoru murmurs.Â
Suguru, apparently master of the keys, lifts up a card and unlocks the door. When it opens he pushes the door in, letting you and Satoru go first.Â
The room is huge.Â
Thereâs a living room with a decent sized kitchen, along with two doors that can only lead to what you assume to be bedrooms.Â
âHome sweet home,â Satoru lifts up a hand, waving it towards their hotel room. âWell, I guess hotel sweet hotel-âÂ
âSatoru.â You all but plead, looking up at him desperately.Â
His eyes flick down to you and he grins before stepping closer.Â
âSorry baby, you need something, huh?â He crashes his lips against yours again.Â
The kiss is even more urgent this time around. Satoru lifts his glasses up blindly, before walking backwards to lead you further inside.Â
You reach behind your back and pat around, trying to feel for your zipper. You need your clothes off now. When you donât feel the flimsy tab, you turn around and look over your shoulder as if that will help any. Â
âKeep having your fun, princess.â Suguru murmurs, his fingers expertly finding the elusive zipper.Â
You whine and face forward again, kissing Satoru once more. Suguru carefully pulls it down, a cool rush of air grazing your back once itâs open.Â
He leans down and kisses your spine, slowly making his way up while you shove your tongue down Satoruâs throat.Â
The roomâs spinning, youâre sure of it.Â
Suguru takes his lips off your back so he can slide the dress off your shoulders, his hands grazing your skin causing you to break out in goosebumps.Â
The dress falls to the floor, leaving you exposed in only your bra and underwear. It was an expensive set, one you had bought years ago yet hadnât gotten much of a use out of.Â
Satoru pulls his lips away to glance down at your figure before looking back up at your face. Your lips are swollen, eyes fluttering in need.Â
âShitâŠâ he whispers to himself before kissing you again.Â
Suguruâs hands roam your body, letting you have your playtime as he explores your skin. His palms glide against your stomach and thighs, moving slowly.Â
You must be soaked already.Â
Satoru tears himself back again, hands reaching for his shirt. He undresses in a matter of seconds, leaving himself only in his underwear. His body is even more amazing than you had conjured up in your mind.Â
He was muscular without being overtly so, leaning more towards the body of a runner. His skin is pale, matching the tone of his hair.Â
You run your hands up his stomach to his chest, letting your fingers dance along the grooves of his muscles. His head hangs low as he watches you drag your nails against him.Â
Suguru stands next to you as he pulls his shirt off his head, the action catching your eye. You turn around and allow your gaze to float down to his chest. He looks just as perfect as Satoru.Â
You tug Suguru closer and kiss him, his slow pace allowing you a chance to recuperate.Â
âWant you to sit on my face.â Satoru says, his hands skirting along your body.Â
So much for recuperating.Â
âO-okay.âÂ
Satoru leads you and Suguru into one of the bedrooms before making himself comfortable on the bed. His form takes up the whole length of the bed, head at the end as he looks up expectantly.Â
You look over your shoulder to see Suguru watching you. His lids are heavy as he stares at you, desire unmistakably falling over his features. He dips his head as if he was comforting you, or giving you permission. You slide your underwear off before tossing a leg over Satoruâs face, lowering yourself just above his mouth. Youâre facing the end of the bed, Suguru standing in front of you.Â
âSo fucking wet.â Satoru mumbles to himself before sticking his tongue out, tugging your hips down until he meets your pussy.Â
âF-fuck!â You moan, your hand latching onto his white locks.Â
âThat feel good?â Suguru asks.Â
You bite your lip and look up at him, watching as his hand reaches down to unbuckle his pants. The sight makes you flustered. He maintains eye contact as he tugs them down, his cock still contained behind his underwear.Â
âOpen.â He says in a hushed tone.Â
Your lips part, jaw dropping open at his order.Â
âAtta girl.âÂ
Suguru eases his thumb into your mouth, watching as your lips wrap around him. You suck softly, bobbing your head as you lick the sides of his thumb.Â
He looks delighted as you perform for him. You try your best to focus on the task at hand, but Satoru is making it increasingly difficult. His tongue is sticking out, flicking against your swollen clit. He drags it down before teasing your entrance, poking in several times before retreating to suck on your nub.Â
You tug at his hair, grinding your body down against him. His hands have a tight grip on your ass, helping you hump against his mouth.Â
âThere you go, ride my fucking face.â Satoru growls below you.Â
Your eyes roll back in your head, the pleasure coursing through your body.Â
Suguru uses his other hand to pull down his boxers, allowing his cock to jump free. Everything feels too good. When you look back down, the sight makes you lightheaded. His cock is hard, tip leaky with anticipation as he watches you.Â
He pumps it several times before reaching down to grab your free hand. Suguru wraps it around his cock, giving you free reign to pump him.Â
His thumb never leaves your mouth. Youâre sort of glad it doesnât. If it did, you arenât sure how loud you would be moaning.Â
Suguru looks at your face as you begin to jack him off. Heâs far more interested in watching you suck his thumb.
Satoru sucks on your clit, his eyes closed as he focuses on your body. You can feel yourself drip into him.Â
âYou gonna cum for us? On Satoruâs face?â Suguru coos.Â
You moan around his thumb and squeeze your eyes shut. Fuck, you were going to cum on Satoruâs face. Soon, probably.Â
Your palm slides down Suguruâs cock as your fist fucks him. Heâs hot and heavy in your hand, his precum making the glide that much easier.Â
Satoru speeds his actions up, his lips wrapped tightly around your nub. Your body tightens up in response, and you begin to cum.Â
Satoru aides you through your orgasm, sucking the entire time as you twist above him. Your hand slows against Suguruâs cock as you pant around his thumb.Â
Satoru flicks his tongue against your clit slowly before removing his mouth from you, allowing you to slide off his face.Â
He sits up once youâre off, his chin completely covered in your essence. Youâre almost embarrassed. Satoru looks unaffected, letting his tongue clean the cum on his lips.Â
âLetâs go baby.â Satoru says.Â
Suguru eases his thumb from your mouth, chuckling at the whimper you let out. You were really starting to get into it, too.Â
Satoru helps you get onto your hands and knees, facing forward towards Suguru. Suguru reaches down to unclasp your bra, pulling it off your body before tossing it to the side. Your nipples instantly harden from the cold air.Â
Satoru smoothes his hands down your back while admiring your trembling form beneath him. Aftershocks from your previous orgasm were still racking through your body. He tears his gaze away to look at the bedside table, grumbling before he finds what heâs looking for. You hear the sound of a condom being opened as you stare at Suguruâs cock.Â
Would you be able to fit that in your mouth?Â
âAlright,â Satoru mumbles, sliding the condom on before lining himself up with your entrance.
You part your lips, waiting for Suguru to slide himself in your mouth. Satoruâs cock pokes at your entrance, pushing past as he sinks into your pussy. You groan, your walls rushing to accommodate the stretch.Â
Satoruâs jaw is clenched as he looks down, watching your pussy greedily accept him, squeezing his cock until heâs finally all of the way in.Â
He pauses for a moment, and you slip Suguruâs cock into your mouth. His tip eases past your lips, precum dripping onto your taste buds as he pushes himself in further.Â
You gag a bit, nose flaring as you try to breathe around his cock. Itâs more difficult than you anticipated, drool sliding down your chin as you go as far as you can.Â
Satoru begins to shallowly pump inside you, while Suguru starts to rock his hips.Â
It doesnât take long before Satoru is fucking you properly, the slick of your cum making it easy to glide inside you. Suguru lets you control the pace, bobbing your head against his cock as you swallow around him.Â
Satoru pushes against your gspot with each thrust, the sensation making you moan around Suguru.Â
This felt so good, you were left wondering why you didnât do it sooner.Â
Satoru groans behind you, feeling like his cock was being choked by your pussy. He reaches down and his fingers find your clit, rubbing in tight circles. You moan and your pussy tightens around Satoru in reaction.Â
âThaaaatâs it.â Satoru sounds almost breathless. âBet your husband doesnât fuck you this good, does he?âÂ
You stutter around Suguru, confusion sparking inside you.Â
Husband?
How did he know?
Satoru laughs loudly, continuing to fuck into you.Â
âWhat? You didnât think weâd notice?â Suguru inserts himself into the discussion. âThereâs a tan line around your ring finger, darling.â
Satoru thrusts into you even harder. âNo hickeys? Come on.â His fingers speed up around your clit, making you moan against Suguru. âSo Iâll repeat myself, your husband doesnât fuck you like this, does he?âÂ
The humiliation was almost suffocating, yet it turned you on so badly you could hardly stand it.Â
Suguru pulls himself from your throat, watching as you loudly gasp for air.Â
You feel ruined. But you like it.Â
âN-no,â you moan out.Â
âNo? Thatâs right.â Satoru mumbles under his breath.Â
With each thrust it feels like heâs knocking all common sense from you. Your fingers dig into the sheets below, hoping it will relieve some of the pressure but all it manages to do is crumple the bedding.Â
Suguru presses himself back into your throat, throwing his head back as you bob your head along him. You run your tongue down the sides of his cock, stroking him as you suck.Â
âCan tell you arenât happy with him, you just needed to be fucked properly, is that right?â Satoru continues.Â
You moan around Suguru, unable to reply. Satoru understands the sentiment, pressing harder against your clit. You tighten up around him again, unable to control the way your cunt squeezes him. He keeps filling you up, his cock somehow pressing into all the right places. Youâre getting close to cumming again, body begging for the sensation once more.Â
Satoruâs hands are gripping your hips hard, so hard that thereâs a voice in the back of your brain telling you he may leave marks, but youâre in too deep already. Drool is seeping from your lips, hanging in strings down your chin as you swallow Suguruâs cock. You wonder whoâs going to cum first.Â
Your orgasm inches closer, made possible by the strum of Satoruâs fingers against your needy clit. Heâs groaning behind you, the sounds spurring you on.Â
âCome on, come on baby. Cum on my cock.â He urges with a groan.Â
Your pussy clenches around his cock hard and you release, cumming harder than you ever have before.Â
âJust like that, just like that.â He talks you through it, a whimper breaking his voice.Â
Suguru makes good use of your slack jaw, pounding so hard into your throat that you surmise itâs going to bruise. Thereâs no oxygen in your brain, no thoughts in your head, just pure bliss as you cum on Satoru.Â
âYouâre gonna make me-â Satoru lets out a long moan, hips jerking against you, his cock twitching as he fills the condom with his cum.Â
Youâre trying to breathe heavily through your nose as you come down, allowing Suguru to use you as he sees fit. His face is concentrated as he stares down at you, admiring the mess youâve become as he fucks your throat. He swears under his breath before coming to a stop, spurting hot cum in your mouth.Â
You struggle to swallow it all, briefly feeling like you were drowning in the fluid, before you gulp it down. Itâs messy, some of his cum paints your lips as he slides his now softening cock out of your mouth.Â
The room is filled with the sounds of your mixed panting, bodies all entering a state of relaxation. Satoru eases himself from your pussy, inhaling sharply as he slips out. He removes the condom, tying it before tossing it into the bin beside the bed. Youâre in complete bliss, fucked out from every orifice.Â
Suguru smoothes your hair down and finds a washcloth to wipe the filth from your lips, smiling to himself at your expression.Â
âYou can stay the night, if youâd like.â Satoru says as he relaxes on the bed.Â
He glances at the clock and ascertains that itâs much later than you were intending. You mumble to yourself and nod, not fully comprehending what ramifications may be waiting at home for you.Â
Satoru opens the blankets for you, waiting as Suguru cleans between your legs. The actions are a bit sweet. Everything is. You were expecting them to kick you to the curb after you had sex, so youâre pleasantly surprised when they slide in bed next to you, laying on either side.Â
Satoruâs arms are wrapped tightly around your frame as you nod off, and you feel truly happy for the first time in years.Â
~~~
You arenât sure what wakes you up in the morning. Your internal clock, maybe. Your body is sore as you groan, flipping onto your back. The hotel ceiling greets you as you crack your eyes open. A brief bit of panic courses through you.Â
So last night was real, huh?Â
You turn your head and notice the bed beside you is completely devoid of anyone else, both men seemingly having vanished. You arenât sure if you feel more sad or relieved. Sad because you enjoyed their presence, but relieved because now you could pretend like nothing happened.Â
Is that what you wanted to do?Â
You were having a hard time believing that that would be easy, that you could go back to your old life and be content when you knew there was so much more out there.Â
You sit up and look towards the clock. You were in deep shit. Thereâs a note on the beside table that catches your attention. You lift it up, reading the words on the page. It fills you with a deep sense of satisfaction once you notice a phone number on it.
âCall us if you want to have a good time. -Satoru and Suguru.âÂ
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