#i will be unreachable for a few days

[chandiewashere]

it is the time of year where all fairytail fans, young and old, make the annual pilgrimage

it is time to rewatch the tenrou island and grand magic games arcs

[cordiallyfuturedwight]

jin for laneige ♡

[videoworm]

Update on the transgenderism

[chronal-anomaly]

Little low activity notice!!

[evadingreallife]

Currently stranded on a desert island (phone is at the repair shop) sending messages in bottles into the ocean hoping someone will see them (instagram messages to bff) and writing SOS in the sand with big big stones (tumblr posts). Everything i ever knew has disappeared (i forgor all account passwords). Will my friends find me? (fucking open instagram dms once in a blue moon is it too much to ask)

[im-still-a-robot]

HI I listened to turnabout musical cause u were talking abt it and oh my GOD its so fucking good holy s h i t thank you for posting abt it my brain chemistry has been changed /pos

Yeah!!!!!!!

I'm so happy you enjoyed it! If you watched TAAAM (the one I've been linking) Act 1, from what I've seen, Act 2 should be releasing in the next few weeks!

[kurzuha]

STRAWBERRY LOLLY

PAIRING shy nerd!sunghoon x confident fem!reader | wc: 1.5k

WARNINGS vague smut, miniskirt agenda (duh), sunghoon is a perv and he got it bad, dom!sunghoon

However, one aspect that stands out on this particular day is the sugary rock between the lips he loves so much. God, Sunghoon practically busts at the sight.

NOTES hi first post kinda nervy

PARK SUNGHOON has the hots for you.

It has only been a few months since he’s known of you. And it’s not enough time to build the courage to approach you.

What can he say?

You look unfathomable. Something so unreachable. Especially for someone like him.

He sits far across the room as the professor rambles on, stealing glances, wondering if you’ll notice him one day. It was hard to keep his mind at bay, to prevent walking up to you. He knew that he would ramble and mess it all up. Or stutter while attempting to acquaint himself with you.

He realized that admiring from afar was the best solution to the issue at hand. And it proved to be a good one.

That is, until it became unbearable. More specifically, sinful. And today is one where it seems God is testing him.

You return to the classroom and Sunghoon automatically straightens his posture– his doodling on the notebook gone astray.

You’re sporting the same mini skirt he loves so much and those legs are perfectly on display for everyone to see. It’s definitely not because they’re so short your panties practically peek out without having to look under.

He doesn’t know how you do it. How you claim attention to any room you walk in. Heads automatically turn in your direction the second you step foot into it. But you play dumb, acting as if the people in the room don’t automatically moan at the sight of you.

And whether it’s the perfect posture or the pearly smile you showcase, you’re far out of reach for the quiet, stereotypical glasses-wearing nerd, whose favorite class is calculus. And it’s most definitely because you’re in this class too.

However, one aspect that stands out on this particular day is the sugary rock between the lips he loves so much.

God, Sunghoon practically busts at the sight.

The glassy ball between your lips that you occasionally run your tongue along has him losing all composure. You’re innocently conversing with your classmate beside you, innocently grazing the tip of the red lollipop against your bottom lip, and innocently putting it back into your mouth in one motion. Your cheeks hollow, and he salivates at you sucking on the sticky candy. He knows he’s far away, yet believes his eyesight couldn’t be any clearer.

His leg starts to mindlessly shake once scenarios run wild, and one point he makes clear to himself is that the flavor is strawberry. It fits you perfectly, he thinks. The strawberry lollipop tints your lips a fitting scarlet shade, the gloss resembling honey as you continue to edge him beyond belief with the repetition of your ministrations.

But as he continues to gawk from across the room, your orbs shoot directly into his.

It’s so sudden that he moves to deter from your glare at all costs and reverts back to random doodling. Sweat dribbles down alongside his temple because your sharp eyes contain purpose behind them, and he prays that the purpose isn’t him.

You’re definitely going to call him out for being a creep if anything.

But a tap on his shoulder forces him to address the siren in heels behind him, and as he turns, Sunghoon can hardly meet your inviting eyes.

And just like taking a breath, your syrupy voice addresses him for the first time. He wonders if you feel an ounce of what he’s feeling at the moment.

Surely not, because you act as if you’ve known him your whole life.

“Hey Hoonie, can I talk to you for a second?” you infer with your hands pressed against the edge of his desk. And it’s proving impossible to look straight into your eyes, even more at your tits pressed together, spilling out of your top.

“Shoot,” he mentally applauses himself for a collective response.

“I need a tutor,” you frown, and all he thinks about is how your face would look when you cum.

“I’m on the verge of failing, and I know you’re about to check off a hundred percent in the class.”

“Yeah o-of course. I have to make sure my schedule’s open first.”

“Great! My place or your place?” you bat your lashes innocently.

Sunghoon swears if you do one more thing, he’ll cum in his pants right then and there. There’s not much more he can take. “Anywhere is fine. I gotta go though. We can discuss the details in class tomorrow.”

You’re giggling at his shyness, quick to follow his scurrying around the desk. “Or we can keep talking since I like talking to you so much.”

You’ve got him staring like a deer in headlights, “You do?”

“Do you?” you inquire while also wondering when he’ll drop the shy act.

An opportunity like this most likely won’t ever happen again. And the countless times Jake has called him a pussy for not shooting his shot only motivates him that much more. “Why are you asking questions you already know the answer to?”

“Maybe because I enjoy hearing answers I like,” you raise a brow at his sudden confidence, but your interest is showcased through the closing proximity between the two of you with each word that escapes your throat.

Sunghoon notices the glint of surprise in your eyes when you realize he wasn’t going to cower backwards.

His thoughts, on the other hand, were the complete opposite of his cowardly actions. In fact, he wonders how’d you react if he kissed you until your lips were bruised. Or if you liked it if he wrapped his entire hand full of your hair and tugged ‘til his heart’s content.

But in the end, your answer has him speechless, and you fully grin at that. “Let me know the answer to mine when you get the chance.”

You’re turning around to leave the shaky boy alone, but something catches your wrist.

“Tomorrow. Eight p.m., my place,” he’s breathing pattern quickens and he thickly gulps as he awaits your response.

And you giggle at his eagerness. “Can’t wait.”

And that’s how you ended up at his place the following night. Sunghoon had successfully helped complete a total of five questions before your hand slithered up his thigh and the subject of derivatives flew out the window.

To be honest, he doesn’t care he gave in so fast.

He’s so easy. So easy for you.

And you knew that. You took advantage of how he averted your gaze at all costs, yet you could still feel the heat of his stare when you looked away. Usually preferring men who are more dominant and masculine in and out of the bedroom, you took this as a challenge to stray out of your comfort zone.

You couldn’t lie though, Sunghoon’s awkward mannerisms are awfully cute. A bonus was he wasn’t hard on the eyes either. Your friends often scolded you for wanting to pursue him, but you ignored their incessant warnings.

And when you made due of your promise, you were surprised at how he was able to get a few words out.

What was even more surprising was the night that followed.

“Fuck—mnph!” your moans are muffled into the pillow as Sunghoon plows into your sopping cunt from behind. His palm envelops the entirety of your nape, pushing your head harder with each thrust. Your entire spine buzzes with pleasure, and his fingers digging into your neck only heighten the feeling.

“This is for underestimating me,” he seethes. You wish you were facing him to see his darkened persona.

“I w-w,” you barely get out.

“You what?” his hoarse voice mixes with a groan at your velvety walls sucking him like a vice.

“I-I wish I c-could take a pict-ture,” Sunghoon’s fingers press deeper with each word that escapes your throat, and you giggle. You’d never imagine the loser in class could get you pussy drunk.

“Go ahead,” he seethes before pulling out and flipping you over to your back.

“Wha-” you can’t even finish the word before he’s roughly thrusting into your pussy in one motion and continuing with the same pace.

“Hoon! Fuck,” you’re under his spell while the bed frame rhythmically knocks against the wall.

“I should take a picture of you like this,” he turns your slack jaw so you are able to look at him.

He chuckles once his eyes make contact with your hooded ones. “With drool and tears decorating your face while I use you as a cock-sleeve.”

Your fists ball as the drag of his cock overwhelms you. “So full,” you moan, and he rewards your comment with another harsh snap of his hips.

“Remember,” Sunghoon sets your calves against his shoulder and leans down against your ear. It feels unworldly, his cock pushing deeper and rougher into your cervix.

“Remember who makes you feel this way,” he whispers.

[hollyoongs]

Anytime I'm alone, I can't help thinking about you (ariana grande - everyday) All I want, all I need, honestly, it's just me and you

ᨓ 。secretary!karina x ceo!fem reader ꒰✒️꒱﹕smut with plot ﹕+7k contains: smut, masturbation at work (freaky), they are horny for each other but reader is too blind, mention of sexual toys, pet names (slut, needy girl, good girl) d/s dynamics (they are both giving switch), spanking (not so hard, a couple times), oral (both receiving). The text inside a separator like this (━━━━━━☆━━━━━━) is a flashback. Never used Y/N in a story, but this mini series is an exception.

The power you held was absolute, unquestionable. Every decision you made rippled through the walls of your company, and no one dared to challenge it. The glass of your office windows reflected that authority—high above, unreachable. Until Karina came along.

She was efficient, poised, always dressed impeccably in tight skirts and button-up shirts that hugged her curves. And let's not forget a messy yet elegant hairstyle that showed her beautiful features, her shy behavior was her charm in contrast to how she matched your dominant energy at meetings. Her folder, always organized at her side, held her carefully crafted questions—ones that left executives speechless and you with a proud smile.

Karina was flawless in her role. But the way she handled herself wasn’t the only thing that made you notice her. It was the subtle tension that built over time she gave after a couple months of working with you, the lingering glances that lasted a little too long, the accidental touches that felt anything but accidental. She had a way of breaking through your perfect walls, and you hated that you started to like it.

Meetings became the highlight of your day, watching how she tactically maneuvered through conversations, challenging others with a grace that had you hooked. Every time she met your eyes after silencing an executive’s weak argument, you felt that pang of proudness with something more dangerous hidding there—desire.

It became more than professionalism. It was the way her fingers brushed against yours when she handed you documents, how her breath would hitch just barely when she stood close to you to discuss quarterly reports. That composed exterior of hers cracked just enough for you to notice how deeply the tension simmered beneath the surface.

But you kept it together. After all, you were the CEO. Control was what you thrived on. You had never let anyone, especially someone under your employ, cause you to lose your grip on that power. Until that day, damn that fucking day.

━━━━━━☆━━━━━━

It was right after a meeting, but it wasn't as perfect as usual. You could feel your anger boiling inside you, the marketing group of the company did quick and bad reports and handed them to Karina. You both walked to your office, Karina was more worried about your state after rescheduling the meeting and organizing one with the marketing group that day in a few hours.

"Do you want a glass of water, maybe some iced tea?" Karina asked, her voice soft but laced with concern as she watched you angrily pull at the tie of your perfectly tailored suit. Her eyes trailed over your movements, the slow reveal of skin as you undid the top button of your shirt. She should have been focused on calming you down, but instead, she was mesmerized by the way your chest rose and fell with each frustrated breath.

"Karina, I'm so fucking mad," you snapped, tossing the tie onto the chair as you collapsed into it. "They had a month to do this, and the work looks like a first-year university student could have done it better." You slammed the papers on your desk, the sound echoing through the room, but it was the sight of you sinking into the chair, head thrown back and eyes closed in an attempt to relax, that caught her attention.

She was supposed to be concerned, worried about the upcoming meeting, but all she could focus on was the way your shirt opened slightly at the top, revealing the valley of your breasts. Her gaze lingered there longer than it should have. She liked you like this—angry, vulnerable, undone.

"I'm going to bring some iced tea and let you relax until the meeting with the marketing team," Karina said softly, doing a small bow. You opened your eyes at her gesture, watching her.

"Don't come to the meeting with the group. You can go early today, Karina," you replied, standing up and grabbing your tie once more. As you slipped it back on, you glanced in the mirror a few feet away from your desk, your reflection staring back at you, still tense from the mess earlier. "And don’t worry, I’ll go get my tea. I need some fresh air."

Your purse and phone in hand, you walked toward Karina, stopping right in front of her. She stood still, her wide eyes following your every move. Without thinking too much, you reached out, wrapping her in a small hug. Her body stiffened in surprise as you pressed a soft kiss to her cheek.

"Thank you for everything you’ve done, Karina," you whispered. "I don’t know what I would do without you."

The sincerity in your voice lingered in the air, and before she could react, you pulled away and walked out of the office, leaving Karina standing there, frozen in place. Her mind raced, still processing the fact that you—her boss, the person she'd been secretly harboring a crush on for months—had just kissed her.

She turned slowly, her gaze fixed on your hips swaying as you walked away, the loose fabric of your office pants hanging just right. She swallowed hard, heat flooding her cheeks as her thoughts ran wild. She’d always admired the way you moved, the confidence that radiated from you even in moments of frustration. But seeing you like this, relaxed, offering a rare glimpse of your softer side—it was almost too much.

For a moment, she stood in the empty office, her fingers brushing over the spot on her cheek where your lips had touched. She replayed your words over and over in her mind. "I don’t know what I would do without you."

Her heart raced, her mind torn between professionalism and the burning attraction that had been growing for months. She wondered if you knew. If you felt it too.

Hours had passed since your kiss on her cheek, and Karina had tried her best to focus on her work, but the tension had only grown more unbearable. She watched you as you worked late into the evening, your brow furrowed as you wrapped up some final documents. The sight of you, so composed, so in control, only made her more restless.

Karina shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her panties soaked through as her body responded to the images that wouldn’t stop playing in her mind—your lips against her cheek, the warmth of your embrace, the casual dominance you exuded. She couldn't take it anymore.

Excusing herself quietly, she slipped out of the office and headed straight for the bathroom. The building was nearly empty by now, long after most employees had gone home. Her steps quickened as she entered the spacious corporate bathroom, relief flooding her as she realized there were no cameras, no one to catch her in this state.

She felt a mix of shame and desire as she jumped to the large sink, giving her back to the mirror, her breath shaky as she slipped her fingers under her skirt and tugged her soaked panties down. The cool air hit her damp entrance, making her shiver. Karina bit her lip, her fingers grazing her slit as she sat on the edge of the sink, her legs spread wide.

Her mind wandered immediately back to you—the way you had looked at her earlier, the way your lips brushed her cheek, the heat of your body so close to hers. She imagined your hands on her, how strong and sure they would feel, gripping her hips, pulling her against you.

She moaned softly, her fingers circling her clit as she closed her eyes, losing herself in the fantasy. She could see you now, standing in front of her, watching her with that same cocky smile you always had in meetings. Your eyes dark with lust, your chest pressing against hers as you leaned in, your breath hot against her skin.

"Fuck, just like that boss." she moaned lowly, her other hand grabbing her breast to add pleasure.

Karina's breath hitched as she dipped her fingers inside herself, imagining it was you, your hands roaming her body, claiming her. Her hips bucked instinctively, chasing the pleasure that was building inside her. She bit down on her lip, hard, to keep herself from crying out as her fingers worked faster, plunging in and out of her soaked entrance.

She could picture it so vividly—the way your lips would feel on hers, rough and demanding, the way you would push her up against the wall of your office, your body dominating hers completely. She wanted it. God, she wanted you. She wanted you to take control, to take her apart piece by piece until there was nothing left but pure, raw desire.

“Oh… Y/N…” Karina moaned, her voice barely a whisper in the empty bathroom, but it felt deafening to her ears. The way your name slipped past her lips only fueled the heat burning inside her. She pressed her fingers deeper, her slick walls clenching around them as she imagined it was you filling her, your hands all over her body, dominating her just like she craved.

Her breath came in short, ragged gasps as her hips rocked against her hand. Each stroke of her fingers was a reminder of how much she wanted you, how much she needed you to claim her. In her mind, she could feel your hands gripping her hips, pulling her roughly against you, your lips trailing heated kisses down her neck, leaving marks that only she would know were there.

“More… please,” she whimpered, her other hand teasing her breast through the fabric of her blouse, pinching her nipple between her fingers. The sensation made her arch her back, pressing harder against the cold mirror behind her. The contrast between the chill of the glass and the heat of her body sent shivers down her spine.

Karina’s movements became more frantic, her fingers plunging deeper and faster inside her dripping core as she imagined the moment when you’d finally snap. When you’d push her onto your desk, your eyes dark with lust, and tear off her clothes without a second thought. She could see the look on your face—the raw desire as you took control, your lips crashing against hers in a bruising kiss, your body pressing her into submission.

The fantasy felt so real that Karina could almost taste your lips, feel the roughness of your touch as you claimed her in every way she’d dreamed of. Her hips bucked wildly, chasing the orgasm that was quickly building, her body trembling with need.

“Y/N… fuck, please…” Her voice was hoarse, barely more than a breath as her body teetered on the edge. The slick sounds of her fingers moving in and out of her soaked entrance filled the bathroom, the echo only making her wetter.

And then it hit her—a blinding wave of pleasure that ripped through her, making her whole body tremble. Her back arched violently, her legs shaking as she came hard, her walls clenching around her fingers. A strangled moan escaped her lips, and she quickly bit down on her hand to stifle the sound, her heart pounding in her chest.

She sat there for a moment, slumped against the sink, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her body was still buzzing with the aftershocks of her orgasm, her fingers coated in her arousal. She stared at herself in the mirror, her flushed cheeks and slightly disheveled hair a stark contrast to the composed secretary she tried so hard to be around you.

But she knew that no matter how hard she tried to hide it, the desire she felt for you wasn’t going away. If anything, it was growing stronger, more unbearable by the day. She couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if you ever found out. Would you push her away? Or would you give in to the same temptation that haunted her every waking thought?

With a sigh, Karina quickly cleaned herself up and adjusted her clothes, trying to shake off the guilt that always seemed to follow these moments of weakness. But as she made her way back to her desk, one thing was clear—her need for you wasn’t just a passing fantasy.

When she opened the bathroom door, she saw you standing behind it, your cheeks red, but not as much as hers. Her solution? To ran to her stuff and to the stairs to leave the building. She was fucked, really fucked.

Karina’s heart dropped into her stomach the moment she opened the bathroom door. There you were, standing right outside, your eyes widening slightly as you met her gaze. The air between you felt heavy, charged with something undeniable, and the color on your cheeks gave away more than you probably intended. You knew. You must’ve heard her.

Her body froze for a split second, panic flooding her veins. She could see the flicker of curiosity, perhaps even amusement, in your eyes, but it only made her more anxious. She couldn’t face you—not after what she had just done, not with the sound of your name still lingering on her lips from the pleasure she’d just experienced.

Without a word, Karina darted past you, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. Her mind screamed at her to leave, to escape before she made things even worse. She didn’t dare look back as she sprinted toward her desk, her heart racing as she gathered her things in a hurried frenzy. She grabbed her bag and her coat, her fingers trembling as she fumbled with the zipper.

I'm fucked. I'm so fucking fucked.

The thoughts ran wild in her mind as she turned toward the stairs, desperate to leave the building before she had to confront you again. She couldn’t bear the thought of what you must be thinking. How long had you been standing there? Did you hear her moaning your name?

She nearly tripped over her own feet as she stumbled into the stairwell, the pounding of her heartbeat louder than her footsteps echoing in the empty space. She needed to get away—far away. Her mind was spinning, her arousal now tainted with overwhelming guilt and embarrassment. What had she done? What if you called her out? What if this ruined everything?

But as she reached the bottom floor, panting from both the run and the sheer panic consuming her, one thing stuck in her mind like an anchor:

You had been standing there. Watching her.

Karina's hands trembled as she unlocked her apartment door, barely registering the sound of it closing behind her as she hurried inside. Her mind was a blur of panic and humiliation, replaying the moment over and over again. You had been there, watching her—how much had you seen? How much had you heard?

She dropped her bag onto the floor, rushing to her desk. Her laptop sat in its usual spot, but tonight, it felt like a lifeline—a way to escape the nightmare she’d created for herself. Without thinking twice, Karina opened it, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she opened her email.

She couldn’t stay. She couldn’t face you after this. The shame was too much. She had crossed a line, and now there was no going back. Her thoughts raced as she typed out the words, her heart pounding in her chest.

Subject: Resignation Letter

Y/N, I apologize for my actions earlier today. I crossed a line I shouldn’t have, and I understand if you’ve lost any respect for me. I’ve been dealing with some personal feelings that I should never have let interfere with my work, and for that, I’m truly sorry. Effective immediately, I will be resigning from my position as your secretary. Please know that I have nothing but the utmost respect for you as a leader and a person, and I deeply regret putting our professional relationship at risk. I will come in tomorrow to submit my official resignation letter and collect my belongings. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. Sincerely, Karina.

She stared at the words on the screen, her chest tightening as she hovered over the send button. It felt like the only solution, the only way to escape the weight of her mistake.

With a deep breath, she pressed send.

The email disappeared from her screen, and with it, a part of her felt like it was breaking. All the late nights, all the effort she’d put into working for you—it was all coming to an end because of one moment of weakness.

Her phone buzzed on the desk, pulling her out of her spiraling thoughts. She picked it up, her breath catching in her throat when she saw it was a message from you.

Y/N: Karina, we need to talk. Since tomorrow is Saturday and in Chuseok the building is closed, I invite you to have a meeting in my house because I don't find it appropriate to talk about this at a restaurant. This is the direction: xxx-xxx-xx and please be there at 3pm Punctual.

Her stomach dropped.

Karina stared at the message, her heart pounding in her chest as her mind raced. You weren’t angry in the text, at least not from what she could tell, but there was a seriousness in your words that sent chills down her spine. A meeting at your house? The thought alone made her dizzy. What did you want to talk about? Did you see more than she realized?

She bit her lip, pacing around her living room as anxiety gnawed at her. She had already sent the resignation email, but this meeting seemed to complicate everything. If she didn’t show up, it would make things worse—like she was running from the situation. But going to your house? That was a whole different level of intimidation.

The clock ticked away the minutes as Karina stood frozen, unsure of what to do. The image of you standing outside the bathroom, watching her, flashed in her mind again. Had you seen her? Heard her moan your name? Her legs felt weak at the thought. God, why did I let it get this far?

But there was no escaping it now. You had invited her, and Karina knew she couldn’t avoid this confrontation forever. She needed to face you, if only to try and salvage some semblance of professionalism—or at least to explain herself.

The next day arrived too quickly, and Karina found herself standing outside your house at exactly 3 p.m., her nerves threatening to consume her as she raised her hand to knock. She was dressed conservatively, trying to hide the turmoil she felt inside, but her palms were sweating, and her heart wouldn’t stop racing.

Before her hand even made contact with the door, it swung open, and there you were. Dressed casually in a pair of slacks and a simple blouse, your eyes met hers, and Karina’s breath hitched. You looked calm, composed, yet there was something intense in your gaze—something that made her skin tingle with anticipation.

“Karina,” you said softly, stepping aside to let her in. “Come in.”

She hesitated for a moment before stepping over the threshold, her heart pounding in her chest. The atmosphere inside your house was warm, comfortable, but the tension between the two of you was undeniable.

You led her to a sitting area, and as Karina took a seat, she couldn’t help but notice how close you were to her, your presence overpowering in the quiet space. Her mind was racing, her pulse quickening as she tried to figure out what you were thinking.

“You sent me an email,” you started, your tone neutral, but there was something unreadable in your eyes. “About your resignation.”

Karina swallowed hard, nodding slightly, unable to find the words to speak. Her hands fidgeted in her lap, the weight of your gaze making her squirm.

“I read it.” You leaned back slightly, your eyes never leaving hers. “But I’m not accepting it.”

Her heart skipped a beat, her eyes widening in shock. “Y-you’re not?”

You shook your head. “No. I think there’s more to talk about before we make any decisions.” Your voice softened as you leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees. “Karina… you're one of my best employees, you know how many people I had to fight for them to not give you corporate cards? I can't loose you for that.”

Karina's heart was pounding, her pulse racing as she listened to your words. She couldn't believe what she was hearing—after everything, you still wanted her to stay. Her fingers trembled in her lap, the tension between the two of you thick and palpable.

"You fought for me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, still processing the gravity of your words. It wasn’t just about her job performance; it was something deeper. The weight of your gaze made her stomach flutter.

You gave a small nod, your eyes softening as they locked onto hers. “Of course I did. You’re invaluable to this company, and to me. The way you handle things, how you think on your feet… I couldn’t ask for a better secretary. But this”—your eyes flicked down to her nervously fidgeting hands—“this situation is something we need to talk about."

Karina’s mouth went dry, her throat tightening as the reality of the situation settled in. She had crossed a line, and now you were confronting it head-on, yet there was no anger in your voice, just a calm determination. It was the part of you that had always drawn her in—your ability to remain composed, even when things got messy.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. “I never meant for you to… I mean, I didn’t think you’d see—”

“I did see,” you interrupted gently, standing up and moving around the coffee table to sit directly beside her on the couch. The closeness sent a jolt of electricity through her body. “And I’m not upset, Karina.”

Her head snapped up, eyes wide in confusion. “You’re not?”

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “No. If anything…” You leaned in, your voice dropping to a whisper, “It made things clearer for me.”

Karina’s breath hitched, her heart beating wildly in her chest as your words hung in the air. The proximity between you was almost suffocating, the heat radiating from your body making her feel dizzy.

“Clearer?” she asked, her voice trembling.

You nodded slowly, your gaze never wavering. “I’ve noticed how you look at me, Karina. How you react when I’m close. I didn’t want to cross that line either, but seeing you like that…” You paused, letting the weight of your words sink in. “It made me realize I want this just as much as you do.”

Karina’s world tilted on its axis. She had been consumed by guilt, certain that her feelings were one-sided and inappropriate, but here you were, confessing that you felt the same pull toward her. Her breath caught in her throat as she searched your eyes for any hint of uncertainty, but all she saw was raw desire.

“I…” Karina’s words failed her, her mind spinning as she tried to comprehend what was happening. She wanted to say something, anything, but the only thing she could think about was how close you were—how easy it would be to close the gap between you.

"Don't say anything. You can leave now. See you at the office and have a good Chuseok." You stood up, the moment hanging heavy in the air, charged with the unspoken tension that enveloped you both. Karina remained seated, her eyes wide, still trying to process your confession. The room felt smaller, the air thicker, and every heartbeat echoed in the silence between you.

“Wait—” Karina finally managed, her voice barely above a whisper. She looked up at you, desperation mingling with uncertainty. “You can’t just leave it like that. You can’t just drop a bombshell and walk away!”

You hesitated, your hand resting on the back of the chair as you turned to face her. “What do you want me to say? I’ve been trying to keep things professional, but this… whatever this is between us… it’s becoming impossible to ignore.”

Karina stood, the urgency in her movements belying the vulnerability she felt. “I don’t want to ignore it. I want to understand it. I want to understand us.”

You took a deep breath, the weight of her words sinking in. You’d never imagined you would find yourself in this position, torn between your responsibilities as her boss and the undeniable chemistry that crackled between you. “I’m afraid of what this means. I don’t want to jeopardize your career, or mine,” you admitted, your voice softer now.

Karina stepped closer, her determination shining through. “I’m not worried about that. I’ve wanted this for so long. Just… give me a chance to show you that it can work. That we can make this work.”

Her earnestness tugged at something deep within you. You wanted to say yes, to take a leap into the unknown with her. But the weight of your positions, the risks involved—it all held you back.

“Just… give me time to think,” you finally replied, your voice tinged with regret. “I need to sort through my feelings and figure out what this means for us.”

“Okay,” Karina said, her voice low but resolute. “I’ll wait. Just don’t take too long.”

As you walked toward the door, you felt her gaze on your back, a hopeful one. You paused for a moment, glancing back at her. “Enjoy your Chuseok, Karina. I hope it’s a good one.”

With that, Karina stepped out of the house, the door clicking shut behind her.

━━━━━━☆━━━━━━

All of that led you both to this moment a month and half later, each of you unable to keep your eyes off each other. Karina had taken things to a new level; her outfits had transformed into a tantalizing display that left little to the imagination. The long pencil skirt that once fell to her knees now clung to her curves, shortened just enough to drive your thoughts wild. The first three buttons of her blouse were undone, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her cleavage—a line that beckoned your gaze like a forbidden invitation.

During meetings, you found it increasingly difficult to concentrate. Her confidence was intoxicating, and every sly glance exchanged felt charged with the thrill of the secret you both held. When the office was quiet, Karina would often approach you, her steps deliberate as she approached your desk with that playful smile that promised trouble.

“Need a little help?” she’d tease, leaning just close enough for you to catch a whiff of her floral perfume, a mix of sweetness and seduction that sent shivers down your spine.

You’d look up, pretending to be busy with work, though every fiber of your being was attuned to her presence. “I’m fine,” you’d reply, your voice betraying a hint of tension.

But she wouldn’t let it go. As the days went on, Karina found ways to brush against you as she leaned over your desk, her hands lightly grazing your arm while she offered suggestions on projects. The massages she gave you were discreet, her fingers kneading your shoulders just enough to bring you back to the moment yet leaving you craving more. The thrill of being caught made every touch feel electric, the boundaries of your professional relationship bending with each fleeting moment.

One afternoon, as the sun streamed through the office windows, casting a warm glow over everything and once again, everybody left, Karina slipped into your office with an almost predatory grace. She closed the door behind her, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I thought we could use a little break,” she said, her voice a sultry whisper that made your pulse quicken.

“What kind of break?” you asked, attempting to keep your tone steady, but the question hung in the air, heavy with anticipation.

With a smirk, she stepped closer, her hands finding your shoulders, fingers digging in as she started to massage you. The pressure was firm, yet gentle, and you could feel the tension of the day melting away under her skilled hands. “The kind that helps you unwind,” she murmured, leaning in closer. You could feel her breath against your ear, the warmth of her body radiating just inches from you.

You closed your eyes for a moment, allowing yourself to sink into the sensation. But the reality of your situation crashed back down. “Karina, we can’t—”

“Can’t what?” she interrupted, her tone teasing, yet a glimmer of seriousness flickered in her gaze. “Can’t enjoy what we both want?”

The boldness of her words sent your heart racing. You opened your eyes to find her staring at you with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. “This is risky,” you warned, though your voice lacked conviction. The truth was, you wanted her—needed her—but the repercussions of crossing that line were terrifying.

“Maybe it’s time to take that risk,” she replied, her fingers pausing as she searched your eyes for a sign of hesitation. “What if it could be more than just… this?”

Her words hung between you, filled with promise and temptation. In that moment, with the door locked and the world outside fading away, you realized the only thing standing in your way was fear. Karina was offering you something thrilling, something that could change everything.

Taking a deep breath, you weighed your options, your heart pounding in your chest. “What do you have in mind?” you finally asked her eyes shinning as she left your shoulder alone.

"I want to take control," she said, her voice low and sultry, laced with a challenge. The way she said it sent a shiver down your spine, awakening a part of you that craved surrender.

“Take control?” you repeated, laughing a little. “You really think you can?”

"What do you even question that? You’ll know it if you give me the chance, boss," she replied, her confidence unwavering.

You arched an eyebrow, intrigued by her boldness. “And what exactly does that entail? You think you can just waltz in here and take charge?”

Karina stepped closer, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, I don’t just think about it—I know it. You’ve felt it too, haven’t you? The way I make you feel? All that tension building between us?”

Her words struck a chord within you. The tension was undeniable; every encounter, every lingering touch had only added fuel to the fire. “Okay, let’s say I’m intrigued,” you admitted, trying to keep your tone light, though the seriousness of the situation settled over you like a heavy blanket. “What’s your plan?”

"I'm starting like this." Karina grabbed the back of your neck, her lips connecting with yours in a surprising kiss.

The sensation hit you like a jolt of electricity, igniting every nerve ending as she pressed into you, her warmth enveloping you completely. It was unexpected but thrilling, a rush of passion that sent your heart racing. You found yourself leaning into the kiss, your hands instinctively moving to her waist, drawing her even closer.

Karina deepened the kiss, her mouth moving against yours with a fervor that took your breath away. It felt both exhilarating and forbidden, the world outside fading as you lost yourself in the moment. You could taste the sweetness of her lips, a tantalizing promise of everything that could unfold between you.

As the kiss lingered, you felt her fingers tighten around your neck, grounding you in the dizzying rush of desire. Every worry about the implications of this moment melted away, leaving only the raw need that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long.

Finally, Karina pulled back slightly, her breath mingling with yours, her eyes dark with desire. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” she teased, a satisfied smile playing on her lips.

"Oh, shut up," you shot back playfully, your need for her burning brighter than ever. This time, it was your turn. You leaned in, capturing her lips in a heated kiss.

Karina moaned into the kiss, and as you introduced your tongue into her mouth, the taste of her sweetness consumed you. You hissed as she playfully bit down on your tongue, the mix of pleasure and pain igniting a deeper craving within you.

In one swift motion, she pulled off the coat of your suit, casting it aside like it was nothing. The sudden exposure of your blouse made your heart race, but you didn’t have time to process it before she ripped the buttons off, leaving your blouse gaping open.

“Karina!” you gasped, a mix of shock and exhilaration washing over you.

“I’m buying you another one,” she replied with a wicked grin, her voice dripping with mischief. With that, she tossed your bra aside, her mouth immediately finding one of your nipples.

The sensation of her warm mouth enveloping you sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You couldn’t help but arch your back, pressing into her as she expertly teased and tugged with her lips. Every flick of her tongue made you gasp, each pull drawing you deeper into a haze of desire.

You were losing yourself in the moment, your mind swirling with sensations as you surrendered to her completely. The office, the risk, everything outside faded into oblivion. All that mattered was the heat building between you, the way she took charge and the way you willingly followed. Her fingers moved deftly to the zipper of your skirt, pulling it down and letting it pool around your ankles. The cool air rushed against your skin, mixing with the heat radiating from your core, which only heightened your arousal.

As the skirt dropped to the floor, you felt her fingers slide down your thighs, coating them with the wetness that had begun to gather at your entrance. It sent a shiver up your spine, and you couldn’t help but gasp at the sensation. The anticipation was almost unbearable; you wanted her to take you, to fill that yearning space inside you.

“Sit on the desk,” she commanded, her voice low and sultry. Without hesitation, you did as she said, climbing onto the polished surface. The cool wood felt exhilarating against your heated skin, and you leaned back slightly, watching her with eager eyes.

Karina started to take off her own clothes, slowly peeling away the layers that separated you. She was intoxicating, her confidence radiating as she left only her bra and underwear on. With a practiced grace, she gathered her hair into an updo, ensuring not a single strand fell across her face. The sight of her—barely clothed, focused, and so undeniably in control—made your heart race.

“Karina…” you breathed, your voice laced with need.

Without responding, she got on her knees, her face hovering just in front of your entrance. The proximity made your breath hitch, every nerve ending alive with anticipation. The moment felt electric, as if the very air around you crackled with tension.

“Are you ready for this?” she asked, her voice a sultry whisper that sent a jolt of excitement through you.

You nodded, unable to form coherent words, your mind too consumed with the sensation of having her so close. “Just give it to me,” you finally managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Needy girl,” she replied, her eyes darkening with hunger. She leaned in closer, her breath warm against your sensitive skin, and you could feel every ounce of her intention radiating toward you.

Her tongue darted out, teasingly brushing against your entrance, sending a rush of sensation through your body. You gasped, instinctively pushing your hips forward, craving more of her touch. Karina grinned, clearly enjoying your reaction, and with a gentle but firm grip, she held your thighs apart, making sure you were completely open for her.

With deliberate slowness, she began to explore you with her tongue, swirling and teasing as she expertly drew out every moan that slipped past your lips. You couldn’t help but writhe on the desk, your body responding to her every movement, each flick and caress sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

“Karina,” you gasped, the name escaping your lips like a prayer. “That feels so good.”

She responded by intensifying her ministrations, adding pressure and speed as she buried her face deeper between your thighs. The world around you blurred, every thought dissolving into pure ecstasy. You could feel the knot of tension tightening within you, ready to unravel at any moment.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” she murmured against you, the vibrations of her voice sending another wave of pleasure shooting through your body. “So responsive.”

You gripped the edge of the desk, your knuckles turning white as you fought to keep your composure. It was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain any semblance of control. “I’m close,” you breathed, your voice trembling with urgency.

“Let go,” she urged, her tone both commanding and coaxing. “I’ve got you.”

With those words, you surrendered completely to the pleasure, allowing yourself to be swept away in the tide of sensation. Every flick of her tongue, every gentle suckle sent you spiraling closer to the edge. The world faded away completely; there was only you and Karina, entwined in this moment of unrestrained desire.

As she worked you closer to the brink, you felt the tension building higher and higher, your body coiling like a spring ready to snap. “Karina! I can’t hold on much longer!” you cried out, your voice echoing in the quiet office.

“Come on, baby,” she murmured, her eyes locking onto yours with a smoldering intensity. “Let it all out. I want to feel you come apart for me.”

With a final flick of her tongue, she sent you over the edge. A rush of pleasure flooded through you, and you gasped as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over your body. You cried out her name, the sound echoing in the air as you felt yourself surrender completely, unraveling in her grasp.

Karina didn’t relent, continuing to pleasure you through your climax, her tongue coaxing every last bit of sensation from you until you were left breathless and trembling on the desk.

“Lay on the desk, you’re going to eat me out,” she commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument. With a swift motion, she pushed everything off your desk, scattering papers and office supplies to the floor without a second thought. You barely registered the chaos as your heart raced with excitement and anticipation.

As you settled back onto the desk, you watched her climb up, her movements fluid and enticing. The sight of her—the way she gracefully positioned herself—only added to your arousal. She leaned down, capturing your lips in a messy, passionate kiss. You could taste yourself on her lips, the mingling flavors driving you wild. It was intoxicating, and you found yourself melting into her touch.

She separated from you to take her panties off, making you lick your lips in anticipation. Karina positioned herself, kneeling on the desk at the side of your face, exposing her glistening core to you. You could see how she was clenching around nothing, her body eager and ready for your touch.

“Come on, boss. Own me,” she urged, her voice sultry and filled with need. You grabbed her thighs, feeling the heat radiating from her skin, and pushed her down, your mouth finally making contact with her entrance. As your tongue brushed against her, her hands went straight to your hair, fingers gripping tightly as she gasped for air.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl,” she breathed, her words igniting a fire deep within you. You felt the thrill of pleasure radiate through you at her praise, pushing you to dive deeper into her sweetness.

You began to lick and tease her, your tongue exploring her folds with an eager hunger. Each stroke was met with a delightful response from Karina, her moans sending vibrations of pleasure through you. You could feel her body responding, the way her hips instinctively moved toward your mouth, urging you to take her deeper.

As you continued, you found a rhythm that seemed to drive her wild. The taste of her arousal filled your senses, intoxicating and addictive. You focused on her clit, swirling your tongue around the sensitive nub, watching as her body reacted with every flick and teasing stroke.

“Just like that,” she encouraged, her voice a mix of desperation and delight. “Don’t stop.”

You loved the way she felt beneath you, the way her body writhed with pleasure as you brought her closer to the edge. Her hands tangled in your hair, pulling you closer as if trying to mold you into exactly what she needed. Each gasp and moan fueled your desire to give her everything you had.

“Please, don’t hold back,” she begged, her voice trembling with urgency. “Fuck me, please.”

With a wicked grin, you lifted your gaze to meet hers, locking eyes as you plunged your tongue deeper inside her. The sight of her pleasure, the way her back arched and her breath quickened, drove you to push harder, to give her every ounce of pleasure you could muster.

Karina’s gasps turned into cries, each one a beautiful melody that echoed in the dimly lit office. You loved the power of bringing her to this point, of watching her unravel before you. “You taste so good,” you murmured against her, the vibrations only intensifying the sensations coursing through her.

“God, I’m so close,” she cried out, her voice strained as she clung to you. “Don’t stop, don’t you dare stop!”

You obliged, working your tongue with renewed vigor, alternating between teasing licks and deep thrusts as you sought to bring her to the brink. Her body quivered, her breaths coming in short, desperate gasps as you coaxed her toward the edge.

“Cum for me, Karina,” you urged, your voice dripping with lust as you gave a spank in each of her asscheeks, causing her to jump. “Can you also be a good slut?.”

With that encouragement, you felt her tighten around you, her body trembling as the pleasure surged through her. “Oh my God, yes!” she cried, her voice echoing in the quiet room as she let go, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave.

You savored the moment, relishing the taste of her release as it washed over your tongue. Karina’s body shook beneath you, the sound of her moans filling your ears as you continued to pleasure her through the waves of ecstasy.

Finally, as her body began to relax, you pulled back, gazing up at her with a satisfied grin. “You were incredible,” you said, your heart racing from the intensity of the experience.

Karina looked down at you, breathless and flushed, her eyes sparkling with satisfaction. “You have no idea how much I needed that,” she replied, a smile breaking across her face.

You couldn’t help but return her smile, the connection between you deeper than ever. “I think I’m starting to understand,” you said, your voice soft but filled with promise.

"Let's go to my place," Karina said, her face still showing the bliss of the moment.

"Can I ask why?" you said, smiling at her state.

"I have a double penetration dildo and a strap on I want to use on you,"

↷ 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚢'𝚜 note: first wlw work, kinda nervous. Also this work will have 3 parts, this is the 1/3 🦋

[srslyblvck]

a dare too far, james potter [ part I ]

pairing: james potter x fem!reader

synopsis: james was dared to make you fall in love with him. unknown to him, he was falling for you too. But soon the truth comes out, and you are left heartbroken.

genre: angst

warnings: mentions of y/n, heartbreak

word count: 1k

part II

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ JAMES POTTER AND HIS friends, the infamous Marauders, were no strangers to trouble. Challenges, dares, and pranks fueled their Hogwarts days. This particular afternoon was no different as the four of them lounged on the couch in the Gryffindor common room.

"I dare you, Sirius, to go two whole weeks without getting detention," Remus said, a sly smile on his face.

Sirius scoffed, dramatically putting a hand over his heart. "Two weeks? You’re a sadist, Moony. But fine, I’ll take that bet."

Peter snickered. “It’ll be a miracle if you last even a day.”

With a smirk, Sirius turned toward James, mischief sparking in his eyes. “Alright, James. My turn. I dare you to… make her fall for you.”

James raised an eyebrow, confused. “Who?”

Sirius grinned wickedly and pointed in your direction, where you sat quietly in the corner of the common room, engrossed in a book. “Her. Y/N. The one who barely talks to anyone except her friends. The shy, sweet one. I dare you to make her fall for you.”

James followed Sirius’s gaze, frowning slightly. You were the girl who had always intrigued him—pretty, kind, and gentle, but mysterious in your quietness. You had rejected plenty of suitors over the years, always softly turning them down without ever coming off as harsh or rude. You weren’t one to make waves, yet people admired you for your kind heart.

Remus immediately sat up, his brow furrowed. “Hold on, Sirius. That’s not funny.”

“Yeah, Moony’s right,” Peter chimed in. “You can’t mess with her like that. It’s just… wrong.”

Sirius waved them off. “Oh, come on. It’s just a bit of fun.”

But Remus wasn’t laughing. “It’s playing with someone’s feelings.”

“James can handle it, can’t you, Prongs?” Sirius grinned, looking over at James.

James hesitated, glancing at you once more. The truth was, his heart still ached for Lily Evans, but she seemed as unreachable as ever. Maybe, just maybe, if he made you fall for him, it would make Lily jealous. Maybe she’d finally notice him.

With a shrug, James smirked. “Challenge accepted.”

Remus and Peter exchanged a look of disapproval, but Sirius clapped James on the back. “Atta boy.”

Over the next few weeks, James started finding ways to enter your life. It began with simple things—sitting near you in class, offering to carry your books, sharing small jokes, and asking you questions about yourself.

At first, you were surprised. James Potter, one of the most popular boys in school, was paying attention to you? You’d seen his confidence, his charm, and his easy smile, but you’d never been interested in boys like James. You preferred your quiet life, far away from the chaos that seemed to follow him and his friends.

But James… was persistent. And he wasn’t the show-off you thought he was. He was funny, thoughtful even, and when you talked to him, he made you feel like the only person in the room. Slowly, you found yourself opening up, and soon, you began looking forward to your time with him.

Your friends noticed the change. They teased you about the time you were spending with James, but they could see you were happy. You were falling for him, even though you had tried to keep your heart guarded.

What you didn’t realize was that James was falling too. Somewhere along the way, the dare had stopped being about a challenge, and it had become about you. The warmth of your smile, the way you listened to him, the gentle kindness you always showed—James found himself craving more time with you. Even Sirius, Remus, and Peter had come to adore you. You were, after all, impossible not to love.

One late afternoon, you decided to surprise James at the library, where you knew he often went to meet Remus. As you approached the table where they were sitting, you overheard their conversation.

“Mate, how long are you going to keep this up?” Remus asked, his voice tense. “It’s not fair to her. You’re playing with her feelings.”

Your heart froze. Her?

James shifted uncomfortably. “I—It wasn’t supposed to go this far.”

Sirius chuckled lightly. “Come on, Prongs. You’re doing her a favor. She’s having the time of her life.”

You took a step closer, straining to hear, feeling a knot form in your chest.

“But I didn’t mean for it to—” James started, but Sirius interrupted.

“You’ve done your job, mate. If it gets Lily jealous, then it’s all worth it, right?”

Your blood ran cold. The realization hit you like a wave crashing over rocks. The time spent with James, the laughter, the shared moments—it was all a lie. A dare.

You couldn’t breathe. Everything between you and James had been fake. He had never cared. He had only been using you to make someone else jealous.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you stood there, frozen. You didn’t even realize James had spotted you until his voice cracked through the air.

“Y/N…”

You shook your head, your vision blurring with tears. The betrayal cut deeper than you could have imagined. You took a step back as James stood up, his hand outstretched.

“Please, Y/N, let me explain—”

But you couldn’t bear to hear it. You turned on your heel and fled, leaving James calling your name behind you.

James stood in the library, watching you leave, a sinking feeling in his chest. He wanted to chase after you, to explain, but how could he? The truth was out now, and he knew it. He had hurt you in the worst possible way.

For the first time in a long while, James Potter didn’t have the right words. He had lost you, and it was his own fault.

Sirius, Remus, and Peter sat in silence, the gravity of what had just happened settling heavily around them.

Remus sighed, his voice soft but firm. “I told you. You were playing with her heart.”

James slumped back into his chair, guilt gnawing at him. He didn’t care about the dare anymore. He didn’t care about making Lily jealous. All he cared about was the girl who had just walked out of his life—the girl he had fallen for without realizing it.

[neowinestainedress]

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 💌 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, it’s all about points of view. Or, Haechan thinks he found a way to distract you and be better than you, but doesn’t 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 i’m 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 you’ll 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 i’ve been having problems posting this and i copied it without editing it once again.

masterpost (with visuals and playlist) (i can’t post the link or else the post doesn’t show up in the tags, but you can find it on my profile)

Being number one in your academy isn’t a want, but a need.

You didn’t 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 aren’t 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 —if 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 couldn’t push him in the back of your mind.

Apparently, his goals are the same as yours, and that isn’t 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 Donghyuck’s presence started to be louder. You had nothing against him, but you quickly learned he couldn’t stand you for some reason. Rumours were quick at flying around, being passed from mouth to ear and you knew them.

You simply couldn’t care.

Yet.

Haechan doesn’t hate you. He could never do that. After all, he doesn’t 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 can’t win with you.

He also knows nothing can touch you. Not because you are unreachable and believe you’re 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 doesn’t 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 aren’t motivating him, you are driving him insane.

He doesn’t 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 —yes, of course out of all the minors, you had to choose his— 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 don’t 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.

You’ve always been comfortable in your bubble, and you’d like to keep it that way, but life has strange plans.

“Damn, always on a rush.” You recognize Haechan’s voice, but you don’t bother turning around because you’re sure he’s not addressing you. You think it’s weird he’s sitting next to you, but you blink the surprise away and grab your tablet from your bag. “Whoever put music theory at 8:30 in the morning on a Monday needs to go to jail.”

You chuckle at his comment, subtly rolling your eyes before opening the note app to go where you left it in the previous lesson.

“You write a lot.” This time you’re quite sure he’s talking to you, so your neck turns to look at him and you find him closer than you’d like him to be.

“I annotate, it’s just the essentials.”

He scans the notes quickly before scoffing. “The essentials? I don’t write as half as that.”

“Well, I think this is essential, but we all work differently,” while you’re answering him, you don’t even notice that his friend is not beside him, and you get lost in him for a second, mostly in the scent that’s filling your nostrils now that his brown jacket is so close to you.

“The professor talks too fast, how the fu— how do you get everything?” He stops himself from cursing and backs away, finally making you breathe some air that is not filled with his intoxicating perfume.

“I rewrite phrases. And, to be sure, I record the lessons, so I can re-listen to them in case something doesn’t make sense when I study them. And then I also re-write the not—”

“You record the lessons?” He almost snarls with his eyes bulging out of his skull as he, once again, stands too close to you.

“Is it illegal?” Your head tilts to the side as genuine curiosity blooms on your face.

“No, it’s… it’s…” he sighs, throwing his head back and cursing something under his breath in a tight dialect you don’t recognize. “I never thought about it.”

“Oh, well, it helps me a lot. Sometimes when I’m too tired to read I just play the lessons and memorize stuff while I do other things,” you smile, moving your hair to one side of your neck before grabbing the pen when the professor walks in. “You should try.”

“Oh, you can be sure I will.”

Haechan can’t be so stupid. He can’t believe he can be so stupid. Why didn’t he ever, ever, think about that? That’s 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 —dots that he never fills.

But he’s still sure he can’t 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 doesn’t think that it’s 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 didn’t even have one before he pushed your last nerve.

Fucking it up with you wasn’t Haechan’s 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 ‘not seeing from afar’, and he couldn’t approach you in any other circumstances. So, when you got sick for three days, he thought he could, for once, steal your spotlight.

He wasn’t sure you were sick, but he was sure enough you weren’t 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 weren’t at your best, and he could’ve 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.

“You are an asshole,” 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. “And don’t look at me with that face of ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’ because you know what I’m referring to.”

“I don’t, though…” he whispers, trying to keep a distance between you because you look scary —half bent on the table, furrowed forehead, pointing finger— and he thinks you are very motivated to reach over his neckline and strangle him.

You roll your eyes, groaning in annoyance. “You 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.”

Haechan gulps, and the table goes silent, you feel his friends’ gazes on you but they are the last thing in your mind.

“Mind to explain?”

“I… I didn’t do it on purpose?”

“You have to ask me if you are an asshole because your mother didn’t put a brain in your skull?”

“Hey, take it back!” He warns with a pointing finger, glaring at you.  

“No,” you retort, crossing your arms on your chest and standing up straight. “You sabotaged me.”

“You are making things up. Maybe you should be in the creative writing major,” Haechan taunts, a shit-eating grin on his face.  

You gasp offended, clenching your fists to avoid wrapping your hands around his neck. “You — you — ugh,” you huff. “This paper was graded! And you knew it, it’s part of the mid-course work he adds to our final grade. Why would you do that to me?”

“You think I did that on purpose?”

“When did you turn it in?” You ask and when his eyes widen you scream at his face. “See! You turned it on time. I fucking hate you!”

“I didn’t answer,” he tries to defend, a challenging edge in his voice, getting to your nerves more than the look on his face.

“First of all, I can see it in your face. You’re trying to look surprised and even scared, but you’re having the time of your life because, guess what, you can’t surpass me if you don’t play your stupid games.”

He snorts offended, gulping before leaning closer. “You think I can’t beat you?”

“It’s not what I think, it’s what the rankings say, it’s what our professors say, and it’s what all the external opportunities I’ve got say. But if you want to try to prove facts wrong, bring it on,” you shrug, grabbing your things and taking a step back. “No more dirty games from now on, Lee Donghyuck. Trust me, you don’t want me to start playing them too, you might not even see the top three if I do.”

The months to come are fire. You should keep minding your business but as soon as he opens his mouth in class you can’t press your lips together and fake it. You try, every time, but you fail.

“I just mean that the melody is what attracts people,” he argues during a discussion in the songwriting class.

You huff, shaking your head. “People care about the lyrics more.”

He scoffs loudly and the professor glares at him for the reaction but he still goes on. “People won’t listen to a song if the production sucks.”

You turn around, eyebrows pressed in a furrow. “And they won’t listen to a song if the lyrics are dumb, or tell a bad message.”

“Really? 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.”

“I love catchy pop songs, but there’s something objective in music and something subjective, if you paid attention to any of our classes you should know, right?”

The class holds back a laugh and the professor coughs, making you utter an apologize, more addressed to her than your enemy.

“Oh, trust me, I paid attention to class,” he retorts, mockingly smiling at you. “And we’re not talking about the quality but the appeal. People remember the rhythm of the song or the tune more than they remember the words.”

“And words can hold so much meaning for someone they will stick to them forever. Also, lyrics can have different interpretations and if you’re a good writer you can make one song fit for more occasions.”

“That’s dumb,” he says, looking at you up and down after scoffing. “Notes can transfer different emotions, what you said just doesn’t make sense, please.”

“Can we tone it down?” Professor Park warns, glaring at the both of you.

You nod and mutter another apology before speaking up again, “I 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 it’s telling coming from one of the best voices ever.”

“I think you both make a great point,” the professor cuts the conversation off before you can jump at each other’s throat again. “It 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 decorum…” she whispers the last word and you want to disappear because you hate the scene you gave. “But we need to move on with our lesson, so, as I was saying…”

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 would’ve worked in the song you had to write and produce and even if you smiled and said, ‘it will be really motivating,’ to avoid yelling at her face, now you want to die.

You’re sure the first two knocks on the door don’t 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 it’s 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 can’t remember.

“Oh, hi,” he cheers, big toothy smile beaming at you. “You must be here for Hyuck, right?”

You hum, nodding and murmuring, “Yes, I have to work on a project with Haechan.”

“Come in.”

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.

“Mark, can you lower the music?”

“Music is what I’m studying, I can’t,” the man you know well replies. “Why don’t you keep your pencil close to you? Jesus, there’s graphite everywhere.”

“You’re so annoying, I can’t go in my room, Jeno still didn’t take down the light boxes,” the brown-haired replies, sending a death glare to the boy at his side who quickly replies to his defence.  

“Hey, I finished shooting half an hour ago and now I have an essay to write, leave me alone.”

“They’re entertaining, aren’t they?” Haechan’s 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.

“Surely more entertaining than you,” 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 —Jaemin— and coming next to you. “You don’t know where my room is yet, so if you’d like to follow me.”

You trail behind him, waving at the men around the table but it’s clear that none of them even noticed your presence. Luckily for you, Donghyuck’s 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.

“So, do you have anything in mind?” 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. “Wanted to hear from you first. Since the melody is so crucial, we should start from that,” you mock in a fake-sweet tone, and you feel his glare on your skin.

“You truly are a pain in the ass, you know?” He scoffs, moving his hair out of his face, gaze fixed on you.

“And for what? Because I agreed with your theory?”

“If you have a melody in mind it’s easier to make the words flow.”

“If the melody has nothing to do with the idea, you only have some notes and not a song.”

Now that there aren’t 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 it’s weird to be this close to a stranger you can’t stand.

“Okay, Miss Taylor Swift, why don’t you enlighten me and show me what you got?”

You glare at him but he’s unfazed, holding the eye contact proudly. “My lyrics will be better than your production.”

“And are those lyrics in the room with us?”

“God,” you groan, throwing your hands in the air and your head back. “You drive me insane.”

“And you are pretentious and still never prove all the things that that little, bratty, annoying mouth of yours says.”

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.

“If we want a great result and good grades, we need good lyrics and a good melody,” you say, calmly facing him again, slowly watching as his face softens. “My words and your production. I don’t 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.”

“Now you’re making some sense,” he exclaims, smiling widely before patting the top of your head. “So that head is not empty.”

“Oh, seriously? I’m trying to have a truce, and you fuck it all up again?”

“No, sorry, I just think you’re really smart when it comes to college but a bit annoying when it comes to life.”

“You’re just mad you can’t beat me.”

“I can,” he retorts smugly.  

“Then why don’t you do it?” You tease, cocking your head to the side.

Haechan scoffs, lips twitching in a quick smirk before he wets them. “I didn’t yet, but are you so sure I won’t?” He whispers, breath colliding with your lips and nose brushing yours, your brain doesn’t 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.

“Time will — time will prove us,” you say, turning to the desk and scratching your neck. “Time will tell us, not prove us.”

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 isn’t 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, can’t be done in one week.

Yet, you think you’ll 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.

“Why are you studying in the middle of the week?”

“You know, if I had to replicate a sound every time we start a conversation it would be ‘and now, I just want to sit back and relax and enjoy my evening, when all of a sudden I hear this agitating grating voice,’ and that is the sound that plays in my mind, actually.”

“Grating? Really?”

“Well, it’s the quote but it fits,” you reply sternly, bringing your attention back to the book. “Also, the question is not, why am I studying, but why aren’t you? How will you beat me if you don’t?” You wink, laughing under your breath. You don’t 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 he’s 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.

“I am studying.”

“No, you’re not,” you reply, eyes widening when he rips a page from your notebook and a pen from your case. “So, what have you learned since now?”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes to the sky and instead run a hand on your face while sighing deeply. There’s just no way to get rid of him, right?

“You don’t even know what I’m studying.”

“Sound design,” he replies promptly, and you look down to see if he could’ve gotten a grasp from your books but there’s a paper on it and there’s not much written on it. Haechan smiles and moves to the chair next to you. “It’s because I started it too, there are too many notions, it would be a suicide to wait for the finals.”

“Oh, so you do something else other than think about me,” you tease, nudging him with your leg.

“Hey! I don’t think about you,” he replies firmly, frowning.

“Sure,” you huff, waving him off. “So, what do you know?”

“Well, all the basis we learnt last year, so the definition of sound, the path it follows, how it’s 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.”

You smile, content with the reply but you want to test him more. “What about the five characteristics of sound?”

“You think that’s a difficult one?” He asks, almost disappointed at the easiness of your question.

“Well, if you want to impress me so bad, I could ask you to list all the types of compressors?”

“You already know that?” He questions, quirking a brow, trying to think why he doesn’t remember them. “Wait, we didn’t do that in class.”

You laugh. “See, you’re witty. No, we haven’t done that yet, but since you love producing so much, I thought you knew it as personal knowledge.”

“Why do you talk as if you don’t want to do the same job as mine?” There’s a bit of annoyance in his tone, but there’s genuine curiosity in his eyes.

You shrug, pressing your lips together before diverting your gaze.

Haechan gasps. “Don’t tell me you don’t know what you want to do, yet, because I won’t believe it.”

“It’s not that I don’t know,” you reply, a low huff leaving your lips. “I’d like to try different things out, being a PR manager sounds interesting too. And I’m also pretty good at dancing, so that could be a career path.”

“It’s a shame we didn’t start practical courses, I would love to see you dance.”

“Yeah, sure, so you can mock me some more,” you groan.

He shakes his head. “No, you wouldn’t enroll in a program if you weren’t absolutely perfect at it, so I can’t come at your skills.”

“You’re so kind, I think I might love you,” 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.

“And by the way, I know the characteristics of sound,” he says, right next to your face.  

You smile and think to yourself that this might be fun. “Good, go on and tell me.”

You don’t get why Haechan’s roommate bicker so much. Not that you could lecture them when, as soon as you walk inside his room, your talks won’t 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.

“Donghyuck left you all alone?” 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 —you have Haechan to worry about now.

“Yep, told me to be here at 2 pm just to be in the shower instead,” you reply with a tight smile on your face that makes him laugh and scroll the black hair out of his face.

“My fault,” he explains while pouring himself a glass. “I convinced him to stay at the basketball field when we finished and he couldn’t meet up with you smelling like rotten leftovers forgotten under the august sun.”

“Creative writing?” You ask after you chuckle at his description.

“Nope, photography, Renjun’s worst nightmare.”

You laugh. “It’s because you leave all those big things around his room, right?”

“Our room,” he says, empathising on the first word.

“Okay, communism king, your room but I don’t think your comrade is happy about it.”

Jeno laughs, and hums before gulping down a sip of water. “I’m not rich yet to afford a studio so he’ll have to deal with his bestie working, sweating, and crying his way to the top.”

“You could’ve been a nepo baby and have everything handed to you.”

“Sucks not to be one. I wouldn’t even bother being in Uni, just leaving my best life with my camera and daddy’s money.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Haechan says entering the kitchen, hair still damp and casual housewear on.

“None of your business,” you reply, placing the glass in the sink and walking to the door. “Come on, we have a song to create. It could be our first Billboard number one.”

Haechan sighs, snatching the bottle of water from Jeno’s hand, briefly confused at his grinning face, and then follows you quickly.

“Are you trying to hit on my friends?” He asks, closing the door behind.

“Would you mind?”

“Yes, I’d hate having to deal with you in our group hangouts.”

“You already deal with me. More than you should since you always come to me even when we could not be together,” you say, tilting your head to the side, and sitting on your assigned chair. “Are you perhaps jealous? Do you want me all to yourself?”

“Nah, you can go and fuck all of them right no—”

“Okay,” you don’t even let him finish and you’re at the door, but he springs after you and stops you.

“What are you doing? I was kidding!”

“Why? Since when you can tell me what to do?”

Haechan groans and drags you back to your place, but he doesn’t sit just yet, he’s bent over to be close to you. “I 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 don’t care.”

“You’d be mad you won’t be part of it,” you joke, having the time of your life watching his pissed-off expression as he stomps loudly back at his place. “Accept that you will never win with me, and maybe you won’t be so triggered every time we talk.”

“Shit, it’s late,” you murmur, lifting your head from the lyrics you’re trying to write down. Now you got the theme —it’s a love song that you hope won’t turn lame— 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.

“Don’t you think we’re trying too hard?” He whispers, placing the guitar on his bed before standing up and stretching.

“What do you mean?” You ask, lifting your neck so you can look at him after you turn around on the rotating chair.

“Music should come to you, it should be… spontaneous.”

You’d want to roll your eyes, mostly for the spontaneous part, but he’s right. Most artists don’t think about the songs they make, the song comes to their mind when they’re not thinking about it.

“Yes, but do you think we’re doing such a shitty job with this?”

He shakes his head, walking closer to you. “Not totally, I just think that if we want to be on top, we have to work around it differently.”

You gulp when he hovers over you and grips the side of the chair tightly. “Like?”

“We should… relax. Take our mind off of it and just wait for it to come,” 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. “We should get inspired,” he whispers, and you’re once again so focused on his face that you don’t feel his hand on your thigh, under the long black skirt you’re wearing, it surely must’ve 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.

“Is — is this how you inspire people?” You ask, glancing down with a rising chest but for some reason not pulling away.

“Don’t know, I’ve never done it before,” he chuckles, slowly moving closer to your core, observing the small signs of your body. “Should we see if it works?”

You hate him. You should be working on that lyric for the last half hour you have left. You hate him. He’s making it impossible for you to stick to your ‘minding my business’ plan that had worked through all your school years. You hate him, you do, and yet you nod, humming a feeble ‘yes,’ in response.

“Good,” rolls out of his lips, and it sounds so different from his usual tone, you can’t 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.

“So, it’s a love song…” 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. “Chose that because you have somebody in mind?”

“We literally picked it for a reason last week, you —”

“God,” he shushes you up, pushing the panties to the side and teasing your entrance, it’s already damp, but not enough how he wants it. “Can you stop being so rational for once? I know why we picked it; remember I’m trying to inspire you.”

“Wait, you really think some fingering can inspire me to write a love so—” 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. “Oh, so you’re into that?”

You can’t reply, but even if you could’ve, you’re not sure you would’ve said anything.

“So, anybody in mind?”

You shake your head. Your love life has been anything but exciting, and after a few tries, you were sure it wasn’t what you needed to focus on, especially because nobody sparked your interest. Nobody was worth moving your focus from your studies.

“Great, so I guess that’ll have to be me.”

“What?” You mutter muffled, closing your legs and moving on the chair.

Haechan rolls his eyes in his skull, keeping you in place. “Oh, come on, you can fake it for a few minutes. Don’t act disgusted, I’m knuckle-deep inside you,” he says.

“Not yet.”

“I’m knuckle-deep inside you,” 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. “Fine, but I don’t want to think,” you say. “Just, prove it to me. If you’re good, I’ll be inspired and I’ll come up with the lyrics, if you suck, we’ll go back to our original method.”

Haechan hates that he constantly has to prove things to you, and he hates even more that he does it, almost as if he’s 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 won’t complain.

Honestly, he couldn’t 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.

“Shit,” you moan. You don’t want to give him too much satisfaction, but he knows what he’s doing and it’s been way too long since someone touched you like that. Damn, even since you touched yourself like that. Maybe the whole ‘staring at your goals’ was taking some funny things away from you.

“Do you want to turn the song into a Hozier song?”

You huff, you just asked him one thing and his mouth is running again doing the opposite. “You wish you were this good to inspire a Hozier type of song.”

“Really?” He taunts, pressing his thumb on your clit, starting to tease the throbbing nub in circles.

“Yes,” 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 you’re loving it. “One second of this mouth on your pussy and I’d make you change your mind,” he whispers right against your ears, hot breath fanning your skin. “It’s a shame you don’t deserve it.”

You groan, head rolling back in disappointment, and that makes him laugh.

“You have to think twice before running that mouth, babe. Especially with me.”

“Never,” 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. It’s in your eyes, and your lips trembling, and in the beautiful moans that are rolling out of your tongue.

“Are you close, brat?”

You don’t 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.

“Answer me,” he orders, lightly slapping your thigh.

“Yes,” you breathe out, biting your lower lip to prevent the whole house from hearing you.

“Good,” 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 it’s too much for you, you come. Body trembling against the chair, and legs pushing up as the shocks of pleasure run through you.

“Acid when you talk but sweet to taste,” 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. 

“It’s late,” he says, staring at the clock. “Go 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.” He winks and you slap his shoulder hard. “What the hell!”

“I won’t come up with anything on purpose, and I swear if you keep being so annoying, I’ll be terrible at this.”

“You would never, this makes up like 80% of our final grade.” He challenges you with a glare.  

“If I go down, you go down with me,” you retort, face to face, fiercely looking into his eyes.  

“It’s not smart of you.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” you smile sweetly before it drops from your face. “It’s a threat.”

It’s not like you’re trying to avoid him after what happened, but that’s exactly what’s going on. You don’t regret the act per se, you just can’t 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 couldn’t 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 he’s doing everything he can to be on your path.

“I’m starting to believe you’re a stalker,” you huff, clearly scaring him when you stop abruptly in the middle of the library and make him stop in his tracks.

“I’m not.”

You raise a brow, staring at him until he huffs and throws his hands up in the air. “Fine, fine, I was following you but only because I wanted to know what you will study.”

“Why do you care so much about what I study?”

“So I know how to beat you?”

“Isn’t it more exciting if you beat me only using your brain by putting some knowledge in it without seeing my cards?” You say, pushing a finger on his chest and making him walk backwards until his back hits the bookshelf behind him.

“I think sneaky games are funnier, though,” he whispers, hand moving to rest on your side. “Especially with you.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes, and taking a step back, freeing yourself from his hold. “The games you’re playing are not sneaky. Why are you always in my business?”

He shrugs. “Why not? So, what are we studying today?”

“We are not studying together.”

“Why? Isn’t it funny? The same study method, same hours, but one of us will be better than the other. That’s a truly equal comparison.”

You run a hand on your face and keep walking to find what you need. “If you didn’t distract me every two seconds, I would’ve already been like five pages into my studying session.”

“Oh, please, you are wondering around the library anyway. I’m just keeping you company.” His body follows yours like a shadow, his heat radiating so close to your skin that you think you might go insane.

“I don’t want your company,” 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. “Can’t you just leave me alone?”

“I could, and I’d want to, but I can’t,” he says, sitting at your side, smiling widely when you glare at him.

“This is a useless lesson for you,” you try to dismiss him.

“Is it? Because we have the same ones.”

“Jesus, okay, fine,” 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. “But we give ourselves a timing, and then when we’re done, we’ll have to answer five questions.”

“And who answers to them all?” He asks, there’s a taunting edge in his voice, and a grin on his face.

“Is the best,” you reply as if it’s obvious.

“Yeah, but there should be a prize.”

“Being better than you is the prize.”

Haechan scoffs, and he hates to admit in his mind that he finds your snarky remarks so fucking hot, if you weren’t in a public library and if his job on earth wasn’t to detest you, he would’ve already had you bent on the table.

“I love how you’re always so sure of being better than me.”

You snicker and send him a flying kiss. “Honey, I am better than you.”

“Wait, I just left out a detail!” You almost scream when you compare your answers for the nth time because you can’t believe he has done slightly better than you.

“That detail is important,” Haechan replies unfazed by your indignation.

“No, it’s not. We would have the same score if this was graded,” you insist, feeling more angered than you should. It’s nothing serious, it shouldn’t be serious, but with him, there’s your pride on the line.

“But this is between me and you, so I win. Also, my phrasing in the second answer is better than yours.”

“Shut up, it’s not.”

“It is, and you just have to admit you lost,” he insists, leaning over, staring at you with a challenging raised brow.  

You swallow, eyebrows furrowing, and then you sigh. “Your advantage is minimal. And you only won a battle, because I’m winning a war.”

“Fine, Napoleon, I still won and you’re coming to my place even Saturday so we can do this some more.”

“Hey, Napoleon sucked! He lost the most important battles, the only ones he should’ve won.”

“That’s why I called you that,” he winks, clicking his tongue mockingly.  

“Oh, you think you will win the war? You’re wrong, honey, Waterloo is yours.”

Haechan laughs, standing up after putting his things in his bag. “I’m waiting for you on Saturday…” he says and before you can complain he starts singing, “Waterloo, I was defeated, you won the war…”

“Oh, shut up!” You say, hitting his arm as you push him away, but he giggles and walks away continuing with the tune.

“Waterloo, promise to love you forevermore. Waterloo, couldn’t escape if I wanted to…”

And you think that if only he didn’t try to sabotage your final grades in Music History, you might even find him funny.

Haechan hates you.

If he was sure he didn’t before, he is sure that he does now.

He can’t 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. You’re well-spoken, witty, smart, somehow it looks like you know everything about everything. And even when you don’t know (and you always specify it — which he shouldn’t 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 you’re showing off your skills, it’s just really nice to listen to you and —when he’s not the one intervening against you— you’re the sweetest person ever and everybody in every class absolutely adores you.

He wonders if you’re a robot. Maybe you’re some sort of artificial intelligence sent there to conduct studies on humans’ stupidity, and he was unlucky enough to start a fight with you. You just don’t seem real. And he’d 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, you’re playing the same game, but even at this, you are thinking faster and smarter.

“Where the fuck are all my anthropology notes?” Haechan mutters as he looks through his library, moving books and notebooks around, thinking he has gone insane. “Mark!” 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 hasn’t moved since a week.

“Yes?” His housemate peaks from the door only with his head.

“Did you mistake our notes?”

“What notes?” Mark furrows, backing away from his friend who looks out of his mind.

“The anthropology notes,” he says, voice full of annoyance because, why does Mark never know anything? He’s in the same course and, yet, he’s always somewhere else with his head. 

“Man, I don’t even take notes during that lesson.”

“What do you mean you don’t? Ugh, never mind,” Haechan groans, rolling his eyes because he can’t believe he can’t count on anybody. “Have you seen them somewhere?”

“Nope,” Mark replies, entering the room. “I mean, I don’t know what they look like.”

“You know right we have a test tomorrow? The winter break is close, and some courses have it. You are studying, right?”

“Yeah, just not every…thing…”

Haechan rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “Why don’t you like it? I mean, I know it’s not really music related but it teaches you so much about other cultures and there’s a whole part about how music is different from culture to culture.”

“Next semester, we didn’t get there, yet. It’s a bunch of complicated terminology and theories I just don’t get,” 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 don’t make any sense to him.  

“So you plan on being terrible tomorrow?”

“I just want a decent result; I don’t strive for perfection like you and your girlie.”

Haechan almost chokes on his saliva. “My girlie? Who’s my girlie?”

“That girl in class you always get into heated arguments with, and then she comes here and I’m pretty sure you make out when no one’s watching,” Mark says so calmly it infuriates Haechan more than if he was teasing him.  

“Shut the hell up! She’s 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.”

“Yeah, you can still make out with your mortal enemy,” he snorts, hitting his friend with a playful elbow hit.  

“Mark, shut up and leave, I have to study,” he tries to cut short, pushing his friend out of the room.  

“With what notes?”

“I don’t know. I left them on the shelf, and nobody entered my room since Saturday when she — Oh, my God.”

When your name resonates in the empty classroom after you’ve taken the anthropology test, your blood freezes for a second.

“Haechannie,” you cheer cheekily, turning around and pushing your tote bag far up your shoulders.

“Don’t,” he warns, lifting a finger to stop you from starting anything. “I have to talk to you.”

“Sure, the test was easy, right? You might have beaten me this time,” you say but you have to hold back a laugh when you scan his furious, pissed-off expression.

“Yeah, if you studied, it was,” he retorts venously.  

“And you surely studied,” you say, faking innocence.  

“You can study when you have something to study on,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Yes, and you do,” you still play dumb, but when he calls your surname, you know he’s not joking anymore. “Yes?”

“Do you, perhaps, know where the fuck my notes are?”

You look around, shrugging. “Where are your notes, Donghyuck?”

“I don’t know, I’m asking you for a reason,” he retorts, plastering a fake smile that doesn’t reflect in the darkness of his pupils.

“They might’ve mixed up with my stuff when you invited me over Saturday?” You sing-song, tilting your head to the side and shrugging.

“Might’ve,” he repeats, a hint of bitterness in his tone. “It was just a coincidence.”

You shrug again, pushing your lower lip in a pout. “Sometimes… things happen.”

“And if it wasn’t on purpose, why couldn’t you just text me?”

“Because I didn’t notice,” you reply innocently, batting your lashes, knowing it will get on his nerves even more.  

He groans, closing his eyes to calm himself down before he speaks again, “then how do you know?”

“Don’t know, just making assumptions,” you say. “It turns out I’m really good at it.”

“I swear, I — I want to… I want to —”

“To what? Choke me because I got my revenge? Oh, it turns out it’s really not that funny when someone plays with you?” You mock, and in doing so you get closer to him.

“Goddamn,” 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 you’re too shocked to react. “I want to — I want to kill you, actually.”

You smirk, chuckling straight at his face. “Filled the space with the wrong letter, ‘cause you’re kissing me.”

“Maybe my kiss is lethal, maybe there’s poison on my lips.”

“Oh, you’re so romantic you’d die for me?” You coo, placing a hand on your heart.

Haechan groans, throwing his head back. “Why are you always so, so, so, God,” he curses, running his fingers in his hair. “I want my notes back, now.”

“I don’t have them,” you say, grinning because he looks wrecked. You know it wasn’t very morally mature for you, but it was only fair. Also, you know he doesn’t arrive last minute with anything, he had already studied everything and you’re sure he had answered everything on that paper, he just couldn’t revisit.

“My notes back when you pass by for the project or it’s war.”

“It’s already war,” you retort when he walks past you to leave.  

Haechan turns around, locking his gaze with yours. “Oh, honey, it can get so much worse than this.”

You felt like testing your luck when his notes weren’t 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 you’re not really proud (you’re 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 you’ve been. “Get lost,” you whisper bitterly as soon as you recognize the hand that did that.

“No thanks,” he replies, sitting next to you.

“I’m trying to read a book in the quiet of the library, so can you leave me alone?”

“It’s a public space, I can sit wherever I want,” he replies, leaning back into the chair, and widening his legs under the table. You know ‘cause you feel his knee push against yours and you have to retract your leg to avoid the contact.  

You glare at him, breathing deeply through your nose because you can’t 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.

“Wow, so you have a bit of self-control and don’t talk back. Never thought I’d see that day,” he replies sarcastically to your silence with an amused grin that curls his lips.

You hold back a scream and huff loudly, “I truly need you to get fucked right now.”

“Nevermind,” 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. “I came here in peace, by the way.”

“Yeah, your peace is war in my country,” you reply bitterly, trying to shift away but those damn chairs make the loudest sounds at the smallest movements.  

“That’s because you’re full of prejudices.”

You inhale deeply, rubbing your temple to soothe the headache you know is about to arrive. “Haechan, tell me what you want and then leave me alone.”

He smiles, happy you are finally willing to listen, before he clears his throat. “Okay so, I have to say that some of this is funny. I mean, only the debates and these random talks, but I’m not the biggest fan of all the other stuff we’re doing, so why don’t we bring it back?”

“Bring it back? As in?” You question, raising a brow in confusion.

“I 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.”

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.

“No, it wasn’t funny,” he mutters sternly, watching you fight with all the muscles of your face to don’t break into a laugh.

“No, sorry, it was,” you defend, voice trembling, threatening a chuckle to come out. “Like Iloveboobsdemo1 is the best thing I’ve ever come up with. That could be the title of our song.”

“If you want to get expelled from all the academies in the world that would be a perfect idea,” he says, trying to be serious because seriously it wasn’t funny, but when you stare into each other’s eyes for too long none of you two can hold back the laughter anymore. “Okay, fine. It was funny, but I don’t want that to happen again.”

“So? Do you give up?” You taunt, tilting your head after placing it on your palms.

“I’m not giving up, we are changing strategies of our combat.”

“Oh, okay. You will lose anyway in the end, so if this can be more beneficial for me in the meantime, it’s fine.”

He sighs, rubbing his temples, and you chuckle. “Don’t laugh,” he whispers distraught. “I… could you sometimes at least pretend to give me some kind of chance of winning with you and not feeling like you’ll always have the last laugh?”

“I just replied.”

“No, a reply would’ve been ‘Yes, Haechan, don’t worry, we can change it.”

“Too wordy,” you comment, waving him off with a movement of hand.

“You said like ten words more,” he replies, voice breaking in his throat in a whine, but you decide to act as if you don’t notice.  

“It still flowed better. See, that’s why the lyrics are in my hands. You’re really not good with words.”

“You keep doing that,” he groans, slamming a hand on the table, attracting some curious eyes on you before you glare them away. “But it’s fine, okay, so… no more dirty games? No more sabotaging?”

“Yes, no more. Well, not like this, but we can still play a bit, right?” You ask, retracting your hand right when you’re about to hold his to seal the deal.

“Yes, but nothing weird, or you know what I mean.”

You hum, reaching out again and shaking his hand. “It’s a deal, then?”

“It’s a deal.”

The deal somehow turns into Haechan always being next to you. He’s like a shadow, sitting next to you in class, studying with you in the library, and so on. You don’t 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 ‘how would a dog wear pants’ with two badly drawn different options on it.

“Does it look like the right moment?” 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 he’d be happy with it, but he has the urge to hear a whole dissertation on something that will never happen, right now.

“Why?” He asks as if you’re not in the middle of a lecture.

“Not now.”

“But this lesson is boring,” he whines, poking your side with his elbow.  

You huff, covering it with a cough when you realize it is too loud, and then take a sip from your bottle of water.

“You didn’t answer,” Haechan insists, this time poking your arm with the cap of the pencil. 

“I picked one,” you mutter, pointing at the paper with your head.  

“Elaborate and change my mind.”

“You think it’s the first one?” You say in disbelief, the utter shock causing the tone of your voice to be louder than you expected.

“Any problems there?” The Professor asks, and you feel your blood freeze.

“Mh, no, nothing, my pen has no more ink, I was asking for another one,” you lie, thanking God you two are sitting far in the back of the class and the Professor can’t hear and can’t see that your pen isn’t 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. “If you kept quiet, it wouldn’t have happened.”

“If you let me concentrate on the lesson instead of asking dumb questions, it wouldn’t have happened,” you retort, and he laughs under his breath again, but doesn’t ask more questions. He still ruins your notes with ugly flowers and other drabbles and you let him be because at least he’s being silent and paying attention.

“So, you really are giving up,” you say when the bell rings and the class starts emptying.

“What makes you think that?” He asks, putting his things in his bag, just like you.

“You didn’t write anything down.”

Haechan shrugs. “Why would I? I have your notes.”

“No, you don’t,” you say but before you can realize he rips the notebook from your hands and snaps a picture of the two pages you wrote. “Hey! That’s not fair. That’s my work.”

“Your amazing summarizing skills and my artistic skills. I don’t gift beautiful sunflowers to just anybody.”

“Beautiful sunflowers?” You snicker, starting to walk down the stairs, pushing the notebook into your bag as Haechan follows at your side. “If Renjun saw them he would have a heart attack.”

“Can’t compare Vang Gogh to Picasso.”

“Keep Picasso out of your mouth,” you say threateningly.

“Still, aren’t you happy you will think of me while studying?” He bats his lashes, and you hold back an entertained grin.

“Can’t wait to go through the absolute most painful ulcers every time I glance down on those things.”

He gasps offended, bringing a hand on his chest. “See, this is what happens when you spend all your days on socials and your brain doesn’t know how to appreciate real art anymore.”

“You are so annoying, and distracting. Next time if you sit next to me, I’ll push you off the chair,” you warn, and only when a colder blow of wind hits you, you realize you’re walking back to your places together.

“Right!” He says and you think it’s the good time he leaves you alone, but no, he’s not done. “You didn’t explain why the dog would wear it only on its hind legs.”

“Is it really that serious? Why do you want to know so badly?”

“It’s funny. I’m sick and tired of hearing you only discuss music, sociology, and the media and other stuff.”

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. “Because 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, we’re divided in half horizontally, not vertically.”

He doesn’t reply right away, processing your answer. And you think you broke him.

“Oh!” You exclaim. “Zootopia, animals wear clothes like the second picture.”

“Really? You had a whole statement that made perfect sense and then you added a cartoon to your thesis?”

“But it still makes sense,” you argue back. “And, most importantly, I made you agree with me,” you wink before stopping when you reach your complex.

“Fine, fine, you’re right,” he gives up before looking behind you. “You live here?”

You nod, searching for the keys in the tote bag, and you think it’s time to stop pretending that’s Mary Poppins’ bag and throw away some useless stuff.

“I thought there were only rooms here,” he states, looking at the big complex a few meters away from the university.  

“There are common dormitories, and then there are some one-room flats. I got one with a scholarship when I graduated. It’s less expensive than an apartment and I get a small place all to myself.”

“Oh,” he whispers. He doesn’t know why he thought you had roommates. “So, you’re alone, alone?”

“No, you can’t come in,” you say.

“I didn’t ask that,” he frowns, offended you would even imply that. “I thought you… well, oh, never mind.”

“Yes, I’m 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.”

“Is it really that small?”

“It’s decent, I guess. It’s spacious enough to live in it comfortably but not big to the point I have to waste days cleaning it.”

“Maybe we could study there, no loud roommates screaming in the living room.”

“I like the mess of your place, and I’ll be there Friday.”

Haechan rolls his eyes. “Come on, I hate the library. Can’t we for once study at your place?”

“I never invited you to my studying sessions,” you groan.

“But you love it.”

“No.”

“Yes, you have an orgasm every time you know something better than me.”

“Please, shut up,” you wave him off, starting to walk away.

“I don’t care, I’ll be here tomorrow,” he screams when you’re too far, clearly running away from him.  

“And I’ll be at the library!”

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 it’s 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.

“Are you busy this Saturday?” He asks while he strums with the guitar to come up with a chord progression for your song.

“Yeah, why?” You reply, poking the cap of the pen to your cheeks, drifting your eyes on him.

“Want to go out with me?”

“What? Saturday is my day to study and do my things like I want to,” 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.

“Great, we’re going out tomorrow.”

You huff, slumping back on the chair. “No, we’re not. I’m busy.”

“You can take one afternoon for me,” he replies, placing the instrument next to him. “Come on, it will be fun.”

“Where would you even take me?”

Haechan smirks. “It’s a surprise.”

When Saturday afternoon arrives, you don’t 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 —you hoped so— 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, he’s not that bad when he wants to, and he’s funnier than you’d 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.

“Hi,” he says. “Anything to fix before we leave?”

“Don’t say that, they will hear you and break all together.”

Haechan laughs, briefly looking at your body, mostly covered because it’s still cold outside and you have way too many layers on you. “Toy Story for home appliances?”

“Yeah, that would be my life,” you reply, closing the door behind you and walking outside of the complex. “So, where are you taking me?”

“I told you, it’s a surprise,” he says. “Don’t expect anything big, I just don’t want to hear you nag about it.”

“Hey, I appreciate almost everything.”

“Yeah, it’s the almost that worries me,” he says. “Hop in the car.”

“You have a car?”

“Yeah, it’s right in front of your eyes,” he answers, gesturing to the space next to you.  

You turn around, holding back a laugh when you see the old blue car, it’s surely a Hyundai, you have no idea about the model, but you know for sure it’s falling apart. “This is the car?”

“Yes, I’m sorry I’m poor.”

“It will get us killed,” you say opening the door, letting out a breath of relief when the handle doesn’t stay in your hold.

Haechan rolls his eyes and sits in. “Can you don’t be overdramatic for one second?”

“I’m stating facts. Are the airbags still working? Is the oil level high enough? The battery? And the water for —” Your eyes widen when his lips crash on yours. At first, it’s a harsh attempt to shut you up, but then his lips shily go for more, moving along yours with a small flame of need.

“I won’t kill you, but please shut up,” he begs when he pulls away, sooner than you want to, later than he should’ve.  

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 he’s quite good at being a charmer.

“I’m giving you the privilege to pick the music,” he says once you’re on the open road, the lights of the city shine against the windows and the other cars pass beside you.

“Yeah, 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,” you joke after seeing the car radio.  

“Wanted to take the metro?”

You laugh. “No, I’m just… why did you say that as if I could connect the aux or the Bluetooth? It was funny.”

“Fine, you’re forgiven,” he says. “Just play it through your phone.”

You hum, already deep into the scrolling of your music catalogue. “Can I put my driving playlist?”

“You have a car?”

“No, I have a driving playlist.”

“Why would you have a driving playlist if you don’t have a car?”

“Because right now it comes useful,” you wink, pressing play without waiting for his answer.

Haechan smiles, quickly glancing at you before his attention is fully on the road. “Baekhyun?” He asks with surprise when the second song starts. “You listen to Baekhyun?”

“Everybody should listen to him,” you reply, already getting defensive because his next words could be the last straw of your ‘relationship.’

“Oh God,” he whispers.

“If you tell me you’re a hater I’m jumping out of the running car and changing the trajectory of your life forever,” you warn, turning to the side to have a better view of him.

“Me? A Baekhyun hater? He’s my father! I just can’t believe you have some sort of sense and taste.”

You slap his shoulder, making the both of you break into a light-hearted laugh.

“You scared me for a second,” you say, placing your hand on your beating heart.  

“Sorry. So, it turns out we have one thing in common,” he jokes, creases creating at the corner of his eyes as his features soften and a genuine smile blooms on his face.

You shrug. “I mean, we have many things in common, actually. That’s why we get along so badly. Maybe it’s true, opposite attracts and that’s why we don’t attract.”

“I think we do attract… proved it a few times.”

“Once,” you reply immediately.

“Twice, with the kiss…”

“You did that to shut me up.”

“I don’t shut up just…” anybody… “I felt like kissing you.”

You smirk, loving watching him struggle. “Nothing wrong to admit you find me attractive,” you tease.

“Unfortunately, your mouth ruins everything.”

“My mouth is the thing that attracts you the most about me, or else you wouldn’t keep lingering around me like bees on honey.”

“Bees make honey, they’re not attracted to it. Bears are.”

“Yeah, you look like a bear, you know?”

He glares at you, and you laugh. “Bears are cute.”

“And attracted to honey.”

“And do I look like honey?” You ask teasingly. “Wait! You always call me honey!”

“It’s a mockery honey, not a sweet honey. You’re not my honey.”

You think about it. “You’re not my honey… could be a line of our song.”

“No academy talking today. It’s forbidden. You have to forget about uni.”

“Fine, I’ll forget about it just for today.”

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.

“Why don’t you stay?” Haechan asks. It’s another Friday afternoon, and you two met up to go on with the song’s project. Much to your dismay, you have to admit you are the one who’s holding you two back. It’s like words can’t come out of you, not like you want to, at least. But Haechan’s 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.

“I don’t know,” you say, huffing when you glance at the words in front of you and remind yourself that they don’t make sense. “I was thinking of going home and maybe listening to your tracks and…”

“Come up with something?” He drags the chair closer to you and steals your papers to read them. “It’s not as bad as you made it to be.”

“Yeah, it’s a good song, but it’s basic. And I feel like it’s a bit… cliché.”

“You do know that everything has already been written?” He jokes, but it’s not a teasing remark, it’s the truth, and he’s genuinely trying to lift your spirit.  

“I know, but it’s not my style, this is not how I usually write, I —”

“You write?” He stops you and only then you realize what you said. “Like, you have written songs before?”

You nod, shame pervading you when he stares at you with an expression you can’t comprehend. “Are you going to make fun of me?”

“No, I just thought you preferred lyrics over production, but I had no idea you were a lyricist.”

“Now, lyricist… I try, sometimes…”

Haechan smirks, poking your tummy making you cover it with your arms. “So there is something you’re insecure about.”

“Oh, I knew you were going to have a ball about this,” you groan, rolling your head back.

“No, hey, it’s just… I’ve never seen you like this about something you do. You are confident, usually,” 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. “It’s just… very personal,” you confess. “I think it’s clear I don’t have lots of friends. I used to, back at home, but here I’m alone. But even back then I’ve always felt like there was something I couldn’t completely let out. That’s why I love dancing, I can express myself in a different way, but I found out it still wasn’t 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,” you joke and he laughs with you.

“But it was still better than this, I guess?”

You hum, shaking your head. “Nah, my first song was a mess, but then it was like I just couldn’t stop writing, so my songs became my diary. Every time something happens, I write about it.”

He hums, moving the chair closer until your legs intertwine. “So, to write a love song you would need to fall in love?”

You’re taken aback by his question, and don’t reply right away. “No, I just need to be inspired. I’ll watch some movies, and it will come to me.”

His face twists in mild disgust as he shakes his head. “Movies are fake, it’s better to live things on your skin.”

“I don’t have time to date, and I can’t just find someone that easily,” you say laughing. “But don’t worry, I won’t make us fail. I’ll try to edit this and make it work if I really can’t come up with anything else.”

Haechan is not convinced, it’s clear in his face and the way his leg is bouncing nervously, but he doesn’t get back on the conversation. “Are you staying?”

“I have some notes to edit and —”

“You have tomorrow,” he cuts you off. “Come on, I have to do it too.”

You groan, hating the way you can’t say no to his big eyes staring at you. “Fine, but not too much.”

It’s useless to say that none of you get those notes written better.

“God, are you fucking Professor Kim?” Haechan growls, grabbing your wrist and stopping you in the college corridors right out of Music History class, the last lesson of Tuesday.

“What?” You babble out, surprised by his angry tone and his speculation.

“No cause you’re his favourite and it’s driving me insane,” he utters under his breath, glaring at you.

“I’m his favourite?” 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.

“Yeah, I gave him the exact same answer and he found the tiniest thing to say I wasn’t right, just so he could hear yours instead and praise you.”

“Oh, poor baby boy, Professor Kim didn’t give you head pats and now you’re mad?” You pout, patting his head in a mockery gesture. 

Haechan groans, throwing his head back, and pushing you into the nearest empty class, closing the door behind.

“Haechan, what are y—”

“Shh,” he says, shushing you with a stern gaze and a squeeze of your wrist. “You passed by his office the other day, didn’t you? Needed extracurricular help ‘cause you didn’t understand something,” he mocks with a high-pitched voice. “Taught you how to play his flute in a historically accurate way?”

You’d love to laugh at his terrible blowjob-music reference but when his gaze darkens, you only chuckle, and that’s enough to drive him mad.

“God, for you is just a game, isn’t it?”

“You really think I fucked Professor Kim?”

“No, but I’m pretty sure he fantasizes about having you bent over his desk and, fuck, it drives me mad.”

“You wish he fantasized about having you bent on his desk?” You joke, smirking.

He groans. “No, 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.”

Your lips curl in an amused grin, but your heart —and something else— flutter at the way he says ‘good girl,’ you try not to show it and go on with your teasing. “Not my fault I’m good, and I’m interested in his subject.”

“Your fault you lick his boots,” he groans, pushing you flat against the door, standing so close to your nose. “I know you’re smart and you don’t need to ride a dick to be first in class but…” he stops, inhaling your scent, and leaning against your forehead.

You lift his head with two fingers under his chin, and lean in, whispering, “you still want to see me bent over a desk, and you want to be the one railing me, isn’t it?”

He doesn’t 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.

“Hyuck,” you moan into the kiss when he starts walking toward the desk, sitting you on the edge.

“Yeah?”

“We can’t — we — this is, we can get expelled…”

He snickers. “Be quiet and nobody will even hear us.”

“What if they lock us inside?”

“Shut up,” he groans again, kissing you another time as his bag drops on the floor. “You drive me so fucking mad, you have no idea.”

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. “Wait,” you whisper.

“Wait, what?” 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. “Don’t act like you don’t want this,” he whispers, leaning closer to your lips, making you believe he’ll kiss you, but you only get a taste of his thumb rubbing over your full lips, “don’t act like you don’t want me.”

“Haechan!” You scream when he rips off your tights, the tear of the fabric resonating in the room as you look down in shock. “I’m gonna kill you,” you groan but he’s not bothered in the slightest.

“They were getting in the way, and I get rid of everything that gets in my way,” he says with a smirk.

You laugh mockingly. “Then why am I still here?”

His brows furrow and a small pout forms on his face but he shrugs it off. “I’m taking care of you, I told you,” he groans, kissing you harshly. “You’re not winning the war.”

“Oh, and your military strategy is to fuck me?”

“Yeah, until you forget everything.”

You huff loudly when he finishes ripping the tights from your legs, the only pieces left the ones trapped in your shoes, and you’re glad the skirt is long enough to don’t make you freeze on the way back home.

“So much better,” he says proudly, staring at his work of art, letting his hands wander on your now bare skin. “And, now, let’s find out if there’s a way to shut you up.”

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 should’ve, but you want to know what his lips feel like. And it’s almost as if Haechan hears your secret thoughts.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” He taunts, kneading his fingers on your flesh.

“Nothing,” 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. “You are always so fucking proud and annoying.” 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. “Don’t act ashamed, I’ve already felt you, and tasted you.”

You don’t reply. It’s 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 he’s beating you right now.

His laugh brings you back to earth and you hate the smug smirk that’s sitting on his face. “So you do get quiet, thought I needed to give you a taste of my mouth to shut you up.”

You open your mouth to retort but the stern glare that flashes on his face is enough to put you back in your place.

“Good girl,” he says and your body trembles before you can even try to hide it. “Should I get a better taste of you?” He stares at you, waiting for an answer that doesn’t come, not like he wants to at least. “Use your words, babe. You know how to run that mouth when you want to, so, beg for it.”

“Fuck, no,” you retort, trying to move away but his hold on you doesn’t give any signs of loosening up.

“Okay, then,” he says, slowly standing up, and grabbing his bag. “See you around.”

“What?” You squeal, grabbing his wrist. “What are you doing?”

“Leaving,” he replies, shrugging.

“That’s not fair,” you reply, and he snickers.

“What? Are you wet? Do you want me?”

You don’t expect that reply and struggle to find the words, even more now that he’s standing between your open legs, keeping them apart, and his eyes are staring down at you, pinning you down in place. “I don’t want you,” you lie, swallowing the gulp in your throat when his right hand sits on your waist. “I just… I want to fuck.”

“Oh, do you? Well, there are plenty of people here, I’m sure many of them would want you. You know, even if you don’t pay attention to anybody, people look at you,” he whispers, caressing your jaw with his other hand. “First on the list is Professor Kim. Don’t you want to feel the thrill? Come on, go to his office now, so I can have something to hold against you forever.”

You chuckle. “Yeah? Want to blackmail me so I can do all the essays for you? Maybe you’ll get the best grades like this,” 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. “I don’t need you to be first, and you know it.”  

“Do I?” you tease. “Want to be first at something?”

“Don’t,” Haechan warns, eyes darkening even more while the tent in his tight pants becomes even more evident.

“What? You can be the first one who fucks me on a desk if you quit playing hard to get.”

“I’m not playing hard to get,” he replies, leaning even closer, your bodies are pressed together and you can feel his hard dick press against you. “I won’t be the one begging, especially to eat you out,” he groans, cupping your chin unexpectedly. “Don’t act as if you didn’t think of this before. I’ve 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, don’t you? And when we argue? There’s always a small fragment where you lose focus and stare at my lips. Where do you want them, honey?”

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 can’t bear his smug glare.

“I said,” he urges, giving a quick squeeze to your chin, “where do you want my lips?”

“On — on me,” you breathe out, voice muffled by the firm hold on your face.

His lips twitch as he leans closer and kisses your cheek. “Here,” he says, holding back a laugh when your eyes widen. “That was where you wanted them, right?”

“Oh, fuck off, you know what I meant,” you huff.

“No, I’m the dumb one, remember? You are smarter than me, you know everything. I’m always a step behind, I need you to guide me step by step,” he mocks in a condescending tone, pouting.

You take a deep breath. “I hate you.”

“Oh, I know,” he laughs. “But if you use just three magic words I’m sure you’re going to love me for a while.”

You don’t want to give up but you’re on fire, and you fear that the more time passes by the more someone could find you out.

“I’ll ask nicely one last time,” he whispers against your lips. “Then I’ll ask you to do something for me and you’ll lose my lips for the second time. Where do you want them?”

“On my pussy,” you whisper, not meeting his eyes.

“Fucking finally,” he laughs. “Was it so hard Miss big brain?”

“Stop mocking me!”

“Mocking you?” He asks, getting on his knees again before grabbing your panties to pull them down. “I might hate you but it would be dumb to not recognize your qualities, right?”

You don’t 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.

“So, since you’re so good with words, here we go again. Beg.” 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 today’s class, he has to make you pay for it a bit. Or maybe he just wants to hear that even if you’d choke him and slap him, you still want him.

“Please, Donghyuck, please,” you plead, looking into his eyes.

He’d 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, it’s 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.

“Eager, honey?”

“Just, please, eat me out already,” 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.

“Keep quiet, the door is closed not locked,” he reminds you, pulling away from you just to pick up again.

You try to don’t be too loud, but he’s better than you expected and maybe this was the wrong time to try this out. You should’ve simply begged him to fuck you, but now that you’re 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 didn’t 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.

“You are eager,” he muffles against you, he can’t pull away when you’re pressing him down with so much force, but the way you’re 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.

You’re not sure how many minutes pass by but when the orgasm rushes in your body you feel it’s too close. You’d probably force him down for another round if you were in any other place but you don’t feel brave enough.

“So? Disappointed?” He asks, cleaning his chin as he stands up, reaching you again. “Don’t lie, you’re still dripping down the desk, you’re even more turned on than last time.”

“I’m not,” you lie. You know you are, and Haechan knows it too.

“What is it? The thrill of being caught? My skills? Just me, or something else?”

You don’t know why you reply with what you reply, but you do. “Maybe someone else,” you tease, not even sure he’ll take the bait, but he’s too caught up in you to see the games you’re playing.

“Yeah? And who’s that?”

“See, I always believed you were perspicacious and could catch details, I can’t believe you didn’t get it. You’re so sure Professor Kim wants to fuck me, ever thought I want him too?” You bat your lashes and Haechan tries to silence a groan, but you feel his fists clench at your sides.

“Don’t play with me, I’m not falling for this.”

You shrug. “Fine, I’ll still think about him while you fuck m—” 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.

“He’s not even that hot,” he groans, turning you around before bending you on the desk, and pulling your skirt up around your waist. “And he’s not even that old, there’s not even the charm of the dilf.”

“He’s smart,” you talk back, not sure how much you can pull your luck.

Haechan scoffs, slapping your ass. “Not smarter than me.”

“You’re not the professor so…”

“A degree means nothing,” he says, his chest pressing against your back. “What’s that you like so much about him?”

You chuckle. You’re not sure if he’s playing into your game or is just so easy to fool, but either way, you decide to keep going. “Everything. Don’t you see him?”

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 —even outside of this specific situation where he got you’re messing up with him— drives him insane.

“Because he’s the best at everything? Isn’t he?”

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. “Fuck,” you curse, hating the way your body buzzes with pleasure at the impact.

Haechan chuckles. “I wonder what he would think of you if he saw you like this.”

“He wouldn’t think,” you say. “He’d act, fucking me like I deserve instead of wasting time like you.”

When his cock fills you up with no warning you almost scream but his hand is quicker at reaching your mouth.

“Yeah, would he fuck you better?”

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 don’t hit the wood.

“Answer me,” he urges, making a makeshift ponytail with your hair to force you up. “Would he?”

“I… I don’t know,” you cry out, feeling him deep inside of you, filling you perfectly.  

“You just have to test me until I snap, don’t you?”

“He seems —fuck— fitter than you.”

Haechan snickers mockingly. “Yes? You want to be thrown around? Like you’re worth nothing? Do I have to do that to make you feel good?”

You shake your head, ass perking up, your feet on their tips as you try to keep balance.

“No? Is being fucked in a class enough for you? Does it satisfy your needs?” He hisses, eyes rolling back when he focuses them where your bodies meet, your cum dripping down his length and balls. He can’t believe how turned on you are. “Thought you were innocent but look at you.”

“Not my fault you don’t catch details,” you retort with a small bit of sanity —not really— you have in you.

“Details? Or maybe you’re 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.”

You don’t even realize you are drooling down the desk and when you’re about to clean your chin, Haechan grabs your hands and pins them in place behind your back.

“No,” you whimper, falling flat with your chest pressing down the wooden table.  

“Yes, honey,” he mocks. “I 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?” He whispers against your ear. “Think I don’t know it was all a play? Not only you don’t like him, but you wouldn’t risk your reputation for a terrible fuck when you have a brain like yours.”

Your pussy clenches. It’s the way his voice sounds like velvet, it’s how deep it’s hitting you, it’s in his words, and the way it turns you on that your number one rival, the one that despises you, still knows your value.

“Still, I’m pretty sure he wishes he could see you like this,” he adds, biting your earlobe. “A shame he can’t, right?”

“Y-yes,” you mumble in a pathetic wail.   

“But maybe I could still keep it to myself,” his hips start moving with more force and you can’t hold back your moans as you clench around him. “Yeah? Want me to take a photo of you like this?”

You wish you could reply but words just don’t come out of your lips, brain emptying and eyes rolled back in your skull.

“Maybe another time,” he says, breath getting ragged as he keeps fucking into you with determination. “Don’t really want to pull away to take a pic of us.”

“There — there won’t be —fuck— another time,” you reply, forcing yourself to speak.   

Haechan snickers. “The mess between your legs tells me otherwise,” he mocks, reaching in front of you to play with your clit, making you shake. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, you deserve good things, even a good fuck from me.”

“Too much,” you cry out, feeling your eyes getting wetter as the orgasm starts choking you.

“No, you just haven’t had a decent orgasm in ages,” he retorts.

“Shut up! You know —shit— you know nothing.”

“Honey, I can only imagine you playing with yourself, but your hands or toys don’t come close to me,” he says, so smugly you can feel the smirk on his face.  And you can’t even retort because —as much as you hate it— he’s right.

“Come here,” he says, putting a hand over your shoulders to pull you closer to him. “Are you close?”

You nod, biting your lower lip until it bleeds because you’re sure the sound of your ass slamming against his hips is already a giveaway of what’s 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 don’t 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 you’ve ever heard.

“Oh god,” 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.

“I hope you didn’t tear my panties apart, too,” you say, rolling on your back, making him laugh.

“Don’t move, you’ll stain the skirt, it’s the only clean thing on the table,” he says, grabbing a napkin to prevent you from making even more of a mess.

“And who’s fault is that?” You ask, glaring at him.

“You should just thank me for the orgasm, better, two orgasms, I gave you.”

You huff, rolling your eyes, but still letting him clean you up, after all, the cum was his, so it’s his place to clean it. After you’re sure you won’t ruin the last untouched piece of clothes you have, you sit up, taking your —uncomfortably— wet panties to put them on.

“So…” he whispers as he cleans up the rest of the mess on the table and shoves your broken tights in his bag, “it was just for fun, right? You have no intentions with Mr…”

You break down laughing. “You’re so easy to fool. You seriously think I’ll ever let him see me like this?”

Haechan scoffs, finishing fixing his clothes before walking to the door. “It’s not about what you would do, is if you think of him.”

“I don’t,” you reply, following him even if you feel like your legs could give up any second. “I wonder if your jealousy was also a play,” you tease, nudging him as you two walk down the corridor to leave.

“It wasn’t jealousy, you would just have terrible taste if you truly liked him, and I have beef with him.”

You chuckle, deciding to believe him.

“Wait,” he says, stopping to search for something in his bag.

“I’ll go for the door, reach me,” you say, starting to head on, you’re not even sure you two could be there at that time. “Lee Donghyuck,” you curse when you try to push open the front door. “What did I say?”

He walks toward you nonchalantly and shrugs. “Yeah?”

“They locked us in!”

He smiles, shaking his head, and grabbing your hand. “Can you run?”

“What?” You blink a few times, trying to understand how his question fits the situation.

“After I fucked you like that, can you run?”

“Shush,” you scold, fearful someone might hear, you’re not sure who since you seem to be completely alone, but better safe than sorry. “And no, I don’t know, I… why would we run?”

“Do you trust me?” He asks, reaching out his hand for you to take.

“No,” you say resolutely.  

“Good,” 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.

“Hyuck!” 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 you’re happy and you can’t 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 doesn’t 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 can’t believe you followed him blindly.

Your hands are still intertwined.

With each passing day, Haechan is convinced he has a perfect plan. It’s 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 didn’t 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 doesn’t get it until it’s too late.

Haechan can’t 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 he’s terrified this is crossing the lines of bland and stupid physical attraction.

You smile, calling him Hyuck and he’d love to scream because he can’t 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 don’t 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 don’t make you accept a date from him anymore.

But that old car struggles but doesn’t crash, and drives you to the restaurant safely.

“This place is so pretty,” your voice rings in his ears, bringing him out of the thought he’s struggling with since you walked out of your apartment.

“Yeah, it’s musically themed, thought it was a good idea.”

“And the dishes also have song names? That’s the best thing I’ve ever seen,” 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 cliché embodiment of love, and he thinks you’ve done it on purpose. It’s way past Valentine’s Day, but he feels that Cupid is flying right above you, ready to play him a dirty trick.

“So? You picked?” You ask, bringing him out of his thoughts, and he shakes his head, coughing while glueing his eyes on the menu.

“Nope, I’m a bit uncertain,” he says, pretending he wasn’t just too busy staring at you a few moments ago.

You laugh, humming. “Oh, I know.”

“What did you get?” He asks, meeting your eyes above the paper in his hand.

“I wanted to get the Summer 69’ appetizer first,” you reply and he smirks.

“Are you hinting at something?”

“Oh, shut up, you perv! It just looks tasty, there are different appetizers from different parts of the world and it’s a cold start.”

“Then we can take the big one so we can share?”

“Sure,” you reply, smiling at him. “Oh, and then ‘I wanna dance with somebody’ as the main dish.”

“Do you?” He winks.

“I’m not sending you signals, I’m just starving,” you reply, rolling your eyes, but he hears the low giggle that you try to hold back.

“Fine,” he smiles. “I’ll take ‘Maneater’ in your honour.”

“I’m a maneater? Oh, thanks, the best compliment ever actually,” you say playfully.

He smiles, stopping for a second after he hands you his menu. “You look beautiful tonight, by the way.” And when your mouth parts and no sound come out of it, he thinks he screwed it up. It’s not the first time he compliments you but well, the other times didn’t 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 that’s tangible in the air.

“Karaoke? Are you being extremely nice, borderline perfect, tonight so you can show me the biggest twist ever?” You gasp when the karaoke downtown enters your line of view. You’ve been walking for a while now since he couldn’t find a spot nearby, but he never mentioned where your next stop would be.

“I’m always nice to you when we go out on da— like this,” Haechan replies, opening the door of the place for you to get in first. “Also, since we’ll have to record the song soon, I think it’s time to test our vocal abilities.”

You giggle, waiting for him before you start walking to the desk to book a room.

“Karaoke is for fun, never to show off you’re like Celine Dion.”

Haechan chuckles, nodding in agreement while you reach the booth that the lady at the counter assigned you.

“Right, I’m more like Ailee, actually,” he jokes, closing the door behind you.

“Prove it to me, I always hear your mouth run to talk shit but never to sing melodies, so…”

“Should we go for a duet?” He asks, starting the TV to scroll down the songs listed.

“Nope,” you say, sitting on the couch. “A solo song first.”

“Fine,” he says, humming as the titles pass in front of your vision. “Mhh, what about Dean?”

“Love him, would love him more if he came back from the death and dropped another album of the year,” you say, sitting back to fully enjoy Haechan’s performance.

He chuckles at your comment. “This one was a painful reminder,” he says before clicking on “Instagram,” 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 you’re 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 don’t show any of the emotions you felt.

“Your performance was very touching,” you say while standing up to grab your mic, “but I’m a performer, so I’ll go with Queen Britney.”

“Can’t wait to see your Superbowl worth it performance,” he snickers, sitting back against the small couch in the room as he watches you getting ready.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” 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 don’t need to read the words, and you don’t need them to change colour to know when each verse, chorus and bridge starts.

“Oops, I did it again, I played with your heart,” you wink, tilting your head to the side, still moving your body to the beat. He can’t tell, not right at the moment, but he thinks you’re replicating the choreography. That’s the last worry in his mind.

I played with your heart.

And Haechan thinks you really did that. This doesn’t feel like a game anymore, and not even like sex. He looks at you, even right now, that you’re sensually singing a Britney Spears song, and he can only fucking smile like an idiot.

“Wow,” you exhale when the song ends, fanning yourself with your hand, “it’s really hot in here.”

“It definitely is,” he whispers, drifting his gaze from you.

“So? How was I?” You ask, head tilted to the side, and a big, bright smile on your face.

“Good,” Haechan mutters, catching himself staring at you for too long again, shaking his head, the red blush on his face is humiliating. “You were good.”

“Yes,” you cheer, clapping your hands. “Should we duet, now?”

He hums, grabbing the remote again and searching ‘duets’ in the search bar. “Sad, sexy or silly?”

You roll your eyes. “Really?”

“What? I’m trying to understand the vibe we want to go with.”

“I’ll let you pick,” you say just to regret it when you see the song choice on the screen. “Seriously? Anything you can do?”

“What? It’s fitting for how relationship,” he says nonchalantly.

“That’s a crazy choice.”

“Worried you can’t actually do better than me?” He winks, passing you the mic as the song loads on the screen.

“You’ll see,” 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 it’s 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.  

“Wow, you’re good,” 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.

“Maybe we make a great couple together,” you say, laying back on the couch, tired from the singing.

Haechan turns to you, smirking and nodding. “I guess we do.”

You sit up, resting your chin on his arm. “Can you take another one?”

“Oh, don’t test me, baby.”

“So, ice cream is good for vocal cords?” You giggle as you walk to the side of the Han River with the ice cream in hand. It seemed like Haechan didn’t want to end the night anytime soon, but you don’t feel like complaining.

“Yeah,” he hums with conviction, licking another stripe of chocolate.  

“On which book you’ve read this scientific fact?”

“The ice cream ghost came to me one night and whispered the secret to my ear,” he jokes, making you laugh.

“Uhm, yeah, I think that ghosts are much more reliable than old men in white coats in a lab,” you joke, but then you remember something you wanted to talk about since you’ve walked out of the karaoke. “Mhh, you know what I was thinking?”

Haechan shakes his head, waiting for you to talk.

“I think we’re going down the wrong path with our song,” you voice out. “Especially me. A warmer, darker, I dare to say more sensual vibe, fits us better.”

Haechan chuckles and you glare at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he giggles, but he can’t lose against you so he goes on. “That’s the production, you know?”

You huff, rolling your eyes, and jumping on the handrail to sit. “I never said it wasn’t important.”

“Whatever,” he snickers. “So I have to scrap everything I’m working on?”

You shake your head, cleaning your hands after swallowing the last bite of the cone. “No, I was thinking about the second base you were working on, the one with the guitars and violins, remember?”

He hums, but he’s dangerously close to you, and you don’t understand why his hands wrap around your waist.

“I think we could use that and —” you gulp when he places his feet on the handrail under you and reaches your height, “and then I can change small things of my — my writing to fit more. What do you think?”

He smiles before it turns into his usual smirk. “I still think you’re worrying too much and you’re not letting it come to you,” 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 you’re falling behind in the river as the wind blows harder and your hands immediately leave the handrail to reach for him.

You’re not sure that wasn’t an attempted murder from him, but you can’t care when you feel your heart flutter and your legs give up as he deepens the kiss.

“Let it flow,” he whispers, kissing you again, whispering against your lips, “and the song will come at you.”

You know it’s not what he’s 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 he’s on top of you on the bed.

“I hate that I have to ruin your pretty face,” 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 he’s giving you something but not enough. “The red eyeshadow looks really good on you, you know?”

You groan, rolling your head back. “It’s not time for compliments.”

“I’ve been complimenting you all night,” he says, teasing your clit with flicks of his thumb but without giving you much. “It is a shame you will look like a mess once I’m done with you.”

“We can’t be loud,” you say, hating that, for one reason or another, you two always have to keep quiet.

“Nah, Jeno has his headphones on playing games with Yangyang. Renjun has headphones on with music to don’t listen to Jeno. Mark’s not home and not even bombs wake Jaemin up.” The explanation is particularly non-sexy now that he has his fingers inside of you and it doesn’t make you relax much, but you hum nonetheless and beg him to keep going.

“Patience, honey. We’ve got all night,” he smirks.

“Yeah but —”

“Ah, ah,” he says, clicking his tongue and silencing you with a finger on your lips. “What did I tell you before? Let it flow.”

“It was different it was —ugh,” 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 —yeah, yeah, and the thing that is making his college years hell on earth— your brain is also the thing that makes you obsess over the smallest thing and doesn’t make you follow your heart so freely.

Yeah, tonight Donghyuck wants you free, but for the sake of the dirty talking later —and to fool himself he doesn’t care about you that much— he’s going to say he wants you dumb.

And he’s 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 don’t have it in you to fight; it feels too good, especially when he starts rubbing your clit and whispers dirty talk about how well you’re 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 shouldn’t warm your heart, but it does. You don’t 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 it’s fine.

“Hyuck,” you breathe out, chest panting and toes curling as you feel the familiar knot in your stomach. But you don’t expect the next words that come out of your mouth. “Kiss me.” 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 you’re so used to sharing. There’s 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.

“I want you so bad,” he slurs against your lips. “I will do some dumb shit one day for you.”

You don’t get what he means. You don’t 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. “You love it when I get in trouble for you, don’t you? Even when it’s just a promise.”

Your lips part to reply but he shuts you with a kiss. “No talking, not unless I tell you to. I know everything I need to know, your body tells me that,” 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 it’s like he’s 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. “That’s what I do to you, pretty girl. And I’m not even started.”

Your pussy throbs in anticipation while he pulls his fingers out. You know he’s one to keep promise, and you can’t wait for what’s to come. But he’s taking too long, and you can feel his hard dick against your leg, so your hand creeps down to touch it.

“You’re not in command tonight, angel,” he says, grabbing your wrist to stop you from moving your hand on him.

“But I want you,” you whine, trying to win him with a pouty look on your face.

It doesn’t work as he pushes your hand over your head and leans in. “Patience, princess. Keep quiet, don’t be greedy and just trust me. Can you do that? Or is it too hard for you?” He groans against your ear, making your hips buck up.

“I — I can,” you whisper but he stops with a glare and your brain replays his words ���quiet, no words from you tonight,’ and he means it. So you nod, breathing in deeply as you feel weak in the knees for the way he looks at you.

“Good girl,” 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. “Are you alright?”

You nod, forcing yourself to look into his eyes.

“Good, and now,” he whispers, kissing your lips, and dragging out of you, “I want you to give into me and completely turn your brain off. You have me, that’s all you need right now.”

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.

“Just like this,” Haechan whispers close to your ear, gently biting the skin on your jaw. “Don’t think about anything,” he groans, hitting you deep after pulling out of you completely. “Not a single worry in that pretty brain of yours.”

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 he’s 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.

“You can take it,” he groans. You’re about to talk but he traps your lips in a messy, wet kiss as he pulls you closer by your waist, hitting even deeper. “You’re a good girl, right? You can take it.”

You’re doubtful, but you do take it, over and over again. You lose track of time and stop counting your orgasms after the third. There’s no need for that. All you need is the pleasure Donghyuck gives you, fucking you until both of you can’t do it anymore.

There’s nothing left once it’s over, no strength to talk or clean up the mess, just the warmth of your bodies cuddled against each other.

“Good morning, I will kill Lee Je — what the hell,” Renjun exclaims, entering the kitchen, making you turn around as if you’ve been caught stealing, holding the mug full of coffee in your hands and giving him a shy smile. “What are you doing here?”

You gulp, pushing your hair out of your face before coming up with a lie. “We studied too late.”

Renjun steps further into the room, staring at you with a raised brow before he tilts his head and studies how you’re dressed. You’re wearing Donghyuck’s sweater and pants.

“Oh, now they call it studying? Last time I checked you’re not med students, didn’t know music had anatomy in the program,” he taunts, grinning at you as he comes to your side.  

You choke on your saliva and don’t have time to come up with a reply because he strikes again.

“Oh, no, maybe you were exercising vocalization, it’s better when it’s done together, right?” He winks and you glare at him.

“It’s not what you think,” you lie, but honestly you feel so embarrassed about everything. You didn’t think anybody else would be up this early on a Sunday, but it’s clear you don’t know Renjun well. You could’ve left, but you didn’t want to. It was slowly starting to sink in that you didn’t like the solitude of your life anymore.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anybody,” he says, sitting in front of you. “Come here, don’t stay up.”

You do as told, and smile when he offers you a pack of biscuits. “I would’ve cooked something usually, but Jeno kept me up all night.”

You chuckle. “It’s fine, normally I don’t even have breakfast.”

“You don’t?” He gasps, and you nod.

“Yeah, just coffee.”

He looks down at you, shaking his head in disappointment. “It’s not healthy.”

“I know, I know, I’ll try to eat more, okay? For you.” 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. “Once it’s Jeno, another time it’s Renjun. I bring you home to study and you flirt with my friends.”

“Drop the bullshit, Hyuck. He knows,” you say, rolling your eyes.

Haechan’s eyes widen, but he slowly fakes indifference. “Knows what? That you don’t have time for a relationship so you can’t date him?”

“That you two fuck,” Renjun answers instead, making him cough.

“That’s not true,” he defends. “I hate her,” he says, laughing, but when he meets your eyes and sees them sadden, he feels pain in his heart. “No, no, I don’t hate her, but we’re… you know our relationship, why would we fuck?”

“Who’s fucking?”

“Not you, Jeno. Not you for sure,” Renjun says, rolling his eyes.

“Hey! Why do you always gotta be so rude,” Jeno whines.

“I doubt he’s not getting laid,” you chuckle, and Jeno winks playfully.

“See, words of a wise woman,” he brags, walking to the fridge to grab something.

Renjun sighs loudly. “A woman that doesn’t know you.”

“Would you fuck him?” Haechan asks out of nowhere and you glare at him.

“I just said that he’s hot and smart, I don’t see how he can have a hard time finding somebody,”

“’Cause he’s annoying,” Renjun answers, but Haechan’s not listening.

“I didn’t ask that,” Donghyuck says instead, his attention is all on you as if there’s nobody else in the room.  

“I don’t answer stupid questions,” you reply before sipping from your cup and drifting your gaze away.

“Wait, why are you here?” Jeno asks, only now realizing you’re not supposed to be at their place, not in the morning at least… wait… “Wait! Are you two fuck—”

“No,” Haechan answers sternly, glaring at him. “We’re studying. And it got late, so since we were closer to my place, I let her stay the night.”

“I thought you left yesterday saying you had a date, though,” Jeno says confused.

You chuckle under your breath before you feel Haechan’s hand wrap around your writs to pull you out of the room, not even giving you time to finish your coffee. “A studying date, and now drop it.”

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 can’t keep your thoughts inside your head anymore.

“Are you ashamed of me?” You ask and he turns around with wide eyes.

“What?”

“Am I something to be ashamed of? Do I don’t fit in the standard of the people you would usually fuck?”

He sighs, shaking his head. “No, I don’t want them to get invasive, they don’t let me live once they know something. And with you, it’s more embarrassing because of our history…”

You giggle, trying not to show the relief you’re feeling because, for a moment, you thought he was one of those types of men.

“Why can’t you ever make things easy for me?” He asks, annoyance in his voice. You have so much power over him, more than he likes to admit, and he feels like he can’t even be too mad at you about it.

“Sorry, it’s just, it’s funny having a history with you,” you explain. “My mortal enemy, always ready to steal my number ones, and my good grades.”

“You’re so annoying, you’re never sleeping over ever again.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I won’t let you fuck me ever again.”

“Liar,” he says. “And now move, I’ll drop you home.”

you can find part two on my account on the story masterlist or haechan’s masterlist (i can’t link it because if i do the post won’t appear in the tags)

general taglist: @froggyforhyuck, @wingsss45, @tddyhyck, @technologyculturedneo

fic taglist: @hcluvie, @gusgus0517, @multifandomania, @413cl, @odgsuji,

@hey-hey-heybitch, @nctrawberries, @n0hyuck, @haechoshi,

@girlwholoveslpreppyattire, @viciousdarlings, @hyuckmoon,

@jaeymark, @hqech, @xntlax, @milkyway-vxm, @fullsunahceah,

@beomgyusonlywife, @toroufriteh, @yesohhsehun @shxnz

@haecastor, @hyucksaint, @sk8ermark, @midnightrained

@maiteeeeesstuff, @smwhrinthehaze, @yoursyuno

© neowinestaindress ; all rights reserved. do NOT repost, modify, or translate any work from this blog on any other platform and claim it as yours. 

[ddejavvu]

I can't get the thought of marking Hotch up with lipstick marks out of my head. Like imagine leaving a trail of kisses down from his neck to his dick. And if the lipstick is starting to fade, he'd reapply it for her so she could continue marking him

Hotch is typically more-than-professional during round table sessions, the grim atmosphere of the room setting the tone for his no-nonsense behavior. However, he can't stop himself from itching at a persistent stinging against his collarbone- probably something to do with the mark you'd sucked into his skin only hours earlier.

it's such an intense sensation that he slips a hand beneath his collar to itch it skin-on-skin, something probably unprofessional considering his environment, but one of those base human things that must be done even if it shouldn't be. A few wandering eyes note his movements, observant but neutral as a profiler should be.

It isn't until he withdraws his hand, fingers stained a crimson red, that anyone reacts.

JJ shifts in her seat, eyes blowing wide as Prentiss leans forwards, "Hotch, is that blood?"

Aaron's already grasped the edge of his manila folder with his lipstick-stained fingers, turning the yellow paper a sinful shade. He frowns, glancing down at his pristinely pressed suit, but there's nothing red against his chest.

"Your hand," Reid urges, his brows knitted in concern, but it's Derek- of course - who recognizes the red for what it really is.

"Hold on," He laughs incredulously, a great gust of air that comes out like a bark, "Hold on, hold on, hold on, that came off'a your chest?"

Caught red-handed, Hotch composes himself, which is a very stark difference to the way that his team dissolves into teasing giggles. Penelope has clapped a hand over her mouth, perhaps the only way she can hold herself back from opening it.

"Settle down." Hotch attempts, but Rossi undermines him with an exasperated groan. Once the oldest of the team proves unreachable Hotch knows he's lost the room, and sits in stony silence while he waits for his coworkers to finish getting their fill.

"My man." Morgan declares, clapping Hotch on the shoulder with a strong hand he's lucky not to lose, "She got you in the doorway this morning, didn't she?"

"We're talking about dead teenagers, here." Hotch reminds them, raising a brow as Emily, Penelope, and JJ collapse into girlish giggles, "Can we please focus on the case?"

"This is on you, Hotch." Rossi levels him with what's supposed to be an unimpressed glare, and what really comes off as a smirk, "It's not their fault you come to work with lipstick under your clothes."

"I have to ask Y/N for that shade," Penelope gushes, but at Hotch's warning glare she grabs her remote and retakes her place beside the viewing screen, "But-! But our trusty boss is right, there are lives on the line here. So- um, incriminating lipstick stains pushed to the back of the mind, we'll start up again on our case."

Hotch's shoulders relax as the team sinks back into careful contemplation of the case details. He thinks he's escaped scrutiny altogether thanks to the shocking violence of this particular unsub, but it's three days later when he hears about the lipstick stains again.

Surprisingly, it's Reid that comes to torture him, and the slick comment comes when Hotch is forced into sharing a motel room with him. Communal bathrooms are in the middle of the complex, but it's easier to change in their rooms. He unbuckles his belt facing the corner of the small room, giving Reid space to change himself, and giving both of them as much privacy as possible.

"Careful, Hotch," Reid calls, voice misleadingly kind-hearted which lures Aaron into a sense of security, "There's a gap in the curtains behind where you're standing. You wouldn't want any onlookers to see any more lipstick Y/N left behind."

Hotch decides that Reid is worse than Morgan. Morgan is expected to be crass, so it's not a shock when it's delivered. Reid, however, is one to watch out for.

"Reid," Hotch responds, hearing Spencer's breathy laughter already bubbling from his throat, "I'm sticking you on desk duty for a month when we get back."

[bess3714]

For my new year's resolution I'm going to (try to) make one painting a week. Most of them will probably be direct references to other people's art, since the goal is for me to actually paint, and if I have to think up my own ideas, I won't. We'll see how long I last!

Here's painting #1, for the first week of January

And here's my reference image. Yes, it is from Batman: The Animated Series

My batman is very blue, which I don't hate but I'm not sure I like. I didn't want to make it worse by making it darker, and anyway it doesn't need to be exactly like the reference. Must overcome perfectionist tendencies, I say with gritted teeth. The colors of the sky in the background turned out better than I was expecting, so I'm pleased with that.

[hyunniesgirl]

Can I be your favorite?

Pairing: Lee know x reader

Genre: smut, fluff

Summary: Lee Minho is unreachable, someone you can only just dream of being with. Until one day, you enter the wrong door at a party and ends up with him inviting you to sit on his lap.

Part 2

THIS CONTENT IS +18 ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Warnings: corruption kink, protected piv, fingering, Minho is kinda possessive.

You're okay with not being popular, it's not like you'll be like that forever, it's just college and in a few years everything will be forgotten so you just keep living your life, going to your classes and hanging out with your best friend.

The only time you ever wish you were popular, though, is when you see him. Lee Minho. The guy of your dreams. He's vice president of the greatest fraternity on campus, so everyone knows him.

Lee Minho is someone mysterious, no one knows much about him other than that he changes girlfriends faster than he changes clothes. So more than half of the girls in this university already had their heart broken by him.

That doesn't make you like him less though, it's not like something will ever happen between you two so a little crush on him is not something to worry about, even more so when he doesn't even know about your existence.

Your best friend, Jihyo is the opposite of you, she likes partying and she always tries to drag you to one of her nights out. That's how you ended up in the situation you're in right now. Alone in the kitchen of a frat house, listening to a drunk guy teaching you about your own major, while sipping on a drink you're not even sure about the contents.

You watch as a group of people play beer pong on the counter in the middle of the kitchen, everyone is sweating and there's alcohol being spilled all over the place. You're at a safe distance but you pity the person who's going to clean this up later on.

You have no idea where Jihyo went, she told you she was going to the bathroom half an hour ago and never came back. You're tired of hearing this guy too, he's talking about first year contents when you're already in your third year.

“That's so interesting”, you smile at him, “but I have to go find my friend now”, you don't let him say a word, quickly sneaking away from the kitchen.

You look around, trying to find your best friend, but she's nowhere to be seen. Maybe she's on the second floor, you ask people and they tell you exactly where the bathroom is. However, you shouldn't be so quick as to trust drunk people.

Because when you open the door people pointed out as the bathroom, you find a room with red lights brightening the dark space.

There's a bed in the middle of the room and in that bed there's a couple and that couple happens to be Lee Minho and someone you have no idea who it is. They are luckily not in a compromising position, not making out or something worse. She's just sitting on his lap, having her giggles stopped by the bright light that comes from the door when you open it.

Your eyes grow wide when Minho looks at you with his fierce unfriendly eyes.

“Hm- I'm- sorry, I thought this was the bathroom”, you smile sheepishly, fidgeting on your feet.

Minho looks at you up and down and you swear you can see a smirk forming on his lips, but you're not sure since the light is not great.

“I guess the sign with my name on the wall is not very visible”, he points out dryly, making your face turn red. Great, that's great. Nice way to be humiliated by your crush, y/n.

“I apologize, I really didn't see it”, you say again. You should already have gotten out of there but for some reason it seems that your feet are stuck on the ground.

“Honey, why don't you go downstairs, I'll talk to you later”, Minho says to the girl on his lap, making her groan in frustration. She gets up, angrily walking past you. “You should close the door if you're going to stay”, he tells you and your feet finally move just enough to be able to close the door with you still inside.

“Do you know where the bathroom is?” You ask like an idiot.

“I live here”, he says obviously, “but I don't think you're still looking for the bathroom”, he grins, seeing you lick your lips. “Why don't you come and take a seat?”

Your legs move on it's own once more, giving slow unsure steps in his direction. You sit on the edge of the bed, watching him carefully as he leans back, supporting his upper body on his hands, arms spread on the mattress.

He stares at you, surprised. Minho chuckles, shaking his head.

“That's not what I was talking about”, he tells you, landing his hand on his thigh and tapping there. “Why don't you try sitting here?” He asks.

You feel your whole body turning hot, why is he asking for you to sit on his lap?

“I-I should get going”, you stand up fast, but before you can walk away he takes a deep breath.

“Are you sure that's what you want?” Minho tilts his head, waiting for your answer.

No, that's not what you want. You really, really want to sit on his lap and let him do anything he wants with you. So you give in to your desires, stepping closer to him and bending down to sit on his thigh.

He bites on his bottom lip, watching you fidgeting and trying to get comfortable. By the way you're stiff, it's obvious you have never done this before and that gets him excited.

He corrects his posture, sitting with his chest close to you. One of his hands lands on your left thigh and the other goes to your waist.

Minho doesn't need to waste another second to find out that he likes you. You're just his type, shy and reserved, someone who he can corrupt. Someone who can make him go absolutely crazy.

“You see, I see the way you look at me”, he says, caressing your back with the hand he had on your waist. “Jihyo is not very quiet and every time she catches my attention you're there and every time I look at you, you're looking at me”, he says, like he's saying something you don't know. “After some time I just came to the conclusion that you may like me. Am I right about that?”

You nod automatically, like you're obligated to tell him the truth. Maybe your brain just doesn't work when you're near him.

“Hmm”, Minho hums, “tell me then, what can you do for me?”

“W-what do you mean?” You manage to ask, getting goosebumps with every touch of his.

“I mean to say, why should I choose you? I have a great number of options”, he smirks. He's teasing now, even though he's already set on making you his, he just wants to hear your answer.

You have so many things to use at your advantage, pretty lips that he wants to kiss, soft skin that he wants to leave marks all over and the sweetest voice that he wants to hear crying his name while he fucks you so deeply you'll beg him to keep going.

“Anything”, you gulp, “you can do anything you want with me, I'm entirely yours”, and that is better than anything else he could hear. That is the last straw.

Minho puts his hand behind your neck, pulling you to him and kissing you in a hungry, hot kiss. He grabs your hair with the other hand, pulling a handful and making you groan with the sudden pain but it's still so good. His tongue brushes on your lips, entering your mouth and slightly caressing yours. The way he's grabbing you is just too much, you feel like you're going to explode at any moment.

Minho lets go of you for a moment just to take his shirt off, showing you his bare chest. He gets back on grabbing you, pressing you against his body. You're not sure if this is right but it definitely doesn't feel wrong.

You take your crop top off, throw it on the floor and pray that Jihyo will forgive you for doing that with her clothes. Wrapping your arms around Minho's neck, you kiss him again, feeling his bulge beneath you.

He sneaks a hand down your stomach, unbuttoning your jeans and pushing your panties to the side as soon as he manages to reach your soaking cunt.

Minho presses a finger on your clit, you stop the kiss just to gasp and he pulls away, staring at you while he inserts a finger between your folds.

“Has anyone ever fingered you?” He whispers, listening to your low moans, you're cute trying to hold back.

You open your eyes to look at him, shaking your head. That's beautiful, he gets even more excited to know he's the first one giving you pleasure like that.

“And what about sex, have you had it before?” He asks one more question, pushing his finger in and out of you.

“A-a few times”, you struggle to say, feeling your cheeks hot.

“That's good, virgins aren't really my thing”, he smirks, “then, you can handle one more finger, right?” He asks, not waiting for your answer and pushing in another finger inside of you.

“Oh”, it's the only sound you can make. You hold him harder, with your mind dizzy. “It's too much”, you sob, feeling the stretch, it burns a bit but it's so good.

“Oh, Kitten”, he pouts. “How are you supposed to handle my cock if you can't handle two fingers? I'm bigger than that”, he smirks while saying that.

“I can do it, I can”, you nod frantically, too drunk on the pleasure of his fingers inside you to think straight.

“I'm glad you're confident”, he takes his fingers out of you and takes them to his mouth, liking every drop of your juice. “Your taste might be my new favorite”

He helps you get up, your legs are weak even though you didn't cum. Minho helps you lie on the bed, pulling your jeans down, trailing kisses down your legs while dragging out the fabric.

“You are pretty”, he mutters, taking off his pants and underwear, crawling back to stay on top of you, kissing your chest and your collarbone, biting on the skin and leaving a couple of hickeys there. Minho goes down your breasts, sucking and licking your nipples, kneading at the other with his hand. He's humping on your leg, rubbing his hard cock on your thigh.

His touch makes you feel like you're on fire, tingling sensations spreading all over your body. His kisses leave you so turned on, you don't think you ever felt this horny.

“Kitten”, he calls you, making you blush. It's crazy to think that even though you two are naked in front of each other, him calling you a pet name is what makes you flustered.

Minho gives you a peck on the lips, leaning over to the bedside table to look for a condom. He opens the package with his teeth, spitting the piece of plastic and stroking his cock on hand.

He looks so good, standing on his knees in between your legs, eyes closed feeling his fist caressing him.

“Let me do it”, you take the courage to say, sitting and taking the package out of his mouth into your hands. Minho watches you attentively as you grab the base of his cock, sliding the condom down his length.

“Fuck”, he murmurs, grabbing your face on his hands and kissing you so hard you can taste blood, not sure from which of you.

Minho positions himself in your entrance, looking at you to wait for your consent and when you nod he pushes in. You wrap your legs around his hips, trying to bring him closer even though it hurts a bit, it's so good you think you will go crazy.

“M-minho”, you moan, throwing your arms around his waist, digging your nails on his skin.

“Shit, you're perfect”, he starts moving, each trust making you moan louder. Your walls are squeezing him so deliciously that he can cum at any moment. His cock feels so good, reaching all the places you didn't even know existed.

Minho kisses you, fucking into you so fast you can barely breath. You never thought he could be even more beautiful, hair stuck on his sweaty forehead, eyes staring intensely at yours, bottom lip stuck between his teeth while he fucks you senseless. He leans closer, kissing your neck, leaving a long and a bit painful mark there.

“You're mine now”, he smiles shakily, clearly close to his release. You can feel your orgasm approaching too, cumming and tightening your legs around his hips, making his release follow yours.

Minho gives you a kiss before falling to your side, breathing heavily accompanied by you. You don't know what to say and you're scared he'll pretend this was nothing so you get up, collecting your things, not waiting for him to kick you out.

“What are you doing?” He asks, scowling.

“Getting dressed so I can get out”, you explain naively, being watched by him like you're the prey and he is the predator.

“What part of “you're mine now”, you didn't understand?” He asks, laying down with an arm beneath his head and the other stretched to the side of the bed, waiting for you to lie there. “Come back here, I'm not even nearly done with you”, he smirks, watching you blush again.

You drop the clothes you have collected, crawling back on the bed and snuggling close to him. Minho pulls you closer, turning to you and wrapping his free arm around your waist.

“I'll tell you what we're gonna do”, he explains and you nod, “I'm going to fuck you until the only thing you can remember is my name and after that I'll take you out to dinner”

Lee Know presses his body on yours, showing you that his cock is already hardening again and you giggle, blushing once more.

Never have you felt so happy to trust drunk people's instructions.

A/N: If you like what I write please reblog or let me know in the comments, feedback gives me motivation to keep writing.

[chocum]

yea tattoo artist choso but .. what abt tattoo artist geto

congrats on 1k btw!

eee thank youuuu 🙈🙈 i’m souuurrr happy you requested geto bc i’ve been wanting to write abt other characters. AND THISS got out of hand lollll ( 1.5k ) idk what came over me i just word vomited all over my phone… & it’s unedited

— tattooartist!geto x reader // mentions of smoking, m masterbation, fleshlight, cum eating, kinda pervy geto idk he tells reader to take her shirt off when she doesn’t need to so, nipple play, v in p, mentions of overstim, creampiee

suguru geto is one of the most, if not the most popular tattoo artists in your area— hell, probably even farther than that. just to book an appointment, there’s a waitlist not including the months and months he’s already booked for. so when you finally get that confirmation email after waiting for what felt like years, you physically jump up, rushing to get ready and go to the parlor

“i don’t have anyone today under that name, sorry”

suguru pushes a strand of silk black hair behind his pierced ears, the dragon tattoo on his hand moving as he does so almost like it’s taunting you.

“what? i got an email today i just-” your hand reaches into your purse slacked over your shoulder to pull out your phone and prove your appointment was today, but when you go back to check, heat spreads across your cheeks faster than ever.

the date said next month

“ya had the right day i’ll give you that” and he’s laughing. not at you but because you’re cute, he thinks. pouting, growing hot from embarrassment. “i’ll tell you what..”

he leans in and you can smell the smoke that lingers on his breath mixing like some sort of love potion with his musky cologne, his pierced eyebrow quirking, browned eyes staring into yours with puffy lips wet from licking, “i can squeeze you in tomorrow. was supposed to have an off day but ill help a pretty girl like you out, how’s that sound?”

and you’ve never nodded faster. smile pulling at your glossed lips, drawing his to get trapped underneath his teeth.

“here i’ll give you my number, i’ll text you the time ‘n stuff later”

with that, you leave his parlor, your number scribbled on the back of some old receipt next to your name and a heart.

geto’s no better than a man. no better. he goes home that night and texts you as soon as he’s tucked into bed.

hey this is suguru btw.

your phone vibrates on your nightstand, and you smile at the notification. it almost felt unreal, someone who felt so unreachable, someone like geto in your phone, texting you first.

hey!

he catches himself smiling at the message too, his mind trailing back to seeing your pretty face when you walked into the parlor. the way you looked around doe-eyed like a little deer in headlights. looked innocent, and he liked that. maybe a little too much, his dick twitching against the fabric of his boxers.

he only talked to you for a few minutes. barely even held a conversation, but god did you look good. can’t blame him for getting like this.

what time is good for you? like i said, im supposed to be off but had no plans so any time is fine.

your thumbs dance across your keyboard as you think of what to say in response. you’re nervous. and if you knew he was jerking his cock, you’d be even more. his hand slowly .. very slowly rubbing his leaky tip, his head full, overflowing and bubbling with thoughts of you. what are you doing right now? are you in bed too? squeezing his warm balls, cupping them, teasing himself, imagining it’s your sweet little hands.

is 6 pm okay?

the little buzz drags him from his thoughts.

yea. see you then, pretty.

the simple little pet name makes you feel like you’re going to explode. so warm all over your body, and you wish you could just time travel to the next day and see him already.

geto brings the palm of his large hand to his face, lolling his tongue out to lick long stripes on it, shivering at the feeling of his own piercing before wrapping around the base of his thick cock, stroking himself only two times. this won’t do.

he reached for the pocket pussy he keeps nested deep in his drawer. leaning over to let spit fall and dribble into the clear toy before rubbing it on his tip.

groaning, “shiiiiittt” his hips bucking up as he slowly lets it sink down— body twitching at the feeling of all the little bumps and ridges massaging his sensitive cock.

“fu- fuck juuuust like that, mhhhm”

imagining he’s inside your tight little walls, squishing him like he’s meant for you, snug and tight like a puzzle piece.

his chest heaved with every snap of his wrist, spit sinking out and ringing out the base of his cock leaking down to his heavy balls, “feel so fucking good baby”

so fast he’s already shooting into the toy, whining because it’s not you. wishing it was you, your warm walls probably feel so much better. probably sound so cute taking him from behind or from the front, your eyes locked onto his.

he came so much it’s leaking all over himself. so messy and dirty and he brings the toy up and licks it all out, shoving his tongue inside the rubbery walls to flick and clean it up.

“shit”

the next day came too slowly. to you but especially to suguru. he went to the parlor an hour earlier to open and tidy up, pulling his raven locs into a ponytail, letting a few stray strands fall and frame his face, counting each and every second.

and then he hears it. the little ding as the door opens, you push it open smiling up at him as you walk through and you look even better than he remembered. and he’s trying so hard to keep his composure.

he nods at you, giving you a small smile, “so what did you want to get, and where?”

at your reply he freezes, his hands almost crumbling up the paperwork he reached for you to fill out — “my chest”

“your chest?”

he parrots you. then he repeats it in his head a few more times. picturing you pull your little top up.

he can tell you’re not wearing a bra with how your nipples perk up and poke through the flimsy, almost see-through fabric.

you nod your head, mhm sounding and bubbling past your lips.

god, you’re going to be the death of him.

after you finish with all the paperwork, he pulls you into the back making small talk asking about your day. and you indulge, asking back, finding comfort in the normality of your conversation. he’s different from what people painted him out to be and you felt relaxed in his presence.

even more when he offers you a seat, cleaning it off before slipping on some black gloves. his hands almost bulge out, his knuckles poking through the latex.

“can i see the design?”

you pull up the picture on your phone and he hums, “and you said your chest, right?”

again he repeats it, almost as if it’s a mantra he’s using to calm his nerves. calm his dick.

you just nod, “do i need to take my shirt off?”

and well no you don’t, not yet at least, but he says yes, reaching forward to do it for you because he’s just so sweet, right? so nice and caring, and welcoming.

and he only wraps his lips around your tits to soothe you, right? sucking, letting his teeth sink into the buds, the silver ball tracing over them. his other glove-clad hand cupping them.

sinks his cock into you just cause he wants to take care of you, right? he could tell you wanted it soo bad. your thighs pressing together so tightly when he pressed his lips against your chest with a soft, “suguru please”

“mhm let me take care of you, pretty girl, spread em, hold yourself open f’me— uh huh, juuust like that.”

your little arms shake and tremble, hooking around the back of your knees as he pushes into your tight cunt. and fuck, he was right. feels so much better than his toy.

“fuuuckk found your spot, baby, ‘s right there? yeah feel good right there?” he rolls his hips up, brushing against that spot, his thick tip kissing it, making your body twitch.

“yes— fuck yes feels so good”

right about you sounding so fucking good too— his cock twitching inside the solitude of your pretty slimy walls. shivering at how you suck and milk him so well, so tight and warm. so fucking warm. feels so good he’s already close, but he wants to keep making you feel good, keep hearing you, and if he was to fuck his cum into you, overstimulating his needy cock to do that, then so be it.

“inside” you whine out at how he twitches, his stokes sputtering and faltering as he languidly pushing into your sopping pussy, leaking all over him, so wet.

“ohh — fuck ohfuck” and it pushes him over the edge, bottoming out to overfill you, make you nice and creamy ‘cause you deserve it. deserve it for being so good, making him feel so good.

letting his head fall onto your shoulder sweat sprinkling his forehead as he empties himself for you. for your pretty pussy, all for you.

[forzalando]

hi marissa! first, i hope you have a wonderful time with your family!!

second, could i request “i might have had a few shots” with max, where reader drunk calls him after a breakup? thank youu 🫶🏻🫶🏻

i feel like i took some creative liberties with this one! i wasn't sure if you meant reader and max breakup or reader calls max after breaking up with someone else - so i went with the latter and couldn't resist making them idiots in love😭. after writing the danny ric angst, i needed to heal my own heart lol i truly hope you love it, liyah! thank you for always being so kind, it was a pleasure to write for you! wc: 1.8k warnings: cursing (most likely), a little bit of angst, mentions of drinking/reader being drunk

Getting ahold of Max Verstappen was nearly impossible – his use of the custom “Do Not Disturb” function was impressive. He had custom settings for everything: a work setting, a setting for when he was streaming, a race day setting, but his most prized was his sleep setting.

Once local time hit 10pm, Max Verstappen was unreachable to everyone. Well, almost everyone. His family, Christian, and you were the only exceptions, which aggravated Daniel to no end. “I’m your best friend, too!”, he’d claimed. But it wasn’t the same.

Max wasn’t secretly in love with Daniel. He’d take your calls anytime, day or night.

It was nearing midnight – Jimmy and Sassy were sound asleep at the foot of his bed and he’d been watching some legal drama you recommended. He hated it, but for you he’d watch it forever and take notes just to have another thing to talk to you about.

At this point, the show had practically put him to sleep, but the loud chime of his phone and your contact picture lighting up the screen jolted him awake.

“Maxie?” You yelled into the speaker. “Maxieee, are you there?”

“I’m here, liefje,” he chuckled. “What are you doing up so late?”

“Th’girls made me go out,” you whined. “Said I needed to dance and drink the night away.”

“And did you?” Max teased - by the sound of your voice, it was obvious you had taken their advice.

You giggled and the sound made Max’s heart clench in his chest. “I might’ve had a few shots, but don’t tell anyone. It’s a secret. Can you keep a secret, Max?”

His heart clenched now for a different reason – he was the best at keeping secrets. He’d been in love with you for over a year and the only living souls who knew were his cats. And probably Danny, though he'd had the sense to never bring it up.

“For you, I would do anything,” Max declared. In your drunken state, you failed to recognize the full extent of the meaning behind his words.

“Perfect!” You hiccupped, stumbling slightly before your friend caught your arm.

It was silent for a moment – Max waited for you to say something else but only heard your breathing through the speaker. “Is everything ok? Why did you call?”

“Well, no. Wanna go home but everyone else wants to stay out. Can you come get me, Maxie? It’s cold outside.”

“Are you alone?” He asked frantically, jumping out of bed and throwing a sweatshirt on in record time. He shoved his feet into his shoes so quickly that his ankle rolled – his trainer would be pissed when it came time for tomorrow’s workout.

“No, Nat and Peter are outside with me. They’re good friends. But not as good as you!”

Max breathed a sigh of relief – grateful that your closest friend and her boyfriend were watching over you. Unfortunately, the relief didn’t keep his stomach from twisting at “good friend”.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes, ok?”

You shouted thank you gleefully and hung up – he could picture you jumping up and down in excitement, you’d probably fall over unless Nat and Peter were close enough to catch you.

Minutes later, he pulled up alongside the club and he’d barely made it out of his car before you were jumping into his arms.

“I knew I could count on you, Maxie.”

He gently put you in the passenger seat, buckling you in and grabbing a jacket from his backseat to drape over you. Once you were comfortable, content, and ready to go, he turned to your friends to thank them for waiting with you.

“Thanks for staying with her until I could get here.”

“No problem at all,” Nat smiled. “We all thought she deserved a night out after the week she’s had, but I think she’d rather just be with you.”

Max blushed, unintentionally ignoring that your friend had just let slip you’d had a terrible week and he’d had no idea. He thanked them once again, and slipped into his car to find you half asleep and cuddling his jacket.

He thought you’d be out like a light in moments and turned the radio down, content to sit in silence until he got to his place. He’d rather die than wake you up to find your keys when you looked so peaceful.

“Can I tell you another secret, Maxie?” You murmured, startling him when you broke the still silence in his car.

“Sure, Y/N.”

“Alec dumped me. And I’m not even sad about it.”

Your latest boyfriend – you’d been dating for a couple of months. Max wondered why you had called him instead of Alec, but he didn’t want to ask since he didn’t particularly like talking about your boyfriends, even if they were nice. As far as he could tell, Alec was one of the nice ones.

“I’m sorry. Is that why your friends wanted you to go out?”

“They thought I’d be devastated,” you said bewildered. “And I haven’t even cried! You know me, Maxie, I’m a crier. I had to pretend to be upset when I told them.”

Max laughed at that, looking at you as you laughed along with him. His dimple and shining eyes caused your heart to skip a beat, and your smile slowly disappeared.

Suddenly, you had a horrified look on your face. You knew why you hadn’t cried – it was because you didn’t really care that much about Alec. Sure, he was sweet, kind, and attractive, but something was missing. When he broke up with you, he was so gracious, telling you that he thought the world of you but that it would never work because you were clearly in love with someone else. You’d protested – told him the only constant male presence in your life was Max, your best friend. He’d just smiled at you and said “I know”, leaving you perplexed when he left the coffee shop you had met up at. Until now, you had no idea what he meant.

You turned away from Max, shocked at the revelation of your feelings, staring out the window until he got to his apartment.

“I thought you’d be asleep,” he explained when he saw your confused face. “Didn’t want to rifle through your bag for your keys or wake you up. The spare bedroom has fresh sheets anyway.”

You nodded, practically catapulting yourself out of the car and into his building. The speed at which you trekked up to his place was impressive, especially in the shoes you’d chosen for the evening, and Max began to sweat. Had he done something wrong? Were you pissed he didn’t take you home?

When he unlocked his door, you ran straight to the guest bathroom and shut yourself in. Max was disoriented – you didn’t seem that drunk, and truthfully you were only ever quiet when you were asleep.

While you were in the bathroom, Max put a change of clothes and spare toiletries on your bed, slipping out when he heard the sink stop running.

You smiled when you saw the pile Max had left on your bed, suddenly feeling very ashamed for abruptly ignoring him. The TV was on in the living room and after changing, taking off your makeup, and brushing your teeth, you felt slightly more sober and a lot more guilty.

“Max?” you whispered, slinking into the living room to sit beside him on the couch. “Can I tell you one more secret?”

“Of course, you can always tell me anything.”

“Alec broke up with me because he thinks I’m in love with someone else.”

“Well, that’s crazy,” Max scoffs. “He must not want to tell you the real reason or didn’t have one so he made that up. I mean, what guys do you know that he’s even met? Peter? Another one of your friends’  boyfriends? You don’t even have that many close guy friends except me and - ”

Max cuts himself off, slowly turning to face you. He doesn’t think he’s breathing, blood rushing in his ears and a tightness starts to spread throughout his chest.

You have a sad smile on your face and your eyes are downcast, playing with the sleeves of the hoodie Max had given you.

“I don’t think I even realized until tonight,” you whispered. “Looking at you in the car, watching you laugh, how you were the only person I wanted to call and you dropped everything to come get me. It just kind of hit me – who Alec meant, why none of my relationships have ever worked out.”

Max scoots away from you, and suddenly it’s painful to breathe. There’s an ache in your chest that almost burns –  like someone’s waving a lighter back and forth over your heart, each time leaving the flame against you a little longer.

“You’re drunk, Y/N, you don’t know what you’re saying. Please, please don’t do this.”

When you look at his face, see the panic that’s masking heartache, you realize that he’s not moving away from you because he doesn’t feel the same.

He’s moving away because he does, and for how long, you don’t know – but the flame licks higher and higher until the burning reaches your throat when you understand that he thinks you’re too far gone to understand your own feelings.

“Max, I’m not – ”

He cuts you off, reaching out to cup your face with his hand. “In the morning. If you wake up, and you still want to have this conversation, I will listen.”

You nod and stand up from the couch, leaving him sitting under the glow of the television. The apartment feels colder as you walk towards the guest room, and when you stop to look back at him, his head is in his hands and it terrifies you. Max was the one person in this world that you could never lose – it would shatter you.

Sleep never came to you – tossing and turning in the plush pillows that you picked out because Max wanted you as comfortable as possible in his space. When the sun came up, you crept out of bed and didn’t stop until you were in front of Max’s door. You knocked twice, rocking back on forth on the balls of your feet.

The door opened within seconds – Max’s tired eyes showed that he got about as much sleep as you did.

“It’s morning,” you whispered.

“It is.”

“It’s morning and I still love you.”

He smiled at you, so big and so bright, it rivaled the Mediterranean summer sun. You wanted this moment captured forever – painted perfectly in a portrait done by the most highly esteemed artist in the world.

You threw your arms around his neck, sacrificing seeing the beauty of him to feel him in your arms. His soft breaths tickled your skin, and your giggles made him squeeze you even tighter.

“You don’t know how many mornings I’ve spent waiting to hear you say that.”

“You’ll never have to live through another one again, Max.”

[sinner-as-saint]

no masters or kings - 2

Priest!Bucky x Reader 

Read part 1 here

Run-through: Father Barnes’ life had been rather peaceful for years. He never complained though, he chose this. Between mass on Sundays, bible study sessions during the week, and office hours, the amount of time he has left he dedicated to reading and keeping his body active. There wasn’t much to do in this small, almost forgotten town. Then a new face appeared. A woman, married to some businessman who leaves her all by herself while he grows his fortune in the city. Father Barnes seemed determined at first, to herd and care for the new, young, lonely little lamb. But that is until he found himself tempted to sin like never before. 

Themes: priest!bucky, smut, degrading kink, infidelity, explicit language, (sacrilege, blasphemy, and all the other bad stuff), mild c*m play

a/n: @cadence-on-beat Father Barnes and I love you <3

“Where were you?” 

There was already a chill in the air which had you shivering for the past few minutes that you’d been in here. In the darkness, in the cold. Standing all by yourself in front of the ancient looking pulpit, inside the empty church at near midnight. Then the tone of his voice added to the shivering. You were properly trembling as you turned to face him. 

He hadn’t been out running tonight. No work out clothes. He was still wearing the black slacks he always wore. With the black shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and that white collar. Hands shoved in his pockets, he stood there near the pews and watched you. 

The lights were off. The lamps outside and the moonlight coming in through the stained glass gave just enough light for you to see him. Not clearly, but you didn’t need to see his face to sense his displeasure. It echoed around the empty room. Not just his voice. His authority. His dark desires as well. 

Three little words and you were ready to drop to your knees and beg for forgiveness. He always had that effect on you. His handsome face only made him seem more lethal. Unreachable. Like he was some forgotten god who was known to be greedy, but you kept throwing yourself at his altar despite the warnings just for a possible glimpse of his beauty. 

You were enamoured. And you could only tell him the truth. Lying to him felt wrong. 

“My parents hosted a dinner party over the weekend. Plus there were a few fundraisers to attend. So um, my husband and I had to–,” 

He cut you off with enough venom and bitterness in his steady voice that it felt like a thorny vine wrapping around you, squeezing and hurting. “So you were with him?” His accusatory tone didn’t go unnoticed. 

–

Bucky was well aware he had no right to be jealous. He had absolutely no right to question you regarding your whereabouts. But he so selfishly enjoyed the way you squirmed in front of him. After not having seen you or heard from you for days, he was beginning to get worried. 

Each time he walked by your house, he made sure to look for any signs that you might be home. But there were none. By the second day, he realised you must’ve gone away. He just didn’t know that it would affect him so much upon hearing that you’d been away, for days, spending time with your showy family and husband. It made him borderline murderous. 

Dinner party. Fundraisers. Those were so far from his world. Plus you looked like you’d just gotten back from one such pretentious event. Judging by the deliciously low cut silver evening gown with a slit at the front, the expensive shoes, the diamonds in your ears and around your neck, and that excuse of a shawl you had wrapped around your shoulders – it looked like you’d come straight here to see him. It made him stand a little taller. 

He watched as you took the smallest step towards him, as if unsure whether or not you could get close to him. 

“I came back as soon as I could.” You explained, looking down at the dark red carpet beneath your feet. 

Bucky took some steps closer to you. “But you were with him. Did he touch you?” 

This made you look up at him, as if betrayed. As if it was unthinkable that your husband would touch you. “No. I told you about him and I. We’ve never–” 

He cut you off again, stepping closer and closer as he spoke until he was right in front of you. “Did he hold you in front of everyone? Pulled you close?” He began listing. “Showed you off? Held your hand, kissed you, danced with you? Did he do all the things I have no right to?” He reached out and his fingers stroked your cheek just barely. 

He was crossing a line. He knew it. He couldn’t stop the jealousy from spreading, from coursing through his veins. He begged his god to make it stop. Begged. But here it was again. That same jealousy, stepping out of a dark cave like a beast that’s been chained underground for too long now finally seeing the light again. It was angry. Raw. Hungry. Demanding. 

–

His jealousy, his possessiveness felt like a drug you wanted more of. 

“He did none of that.” You explained. “We slept in separate bedrooms in his penthouse.” 

You gasped as Father Barnes’ hand moved, his gentle touch on your cheek turned into him grabbing the back of your neck and bringing your face closer to his. Your chest pressing against his. His body heat wrapped all around you as he sneered, “What if he wanted to? Hmm? What if, as it is his right, he walked into your bedroom at night and said he wanted to fuck his wife? Would you have denied him?” 

Your breaths were shaky. Your mind was already foggy just by being this close to him. He didn’t feel human. He always felt more. He was too put together. Too steady. Too pretty to look at. 

He scoffed, “You wouldn’t deny him.” He whispered, his lips just an inch away from yours. “Your pretty little brain doesn’t think about anything else, does it? Of course you’d say yes. All you think about is men fucking you, owning your body, making it theirs. It doesn’t matter whose cock it is at the end of the day, is it?” 

He gave you a sinful smirk. One that made your whole body pressed against him even more. 

Then he leaned closer, so that his soft mouth brushed against yours as he said, “You just need that pretty pussy to be filled at all times. Doesn’t matter who does it, your husband, a stranger, a priest. It’s all the same to you, huh? All you care about is having a man on top of you. You sick, twisted, immoral woman.” 

He spoke those words with a gentle caress. His tone hushed, still jealous and authoritative. But quiet. Like he wasn’t chastising you. 

“Please.” You murmured, mouth brushing against his. “Please.” 

He ignored your pleas. Tightening his grip at the back of your neck as his other hand came up to that risqué slit at the front of your dress, fingers sliding in to touch your inner thighs. “Is that why you showed up here, dressed like this? Because you need a cock to fill you up. Hmm? Look at you,” He said, his fingers now finding their way in between your legs, cupping you there, “You’re trembling already.” 

He chuckled in that boyish way of his when he noted the lack of underwear, sliding his finger inside you with ease. Followed by another finger, and said, “Is this what you want? To be nice and full?” 

You looked up at him and nodded, pleading with him with your eyes. 

–

Bucky loved the sight of you like this. Expensive gown, diamonds all over you, his hand in between your legs, that sorry excuse of a shawl as if anything about your behaviour was even remotely modest. 

The soft moans coming out of your mouth. Too perfect. Your appearance, the lipstick, the hair, the gown. He wanted to ruin all of it in the best ways. So he thoroughly enjoyed the gasp of surprise he earned when he pulled his fingers away abruptly. 

“Not so easily.” He whispered. “Get on your knees.” 

He watched as you dropped instantly, right there in front of him on the dark red carpet right in front of the pulpit. Your shawl fell behind you, your silver gown spilled around you, the slit widened and exposed more of your smooth skin and legs. You looked up at him and waited. 

Bucky undid his pants, his eyes daring you to move without him asking you to. He lowered his slacks just enough to free his throbbing, hard cock and let it out there in front of your face. He let you watch it bob once, twice. He smirked when he saw the way you almost begged for it. But he wasn’t that cruel, nor was he too patient. 

“Go on, use your mouth.” 

– 

It felt forbidden. Well, it was. But as you reached for him, as you brought your mouth closer to his tip, it felt like you were entering a territory that could change your life forever. Like you were entering a domain which would swallow you whole, and you would happily let it. There was no coming back, you knew that. 

You were too far gone. There was no forgiveness for this. No repenting. Nothing. So you went for it. You wrapped your hands around his cock and placed your mouth on his tip, your tongue slowly circling his tip before sliding him into your eager mouth. 

Bucky slid his hand down to your neck, pulling your head forward as he slowly pushed himself deeper into your mouth. “What would your rich, conservative family do if they saw you like this, hmm? On your knees for a man you shouldn’t want. What would your husband do?” He threw his head back and let out a strained moan, followed by an arrogant chuckle.

You kept your eyes on his handsome face as you sucked on his cock with all your might. He closed his eyes momentarily, lips parted and gasping as he tilted his head back. You wondered how long it had been since his cock was inside a warm, wet mouth. 

He moaned as he pushed himself deeper, fucking your mouth like he owned it. The carpet would surely leave marks behind on your knees but that was the least of your concerns as he bucked his hips forward into your mouth. 

“This hungry, slutty mouth of yours feels so good…” 

You repeated your actions again and again, hollowing your cheeks. The growls and moans which escaped his lips made you squirm and only added to the dampness which was forming in between your legs. 

“You’ve been craving this, haven’t you?” He quickened the pace at which he moved in and out of you, eager to chase his orgasm. “Needing a cock in your mouth, so fucking desperate you came begging all the way here for it.” His voice was raspy, heavy with lust. It made you squirm. 

You knew you couldn’t wait any longer for the sake of your sanity. You needed him. So you took him out of your mouth, licking his cock from bottom to top while your hands toyed with his balls. He looked down at you with a warning in his eyes. 

“Are you that eager? You can’t wait? Hmm?” That gentle voice of his was back again. “Just want to be done with me as quick as possible so I can fuck you, huh?” He looked down at you with his intense blue eyes. His longish hair a little out of place now. 

You nodded before taking him back into your mouth. You felt the veins of his firm cock against your tongue. You felt his muscles tightened under your touch, and you knew he wouldn’t last much longer. So you quickened your pace, and he groaned as he reached his high. 

With one final, rough push into your mouth, you felt him starting to come undone. His hand came to the front of your neck, a warning, as he growled, “Don’t swallow just yet.” Then his cum filled your mouth as he gradually pulled himself out of your mouth and bent down to look at you from up close. Your lips were swollen. Cum and spit ran down your chin, out the corners of your mouth. 

You were panting, waiting. He looked into your mouth, finding a small pool of his cum in there. He smirked in that devilish way as he slid two fingers past your lips, gathering the wetness on the tips of his fingers as he, almost naturally, brought his wet fingers to your forehead. 

“You’re mine.” He said to you while you trembled, and it wasn’t because of the cold night. 

There, as both of you were in that post-sex haze, he drew two overlapping lines on your forehead. Then dragged his wet fingers down your face, painting your skin. Down the bridge of your nose and back into your mouth. Pumping them in and out, causing more cum to fall down your chin. 

Causing it to fall down your neck, all over the diamonds that your husband possibly bought you. All over your chest, ruining your expensive gown, your makeup. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

Your lipstick was smeared, you had his cum all over your face and he had never felt so close to ecstasy before. He felt free. Tingly. Floaty. Like nothing mattered, but every little mattered. 

This must be the feeling people seek. He thought. Why they beg at altars, and worship old gods and new. 

You were so close to begging again. You needed him, terribly. 

And he knew. 

–

Bucky stared deep into your eyes as he said, “Get on your back. Pull your dress up and spread those legs for me.” 

He watched as you did just as he asked, while lowering himself on top of you right there on the carpet. He was ready to go, all hard again. So he wasted no time in pushing himself fully into you. He watched you grimace in pleasure as his cock stretched you out. 

You whined as he slowly slipped out of you completely, before slamming back into you with a slightly bigger force. He groaned at the feel of your walls wrapped around him, squeezing and clenching around him. 

“Fuck you feel good.” He groaned. “This warm pussy missed me, huh?” 

Your back arched off the carpet, your chest pressed to his as you moaned. You wanted to feel his naked body against yours, to feel his warm chest press against your bare skin. But if this was all he’d give you then you were willing to take it.  

“You’re gonna keep coming back here over and over again, no matter where you go. You’ll come right back to me, won’t you?” He asked, hips moving in a way that made it hard for you to think straight. 

But you nodded. “Yes…” 

“Yes what?” He barked.

“Yes, Father Barnes. I’ll always come back to you,” You whispered, a moaning mess under him in no time. 

He worshipped your body. He grabbed your thigh with one hand, hooking it up to his waist, allowing him to fuck deeper into you. He mumbled how good you felt in your ear, groaning as you bucked your hips to meet each one of his thrusts as well. He kissed you roughly as he pounded into you, his fingers wrapped around your throat. He fucked you raw and relentlessly, watching how your face morphed into frowns of pleasure. 

“Tell me you’re mine.” He looked down to where your bodies connected so intimately. So sinfully. So beautifully. 

“I’m yours,” You whined, looking up at him. Even in the darkness, he was ethereal. Looking down at you with that animalistic, primal and fiery look in his eyes. 

His lips parted as he panted while he fucked you like he owned you. He did. He did from the moment you laid eyes on him. 

You whimpered even louder when his hand slid in between your connected bodies and furiously rubbed your clit. It wasn’t going to take much to make you come anyway, you were already too turned on. 

“Please,” You whined in a higher pitch, “Please, please, please…” 

“What do you need?” He panted, still fucking you hard and fast. “Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you.” There was that priestly tone again. 

You couldn’t talk as the pressure in between your legs became too much to handle, and you craved for release. Still you mumbled out, “I need to come, please. Can I come?” 

“Fuck!” He swore as he felt you clench around him perfectly. “Go on, come for me.” 

You did. 

You came hard around him, moaning and whimpering under him as he finished right after you yet again. 

—

He helped you up after a minute or two, helped you fix your dress and appearance as best you both could. 

He had seen your car outside earlier so he knew you’d be okay to drive yourself home. You didn’t live far from the church anyway. And right before you left he said, “Leave the door unlocked.” It was a safe town, so he felt free to ask that of you. “Who knows? I might want more later.” 

Might. He could come back for more, or maybe he simply wouldn’t. Maybe he wanted you to go to bed still thinking, guessing, anticipating, and waiting. 

And he knew you would. Think. Guess. Anticipate. And wait.

---

part 3