#it's been forever since I've written anything

[gojhoes]

"don't feed it"

warnings: NSFW, MDNI, tw: self-harm, blood (duh), actual literal kidnapping contents: gojo x fem!reader, vampire au, college au, no curse au, yan!gojo, possession, dubcon, s/m, p-in-v, soft dom gojo, coercion, reader is kinda dumb, pining, subjugation, praise, gojo is more tame bc he’s dead, obsession, stalking wc: 6.1k part 1

"...for the blood is the life, and thou mayest not eat the life with the flesh." deuteronomy 12:23

many and more years ago, satoru gojo died just a few days before the turn of the century. the fine details of his demise were lost on him now, as were so many memories he'd once held during his waking life.

cursed.

at first, he'd believed he was a ghost; an unsettled soul which fluttered unseen among the living. but no– women smiled sweetly at him on the street and men tipped their hats as he walked on by.

damned.

it was an adjustment at first. the earliest years were the hardest, spent mostly alone as the new sensation of thirst consumed his every moment. the night's children needn't to sleep or eat, and he could no longer stand to be in the presence of people. he had become something savage, more alike that of an animal than a person. he fed without care and developed a blatant disrespect for life, exercising no caution in the event of concealment.

cold.

an incident occurred in which he was the culprit caught the attention of a prominent cohort, introducing satoru to an entire society of the damned. it was then that he met suguru, who, despite his fate, held true to a certain standard of morals in which he preached to others. satoru kept quiet about his disagreement, choosing to view suguru as a friend and a mentor.

dead.

satoru began to linger around every corner you might pass– anything to get close enough for a taste of your scent. he loved watching the way you moved, how you'd wear your hair up off your neck now that it was getting warmer. most of all, though, he loved watching over you while you slept. you were so oblivious, so vulnerable, so alive, and satoru's obsession had come alight in full.

suguru was lounging in the sitting room, looking as ethereal as ever what with his long hair and billowing robes. a boy likely no older than seventeen sat perched on the arm of his chair, though satoru paid him little mind. his face was sallow, undereye painted red-purple– the telltale appearance of a human subjugate.

"what a surprise," said suguru, flashing a white-teethed smile. "you look troubled."

troubled? no. confused? slightly. "hello, suguru. new friend?"

the other man shrugged, his eyes raking over the boy in a way that made satoru cringe inwardly. "he's pretty, no?"

the purpose of this visit was the get advice about you, not breathe more life into a pointless debate between the two friends. satoru believed suffering shouldn't be prolonged in the way it was with subjugates, though suguru would swear up and down it was the way to go. since meeting him, satoru had seen the other go through what seemed like hundreds of them.

"finally coming around?" suguru asked, arching a dark brow. "i've been telling you for years, satoru. there is nothing quite like the devotion and the-"

satoru cut him off with an irritated sigh. "yes, yes, i know you love your playthings, but it's not like that."

the boy didn't respond to the dig; a subjugate responded only to their master. it was chilling to witness, even for satoru.

suguru scoffed. "what could you possibly have to gain from it, then?"

it wasn't a matter of winning or losing, but that mentality would be lost on someone like his friend. satoru's goal wasn't to make you into a mindless slave– he wanted to hold you, protect you, and make you his. it was an unconscious and irresistible desire to keep you by his side forever. it must have been written all over his face judging from a shake of his friend's head.

"don't be a fool, satoru," said suguru, his voice full of lazy chastisement. "this will only end one way."

satoru rolled his eyes, taking no heed to the other's comment as usual. "am i wrong to assume that you might be jealous?"

suguru pulled the boy in closer, brushing away his hair to expose the smooth skin of the subjugate's neck. "don't you have somewhere to be?"

satoru resisted the urge to make a gagging noise as he watched suguru snatch the boy's head back, and turned on his heel to exit the room. he did have somewhere to be– a date with you.

it didn't take long for satoru to find you. an innate magnetism made it easy now that he'd learned your patterns and grown used to your scent. tonight was a rare one in that you were off from work. satoru peered through your apartment window, watching as you and your friend fluttered about inside. after a few minutes, he heard you ask if she was ready to leave, and quickly melted into the shadows before either of you would be able to spot him.

the bond between you was predetermined by fate, which is why you were so sure that you'd seen him before. your soul was tied to him whether you knew it or not, though you would soon figure out why. nothing would ever be able to stop him from wanting you, from needing you.

he followed far enough behind to avoid being seen until you disappeared inside a crowded bar trailed by your friend. satoru cursed her silently; there was always something or someone keeping you away from him. he supposed that he could kill her, but he'd rather die all over again than risk making you sad. so, he waited. he'd waited a century– what was another hour or two?

eventually, there you were, stumbling out the door with your brown-haired friend's arm wrapped around your waist. that familiar twinge in his chest pulled at him as it did every time he saw you, the one that billowed from the dangerous temptation to take you. he heard you laugh at something she said, and pure jealousy surged through him. who was this girl touching you like that? making you laugh? getting you piss-drunk? just how close were the two of you?

satoru dug his nails into his palms as his will began to waver. he watched as your friend guided you to the edge of the sidewalk before she turned around to answer a phone call. your friend paid no mind as you swayed and fought to stay upright against your intoxication. she didn't notice when you stumbled forward into the street, nor when satoru materialized from the shadows and reached to pull you by the arm just before a speeding car flattened you.

you gasped as his arm circled your waist, steadying yourself with your hands on his chest. the terror on your face melted into a smile and recognition bloomed in your eyes; it would've softened his anger had your friend not yelled at him right after.

"hey!" satoru whirled around and glared down at the perpetrator. "what the hell are you doing?"

you were pitifully limp in his grasp– how much did you drink tonight? never would he have ever let you be so careless, nor would he have abandoned you when you were so clearly out of it.

"she's coming with me," said satoru through gritted teeth. he had half a mind to cut her down right then, damn the consequences, but you were more important.

your friend opened her mouth to protest, but with a tilt of his head and a flash of his eyes, she choked on her words. she only swallowed and nodded before satoru turned and began leading you down the street toward his home.

***

you were in an unfamiliar room when you woke, tucked into a bed that wasn't yours. your body felt heavy as you struggled to sit upright, stripping off the covers to expose yourself to the frigid air. the only memory you possessed from the night before was shoko handing you another drink, and then... satoru, with his arms around you as you stumbled away from the bar.

how strange. maybe he'd been there with someone and you just happened to run into each other; it was a small college town. as your mind began to clear, you noticed that the clothes on your body were not the ones you'd worn last night. on the nightstand was a glass of water and what looked like tea sandwiches, but not your phone. no purse, no phone, no keys, nothing of what you'd brought to the bar was in your possession.

you surveyed the room in search of anything you might recognize or that might trigger a memory, but there was nothing. you saw that the only light was coming from a small, rectangular window near the ceiling and with the dampness of the air, you knew you'd been brought to a basement. you sprung from the bed and soared toward the bedroom door, sickening fear and dread bursting from the pit of your stomach as panic began to set in.

"hello?" you called out. your voice echoed unanswered throughout the room, working only to further raise your concern.

you reached to twist the doorknob, but it didn't budge, and it was then that your composure began to dismantle.

you pounded on the door, frantic as you cried out, "hey! what the hell is going on?! satoru!!"

this couldn't be happening, not to you. sure, kidnappings happened all the time, but never did you imagine that this nightmare would be plaguing you. did satoru drug you? were you even with him? where the fuck was he? had he left you here to die, now that he'd had his fill? your chest rose and fell rapidly as your breaths grew more labored.

a ravaged scream tore from your lungs. you weren't quite sure when it stopped, but your throat burned, raw and silenced as you let your body slump onto the floor with defeat.

you were unsure of how much time had passed when the door finally swung open to reveal satoru's tall frame. the sound made you flinch bodily as he stepped over the threshold with a smile on his face. you jumped to your feet with half a mind to sprint past him to freedom, but it was futile. instinctively, though, you inched backward from the angel of death who'd come to whisk you away at last.

he looked the same as he had the last times you'd seen him, smiling kindly while moving to close the space you were desperately working to maintain. never would you have imagined he was a sick bastard who locked people in his basement. he was so handsome, so normal, maybe a little quirky, but he'd been so nice to you...

"don't be frightened," satoru said gently. "it's all right."

your body trembled as the backs of your knees made contact with the bed. "what are you doing?" your voice was scarce more than a rasp, weak even to your own ears.

he had pulled the door behind him, sealing off your only possible escape route. you noticed then a large volume tucked under his arm which he moved to lay gingerly on the bedside table. an easy expression painted his features as he regarded you with a tilt of his head, making the white hair fall into his face.

"i'm sorry i took so long." he spoke as though this was a casual conversation, like this was normal and you weren't being held hostage in a locked room.

"why are you doing this to me?" the first of many tears began to trickle down your face.

he surged forward from across the room so quickly that you started. your body tensed, still shaking as satoru stared at you with wide, inquisitive eyes. he brought his hand to your face to cup your cheek and you shivered beneath his touch.

"and what is it that i am doing?" he whispered.

you should've felt disgusted, should've kicked him or bit him while you had him so close, but your survival instinct went quiet the moment his fingers touched your skin.

you choked on your words, tears blurring your vision. "y-you, you're- you've taken me. i don't understand."

his body was solid, unmoving with his arms caging you in an inescapable hug. "hush, now, i'm not going to hurt you. you were extremely drunk and your friend left you out on the street. i wasn't going to leave you there."

"then why did you lock me in here?"

satoru's eyes flashed but he didn't miss a beat. "i live in a bad neighborhood."

you wanted to believe him; in fact, you almost did. there was such conviction in his voice, such kindness and surety that it all suddenly made sense. he knew you'd panic. he was trying to keep you safe until he got back– it made perfect sense... almost.

"where's my stuff?" you asked. "i need my phone, shoko's probably worried-"

satoru's grip on you tightened and you let out a gasp. "you dropped it on the sidewalk and it broke. there are no outlets in here so it's charging in my room but i don't think it's going to work."

your mouth hung open as you tried to come up with a response, but it was like your brain had been shut off. you believed him, felt yourself begin to relax and submit despite some small part of you still screaming to fight. he laid his hand on your cheek again and smiled.

"i'll be back later tonight," he murmured, then gestured toward the nightstand. "now, read up. i've circled my favorite passages."

satoru turned and began to move toward the door, and your mind started to work again with the realization that he was still leaving you here. you raced forward and fell into him, taking him by surprise. you fisted your hands into the fabric of his shirt as desperate words spilled. "wait, please, please let me go. i swear i won't tell anyone, just let me go-"

in a flash, he whirled around and his large hands were circling your wrists firmly as he regarded you with a pointed look. "i can't do that. you're completely safe here. no one can hurt you now."

you let out a choked sob as he released you. how could you possibly be safe when he was literally holding you hostage? you watched, numb, as the door closed, and with it, you sank to the floor and sobbed.

***

at least the bed's comfortable, you thought, then immediately wondered if you were experiencing the beginning of Stockholm syndrome. if satoru wanted you dead, he'd have killed you a while ago. if he wanted to... use you, wouldn't he have done it by now? the speculation was making you crazy; you kept wishing he'd come back, explain himself, let you go home.

you eyed the worn volume sitting on the nightstand. upon first glance, you might've mistaken it for a holy word, but no. the book seemed to be calling you, saying read me, look at me... maybe you were starting to go insane.

several of the book's pages had been marked with small, brightly colored sticky tabs. you sighed- it wasn't like you had anything else to do. you plucked it off the table and traced your finger over the title printed in gold lettering. the night's children.

you flipped to the first tab and peered over the words.

a rare phenomenon known as rebirth can occur under the right conditions. however, these beings are not as uncommon as one might think. give or take a few poignant qualities, they appear to be just as human as they were during waking life.

waking life? beings?

the night children are not ghosts, as they have no soul. human niceties and morals are no longer relevant, and it is in their nature to possess little to no regard for life.

they do not suffer hunger or exhaustion. all five senses are remarkably heightened, particularly that of sight, smell, and sound.

common characteristics include near-translucent pallor even in the deepest of complexions, unrivaled beauty, undeniable charm, and an affinity for living in the night, given their name.

all of those descriptors matched satoru to a tee, and as you read on, your despair continued only to grow.

their most marked feature, however, is needlelike teeth which replace the ones known as canines. they are razor-sharp, used to pierce through flesh. upon first contact, it causes a euphoric sensation for their victim as they feed.

you should’ve stopped reading. you should’ve pounded on the door until the wood splintered or started searching for something to pick the lock with. it was as though another brain had taken hold of your body, responding on an instinct you couldn't decipher. you flipped to the next tab to see a page titled subjugates.

some night children may have numerous human subjugates if they so choose. these humans are uncannily attractive and stay devoted to their master or mistress for life, under a spell-like adoration. they feed on their subjugate whenever they please and follow them until they either die or are reborn themselves.

is that what this was? was satoru going to keep you as his… pet? to “feed” on you? it was sickening, absolutely dreadful, and yet, a raw curiosity urged you to read on to the next page.

mates are usually taken among these beings, though not always. mates are most commonly nonhuman, and these pairings often lead to dangerous conflicts, an intense battle of wills.

in some cases, however, a human mate will be taken, though it is unlike subjugation. once discovered, the night child is incapable of separating that tie- it becomes as necessary as feeding. it is characterized by intense obsession, lust, control, and possession…

you slammed the book shut and threw it on the bed as though it was a snake rather than a collection of pages. your chest was heaving as the information settled in. otherworldly beauty, soullessness, the confinement– satoru had found you, and if what you'd read was true, there was no way you would escape. you would die here, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

you surveyed the room in a frenzy for something sharp or pointed, but it seemed that satoru had planned for everything. you were no match for someone who’d been around for much longer than you could fathom.

you dug your nails into the thin skin of your wrist, raking them downward while clenching your jaw from the pain, but this was the only option. your goal was to make it deep enough to cut through the flesh and draw as much blood as possible. if enough spilled, wouldn’t satoru come to find you and lose control? you had no choice but to keep scratching and scratching until the blood began to drip onto the floor. it was either death or an eternity of captivity.

the door busted open with a bang and there was satoru, eyes wide and pupils blown with the realization of what you were doing. your gazes met, and a beat later, you were being held up against the wall as the breath left your lungs.

“what are you doing?” his grip was iron, long fingers gripping right on your self-inflicted wounds, but you hardly felt it under the guise of your fear. his beautiful features were twisted with unbridled anger, and you realized then that you were crying again, hot tears blurring your vision and streaming down your cheeks.

“i don’t want this!” you cried pathetically. “i just want to go home, please just let me go.”

satoru’s grip didn’t waver as he regarded you with a sad expression, though you doubted he held any remorse. they have no soul. “you know i can’t do that.”

you began to sob uncontrollably, squeezing your eyes shut as any remaining semblance of hope was sapped from your being. there was no way he’d let you alone now. so quickly your life had become an object that no longer belonged to you.

then there was a cold hand on the side of your face, a gentle thumb brushing away your persistent tears. your eyes flew open to glimpse satoru’s kind smile, so out of place now that you knew of his… affliction.

“you’re gonna kill me,” you whimpered, staring up into his eyes desperately. “why me?”

he cocked his head to the side. "you’re a smart girl. haven’t you figured it out yet?"

your hands were shaking. your blood was trickling over his fingers, but he hardly seemed to notice as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, making you shiver despite yourself. his lips grazed over your collarbone, and you unconsciously leaned into him.

“i can make it better,” he whispered. “let me make it better.”

he didn’t have a smell, you realized. not of sweat, nor of laundry detergent or shampoo. his hands were so cold circled round your wrists, but all you felt was heat as his lips ghosted over your pulse point. how had you not noticed it before?

“i am not, and have never been, one to deny myself of my desires,” satoru went on. “you are so beautiful, so much so that upon first glance, i thought you were like me. but then i got a taste of your scent... this perfect compatibility happens only once in a millennia. i never searched for it, never thought i could be deserving, but here you are, blessing me.”

you had no choice, completely immobile in his grip– helpless prey pinned down at last, silently wondering how he could possibly make it better. satoru's lips pressed to your cheek, to your jaw, then to your neck. "hold still, 'kay?"

there was no time even to gasp when you felt the briefest of stings over your pulse point. you'd expected hot, excruciating pain, but you were met with quite the opposite. all other thoughts left your mind as pure ecstasy flowed through your body; all you could think and feel was satoru as you went limp against him.

it was as though you'd be reborn in rays of sunlight and pleasure. the truth had been set before you; this was a blessing, you realized– all satoru wanted was to protect you, to care for you in a way no one else would ever be capable of. whether you'd known it or not, you were his– you'd always been his. that's why you were so drawn to him and why he looked so familiar. it was the most intimate moment you'd experienced in your entire life, an offering to him of your heart and soul.

it was like you've known him your whole life.

"better?" he asked against your neck. you could feel his tongue sliding all over your skin, likely lapping up any of the remaining blood that had escaped. it felt like heaven, and you wondered how satoru could possibly be damned if he could make you feel like this.

your only complaint was that there wasn't more for him to take. you'd give it all to him, give him everything without hesitation, but something told you that satoru would never do it. he saw you as his, someone to keep safe and to hold until the end of time.

you relaxed against him, so overcome with pleasure and bliss that you had to let him hold you upright. "don't stop," you whined. "please, please, satoru, i-"

"shh, it's okay," said satoru. he cradled your head with one hand, urging you to look into his eyes. "any more and it'll be too much for you."

it was not the answer you wanted to hear. you wanted him to take more– you wanted to feel that euphoria and the submissive weightlessness he'd just bestowed upon you. you were stronger than he knew; you could take it, you just had to show him.

"no, i can do it, just keep going-"

satoru pulled away from you, dropping his hands from around your head. you were close to tears from how sad the separation made you. it was unreal– you wondered how it felt for him. satoru's pale cheeks were slightly flushed with your blood as he licked his lips clean.

the feeling of an orgasm, of post-run endorphins, of a blissed-out high– none of those descriptions came close to the pleasure he'd just given you. you couldn't believe you'd once had the nerve to refuse him. when before you'd been terrified, it was now clear; you belonged here, belonged to him.

you looked up at him through your lashes, inconsolable. you were begging shamelessly at this point as your body throbbed with desire. "i need more."

satoru hummed and brought your marred wrist to his mouth, his eyes fluttering shut. “i’d hate for this to go to waste.” his tongue trailed over the soft skin, lapping up every drop as his features softened in pleasure. he was so beautiful like that, and a sense of pride surged through you when you realized you were the only one who'd ever get to see him in this light.

when your arm was clean and clotted, he guided your hand down to his waistband, lower, placing your palm on top of the firm bulge. “you feel that? no one’s done that to me in decades."

a strangled sound escaped from your throat, a cross between a cry and a moan. he was entirely intoxicating, and all you wanted was to feel him closer. you were overcome with lust, so eager to please as you arched up into him. you'd been with other people before but that was naught but a memory as his hands flew to your hips and he urged you impossibly closer.

kissing satoru felt like drowning in a bath of heat. his lips moved hungrily over yours as though you'd personally been starving him for years. he was cold beneath your touch but the way his body responded to you sparked heat between the two of you.

suddenly, it wasn't enough. your voice had become scarce more than a whine. "satoru."

he dragged a hand from your collarbone, sliding over your breast, your side, your hip, resting just below your navel. chills overtook your senses; his slender fingers were spikes of ice on your skin as he took his time bunching up your shirt– likely, his shirt, and sliding it off your arms. goosebumps erupted all over as your bare breasts adjusted to the cold air.

amusement flashed in satoru's eyes as though he was in on some secret joke. "you're cold."

a second later, your back was hitting the mattress, and his arms were caging you in as he looked down at you. the lust in his eyes was intense, primal, possessive. you slipped your hands beneath the hem of his top, running them over the smooth, chilled skin of his muscled back, and he hissed between his teeth. the sound sparked a throbbing between your legs and your blood was roaring in your ears.

nothing would ever compare to the bliss of him feeding on you, but it seemed as though he was making it his mission to give you the next best thing. satoru lips trailed over your exposed skin, leaving kisses down your sternum, over your abdomen, down, down until he stopped just before his mouth reached your hips. you watched in anticipation, and when those bright blue eyes met yours, they were filled with an otherworldly fascination.

your throbbing clit was begging for relief, for even the lightest of pressure but you were completely at satoru's will, and you didn't dare ask for anything. he smiled at you before shifting his gaze to your naked cunt, and you threw your head back onto the mattress, suddenly too overwhelmed to look at him any longer. his hands were on your thighs, pulling them apart before his mouth finally made contact with your clit.

you gasped, your hips jolting toward the ceiling from the sensation. as if you didn't already feel like his prey, he began to feast on your pussy with expertise that could only be gained from thorough knowledge of a woman's body. pleasure flowed from the follicles of your hair to the tips of your toes with each swirl of his tongue over your sensitive bud. he was careful, almost timid, as if he was afraid of hurting you or scaring you, but that lasted for only a moment.

satoru's mouth disappeared and instantly, you looked down in confusion to see why he might've stopped. but he was grinning, obviously self-satisfied as he asked, "is this what you like?"

you nodded, perhaps more fervently than necessary, but instantly his tongue was back on your clit and you moaned, fisting the quilt as you tried to grind into him further. then you felt his finger slipping inside and curling as he filled you to his knuckles. your mouth fell open as he found a perfect rhythm, teasing at your sweet spot while simultaneously working your clit.

he touched you like he owned you, as though you'd been his for years and he'd learned every inch of your body and how to make you cry out. it wouldn't take much more to have you spilling over the edge, and you almost told him as much, but suddenly you were staring into his eyes and he was looking down at you with hunger.

as soon as his legs were bent on either side of your own, he brought his face down to yours. his lips were shining with your slick and he kissed you, hard, hot and desperate despite the chill of his body. you wrapped your legs around his waist, squeezing as you slipped your tongue into his mouth. he groaned, filling your mouth with your own taste and it was then that you realized he was starting to lose control.

"when's the last time someone touched you?" you asked, suddenly curious. you wanted to know every last detail of his life, from his family to what he did in his spare time to whether he had to brush his teeth. you returned his desire to consume you tenfold.

satoru chuckled as he seemed to ponder the question for a moment. "don't worry about that, now. just let me have you– please." the words were saccharine on his tongue, and you realized then just how deadly someone like him could be. satoru was beautiful, charming, absolutely intoxicating and irresistible; no person in their right mind could possibly refuse him.

satoru's lips grazed the shell of your ear and you shivered bodily when you felt his teeth catch your lobe gently. the restraint this man must've had to exercise was downright absurd, but when he spoke, your mind went somewhere altogether different. "are you a virgin?"

you shook your head, a sudden burst of fear cutting through the haze of your desire. you wondered what he might think of your answer but you didn't want to lie– in fact, it seemed that you were incapable of it.

"good."

he slid into you slowly, filling you inch by inch. you whined loudly; the stretch was so painful yet so pleasurable, and satoru groaned, "put your hands on me. promise it'll help." his words were commands, yet the timbre of his voice was like a prayer, as if he was this close to begging.

and he was right; your hands clung to his shoulders and somehow, it made you feel safe even if you were completely at his mercy. you'd been with men before but you'd never had anyone this big. it nearly felt like you were being split in half, but the intimacy of it all, of him holding you through the pain, was almost as good as his teeth piercing your neck.

his lips brushed over your pulse as he spoke, voice low, "that's good. you're so warm."

the feeling of his lips ghosting the delicate skin of your neck made you lose your mind. your body responded to him without awareness, already addicted to his expression of thirst for your blood. your cunt tightened around him unconsciously, sucking him in as though your body was afraid to lose his cock. you needed-

"more," you cried. "please."

satoru hummed, amused. "you're ravenous." but he obliged you, pulling out until only the tip of his cock was teasing your entrance. you'd never been this needy before, as though your body now required his touch to survive.

his hips snapped into yours, burying himself so deep that your vision blurred. his pace was brutal, unrelenting as his tip nudged into your cervix with every stroke. you were so full, and when his thumb brushed over your clit, your whole body jolted beneath him.

"don't forget to breathe," he teased, looking down at you with an easy smile. how pathetic you must've seemed to him, how human you were compared to him. he wouldn't tell you this until another night, but he loved how delicate and pliable you were. part of his obsession was due to how different you were from him. he didn't need a reminder to breathe, to rest, to drink water, to listen to his body. his body had only two needs: his thirst and you.

you gave into satoru completely. a particularly hard thrust made you whimper and dig your nails into his back with a ferocity you didn't know you had. satoru grunted and captured your lips with his own again, exploring your mouth with his tongue not unlike how he'd done with your clit.

"that's it," he said. he leaned down, pressing his chest flat to yours so that his lips could capture your own once more. it was wet and messy, your tongues sliding over each other's as you moaned into his mouth. the pleasure was your undoing.

you felt a sharp sting when his teeth pulled at your lower lip, quickly soothed by a wet swipe of his tongue. you yelped loudly, tasting your own blood mixed with saliva and he moaned. your walls clenched, the pace on your clit was too perfect, the pain was sickening and you could barely breathe.

"ahh, satoru, 'm gonna-" oh, you were so pathetic at this point, completely bent to satoru's will, but it felt so right. it was divine, heavenly, nothing else mattered and would never matter to you again. his voice was steady and even, such a vast contrast to your gasping and whimpering, but there was a wicked grin on his lips as he watched you come undone.

"don't fight," he instructed. "i need to feel you."

your fingers gripped onto his soft white locks for dear life as your body convulsed uncontrollably, your orgasm tearing through you mercilessly. he kept fucking you, his two fingers bullying your clit the whole way through despite your begging him to stop. it felt so good it burned. tears stung at the corners of your eyes and you clung to him pathetically. you were just beginning to get yourself together when his thrusts grew impossibly fast and careless, and you watched starry-eyed as his mouth fell open, moaning just as pathetically. he looked human when he came, fucking perfect and beautiful with your name in his mouth.

you stayed like that for a few moments, pinned underneath him while you caught your breath and nuzzled into the crook of his neck. satoru gently pulled out, leaving you empty and cold as he settled himself beside you on the bed. your heart caved in, and you looked at him with complete adoration. his face was already returning to its pale complexion, you noticed with remorse.

"do you want more?" he asked, his tone genuinely curious.

you gaped at him. "more? i don't know if i can."

"well, i could do it forever, you know." was he bragging?

satoru kissed the top of your head stroked your hair as he pulled you into his bare chest, slithering an arm around your shoulders. "hush, now. you need your rest."

he drew the covers over your body, which felt so heavy now that the high had begun to wane.

"you're mine now," he whispered, pressing another light kiss to your temple. "do you understand?"

already, your body craved more– more of him, of the sweet feeling of him sucking on your neck. the addict's mindset suddenly became clear as you gingerly touched your pulse point. you felt where he'd sunk his teeth in and your mind clouded over with blissful submission.

the words spilled out of your mouth before you were aware enough to stop. "i love you."

satoru smiled, his perfect teeth stained red. you swore you saw his eyes light up in a way that seemed... human.

"you're mine," he repeated softly. "all mine, and i'm yours."

you hummed contentedly as you felt sleep begin to take you. "all mine." you weren't going to miss a single bit of your old life; satoru was going to keep you forever.

and you couldn't wait to finish that book.

@galagarts @monsieurgucchi @njutul @gojoscumslut thank u for reading <3 (i didn't edit this)

[habitual-creatures]

ATTEMPTING TO GET BACK IN THE PATTERN OF WRITING POETRY.

ENJOY...

[ REGARDS, HABIT ]

HUNGER // SIN

THERE IS NOTHING LESS THAN NEED,

OF FLESH UPON THE TEETH.

I WATCHED HER BLEED,

TORE HER THROUGH, AND SAW BONE UNDERNEATH.

ISN'T SHE BEAUTIFUL?

WASN'T SHE GRAND?

HE CALLED IT UNSUITABLE,

HE WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND.

IT MADE HIM SICK.

BUT IN TRUTH,

IT MADE ME TICK;

HOW BLOOD RAN DOWN, LIKE SMOOTH VERMOUTH

AS HE THINKS OF HER,

HUNGER RISES AGAIN.

AND THERE LIES NO WAY TO DETER,

FROM THE TRUE FOLLIES OF MEN.

LEFT DRUNK ON THE HIGH,

WITH THE FADED MEMORY OF TASTE.

AS IT LEAVES WITH A DESPERATE CRY,

I AM YET DRAWN TO YOUR DISGRACE.

INVITE ME IN,

PRAY I AM NOT STARVED.

MY TONGUE IS SWEET AS BITTER SIN,

AND ALL OF HUMANITY HAS MY REGARDS.

[aberooski]

I love my gx winx au and I love that it's just bits and pieces of me being like oh that's fun and not having any semblance of lore or plot. It's purely contained to the character designs I've drawn for the girls.

[jokerownsmysoul]

a dance for your existence

Summary: you and Arthur are getting ready for bed when midnight strikes and his birthday officially starts. Though there's a upcoming celebration ahead of you, you don't miss the chance to show him how special and loved he is.

Warnings: none.

Words: 3800

Notes: I didn't manage to develop a more in depth piece to celebrate Arthur's birthday the way I wished, this story came to me while falling asleep the night before and I kinda just blurted out my feelings into it without much of editing and a bit written in haste. I just wanted to post something to celebrate. ❤︎ I really tried to have it ready by 21st of November, but as he sings to us, that's life. I think he would still appreciate the loving thoughts, even if a little belated. The sentiments are relevant every day, no matter what day is, after all. ❤︎ Happy birthday, Arthur. 💋🌹

You and Arthur knew that it was time to get ready for bed as soon as the closing credits of the romantic movie you've just watched started rolling off on the television screen in front of you.

You were tangled up beneath the cocoon of a warm blanket, and the thought of leaving the cozy bliss of his embrace wasn’t exactly appealing.

“She should've stayed with him,” you commented bitterly, rubbing your bare feet against Arthur's under the blanket in seek of some fleeting comfort before one of you would pull the other out of the bed.

“Yeah. But I understand why she didn't. She wanted to follow her dream and see the world.”

You angled your head in within his arms, cocking your head up to him. “If I was her, the only world I would need to see is you by my side every day,” you let him know. “I could never give up on a life with you. You're my world.”

Arthur pecked your lips, a tender, reassuring smile on his face while his forefinger grazed your chin. “You'll never have to. I want to have you here forever.”

At the familiar spark of your smile, Arthur quickly slipped out of the blanket and reached the side of your bed, bowing at your feet with a sort of gentleman-like theatricalism of a real old fashioned mime, managing to make you laugh as planned as he stretched out his hand, waiting for you to take it.

A soft chuckle left his lips when you pouted, simulating the same amount of theatricalism as you struggled to adjust to the cold emptiness that he left on the side of his bed.

“Time to get ready for bed,” he coaxed you with his soft-spoken, raspy voice at your implied plea to get back under the covers with you. He was much braver than you to leave the warm and cozy nook you've shaped together since after dinner; and frankly, after the bittersweet ending of the movie you've just watched the only thing you wanted to do was to hold him. The certainty that you had all night for that made you scoop yourself up.

His grip led you both to the bathroom once you held onto his hand to wrap up the last steps of your bedtime routine and return to the comforting warmth you sought; more the warmth of his arms draped around your waist in familiar manners than the comforter’s itself.

Getting ready for bed with Arthur was a daily routine that he managed to turn into a small but big adventure every night, and often felt like watching a movie of your day. You tossed your working clothes left on the tiled floor since afternoon when you've taken a bath together into the laundry basket at the opposite corner of the bathroom, wiped away any trace of lingering makeup (whether it was the most persistent patches of white paint on his jaw or unseen lipstick marks on the chapped corners of your lips) and moisturized your hands, making sure Arthur’s hands were taken care of as well as you applied a dab of lotion on his knuckles before you peeled yourselves off your homely clothes, craving to get into your pajamas.

The faucet was running low from the bathroom sink as Arthur looked for dental floss when you headed to the bedroom to get into your pajama and grab a clean pair of socks for him. You knew he wanted to sleep on them at night and you always liked to make sure his exhaustion didn't make him skip this step. You liked to know that his feet were kept warm throught the night.

When you stepped into the bedroom, clues of how you've spent your evening coated any corner in front of you, shaping a movie like the one your bedtime routine did. The static TV left on at the foot of the bed that painted the bedroom ambience of its bluish glow, the unmade bed where the blue blanket crumpled by your cuddling laid in the middle, your empty cups of hot chocolate with sprinkled cinnamon resting on each respective bedside table. They were all reminiscences of your Sunday evening about to be covered snuggly beneath your dreaming eyelids, to turn into treasured memories and be locked in your heart with a special key.

You quickly changed into your pajama before you reached Arthur’s bedside table. You were about to open his linen drawer when the red neon-flashed digits of his alarm clock caught your eye.

It was 00:24 am, on the 21th of November.

Enthusiasm swept you off your feet as you realized that midnight struck; otherwise a ordinary thing, but not today. Today was the day when it meant something a lot more special.

You waited for Arthur to come back. Minutes rolled on slower than usual until finally you heard the bathroom light being clicked off and the quiet padding of his feet, just a few seconds before Arthur walked through the bedroom door barefoot and covered in only his underwear and white undershirt. You loved this bedtime look on him.

You rushed to him the second you saw him and crashed your lips to his, your nose nudged eagerly against his. If it weren't for Arthur who was so fluid in his movements that moving for him was like following innate steps of an eternal dance, your enthusiasm would surely have made him lose his balance, and you along with him as you circled your arms around his neck.

Toothpaste and the irresistible familiar taste of his mouth filled your tongue as you kissed him with unrestrained passion for minutes on end, your toes curling until a low gasp gave away your need to catch some air.

“What was that for?” He asked as he took a deep breath, a sweet, hazy smile blossoming in rosy-dimpled cheeks while his eyes sparkled bright at your inexplicable giddiness.

“It's officially your birthday,” you enthused with a coo, indicating the time signaled on the alarm clock.

“Oh,” he let out with a bashful laugh, sincerely flattered but with less enthusiasm than you. It was okay though. You had all day ahead of you to show him how special it was; the rest of your life to show him how special he truly was, too.

An idea suddenly ignited itself in your mind, driven by your everburning enthusiasm and love for him before you withdrew just a few steps away from him.

It was never too early to start celebrating.

A birthday cake was taking a nap in the fridge unbeknownst to him, a handmade knitted sweater to keep his body warm and a handwritten letter to keep his heart even warmer wrapped in shiny envelope were waiting to be revealed by his gentle hands, and a path of surprises thoughtfully thought-out only for him was kept hidden from him so far successfully, awaiting him to be shared with you and make him feel cared for.

But once you got so lucky to meet the stroke of midnight, you wanted to start and prolong the Arthur Day as much as you could. There was always time for one more gift, for one more celebrating moment. He deserved it all.

Arthur’s brows knitted together in quizzical amusement as he kept his gaze firmly on you, trying to figure out what were you up to.

He laughed as he watched you simulate the familiar steps he used to follow and that you’ve memorized from all your past shared dances to improvise a failed attempt to bow, before you stretched your hand out to him as much smoothly as you could get. The steps may be coming from his teachings, but the elegant grace they carried on him every time was definitely lacking on you; it made it all more intriguing.

“May I have this dance, Mr. Fleck?” You asked flirtatiously, batting your eyelashes.

Arthur had taught you that everything had a peculiar twinkle if started with a dance, especially if the partner was him and the love this dance embodied was yours. There wasn’t really anything that a dance could not initiate and let the fun begin with the memories to make together.

“You may, ma’am,” he played along and took hold of your hand, completely flattered in the way he smiled at you oh so sweetly. The familiar, seductive hints in yours voice tickled his lower belly and his toes, ready to fly into a dance as a pair of wings.

Rather than guiding your hands to rest around his neck as you did oftentimes, they drifted lower to land on his waist. “Let me lead you tonight, sweetheart,” you said in a hushed whisper as your hands drew him close to you.

His crow’s feet crinkled before your reverence as he leaned in. He nodded eagerly, enthralled and curious, and melted into your embrace with undoubted trust in his enamored gaze as he let you guide you both into the first few dance steps.

His experienced moves begun to accompany yours pretty quickly as you started a quiet back and forth, a steady focus on how and when to move your feet. With a partner like Arthur music was one of the main characters of your dancing, but not inherently essential in each of them. Like many other times, tonight you danced to the beats of each other’s heart, brimming with unconditional love for one another as you guided his hips in a gentle rocking. You searched for his eyes, wanting to focus on every little expression on his features, hoping that you were getting it right.

You felt a little tentative in this different role you weren’t used to take, but surprisingly also a lot more confident than what you expected, as you centered yourself in the familiarity of how your fingers molded to the well-known curve of his waist and how his arms around your shoulders felt, emboldened by the desire to hold him close the way he held you all the time.

Suddenly it didn’t seem all completely new to you, after all. The roles may be inversed, but it was always Arthur and you, dancing barefoot in your bedroom in the middle of the night.

There was happiness in his smile and the way his endearing green eyes gaped at you as he followed your steps without any doubt or fear, letting you know that he would follow you wherevere you would go, and the grasp of his touch holding onto the spots of your skin left bare was warm. It made you realize that getting it right wasn’t so important for him as long as it was you to hold him and make him feel so seen and desired.

Every time Arthur would sway to himself or would pull you into a dance he had this innate gift of originate a fairy tale dimension all around, making you feel over the moon even though your feet were firmly solid on earth. Every melody rooted deep within him went exposed into blossom, enveloping you in a space that spoke of timeless enchantment and freedom.

To get the sense of magic that Arthur so easily achieved whenever he let his body get lost in a dance was practically impossible, and truthfully, you didn't even want to. Somehow, the ever-present sophisticated flare inside him was coating every little step out of sync of you, intermingling together in a perfect match of Arthur and you, that wasn't imperfect at all.

You shifted your weight on the other leg and raised one of your hand out, gesturing him to take the offered hold as you tried to switch position. He took the offer and one of his hand went to join yours up in the air while the other rested on your shoulder as you continued to lead him into a improvised slow waltz, your bare feet sliding and dragging themselves on the cold floor or the bedroom in familiar patterns, a brief feeling of warmth whenever yours would touch his own. You hoped this dance was a perfect start to make his day worthy of thoughts and memories that were good and joyful, a kind of gift born musical only for him.

The neon-blue fluorescence coming from television bathed his beautiful face, dipping into his dimples like liquid silver blue, polishing the apples of his cheeks, the spot of light on the roundness of his nose, his heavy brows. Around you there was a bubble of light that more than resembling the moonlight, this time resembled the artificial light of the spotlights. In your bedroom, as your bare feet chased one another in a clumsy slowness, you felt like you were on a stage the moonlit blue color of the night sky. While your movements pulled Arthur into this enchanted moment, you thought it was exactly where Arthur was supposed to be. With you, under a private spotlight created by the glow of your souls chasing one another in a never ending interweaving.

It suddenly dawned on you that the steps you created together, no matter how uneven you executed them, were a prolungation of you and therefore much more beautiful than any other already constructed one; personal steps of a sole path made by you to guide Arthur to your heart.

You were basking in this wonderfully imperfect asynchrony when in a bolder flourish you secured your hand around him and dipped him low, in a way definitely less smooth than Arthur’s when he was the one to lead, but you made it work.

A sudden gasp that turned into a enamored laugh burst from his lips as he fell backwards beneath your careful guidance, infecting your own laugh that went to echo in the stillness of the night along with his own. You were happy to know that no matter who took the lead, every dance of yours would begin and end with laughter still.

You watched him from above secured safely in your hold, how the stray curl perpetually on his forehead had fallen backwards. Your eyes bore together, telling unspoken declarations of how much you loved each other before you pecked his nose. You were already missing the sight of his endearing features up in the night light when you pulled him back up, strategically lifting him in a way so that his lips crashed into yours as soon as his body rose in a upward twirl flush against you, ending this yearned collision in an unexpected kiss.

Your uncontrollable laughter prevented your lips from connecting once his sense of surprise faded into a intoxicating craving for you and he brought his focus on your mouth, kissing you in a kiss that was all teeth and lips that could barely touch between chuckles.

“I fancy you,” you purred into him when you pulled slightly back, nuzzling his nose with yours and applying a discrete focus on your movements to keep the beat of your funny dancing steady. “You're so pretty. I want to eat you up.”

He let out a incredulous, bashful snort you didn’t hear since your first dates that dared to make your legs go weak. “Then do it.”

He joined his lips with yours again, and this time there was nothing to stop you mixing your flavors while his tongue moistened yours with ardor. Lots of time kisses was the one way to go when nothing else was enough to express your feelings. You would understand.

The passion settled in this breathless kiss made both of your feet slow down a little as your mutual desire took over, the waltz now taking the hint of what felt more like a gentle sway.

The moves your lips followed onto one another was another common dance occuring between you that you’d never get tired of. Everything with Arthur felt a lot like dancing. He had a kind of music inside him that was all his own and used to beat solely to the tune of his soul – and yours, – so it made sense that no matter what he was doing, it would find a way out through him to sparkle and envelope you.

Your breath stalled in your throat as you watched him watching you when he pulled back. You could never put into words how much it meant to have him in your protective hold, to know that his heart belonged to yours.

His skin smelled like moisturizer; he must have smeared some on his cheeks that every day had to be covered in grease paint. His hair was slightly greasy, shaping into soft curls to graze the top of his white shirt, and his lips, polished in relaxed bliss, damp of your saliva and so beautiful, made you want to kiss him forever till you last breath.

The woman who wins your heart must be so lucky, you’ve thought to yourself the first time you saw him, long time ago. He’d entered your heart instantly. Something about him spoke to your heart that he was special. Soon, and definitely very easily, he’d proven you right. You would’ve never imagined that this woman was going to be you.

“Thank you,” you said instinctively in a hushed whisper, voice heavy and full of inexpressible feelings cut through the silence of the night. Every time you tried to express them they didn’t really reflect fully what you wanted to capture in the first place, but you kept trying. For him.

“For what?” He asked softly.

“Just for existing. And for sharing your existence with me,” you spoke with ease, as if it was the most obvious thing to give as an answer; it was for you. You lowered your eyes for a moment and nuzzled his jaw, feeling exposed at the openness of your nightly confession before quickly locking your eyes back to his. His gaze was tender and patient as he waited for you to speak. “Not a day goes by where I'm not grateful that you exist. I’m happy to be able to celebrate your existence with you. And not just on your birthday, but every day.” You dared to unlace the grip you had of him during this shared dance so that your hand could rake through his brown locks, grounding yourself to the nape of his neck. “Every day lived with you is worthy of celebration.”

The soft look he gave you was sweet and understanding, letting you know that he felt the exact same way. “I like this day a little bit more if you’re with me. And…– and my life,” he confessed. “I like to exist with you.”

You knew that the so called right words for something, anything, didn't quite exist, but some of them fit more than others into a declaration, and he couldn't find any right now. He didn't know what to say exactly to let you know that your presence in his life was slowly smoothing the sharp edges of every bad memory of his past, sheathing them with kinder and more loving ones filled with laughter and a kind of romance he didn’t know was possible to find for him. But this time, like many other, you understood him even without further words.

He brought his fingers to your face, and your eyes fluttered close as he stroked your cheek with his typical gentleman’s manner. You leaned into his touch and looked at him through your lashes, a little lazy as you blinked and brought your hand to cover his own, and you both realized that this time it was really the time to go to bed.

He gave you one last tender kiss, and while your mouth buttoned with one another his lips on yours led you to the bed where you fell blindly with a shared giggle, too busy to taste each other just a little more before pulling away.

You continued with your bedtime routine a few minutes later. Arthur folded the blue blanket in the usual spot at the foot of the bed and pulled his pajamas pants on, while you finally could grab that pair of clean socks for him that had led you to discover the beginning of his birthday. He took them with a quiet thank you and rolled them at his ankles. Those were the quiet and simple moments typical of the end of a day where you wrapped up the day past to welcome the one ahead of you. You were already longing to celebrate with Arthur. It was going to be very difficult to fall asleep, considering that your eagerness and a little bit of lingering nerves were starting to grow as the minutes marked by the alarm clock went by.

You lifted the covers on each side of the bed and met in the middle of the mattress where you snuggled up close, happy to hold each other till the morning light would break in.

“Happy birthday, Arthur,” you told him as you laid face to face, heads framed by your hand-in-hand pillows. He responded with a sleepy hum and a intoxicating smile. You would’ve liked to go grab a sole candle and let him blow it out on a last-minute midnight snack as a extra nightly celebration to accompany the gift of this dance, but he was getting sleepy, and you wanted him to get the sleep he needed. You held onto the certainty of what would happen in a few hours when he would feel enough rested, of thirty-five candles blew out on a homemade birthday cake and stolen moments to express how happy you were to celebrate your favorite person in the world, and grateful that this person was Arthur.

You pulled him close to your chest and cradled him into a warm embrace, caressed his hair and listened to his quiet breathing as he slowly gave in to a needed rest and his eyes closed. “Goodnight, my love. We got a special day ahead of us. A special day for my special one.”

You’ve planned every detail to make this day as special as Arthur was, that would start as soon as you woke up. It had to be perfect, because Arthur was perfect to you. Yet none of this felt enough for a special man like him who, frankly, deserved to receive the moon wrapped in a lasso with a red bow and a spotlight-drenched stage where he could shine on forever, for his good heart and innate talented qualities to be finally manifested and acknowledged, for his dreams to come true, for being seen, even if Arthur was always telling you about how yours was the only glance he needed. It was even harder to show him what your heart held for him when to matter most for the both of you were the little things, though you knew they meant more than any big thing ever could. But still, most of the time it felt like trying to give him the entire ocean with a sole drop of water.

It hurt sometimes, not being able to explain something that at the end was inexplicable by nature. Human feelings, the strongest and everlasting ones. The feeling that carried Arthur’s name was the hardest. But if there was anyone worth trying to do or express the impossible for, it was definitely Arthur.

At the end of it all, it was clear what the truest, most precious gift of them all really was; Arthur, and his desire of wanting to share each of his daily breathes with each of yours.

•••••

tag list: @arthurflecksgirl​​ ​ @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile @sweet-nothings04​​​​ @flowerglitterwoman​​​ ​ @forever-fleck​​​ @ajokeformur-ray​​​

[curiouschaosstarlight]

yessss do all of them. For gensh <3

(I had to take this off of the official numbered list because my rambles are just too rambly, and tumblr started yelling at me......) 1.) my beautiful cinnamon roll too good for this world fave: Bennett!! Bennett, Bennett, Bennett, I choose Bennett-- Also Chongyun and Freminent. Somft boys. Doing their best. Also could kick your ass. Also I have all of them. :3c (...Very sad that I had to take Chongyun off my main team, because Bennett's about to C6 and render him useless.)

2.) my trash-shit fave: I have no idea what this means, but I'm gonna guess that Dottore and Scaramouche belong here-- Especially Dottore; he's the guy giving me the MOST brainworms right now. (But I can't share most of the brainworms because I'd have to explain all the reasons why my version of him turned out the way he did, then be told I'm wrong anyway, so.) Anyways, I love Scaramouche/Wanderer's entire story, I love that he Has Problems but those problems aren't JUST that he's a little asshole bitch for no reason like fandom keeps trying to claim. Also I want!! Playable Dottore!! I want him so bad. Sure sure, to some people having him redeemed would be soooooo boring, but- Personally, I only have a certain amount of fun with villains that are villains for the evulz, and I LOVE characters with Potential (potential for both better and worse, sometimes even for the same reasons); also a lot of certain little details about Dottore gives me the vibes that he isn't the one-note crazy man basically everyone writes him as, which is apparently, supposedly backed up by the actual og Chinese writing of a few things. And I genuinely think that ANY way they go about redeeming him/making him playable -- be it revealing Tragic Backstory reasons, or a begrudging process, or "well I've decided I like and respect you, so sure, I'll behave, for now >:)" -- would be interesting no matter what they go for!! ...I'm genuinely gonna cry a bit if they do opt to just kill him off ;v; but if Gensh goes that route, I do hope it's at least to an epic boss fight or something. Full monster transformation, if possible.

3.) my I love to hate them fave: God, I have no idea, I'm not usually the type outside of very specific characters. I guess Signora might qualify? ...I'm not gonna earn much love with that one-- She's just, like...tragic backstory? Check. Pretty lady with beautiful theming and massive tits? Check. Front-story bitch? Yeah that's pretty fun! ...Why is it so hard to force her character to shift in writeys. Like, even thinking about alternate ways events could go on my own, it's like...she owns her own girlboss so hard, it borders on Ungrateful behavior (which tends to be one of the few kinds of behaviors characters can have that grind on my nerves). Apparently there's a chance she might get revived in Natlan, and honestly I'm hoping. I don't think it'll be the worst thing in the world if it doesn't happen, but I sure would like the excuse to put her back in the oven to bake some more, without having to wait for my brain to become actually hooked on her to do it.

4.) my I hate to love them fave: This one's gonna sound weird; Faruzan. ...Okay, okay, let me explain- So, y'all know how Faruzan had a boosted drop rate when Wanderer was first released? (...And I think it happened again when his banner came back around, but that's not important--) I was. SO. DAMN. DESPERATE. to get Wanderer. I had picked out a name for him months in advance (well, tentatively; some leaks a friend was looking at said you could name him, and I wasn't 100% convinced but I wanted to be PREPARED in case it really was true, and then it was!), both of my friends (including Devoid here <3) were pulling for him as well, and both got him before I did, which intensified my desire to get him. I had been saving up. I was doing SO MANY TEN PULLS. And I got. SO. MANY. FARUZANS. I think I had one ten pull that was, like, four Faruzans in a row. I had her C6'd extremely early on into my pulls, and then she just kept showing up. It was driving me mad. I don't really get too bothered by a character's in-game actions unless they're a specific kind of irksome, but messing with my pulls? That bothers me a lot-- Eventually I did get Wanderer, but I'd also gotten like...twenty or forty Faruzans in the process or something like that. It was ridiculous. And I was all set to just hate her forever. ...But then, like...her hangout comes out and that was really good. And then the event with Wanderer, Kaveh, Tighnari, and everyone happened, and THAT was also really good, and she's so affectionate towards Collei and hnnnnnn...Why's she have to be such a good character with such great taste in other characters?? Save me--

5.) my I wouldn’t piss on them if they were on fire non-fave: So, you know how I said that character actions don't tend to bother me outside of certain traits? Fucking. Royce. I hate Royce. I mean- I view Benny's entire ex-team rather unfavorably, but Royce's "almost-has-a-realization-just-to-backtrack-and-yell-at-Benny-again" behavior drives me up the goddamn wall. I'm sure there's other NPCs that piss me off but no one else I can remember by actual actions or name. I do have some playable characters I don't really like at all, but this category is very strongly worded for those feelings. (No hate to any Royce fans out there >////////< And also apologies, but this is probably the only time I'm gonna talk about him anyway, at least by name)

6.) my I didn’t care about them either way at first but the fandom makes such a big deal about them now I can’t stand them non-fave: I've been avoiding most fandom content precisely for this reason!! (...Unfortunately I've still gotten exposed to a bunch of shitty fan takes, but it for the most part hasn't shaken my character opinions much. My ship opinions however...) ...The most popular takes of Scaramouche and Dottore (by fans and non-fans alike) have only further solidified my personal vibes of wanting them more sympathetic and avoiding one-note portrayals like the plague. Signora has been on thin ice for a while because so many people are really fucking aggravating in regards to her, but she's yet to budge because I do feel mildly compelled about her. So hopefully that sticks. But I WILL absolutely despise Capitano out of sheer fan spite if he's revealed to be the 1st Harbinger, and there's a ~secret 10th Harbinger~, that is just, like...It's almost kinda neat, but so many people are being so bullheaded and shitty about it (mostly on reddit, I think), to the point it's invaded the wiki that I otherwise really respect for all the work that goes into it, that he just better fucking be the 10th or I will be UPSET.

7.) my I could take them or leave them kinda non-fave: Honestly, most of the cast. Up until about Sumeru, I really only cared about 2-5 characters per nation. Then with Sumeru and Fontaine, they've really knocked it out of the park with characters I absolutely adore and only one or two that kinda just fade out of my memory. I won't say which ones. !!!!!! IMPORTANT NOTE!! This has nothing to do with writing quality or design quality or "oh my subjective opinion is absolute fact and anyone who disagrees with me is a dumb stupid idiot with no taste" or anything like that- It's just that I wasn't vibing too strongly with most characters; not for any necessary particular reason or failure on Mihoyo's part or anything like that. Just how it turned out.

8.) my I will go down with this ship and I won’t put my hands up and surrender, there will be no white flag above my door. I’m in love and always will be fave ship: Dottore x Scaramouche is my BIGGEST ship right now, especially onesided. Especially reluctantly reciprocated. Primarily on Dottore's side. Also Fem Traveler/Lumine/Lillian x Everyone. Also Enjou x his weird "go ahead and beat me up" fetish-- Keep being funky you strange, fiery demon man. Love him. (Also Alhaitham x Kaveh, though I generally don't like looking at the fandom art for it unless my friend handpicks out the art for me, because their ver of Kaveh did irreversible damage to my brain and now when I see trans!Alhaitham and cis!Kaveh, my brain gets SO CONFUSED. It's just like "????? But that should be reversed, tho, obviously???" Like...no brain...it's not obvious. It's fine. You're just Attached.)

9.) my dirtybadwrong fave ship: Apparently Scaramouche/Kabukimono x Niwa is real controversial, which is very sad because I fucking love it, and also it seems like such an obvious and easy-to-like pick to me :P Also Kaeya x Diluc, which I know would/will? get me headhunted if this post shows up for the majority of the fandom. I'm probably forgetting a good amount of ships at the moment, but... (+ Bonus for both 8 and 9, but my extra myriad of Dottore ships where I'd probably have to explain how I ended up where I ended up, which means I'd have to explain the way I write Dottore, which means I'd have to explain-) ...Also Neuvillette x Furina APPARENTLY fucking qualifies, because as we all know, if the girl is short and cute and femme, she's automatically a child!! :) Don't y'all totes know she's Neuvillette's little baby girl daughter and not an adult and totally wasn't RUNNING AN ENTIRE NATION AS THEIR ARCHON for LITERAL FUCKING CENTURIES? Nope! Neuvillette, the person that totally wasn't working under her that entire time, has all the power in that dynamic, and totes sees her as a daughter, so it's problematic!!

10.) my they’re cute together and I dig them but I’m not all that terribly invested kinda fave ship: Most ships in the fandom, tbh. See- the problem is I don't really like protag Aether takes, and I'm just amicable to about 70% of the cast. And I might be a massive multishipping slut with few standards, but I do need to Feel Something towards characters to then Feel Something towards the ships, and when the general vibes I have with a character is "ah, they're neat" or "I like 'em well enough" or even "I don't really like them", that's just the kind of ~amicable vibes~ that lends to me going "that's cute! ...Anyway"

11.) my I didn’t care about this ship either way at first but the fandom makes such a big deal about it now I can’t stand it non-fave ship: Well, I have two. I won't say one because I think my vaguing gets more obvious if I say it outright, but someone I was following seriously bashed [ship I like a lot] while going "why dont people like THIS ship instead??? It's WAY BETTER!!", and. lemme tell you. If you want me to UTTERLY DESPISE your fave character or ship, the best way to do that is praise your fave while bashing another character or ship!! Fuck me, it doesnt even have to be a character or ship I even like, but for some reason it always fucking is. Like the sheer amount of people that go "Why dont people like [character] more??? They're much better than ITTO!!" like. 1. fuck you. 2. Itto has a MUCH LOUDER presence than whatever character you're trying to praise. 3. why does everyone always try to go after [specific ship I like a lot], or Itto? It's always them. Like they're making some big sweeping statement of "oh THAT dumb thing is getting attention for no reason!!" when like...entertainment factor, you knuckleheads. They're just onscreen and instantly make an impression. I'm really, really sorry your fave doesn't get as much attention, I get it, I really do, I've had barely popular/outright bashed faves before, but y'all actively hurt your case rather than helping it when you try to tear other characters/ships down to build yours up. I get that you're frustrated, but it's not fucking helping. Cut that shit out and then get back to me. Anyways. The other one that bothers the shit out of me for far more petty reasons is Wriothesley x Neuvillette, which. I feel bad about, to be fair. I feel sorta guilty for not liking it, because it definitely has potential. There's just one problem-- one of my biggest fucking pet peeves is ship bashing/attempted ship sinking (-gestures at my sarcasm a bit earlier-, which also sums up half of why I despise "child-coding" and "oh!! this small girl character is TOTES the daughter to these two gay men and definitely not responsible or mature in her own right uwu totally needs to be babysat by her two gay dads!!") in conjunction with people obsessing over other ships, and with Wriotheo and Nuevy, it started BEFORE the update happened and we actually saw any interactions. Like. I get it. They're two hot men and gay ships are hella popular. But with it occurring way before the update, thus way before any canonical interactions, it just felt like people were fucking desperate to make sure neither character could be straight-shipped with the two "children" they were actually working with (two full-ass adults, Furina and Sigewinne), which just drives me up the fucking wall. (And I can understand being uncomfortable with shipping characters that kinda resemble children, but I've seen way too many people go above and beyond any reasonable reaction to that sorta thing.) I want to like this ship. I really do. It could definitely be really good. But it's gonna take, like, a year or two, when we're in Snezhnaya and my frustration becomes a petty dumb memory instead of something I want to rant over. (...I'm sure this is gonna come back to bite me pretty hard, 'cause if this post makes the rounds people are gonna rush to be like "oh you're not OPPRESSED by gay ships!!" -> No one ever says they are unless they're a real smooth-brained fuckhead, "Oh, so we can't just have fun anymore??" -> I'm apparently not allowed to have fun, so neither are y'all. :\ If I can take fifty-million fans constantly trying to call me a terrible person for liking any of the ships and characters and takes I like, y'all can take one "this got on my nerves and I'm still mad even though I know it's dumb and petty")

12.) my MAKE IT STOP non-fave ship: Ready for me to burn another bridge? ...Can't stand Yae Miko x Raiden Shogun. Like- I see it, I absolutely see it, and I think it absolutely works, but. well. guess what? Guess that happened?? Shitty fans. Shitty fans that INSIST Yae Miko is canonically a man-hating lesbian and froth at the mouth if you dare even imply she MIGHT be the tiniest bit interested in a guy. I can't quite articulate how much I HAAAAATE when people try to claim their headcanon as canon and then treat other fans like shit for "violating canon" (that doesn't actually exist -- and god, even if it did, some of the behavior I've seen really goes above and beyond any realm of acceptability), and yeah. This is one of the biggest offenders. In general, I've noticed way more vitriol and toxicity out of f/f fans than any other kind of fan lately, and that is...ugh. again, I get it. Out of the ship combinations, f/f is probably the least popular in general and all that, and when you feel like your favorite stuff is getting passed over again and again for stuff you can't see the appeal in (trust me, I can relate, I've been in a LOT of fandoms), it's really, really frustrating. But also can we stop being shitty to other fans over subjective opinions? Fandom's supposed to be fun. I shouldn't feel like every other fan I follow would hate my guts over the pettiest of preference differences. (Yes this goes for more than just f/f fans, ofc, it's just those are the ones I've noticed the most recently.) !!! -> Please don't feel bad about liking any of the ships I listed ;v; For any reason-- I did Not put them down to shame anyone, and I don't judge anyone for liking ships and characters I don't like. I do judge behavior towards other fans, and if someone's really hostile to "competing" ships/characters, that also bothers me, but that's it. It's not the content itself that has or will ever bother me, so I really do hope no one who's reading this feels bad about their preferences...

->-> Primarily Unrelated but One thing that I lovehate about this, aside from the fact that if a bunch of people see this entire thing I'm DEFINITELY getting hatemail/a callout/something, but it also gives the impression I'm massively into m/m, which is amusing and frustrating at the same time. (Not the first time this sort of thing has happened, and I'm always self-conscious about it, because I hate when people have Incorrect Takes about my feelings/opinions, especially when I've openly described them but the other person's like "lol nope, I associate you with this more, so this is the truth now". Hate that shit.)

I'm actually primarily a m/f shipper (which honestly might be more controversial on tumblr, specifically tumblr, I'm not an ignorant dumbass about other places on the internet), that's just not how it turned out for Gensh, where I wound up mostly into the guy characters. Before I got extremely into Scaramouche (and then Dottore), Lumine/Lillian was my primary favorite character and the one I was focused on shipping with. She was also, like...the female character I liked the most, which I'm given to understand is an odd thing to say, I guess? Because western people don't usually like the protags of games?? Which is so weird to me. (<- Fresh off the Persona fandom where the Persona protags are also in my, like, top 5 characters of their respective games, and that is a hugely unpopular take for some reason.) (Though I guess I'm pretty weird in how I tend to play games and develop the protagonist's personality in my head + I usually prefer to play the fem character -> the fem protag of a game tends to be in my top 10 favorite characters)

For anyone curious, my preferences go m/f -> f/f -> m/m (least favorite), but that is also extremely arbitrary because of a few different factors, but primarily because I will write basically anything and everything. If I'm writing it and I'm having fun, then nothing bothers me, and I'll come up with all sorts of ships for all sorts of reasons. (Usually ships occur on a whim during rps, which then makes it hard to explain how I got to that result outside of rps...)

Anyways, I hope I explained my reasonings well enough m(_ _)m I could definitely ruffle more feathers if I, like, posted a character tier list or something, and I'm kinda tempted anyway, because...I dunno, a tiny part of my brain is like "hehe, stick it to the man >:3c", I guess? Despite the fact I would definitely not be actually "sticking it" to anyone, like If no one cared what I thought before, they're super not gonna care after this--

[youngbloodbuzz]

i believe in you

not sure what this is for but

if it's for nanowrimo then especially thank you I need all the luck and faith I need lmao

[thegrandharveyspecter]

Trip to a Coffee Shop; a Harvey & Scott Drabble Part Thirteen: The Sick Ant

"Harvey? Tell me that's you." Scott's voice, hoarse and scratchy, called from behind the counter seconds after Harvey entered the coffee shop. Harvey couldn't see him. "I need help."

Harvey tried to squash the worry as he hurried behind the counter. Sitting on the floor, slumped against the counter, was Scott Lang looking absolutely miserable. He was coated in sweat, there were bags under his eyes, his hair was a scruffy mess and there were splats of vomit on his shirt.

"Jesus, you look like shit," Harvey said, kneeling in front of him. "How long have you been sitting here?"

"Too long. Waaay too long," Scott groaned. "I tried to make my way to my room but I collapsed halfway. I kept throwing up and my body feels numb and..."

"It's okay, kid. I'll get you to your room," Harvey said, schooling his voice into something gentle. "We'll change your shirt too. Come on."

Harvey stood and held his hand out for Scott to take, and he did so with a poor excuse of a grip. Harvey slowly helped Scott stand, though he still slouched and he had to take a few deep breaths to calm himself before they could move.

Thankfully, Scott's room was right behind the counter so they didn't have to walk that far to his bed. It still took a little time thanks to how slow they had to move, and it was clear that Scott was struggling to not throw up again. Harvey carefully sat Scott on his bed.

"Lift your arms for me," he instructed.

The fact that Scott did so without protesting or complaining was a testament to how miserable he really was. Harvey pulled Scott's dirty shirt off and threw it in the laundry basket. He went to his small wardrobe and searched until he found a muscle shirt. Scott was able to slip it on himself.

While Scott laid on his back, Harvey went to the storage room/kitchen and got a bowl for Scott to throw up in. Before leaving, he grabbed an icepack from the freezer and a hand towel.

"You don't have to stay," Scott said when Harvey came back. "I just needed to get back to my room."

"I'm staying whether you like it or not," Harvey replied. He put the bowl and hand towel on the nightstand.

He placed the icepack on Scott's forehead and the guy practically jumped out of his skin. "COLD!"

"Obviously," Harvey said, dryly. "Keep that on your forehead. It'll help. Do you have any medicine here?"

Scott shook his head. Harvey sighed. "Alright, I'll be back in a bit with some medicine then. Stay here, don't get up from bed. There's a bowl on the nightstand for when you need to throw up."

"Thank you, Harvey..."

Harvey shrugged, lightly ruffled Scott's sweat-soaked hair. "Get some rest. I'll be back soon."

With that, Harvey's day of taking care of a Sick Scott Lang started. He bought cough syrup, Tylenol, different cans of soup, other cold medicine. Was it a bit excessive? Maybe. But it was just in case Scott got another fever. This way, he wouldn't run out quickly.

Throughout the day, Scott was in and out of consciousness. Most times when he woke up, he'd vomit, complain about the cough syrup, and pass out again. He was never awake long enough for Harvey to ask if he was willing to try some soup.

There was a time where Scott started freaking out, claiming that he was dying. He didn't want to die yet, he had to live and watch Cassie grow up because he missed time. He freaked out so bad, Harvey called Cassie and had her talk Scott to sleep. The poor child was scared for her dad. It took a while for Harvey to assure her that her dad wasn't really dying.

Around 10:30PM, Harvey tried to get Scott to eat some soup. Of course, the kid was pouting and whining, saying he'd only throw it up. Harvey agreed with that, but Scott still needed to eat. It took a whole fifteen minutes to convince Scott to have a couple spoonful's.

Somehow, Scott managed to keep it down but he passed out shortly after. When he was out again, Harvey cleaned up the vomit bowl, replaced Scott's icepack, and put the rest of the soup in the microwave for later. He turned all the lights off in the shop, locked the front door and sat next to Scott's bed.

XXX

Scott still felt miserable when he woke up the next afternoon, but it wasn't nearly as bad as the day before. He didn't even throw up as soon as he woke up. He wasn't as hot, probably because he had two icepacks on him now. It was hard to keep his eyes open but he didn't want to drift into a nightmare about dying.

He licked his dry lips, shifted onto his side, one of his icepacks sliding down his forehead. He adjusted it and yawned loudly. It felt great to be awake and not want to throw up. When Scott looked up, he blinked, surprised at the sight.

Harvey was still sitting in the same chair, out like a light, no doubt exhausted from caring for Scott the day prior. Thankfully, the man didn't look like he was getting sick.

There was a comfortable warmth in Scott's chest. He smiled at the thought that Harvey stayed the whole time. Down the line, whenever Harvey needed his assistance, Scott was going to stay as long as he needed.

If only everyone knew that Harvey Specter wasn't as rough and cold as people thought he was.

[ebonynightwriter]

through the darkness | waava week 2022

Title: through the darkness Word Count: 1,084 Rating: T Tags: Wan. Raava. Waava. Beginnings Era. Dark Spirits. Fighting. Hurt / Comfort. Summary: [The mist seems to thicken around him, as do the spirits. Their glowing eyes merge with the fog, spreading out until he's surrounded by the eerie glow. Steadying his breath, he looks around, watching for the first one to strike.] 

A/N: This is actually part of a WIP that I wrote a few years ago, decided to finish it for this prompt so it could finally see the light of day. Enjoy!

-.-

waava week (2022) // day 3 · it’s always darkest before the dawn

-.-

Wan runs through the mist. Fast and hard, as quick as his legs will carry him. The dark spirits weave around him like shadows – both there and not, fading out of existence the moment he raises his flames. It aggravates him, but he keeps going, keeps pushing forward, hoping to draw them away, and hoping that Mula and Raava were somewhere nearby.

Keep Reading

[maddy-ferguson]

i'm studying with notes that aren't mine and tell me why the person uses parentheses ( like this ) i genuinely think there's something wrong with them

[primofate]

Where he would propose and how it happens [Genshin Men]

Warnings: haven’t written in a while please excuse and tell me about pronoun slips, I’m sleep deprived, not proofread (this will be my fixed disclaimer as a writing parent, haha)

Notes: All of these were captured by me in game. I just felt like exploring the beauty of Genshin more and this was a great way to do it while mixing it with writing. Note that you may not agree with some of these, and that's totally fine, these are my thoughts and ideas :)

Characters: Aether, Albedo, Alhaitham, Ayato, Baizhu, Cyno, Dainsleif, Diluc, Gorou, Heizou, Itto, Kaeya, Kaveh, Kazuha, Lyney, Neuvillette, Scaramouche, Tartaglia, Thoma, Tighnari, Venti, Wriothesley, Xiao, Zhongli, gn!reader

Aether

Aether is a simple man, and though he plans his proposal he doesn't really think much of the place, somewhere where the two of you frequent, maybe on your daily/nightly walks.

It happens just as the two of you are about to go back, this is where you sit and relax for a while as the sun sets. You can see Mondstadt in the distance and the beautiful orange sky.

As you're about to turn and walk away he catches your wrist and pulls you back into the middle of those tiny pink flowers.

Now that he thinks about it... This is where his journey really started: Starfell Lake, and how perfect would it be to start a new one with you?

"Y/N, I...want you to stay. I mean, forever," the words are simple but it gets across.

Albedo

Also a simple person. You might think Dragonspine when you think Albedo and I agree that all that snow could be romantic but I went for Starsnatch Cliff. It's a good place to see Mondstadt, and he takes you there after the sun has set.

He would probably comment about how you can see a lot of things from here, and how the world is such a great, vast place, full of things to explore and discover.

"...and yet I find myself thinking... how all that I want is right next to me. Would you do me the honour of being my lifelong partner?"

Alhaitham

Something's up and you can tell, this isn't your usual route home, and honestly you've never stopped in these parts of the city. You've passed by it sure, but never with Alhaitham.

You ask him where the two of you are going and if there are some extra errands to run before going home. He only shakes his head and ends up leading you over right next to the glowing Padisarah flower.

He HAS planned this, so why does it feel like he hasn't? Even has a ring in his pocket (granted it is the SIMPLEST ring one could ever imagine, that's just how he is)

Ends up just taking the ring box out and showing it to you while trying to speak "I..." doesn't speak much of his emotions so has a hard time, but feels pathetic afterwards so meets your eyes straight on. "...A promise... That what I feel for you... is everlasting,"

Ayato

That small shrine/garden/sitting area just outside the Kamisato Estate. It's just a bit more private than the sitting area INSIDE the estate.

You wouldn't think anything of it because you do hang out here from time to time.

Ayato might seem like a grand person but in the end he doesn't want to stray far from home.

"I'm...sorry if this is a bit abrupt," fishes out a ring box from his long sleeve. "I've been meaning to ask for a while now, will you share your life with me as my beloved?"

Baizhu

That nice little hill just outside of Bubu Pharmacy, where you can find Glaze Lilies strewn about and the night view is quite nice. It's a place the two of you go just to get some quick, fresh air if Baizhu isn't feeling too well. Changsheng is left at the pharmacy from time to time, this is one of those times.

"I've been thinking...how precious time really is," he looks at you with tenderness in his eyes, yet a lot of uncertainty shrouded in them. "I don't know where this road will lead me... but you alone are my lifelong remedy. Would you accompany me on this journey?"

Cyno

Cyno often comes here to watch the sun set, since he was a student, but he does think it's more beautiful at night.

The two of you are leaning over the railway and looking at Sumeru, just talking about the day.

Cyno doesn't really plan it. He seems to be the type to but when he feels that it's the right time, specially when he feels it strongly, there's no better time than the present.

It's while he's watching you talk enthusiastically about your day, that there's a sudden twist in his heart. This is the person I want to spend the rest of my life with.

"Y/N--" he cuts you off successfully, wonder in his eyes. "What do you say to being intertwined for life?"

Dainsleif

Anywhere where there is an unobstructed view of the stars and night sky, but particularly at the hill of Cape Oath, where the two of you lie side by side on the grass, staring up at the stars.

At this point the two of you have been travelling together for a while, looking for answers to his curse. To Dainsleif, the two of you are pretty much married already, but just to confirm it, every night, he asks "Is this the path that you choose? To bind your fate with mine?"

And every night, like a promise, you say yes.

Diluc

Diluc doesn't stray far from home too. He prefers to stay close to his memories, no matter how painful they are.

He HAS planned it, but ends up proposing at an unexpected time.

It's when he's on the road home and you're waiting right by the lamp post for him. It's late. Later than usual and here you are worrying about how it's a cold night and that he should've worn more.

It's at that moment that it hits him, "Y/N, the thought of being separated...it's not something I'd want to imagine" he grips your hand tightly. "...For the rest of my life, it's you that I want to spend it with,"

Doesn't even have the planned ring on him and apologizes about the word vomit he just did. He was just overcome with emotions right then and there.

Gorou

That small spot next to Bourou Village. Watatsumi Island is beautiful in general, but Gorou knows the good spots.

Is nervous but tries not to show it, but you can totally tell because he's way too stiff.

"Wh-What do you mean? Nothing's wrong!" When asked if everything's fine.

When standing at this spot though, his nervousness seems to go away and for a minute everything is normal until... "H-Hey, Y/N, so..." you look at him and he's fumbling with his hands, unable to meet your gaze. "Y-You, and I--We've been...You know--"

Seems to panic. He is SO uncool right now. Closes his eyes and just blurts it out when he realizes this isn't working out "With all my heart, will you marry me?!"

Heizou

Little secret garden just next to Inazuma city. Quiet place yet you can hear a bit of the hustle and bustle in the city.

Heizou is the type to get on one knee and confidently, directly say it.

He's planned it, and gets you right in the middle of the bridge (has probably asked someone to take a photo as well)

"Y/N, beloved," grins "would you unravel the mysteries of life with me?" (thinks it was such a cool line, then hands you the ring in a box)

Itto

Does not think about it nor plans it. Just happens and it happens because he talks about it casually. You can't really tell if he's serious.

He has this conversation with you in Chinjuu Forest, which is a naturally beautiful place, but he's really only there with you to look for onikabuto.

"You know, it'd be really cool if we could keep doing this huh?"

You ask what he means cause you don't really have any idea. You guys have been doing this for ages. Why would it stop now, is what you think.

"I mean, like, you know, forever," he says this while looking under a rock. "Like if we were just onikabuto fightin' partners forever, get it?"

You stall for a moment and wonder if he knows what he's saying, and you ask if he specifically means he just wants you as an onikabuto fighting partner.

"Oh, well, yea it's ONE of the things I like about you, but I like your kisses too. Hehe," scratches the back of his head then looks like he gets a bright idea. "Oh hey that's an idea! How 'bout we just become partners for life, Y/N?"

Yeah, that's how it happens.

Kaeya

Kaeya keeps it simple, but also romantic. He gets that spot above the gate of Mondstadt, where you can see Barbatos' statue from a distance. He knows how much you love the city and he has a special place in his heart for it too.

The two of you pretty much keep each other warm up there, with him behind you and his arms wrapped around your shoulders.

At some point, as the two of you have been talking for ages and when the perfect silence descends, he leans into your ear and asks you to close your eyes. When you do, you feel him slip something onto your ring finger as he says "A thousand words wouldn't be enough to tell you how I really feel...Would you want to create a thousand and more memories together instead?"

Kaveh

Kaveh thinks its only appropriate to propose at his masterpiece, but he thinks you're even more of a masterpiece than anything he's made or encountered before.

Plus the place just holds a lot of meaning and memories for him. It's beautiful too and you've always said that you're proud of him for completing it.

His is a pretty simple proposal. "I've always thought that something's been missing in my life...I think I've figured out that it's you, Y/N. It's only going to be you,"

Kazuha

Inazuma holds a lot of memories for Kazuha, some that are rather unpleasant. But home is still home and perhaps he wanted to create more good memories there.

Truth be told he could have proposed to you anywhere, and I don't think he had really planned it. It was just something heartfelt that he wanted to say as he sees you climbing up the stairs to the shrine. The sunlight hitting you perfectly and the sakura blossoms just cascading around your form. It's perfect, he thought.

You're a few steps further up from him and it makes him look up at you the slightest bit. With a shine in his eyes and a smile on his face he asks, quite sincerely "Have you ever felt like home was right next to you, Y/N?"

and before you could answer he answers his own question first. "I have, despite the storms and catastrophes I've gone through...Y/N, you're the home that my heart forever needs,"

Lyney

Lyney plans it, but doesn't do it in a grand way. He just wants it to be sincere and special. He thinks this place is cute, what with the little sort of gazebo with a small sitting space to just sit and drink tea.

He proposes to you as the two of you sit, you've never been here before and wonder why the two of you are out here, actually.

"Oh, is it strange? Haha, I just wanted a bit of a change," Rubs the back of his neck and starts to feel nervous.

You explain that you're not complaining, just curious, but you like it!

"Oh, that's a relief. I'm...Uh..." sort of fumbles with something in his coat, really funny seeing as he's a magician and is supposed to be nimble with his fingers. Recovers quite fast and manages to do his classic "flower-behind-your-ear" trick and hands it over to you.

He does the same trick, but this time takes a ring out. "Y/N, you complete me in ways words can't express...will you..." gulps before he continues "marry me?"

Neuvillette

Seems very posh but prefers to keep it simple. He thinks its more special rather than making a super grand gesture. He could of easily proposed in front of the Opera Epiclese, but instead did it at one of the small fountains in Marcotte Station.

The two of you are out on a nightly stroll and this is just where the two of you ended up.

Clears his throat before starting, takes your hand in his, but its his eyes that really do the talking. "I may not be the best in expressing my deepest thoughts and emotions...but there is one single thing that I am quite sure about," he stalls here and seems to look into your soul.

"And it's you, my love. As I take my next steps into this life I lead, I would be honoured if I take them with you by my side,"

Scaramouche

Has it on his mind but doesn't particularly plans when or where he's going to say it. Just knows that he wants to.

While out on an assignment the two of you pass by Mawtiyima Forest. You've always thought it looked like such a magical place. You request to sit on a hill for a bit before moving on.

Scaramouche, as usual, grumbles about this but relents and ends up plopping next to you as well. Truth be told he also liked this particular forest and how quiet yet vibrant it was.

No words are exchanged for a while, just the two of you looking at the view. Scaramouche sneaks a glance at you and you have that stupid, wide eyed look on your face, the glowing blue mushrooms reflecting off of your eyes.

He secretly thinks its cute.

He shows that by aggressively saying. "I don't know what you had in mind when you agreed to come with me, but you're stuck with me till the end now, got it?"

Yes. That's pretty much his proposal.

Tartaglia

Is one who would take you on a vacation off on an isolated, quaint and cute island like Petrichor with wonderful views of Fontaine's waterfalls.

Is the type to get down on one knee while this beautiful background is in sight. Totally plans it and is the cliche, basic proposal. Would totally love the townspeople to clap and cheer while this is happening too.

"Y/N, every day spent with you is a treasure, and I want it to continue for the rest of my life, will you marry me?"

Thoma

Has planned it. Makes sure you have a good time beforehand, probably at some festival and it's when the two of you are winding down, sitting on that rock with the lamp on it that he asks.

"Isn't it magical?" he asks as a starter and you ask what exactly he's talking about. "How it's always a good time and how easy life seems when I'm with you,"

You tell him that's because he always takes good care of you and he laughs heartily at that. "I'm glad to hear it," kisses your forehead and smiles down at you.

"Every day, Y/N, I just fall deeper in love with you...Do you think, maybe, we could spend our whole lives together?"

Tighnari

Plans it and is calm about it. Has everything under control. He chose Pardis Dhyai specifically for its aesthetics and specifically the inside in case it rains. (He doesn't want you to get wet as he proposes, but also doesn't want his ears and tail wet as it happens.)

Clears his throat before he starts, doesn't have a ring because he just doesn't seem the type, for him its more of a pact.

"Rather than talk about emotions alone, I'd want to highlight that you've been quite the mind-stimulating study partner," coughs into his hand "but of course, that's only one aspect of you that I like...it's safe to say that I like you enough to propose the pact of marriage...would that be alright with you?"

Venti

Where else would he think was a good place to propose? Of course he would do it here.

No roundabout way of saying it. Confident in all aspects, partly because he's a God but partly because...what has he got to lose, really?

Doesn't really propose marriage cause...he's not a mortal. Forever might be a thing for him but maybe not for you.

"It's been a while since I've felt really at ease with someone, you know?"

You jokingly say he seems to be at ease with everyone, specially after a few bottles of wine. He laughs out loud at that, and remarks back that no one can make him laugh the way you do.

"It's blossomed into something more beautiful than I thought it would be, Y/N. You, me, and us. Can we stay like this till the end?"

Wriothesley

Has planned it and has stuck to his plan. At a little vacation home at the Southeast of the Beryl Region. The two of you spent a few days relaxing there, under the guise that Wriothesley needed a break.

On the last day he surprised you by revealing that he had asked your family and friends, both from faraway regions and nearby towns to come and celebrate with the two of you.

Celebrate what, you ask.

That's when he gets down on one knee and pops the question "You know, I could still be mistaken," he grins at this but is clearly joking. "but I don't think I am and seeing as you've put up with me, Y/N, I think it's safe to say you're my forever person,"

It was days after when you realize how confident he is of this whole thing when you think about the fact that he had pre planned to invite all your friends and family over to "celebrate"

Xiao

Also a person who doesn't stray far from home. The rooftop of Wangshu Inn is actually quite romantic on quiet nights, with a view of Liyue and a gentle breeze.

To Xiao, marriage isn't really about a ring and signing papers. It's a contract and a promise to each other.

On one of the nights, he just thinks it's the right time to say it.

He's more quiet than usual and you ask if something's wrong.

He pauses for a while before answering. "...Apologies, there's a lot on my mind..."

Xiao has become a lot more open with you through the years.

"...I... just wanted to propose the prospect of being...binded together," you ask what that means cause you're not really familiar, you end up asking if that's the same as marriage.

"M-Marriage? Uh... Yes... I suppose that's what mortals call it... but being binded together is more..." stops talking and gets red in the face. "Let's... just leave it at that,"

I like to think that the process of binding is just that your souls are entwined together...So when one of you passes, you still remember them in your next life, type of thing. Cause if you're a mortal, chances are, you'll die earlier than Xiao. Anyhow, that's a completely different story.

Zhongli

Zhongli prefers the quiet and the nature. This is probably part of your occasional stroll when the two of you need some quiet time.

Zhongli, with how long he has lived, also doesn't see marriage as the normal get-down-on-one-knee-with-a-ring-thing, but for him, it's a contract. It's more binding than anything in the world.

"Y/N, we've walked this path countless of times before," he starts as the two of you continue to stroll. You reply saying that you like this particular area where the bamboos are.

"Is that so?" suddenly stops and looks at you. "In that case, would you care to listen to a proposal I have?"

Clears his throat when you give the approval. "As I've said, we've walked this path countless of times before..." he takes your hand in his "but for me, who has lived longer than you, I've traversed this path for even more times," he closes his eyes. "Yet, with you by my side, this path changes. It transforms into something resplendent. As if...every time had been the first time I've walked through it. It is with you, Y/N, that I discover life anew, despite the thousands of years I've lived. Would you consider forming a contract of lifelong partnership with me, and only me?"

End

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[baby-yongbok]

Cam Star

Camboy!Hyunjin x Camgirl!Reader

♡ Genre - Smut ♡ Word Count - 10k ✧ Masterlist ✧

♡ Summary - You haven’t seen Hyunjin since the CamStar convention but he’s been on your mind and you’ve been on his. Today’s the day of your collaboration with him, a spicy show for hundreds to watch but the cam is the last thing on your mind.

♡ A/N: I started this as soon as I saw that gif of Hyunjin on live. I wrote this based on one of the many thoughts that gif brought me but it took me FOREVER to complete this. I'm glad that I can at least post it on his birthday! This is the longest fic I've written on this account and I'm proud of it. I hope that you enjoy! 💕+ reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡ MDNI

♡ Warnings: Use of marijuana and alcohol, Foot worship/play, unprotected piv, exhibitionism? - That should be all, let me know if I missed any!

You’ve had a month to prepare for tonight's plans. Everything around you is perfect, your sheets are soft and clean. Your set is lit to perfection and the new matching co-ords that you're sporting for tonight's show were picked out carefully by you and your best friend, Felix, who happens to be a close friend of tonight's guest. You’ve confided in your friend for weeks about your guest's preferences to try and calm your nerves but he didn’t tell you anything that you didn’t already know. 

You would think that maintaining a spot as one of the top five creators on CamStar for two years would make you feel more like a seasoned professional but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Every time that you think about the fact that you’re about to collaborate with Hyunjin, one of the top three male creators on the site, you want to scream and kick your feet like a flustered school girl. Hyunjin is the epitome of beauty, that might sound a bit extreme but it’s true. He’s captivating and shameless with what he does, always begging the chat to let him cum and making such intense and sexy eye contact with the lens that you feel like you’re right there with him. You’ve gotten off to his cams more times than you’d ever admit to him and according to Felix his friend has done the same to yours.  

The mirror would be sick of seeing you if it were a person because here you are standing in front of it for the hundredth time tonight brushing off your short shorts and pulling up your tube top. The deep golden yellow fabric is nearly see through against you and you can’t help but to think that maybe you should change. Maybe this is too much? I mean yeah you’re about to be naked on camera for others across the internet to see and you’re more than comfortable in this outfit but what if Hyunjin doesn’t like it? Felix said that he thinks that his friend will go speechless when he sees you but what if he’s wrong? What if - oh fuck, he’s here.

The echo of the doorbell through your living room leaves you frozen for a second too long before you break into a soft jog over to your front door. You slide across the hardwood with your fuzzy pineapple print socks and take a deep breath as you twist the knob. There he is. Your eyes meet his for a second and you both smile as you take each other in. He’s chosen his usual laid back attire for tonight's show as you expected. His oversized Hilfiger t-shirt and black cargo sweats don't surprise you one bit but you seemed to have caught him a bit off guard with your choice of threads tonight.

“Hey, you’re early.” Hyunjin stares at you, wide eyed and silent for a second too long before he’s clearing his throat and lifting his gaze from your bare thighs to your eyes.  

“Yeah, I uh - roads were clearer than I thought.” You step aside, inviting him in and you can feel the nervous pit in your stomach deepen as he brushes past you. 

“I told you they would be.” Once he slips his shoes off and drops his bag at the door the two of you stand in awkward silence as you steal glances and open and close your mouths for what feels like an eternity. 

“It’s uh- good to see you.” He leans in for a hug, wrapping his arms around your waist and you follow his lead, lacing your arms around his neck as you sigh.

“We’re being such losers right now.” The vibration of his chuckle as he pulls away brings a smile to your face.

“Can you blame me? I haven’t seen you in what? Five months? Maybe six.” You hum, making your way over to your couch and plopping down onto the soft cherry red cushion. 

“Six months, yeah. I mean, we’ve kinda kept in touch since the convention.”

“Commenting on instagram photos and retweeting posts do not count as keeping in touch and you know it.” A blush creeps across your cheeks as he sits next to you, elbows resting on his knees and that damned smirk on his lips. It’s the same one that he uses during his livestreams, the same one that you’ve cum to over and over again. 

“Yeah I know, I know.” You cross your legs underneath you, turning towards him. “You dyed your hair?”

“Yeah, wanted to do something different. I haven’t gone live with it yet so tonight will be the debut for this look.”

“I’m honored that you’ve chosen to debut it with me.” Your fingers rake through his soft locks as you take in the new cut.

“Of course, Princess.” The fact that you aren’t gasping for air right now and appear to be keeping your cool is actually magic. Pure witchcraft, honestly. How can someone make a pet name sound so good? “I need to get used to calling you that so I don’t say your name on cam.”

Your blush deepens as you stare down at his lap. Right, you forgot that you go by Princess when you’re on cam. He’s only calling you that cause that’s what you go by, gosh are you that down bad already? 

“I don’t have to change much, Jinnie.” You sing his name a bit and he smiles at the sound of it. 

“You’re lucky that I go by my name or else you’d have to moan something outlandish like Your Majesty or something.” You fall into a laughing fit, falling onto his shoulder dramatically for support. “Maybe I’ll have you call me that since you seem to enjoy it so much.”

His laugh mirrors yours as he watches you, your head resting on his shoulder with your eyes shut and your mouth hung open as you try to catch your breath. He’s never heard a prettier laugh in his life, he swears it. “Please do not make me call you that I won’t be able to keep a straight face.”

“You already won’t be able to do that though.” He grins as your laughing dies down and you take a final deep breath. Your previous laughter has started to turn into something else entirely. You can feel the heat start to surround the two of you but you’re not even on set or in front of the camera yet. This is what happened last time that you and Hyunjin were together. Everyone at the convention swore that you two had undeniable chemistry. 

“I would say that you’ll have to get used to moaning Princess but something tells me that you already have experience with that.” His eyebrows raise as he leans back into your couch.

“What gives you that idea?”

“Word on the street is that you watch my shows.” There goes that smirk again. He lets his head fall back against the back of your couch as he sighs a bit. 

“Is that right?” He lifts his head, inspecting your matching smirk as he licks over his bottom lip. “Well what if I told you that I heard that you are a big fan of my shows too.”

Your blush is back as you tongue your cheek. Damn Felix and his big mouth! Why would he tell him that? Just play it cool. “Where did you get that information?”

“From the same street that you got your information.” The eye contact that the two of you hold is strong and hot like a steady flame. You watch as his eyes trail from your lips and down the curve of your neck for just a second before rushing back up to meet your gaze but instead of his honey pupils meeting yours he’s met with the view of your own lustful gaze trailing down the slope of his toned arm. 

You’ve done other collabs with people that you're close to and some that you’ve only spoken to for a couple of hours at a convention so you can confidently say that you have never felt as titillated as you do with Hyunjin right now. To be fair, you didn’t have a crush on any of those other people. 

You may not talk to Hyunjin as much as you desire to but you’ve watched every single one of his cams and SFW Q & A’s as well as his YouTube vlogs that you only just found out about days after you asked him to collab with you. He’s mentioned his art to you before but it wasn’t until you came across his channel that you saw just how good he is with a brush or almost any other medium. That mixed with being able to enjoy his everyday lifestyle content and his breathtaking dance covers has made you feel closer to him than you felt before. Though you do find it kind of embarrassing that you’ve gotten close to him through a screen instead of real life.

 Little do you know that Hyunjin is no better than you when it comes to consuming an unspeakable amount of your content. Every single cam that you’ve ever done has been viewed by him at least once and he’s not ashamed to say that he’s even paid to view the premium content.

 He found out about your lifestyle and mental health blog around the same time that you found out about his YouTube channel and he proceeded to scroll all the way down to your first post and back up again. He watched each and every one of your advice videos on the site and has read every word that you’ve ever written and posted. He found himself falling in love with the way that your mind works. He loves the way that you look at life and how you’re able to transform your feelings into breath-taking statements. He nearly forgot about your cams when he found your site. 

“So you think that I’m used to moaning your name?” His question pulls your attention back up to his gaze. 

“Maybe you moan it in your free time.” You shrug with a wink, turning away from him quickly but luckily you don’t miss the smile and blush that he tries to hide from you. 

“I could say the same for you.” He grumbles under his breath as he lets his head fall back against the couch again. You both sit silently, trying your best not to smile like an idiot in front of the other. “Did you pre-game?”

“Uh no not yet, didn’t know if you wanted to join.” You stand, raising your arms to stretch a bit and shamelessly giving him the perfect view of your ass in your shorts. “I know it’s not really your thing.”

“Mm.” He must be enjoying the view. “I’m your guest, I follow your vibe. I don’t mind joining you.”

You hum, making your way over to the black box on your TV stand. “You smoke?”

“Yeah, casually, mostly just with Felix or at parties and shit like that.” 

“I didn’t know. Do you have a favorite strain? I have just about everything.” He falls into silent thought as you take your seat next to him, setting the box in your arms on the table and starting to set up.

“Purple Runtz, I think. I smoked that one before a cam once and I felt ten times more sensitive.” He sits up, leaning forward to watch as you open your box which basically serves as a mini dispensary. Your interest in weed goes way beyond just getting high for the fuck of it. It’s been the best remedy for your anxiety since you tried it but then again you don’t owe anyone an explanation on why you always have a blunt rolled and ready. 

“Ou, I love that one, I think I have some of that. My favorite is Apollo 11, it makes me feel so relaxed and fucking brainless. My anxiety evaporates as soon as I hit it.”

“Are you anxious tonight?” You don’t look over at him. You simply grin as you continue to search for your favorite pipe. You actually aren’t too nervous about tonight's show, something about having Hyunjin here is grounding.

“Not really but I still wanna take a hit or two.” He nods, reaching for the pipe that you laid out on your coffee table. 

“How the hell did you get your pipe so clean?” You giggle as you finally find the strains you both mentioned earlier and take a bit out for the both of you.

“That’s a secret, your majesty.” You erupt into your second fit of laughter for the night when you look over and get a glimpse of the most wicked side eye you’ve ever seen. 

“Fuck you.”

“You will soon.” You pick out your favorite grinder and close your box. “Want anything else?”

“Got any soju?” You pause, turning around slowly to face him with a raised brow.

“You want to get cross faded?” 

“Not really, I don’t drink much just up to the first line of a solo cup. That’s more of my thing than smoking, really.” He shrugs, placing your pipe back down onto the table.

“I mean, if you think that you can handle it. I do want you to remember the night, you know?” 

“I’m not a teenager, I can handle it. I’ve done it before and it’s not like I’m smoking an entire blunt by myself.” You proceed grinding the buds as he stands from your couch. 

“Your kitchen is…” He walks towards the archway of your living room and mumbles a small ‘there’ when he spots the dark kitchen right across the narrow hallway.

“Soju is on the top shelf of the cabinet next to the fridge.” You call out as you start to fill the bowl of your purple glass pipe. 

“So high up for such a little person.” He calls back as you hear the cabinet close.

“Solo cups are on top of the fridge and fuck off tall person.” You can hear the faint echo of his chuckle as he fixes his drink. You take the couple of seconds that you’re waiting for him as an opportunity to light the bowl and take the first hit. 

“A yellow solo? Really? You know that the red solo cups are the sexy ones.” You stifle a chuckle in a desperate attempt not to choke on the smoke in your lungs. He brings the cup to his lips quickly before taking the pipe that you're offering him.

“Sexy?” You question following your exhale. “What makes the red ones sexy?”

“The sense of mystery.” He mumbles as he exhales over his shoulder. “I just never see the yellow ones.” You hum, taking the pipe back and peaking into his cup.

“Hyunjin, that’s way more than just the bottom of the cup.” The corner of his mouth twitches as he offers you the cup.

“That’s because I got just a bit more to share with you.” 

“I didn’t say that I wanted any.” You tease.

“True, you don’t have to have any. Just thought of you since I came to your house and started drinking your liquor.” You set your pipe down and take the cup from Hyunjin’s hand silently before turning to him completely and holding your pinky out. 

“I’ll have some but I just need us to promise something first.” He turns to face you completely, glancing down at your finger with a faint grin. “I get high before almost every cam and I know that you’re aware of that but I’ve never really done it with anyone else. Well, not on cam. I just want us to be comfortable.”

He holds his pinky out to you, wrapping it around yours without question. “I promise that I’ll be fine and that I’m more than okay with everything that will happen tonight. If I’m uncomfortable I’ll tell you, you’ll do the same, right? I only want to make you feel good, nothing else.” 

“I promise that I’ll be fine too. I’ll tell you everything. I’ll communicate so much that you’ll want me to shut up.” The two of you had already discussed your limits beforehand and you’ve both done your research on the other person - whether it be for business or personal benefits varies - but you feel yourself relax further now that you’ve heard him say that he’ll be fine. Pinky promises are like a contract after all. 

“Impossible, I could never want such a thing.” You let go of his finger and he follows, a grin on both of your faces as he reaches for his cup but you beat him to it. “We’re sharing the bowl and the drink anyway, It’ll literally just be the tip of the iceberg.” He’s right, this isn’t enough to fuck you guys up, not with the tolerance that you have. It’s just enough to make you both melt and feel loose enough to drop your masks a little faster.

“You know what we should do?” He takes the cup as you pass it to him, drinking from the same spot on the cusp that you just did. Did he mean to do that? Was that like an indirect kiss? Or are you really that down bad for him already? Fuck, get a grip. “We should start a bit early, maybe just sit and talk to set the mood?”

“You can’t smoke on cam though.” He takes another sip as you finish your second hit. 

“Let’s start after the bowl then. We can share the drink and just chill? Get a feel of everything and vibe check the chat.” He hums, choking a bit on his inhale but recovering pretty quickly, he must do this more frequently than you thought. He clears his throat taking a sip of soju to substitute one burn for another. 

“That’s fine with me, Princess.”

“You never told me if I look okay.” The two of you finished smoking maybe fifteen minutes ago and decided to move to your office to start getting comfortable on set. 

“That’s because I didn’t trust myself to say something that didn’t sound lame.” Hyunjin makes himself comfortable on your sofa bed, yellow solo cup in hand while he pushes his hair out of his face.

“That was then, what about now?”

“Now I can confidently say that you look absolutely breath-taking.” The soft sound of R&B music playing across the room fills in the silence after his answer. Your content giggling and smiling while you set up your camera and adjust your laptop is enough feedback for him.  “What’s the second cam for?”

“Oh, collabs aren’t available in my archive to try and encourage more people to watch them. So if anyone misses this they’re assed out but I do like to record collabs for myself to watch back later.” 

“Yeah? Gonna get off to me fucking you later?” The weed and soju are definitely doing their job for him. His playful and teasing nature has been on full display since the two of you finished smoking. Your mask is dropped too so you have no problem matching his energy.

“Maybe, better put on an unforgettable show.” He tongues his cheek, eyeing your glossed lips. He can’t wait to smear that red tint across your cheeks, he’ll definitely give you an unforgettable show. You settle next to him, draping your bare legs over his clothed lap.

“You’ve seen my cams.” His eyes meet yours slowly. “So you know that I will.”

“Then let’s do this.” You lean forward to hit ‘Go Live’ but Hyunjin stops you before you can press it. 

“Hold on, I wanted to do something first.” He takes your hand gently as he leans forward to sit the yellow cup on the table in front of the both of you. You hum, staring at him with pinched brows but when he pushes your hair from your face and runs his thumb over your cheek bone you can’t help but to let go of the tension in your face. 

“I don’t really want our first kiss to be on cam, if you don’t mind.” A grin creeps up on you as he searches your eyes, leaning in so closely that you can feel his breath tickling your lips. 

 “Can I kiss you?” You answer him by leaning in and pressing your lips against his. He sighs into you as his lips move against yours. Soft, gentle and only for you. His other hand finds your waist and he pulls you closer to him until your racing heart is nearly against his own. You let out a soft moan as you feel his tongue trace the seam of your mouth. Once he hears that sweet sound he knows that he has to pull away or else the two of you will never turn that camera on and he’ll keep every inch of you to himself. You notice his reluctance as he pulls away but the look in his eyes once they flutter open and meet yours makes you forget about everything except the feeling of him against you. 

“You’re smiling.” You turn away at his comment trying to hide your face from him but he turns your head back, a matching smile on his lips. 

“You kissed me, of course I’m smiling.”

“Does that mean that you like me?” You turn away from him, groaning playfully as you avoid his gaze. 

“Are you ready now? Or are you going to keep flirting with me?” His chuckle brings back the smile that you’re fighting to get rid of and it excites the butterflies in your stomach all over again. Luckily for you Hyunjin is just as down bad as you are, his stomach is doing somersaults right now and he swears that his heart is beating out of his chest. 

“I’m ready.”

The chat went from being chill with just about ninety people watching to absolutely overflowing as soon as your usual air time hit. You’re used to having a large audience but the number on your screen is nearly more than double what it usually is thanks to your special guest. 

Jinnie! You dyed your hair. They look so hot together omg I’d do anything to be between the two of them right now Can he handle our Princess?

You and Hyunjin skim through the buzzing chat, responding to the comments that catch your eye. 

“So many comments about my hair. I just did it because I wanted to impress you all, did it work?” He winks at the camera, his signature smirk on his lips as he brings the cup up to take a sip. He tilts the cup towards you once he sips from it but you bring your hand up to play in his hair instead. 

“It’s so soft, like, you all would not believe it. I really like the black on him, don’t you?” His eyes meet yours as he licks his lips. 

“Are you impressed?” It’s your turn to smirk as you take the cup from him, brushing your fingertips over the back of his hand in the process.

“Let’s save the reviews for after the show.” You offer a quick wink as you sip from the cup. He tongues his cheek as he focuses back on the chat but his hands are only focused on you.

His fingers are having a field day as they trace sensitive circles and lines into your calves and thighs. He kneads at the flesh softly as he makes conversation with the viewers that he recognizes, but you can’t seem to focus on chat right now. Not when your crushes' big hands are massaging every inch of exposed skin he can reach.

Hyunjin notices that you’re a bit spaced out, so he asks you a question to help you refocus. The conversation kind of turns into an impromptu story time that consists of you and Hyunjin telling the viewers and each other about the other collabs that you’ve done. The further that you get into the show, the closer you and Hyunjin get. You’ve gone from just having your calves draped over his lap to moving closer and putting your arm over his shoulder. That has led you to how you are right now, his arm around your waist with your legs draped over his lap and your head on his shoulder. Your breath is tickling that sweet spot on his neck, and he’s trying desperately to focus on the timbre of your laugh instead of how eager he is to touch you. You’re laughing about something that probably isn’t that funny - thanks to the weed - when Hyunjin reads a comment out loud. 

“Looks like you got a tip and a request.” He leans a bit closer to the screen, pushing his hair out of his face and licking his lips as he reads the request to you. “Your socks are cute but I want to see your pretty toes.”

“Mm would you take them off for me, Jinnie?” He sighs at the way that you make his name sound so sweet yet sexy at the same time. He’s already rock hard in his sweats from how close you are to him, he can’t possibly handle your pretty voice saying his name like that too

“Ask me again.” Actually, he can take it. He’ll definitely explode later but right now he wants to take all that he can get. “You sounded so sweet the first time I just need to hear it again.”

“What if I'm not sweet this time?” 

“Indulge me, Princess.” A mindless giggle escapes you as you lean in and run your fingers through his hair. You stop right when your lips brush the shell of his ear and whisper. 

“Will you please take them off for me…” You suck in a slow breath and Hyunjin’s eyes flutter shut for just a second. “Your majesty .” His eyes squeeze shut and he folds forward in a fit of laughter that you quickly reciprocate.

“You’re so fucking stupid.” He sits up, trying to catch his breath the best he can so that he can fulfill your request.

“Then you should have no problem fucking me dumb.” You fake a pout at him through your laughter.

 “Come here.” You bend your knees, bringing your feet to his lap to give him better access. Your laughter quickly dies down when you get a feel of his hard cock under the soles of your feet. It would be a shame not to help him with that. As Hyunjin removes one of your socks you press the ball of your naked foot against his clothed shaft lightly, just enough for a delicious hiss to escape him. 

He moves to remove your other sock and you repeat your previous actions, pressing against his hard cock with the other foot and then following with both. Hyunjin's hands run over the tops of your feet as he watches you massage his dick over his pants. It’s too subtle for your mic to catch but you can hear his breathing start to pick up as you work against him. “Pretty.”  He mumbles, his voice thick with desire. You grin at him lazily, the effects of both strains of weed is starting to hit you a bit harder now that the heat between you and Hyunjin is starting to pick up. 

“You think my toes are pretty?”  He nods, his eyes darkened with lust. One of his hands runs up your calf, his grip gentle but firm. You arch your back, pushing your hips forward and inviting him closer while he leans in, bringing one of your feet up to his mouth with a feather light grip on your ankle and pressing a soft kiss to the top of your foot. A shiver runs down your spine as you watch him. 

“So pretty.” His voice is barely above a whisper, just loud enough for your mic to pick up but quiet enough to know that he’s talking to you and only you. It’s like he’s forgotten about the chat and if he is to be completely honest, he did, just for a moment. The feeling of your foot pressed against his dick is so intoxicating, how could he not? “Can I suck them?”

“I’ve never done that before.” The wide nervous smile and breathy chuckle that follows your confession leaves Hyunjin smiling too. He presses another kiss to the top of your foot, this time it’s sloppier and it sends another chill down your spine, are you into this?

“Do you want to try it?” You’ve never felt shy when doing a cam before. Not even when you first started, so why are you covering your eyes and giggling like a drunk teenager at the mention of having your toes sucked? “Aren’t these feet just too pretty, chat? Shouldn’t they be worshiped appropriately?”

I’d give anything to be Princess right now Such pretty feet need to be praised

Hyunjin’s question received more than a few comments back and nearly double the amount of tips but truthfully, you were already sold the minute that he asked to do it. Who in their right mind would say no to having those beautiful blushed lips on them? 

“I’ll try it.” Your bright eyes meet Hyunjin’s for just a second as he silently asks for confirmation. You nod your head, a goofy smile on your face as you lean back on your palms. He presses soft sloppy kisses to the top of your foot, adding more pressure and tongue as he trails down. His eyes stay on yours when he kisses your pinky toe, adding so much tongue that he’s practically licking it into his mouth. Your smile drops as he does the same to the next toe, you watch with parted lips and bated breath as he sucks on the digit, swirling his tongue over your purple pedicure and effectively making you gush between your thighs.

“Why the fuck does that feel so good?” Your question comes out as more of a quivering moan than you meant for it to but you’re way too entranced in this pleasure to give a fuck about how you sound. 

He smirks, his eyes twinkling with a soft desire to unravel you further. “Because I'm good at it.” His lips and tongue leave a trail of wet heat as he continues, his slow and deliberate movements build you up perfectly. 

Something tells you that this is going to be a good show. 

You can't help but let out a sharp gasp as his lips close around your big toe. Why is that one ten times more sensitive? “Oh fuck.” Your eyes flutter shut and you throw your head back with your lips parted in a euphoric smile. You puff out a small sigh of relief followed by a mindless giggle as he continues to lavish attention on your toes. “This is my new favorite thing.”

“Having your toes sucked?” He plants a sloppy kiss on the top of your foot as he lowers it back to his lap. “Or having me suck them?” He moves his hands to your thighs and parts your legs he sinks the tips of his fingers into your thigh as he pulls you forward into his lap. You gasp at the sudden shift, trying your best to stifle a giggle.

“You can answer that when it’s just you and me if you want.” His hands move to grab at the curve of your ass and you smile down at him, we can’t let him have all of the fun can we? 

The moan that escapes Hyunjin when you wrap your hand around his throat and pull his face towards yours is enough to make your ego explode. It’s only now that he’s so close to you that you can see how his eyes have a faint red tint from the weed, they’re droopy and have the tiniest fucked out glaze to them as they stare back into yours. 

“You sure are talking a lot for someone who needs me on their cock.” You swirl your hips against him, pressing your soaked core against the tent in his pants. You can’t help to resent the clothes keeping you away from each other, you much rather be grinding on his bare length right now. “Shouldn’t you be begging for me instead?”

"Make me beg for it." His words huff out in a shaky breath, his large hands swiftly and mindlessly gripping your plush hips as you grind against him slowly. 

"Show me how much you want it." He attempts to lean forward and catch your lips with his but you dodge him a bit before he can reach you. “Use your words, baby.”

The second that you call him baby Hyunjin swears that he could melt in your hands. He’s no stranger to the sweet name but hearing it fall from your lips makes every other time someone has called him that feel bitter. “You’re gonna drive me crazy.”

You halt all movement and he whines in protest. He attempts to buck up into you but you press down to stop him. “Let me hear you beg for me.”

 “Please let me kiss you, let me taste you.” His pleading voice is barely above a whisper. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, his pounding heart is all that he hears as he awaits your response. Your hand slides up the back of his neck, lacing through his raven locks and pulling lightly. “Please, I need you.”

“You sound so pretty.”  You lean in and kiss him, smiling against him as he cups your face with both hands and deepens the kiss. His lips move over yours with a hunger that you’ve never experienced before.

 His rhythm is gentle yet desperate like he’s savoring the taste of you. Your hands run over his strong shoulders and trail down to explore each curve of his bicep. You brush your fingers over the muscles, moaning when you feel them flex beneath your fingertips, the simple reaction prompts you to grind into him a bit harder earning a pleased groan to vibrate through him. Your hands are caressing the smooth skin of his forearms when his tongue swipes across the seam of your mouth and you promptly grant him access.

 Your hands fall to rest on his chest, balling the fabric of his shirt into a fist and your brain blanks out, there’s not a single thought going through that pretty head once the taste of him floods your tongue. He tastes more like Soju than he does weed and there’s a hint of mint from the gum that he was chewing beforehand.

“Chat…” Hyunjin pulls back, his eyes stay on you while he talks to the audience that you completely forgot about. Forgetting that you’re live with hundreds of people watching seems to be a running theme tonight. “You think I should take her top off?” His eyes trail down the curve of your neck until they reach the hem of your strapless top that’s leaving very little to the imagination.

“It’s so tiny how the fuck does it stay on?” You laugh a bit harder than intended at his question causing your top to slip down a bit. “Oh, fuck can you do me a favor? Bounce in my lap, I wanna see your top fall down.”

“You want me to bounce in your lap?” You coo with a sweet yet teasing tone. “Like this?” You bounce lightly, grinding down on his pulsing erection each time you come down.

“Shit, baby, please.” You continue to bounce in his lap lightly, feeling your top slip down little by little. 

“Is this how you want me to ride you, Jinnie?” You bat your lashes at him, his hands find a home on your waist, digging his fingers into the flesh. 

“Such a fucking tease.” The smile on his face quickly dissolves once your top finally gives way, you continue to grind against him slowly as he takes in the sight. “ Gosh, you’re gorgeous.” 

One of his hands slides up the curve of your waist and cups at your bare breast, kneading the mound slowly while pinching and twirling your nipple. It doesn’t take long for his other hand to follow suit. “Shit, they’re sensitive.” You moan at the contact, whining a bit when he pinches harder.

“Yeah? Can you cum from this, Princess? Gonna soak my lap from getting your nipples pinched?” You whimper, arousal flooding your - already ruined - shorts as you arch into his touch. “ Her shorts should come off next, shouldn’t they, chat?”

“Nuh uh, Your shirt is next.” 

“Can’t wait to get me naked, huh?” He reluctantly moves his hands to the hem of his shirt, pulling it off in one swift motion and revealing his beautifully built body to you. Hyunjin doesn’t usually get completely naked for his cams, eighty percent of the time he’ll keep his shirt on or just pull down his jeans enough to free his cock but he agreed to do it with you when the two of you were talking about your limits. “Happy?”

“Very.” You mindlessly run your hand over his chest, taking in every bit of him. You’re interrupted by the warm feeling of his hands snaking up your thighs and messing with the hem of your shorts. He taps your outer thigh twice, his bottom lip is pulled between his teeth as he waits for you to follow his silent command. “Can't wait to get me naked, huh?”

You mimic his previous statement and he offers a dark and airy chuckle in return. The banter between you two is not helping how hard he is right now. He’s always liked that about you, he likes that you always have something to say back. “Damn right.” 

You hook your thumbs into the waistband of your shorts, keeping steady eye contact with Hyunjin as you remove them. He moans at the sight of you bare before him, the previous petting your thighs has turned into him digging into the soft flesh in an attempt to control himself. “No panties, Princess?”

“They’d just get ruined.” You grab at the hem of his sweats, fumbling with the drawstring and trying to not make your desperation too obvious. Once you undo the bow he helps you pull his pants off of his hips only to find him bare underneath. “No underwear, Jinnie?” He smiles, chuckling a bit with a shrug.

“You’d just rip them off of me anyway.” You laugh loud, hitting his arm and throwing his sweats to the side. 

“I would not!” Hyunjin follows up with a joke that you only half laugh at, you’re way too busy taking in the sight of his dripping cock resting against his toned abdomen, how is this man even real? Hyunjin catches on shortly after, taking a chance to enjoy the flawless view of you.

His cock jumps once his eyes land on your glistening core, wet and ready for him to ruin, he has half a mind to just turn off the camera and carry you to your bedroom where he can enjoy you without the prying eyes of your viewers who you both forgot about the second that you got undressed, or maybe it was sometime before that, when was the last time that you looked at the chat? A familiar text tone pulls you out of your thoughts and hurls you back into reality. This is a cam show. 

You don’t even need to look at your phone to know who texted you. You’ve got Felix’s text tone memorized. He attends every one of your shows and watches the chat to make sure that no one gets out of hand and you do the same for him when he goes live. Tonight he’s accompanied by Hyunjin’s stream mod and roommate Changbin.

 You assume that Felix texted you to tell you just what you were thinking a second ago, you need to look at the chat. You force your attention over to your laptop screen, trying your best to focus on the comments and tips flooding in left and right. 

“Jin is distracting me from the chat.” You tease, leaning in to read some comments.

They are in their own world Princess is going to ruin him I want him to look at at me like that

“You’re distracting me too.” He pulls you towards him by your hips so that you're straddling him with his cock pressed against your core. “Are you guys enjoying the show so far?” He asks after you send him a playful glare.

The chat lights up with comments and requests. Hyunjin knows that he should pick a request to entertain the audience. He knows that some people want to see him do specific things to you and you to him but he can’t help but to feel a bit selfish right now. He’s been dreaming about being this close to you for weeks. He doesn’t want to spend his time doing things that others request. He wants to savor you. 

“I know I’m enjoying it.” You turn your attention back to Hyunjin, your eyes run over his features, taking in his soft lips and his shining droopy eye. He licks over his bottom lip as he looks you over too. Your eyes are barely drooping despite being high, your lips are kiss bitten and barely glossed but the red tint is still visible and it’s smudged onto your cheek ever so slightly. Just what he wanted.

“I’m sorry…” Hyunjin mumbles as he switches focus between your lips and your lust glazed eyes. “I’m sorry, I can’t pay attention to chat right now.” His lips are on yours in an instant, punctuating his sentence with a heated kiss. You gasp at the sudden impact, your heart racing as your tongue tangles with his. Hyunjin pulls away for just a second, his breath hot against your skin as he whispers, “Can I fuck you now, baby? Can I fuck you like nobody’s watching.”

“You wanna play with me, Jinnie?” You whisper back as your arms wind around his neck.

“Until you break.” He dives back in, moving one of his hands to cradle the back of your head as he tastes you. You pull him closer until your chest is flush with his and you can feel the vibration of your shared moans rattling between you. You reach between your bodies with whatever space is left, lifting yourself up just enough to position him without breaking the kiss. He groans once he feels the head of his cock brush against your dripping slit, he breaks the kiss and leans back to take in the sight of his cock stretching your cunt. “That cunt is so fucking sloppy.” His eyes roll back as you sink down on him and he drinks in every second of your cunt swallowing each thick inch of his throbbing length. 

“O-oh, fuck.” He closes the gap between the two of you again with his hands on your hips to help guide you down. He leans his forehead against yours, gazing into your eyes as he fills you to the brim. Once you take him to the hilt you pause to catch your breath but Hyunjin has other plans. You cry out when you feel the tip of his dick kiss your cervix just right. The stretch of him is unlike anything - or anyone - you’ve ever felt before. 

“Tiny fucking cunt taking my cock so well. ‘S fucking made for me isn’t it, Princess? This cunt was made for me to fuck.” You move in tandem, timing when to swirl your hips so that he feels impossibly deep. You know that Hyunjin is the type to talk dirty during sex, you’ve watched enough of his cams to imagine what he might be like. You’re usually no different but the way that he feels inside of you is so dizzying that you might not be able to keep up with him tonight. The sweet buzz of the weed and soju makes everything feel like it could have you floating at any second. Even just trying to remember his name or your own for that matter is a full time job that your brain keeps clocking out of.

“J-just for you baby… god, this pussy is yours just please don’t stop.” Your fucked out eyes stare into his as you start to take more control, the sound of your skin colliding echoes as you bounce in his lap. His hands stay on your hips, periodically squeezing the flesh when you clench around him just right. Sweet whines and chants of ‘ah ah ah’ fall from your lips but you become muted when Hyunjin sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and lightly bites it. He plants broken kisses as you arch into his hand tracing the length of your spine. He had to get you to be quiet, if you keep moaning like that this show won’t last very long. 

“You know I could have you however I want, right?” He groans as he practically melts beneath you. “I could pick you up and ruin this pretty cunt but I want you to use me. I want you to use my cock in front of all of them.” His hands fall from your back and settle on your ass. The soft flesh in his hands has him holding on for dear life. What the hell are you doing to him? He’s never felt this good before. He needs you off of him now or else he’s going to explode.

 “Fuck, baby.” He lands a firm smack that draws a whimper from you. “Come here, show that pretty ass to the camera.” He lifts you up mid stroke and turns you around, your ass and dripping hole on display for more than a hundred people to see. The thought of it makes you bite your lip as Hyunjin reaches over you to jiggle your ass for the camera, leaving a bruising slap on either cheek as he pleases.

“Beautiful isn’t she?” He spreads your cheeks and leans over with puckered lips. Letting a stream of spit fall from between them and onto your asshole. He watches as it runs down and mixes with the sticky arousal of your pussy then drips down to pool on the sofa. A curse escapes him when he brings a finger up to tease your tight hole, rimming it gently then trailing down to tease your fluttering pussy. 

“Jin.” A mindless whimper escapes you and Hyunjin hums a  moan in response. He wants nothing more than to taste you, he’d make you cum while he plays with both of your holes but he wants to take his time with that. He can’t give you rushed head, you deserve better than that so he’ll settle for sinking his finger into your pussy with his thumb rubbing at your pretty puckered hole. “Oh my god.”

“Think I should add another finger chat?” Tips flood in as soon as the question leaves his mouth. You wiggle your ass at the camera earning a chuckle and a light ass slap from Hyunjin. “My eager princess, want another?” You nod, drawing out an excited hum that promptly fades into a moan once his middle finger slips into you. He fucks into you, pressing against your walls and sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. His other hand trails up your back and you arch for him, pushing your ass into his hand. Your moans echo through the room like a porn site on loud speaker.  

“Jinnie I'm gonna - gonna -” He slaps your ass, sending you into a broken moan. 

“Go ahead and make a mess for me, baby.” You’re coming undone before you can process it. He fucks you through it, massaging your sweet spot and drawing out your climax. You collapse onto his lap, eyes closed as you try to catch your breath. “I’m the luckiest guy alive.” A smug smirk pulls at Hyunjin’s lips as he repeats the comment that he was able to catch before it went zooming by in the messy chat.

 Your eyes flutter open with the intention of looking up at him and throwing a smart remark his way but his throbbing cock resting against his stomach is too close for you not to pay attention to. Hyunjin is running his fingers through your hair as he’s still trying to read the chat. He’s so engrossed in that that he only half notices when you move closer to his cock, sliding it into your mouth with a content hum

“Oh baby, oh fuck” His hand rests on the back of your head, instinctively guiding you as you take all of him and allow his tip to abuse the back of your throat. He marvels at the stretch of your pretty lips around him, taking every single inch of him until his tip makes your throat bulge and your mouth water. “Please don’t stop, don’t stop.” He pants above you, his eyes are glued to your watering ones as you blink up at him and bat your thick lashes. You swallow around him with each bob of your head and use your free hand to pay attention to his balls. You massage them gently, covering them with the spit that dribbles down from the hilt of Hyunjin's cock.

“You have no idea how good you are at that. You have no fucking clue, do you? I’d give you anything, I’d do anything just to feel this pretty mouth on me all of the time. Holy shit, Princess.” You choke around him when he pushes your head down a bit, holding you there for a second to indulge in the way your throat squeezes him. A tear rolls down your cheek and Hyunjin wipes it away with his thumb. He brings the finger up to his mouth and sucks it clean, keeping his eyes on yours as he swirls his tongue around the digit. You whimper around him and he throws his head back at the sensation. “You’re gonna make me nut if you don’t stop. I don’t wanna bust in your mouth, I wanna fill your pussy.”

He makes a fist around your ponytail when you don’t stop, pulling your head back with a grunt. “Don’t fucking listen.” You offer him a messy smile, sticking your tongue out in an attempt to catch his dick in your mouth again. He takes the base of his dick between his fingers and slaps the tip on your tongue. “Filthy girl, so pretty. Look at me, Mhmm keep those eyes on me, fuck you’re unbelievable.” He groans, pushing into your mouth and moving his hips in slow circles. You gag slightly as he pushes deep, his grip around your ponytail tightening as he fucks your face. 

“You’re gonna drive me insane.” He pulls your head back again, a single string of spit keeps the two of you connected but it’s broken when he turns your head to the camera. “You liked being dirty for me in front of them? You see how many people are watching you suck my cock.” Arousal gushes between your thighs and you press them together as the intoxicating feeling of embarrassment creeps up and paints a blush over your cheeks.

“I love it.” You hum and he smiles down at you sliding his thumb into your mouth “You’re a dream.” You smile around his finger, swirling your tongue around the tip then releasing it with a faint pop.

 “Wanna lay down for me? Let me fuck you dumb?” You’re pulling yourself into position before he even finishes the question. The sudden urgency in your actions earns you a faint chuckle and a quick kiss to your forehead as you get comfortable. He gets up on his knees and slots himself between your legs. You bring them up to rest on his shoulders and he plants sloppy kisses along your calf while he strokes himself against your entrance, teasing your clit with his tip. 

“How ya feeling, Princess. You got a bit quiet on me earlier.” 

“I’m literally seeing stars.” Your loud laughs echo through the room and rumble through the mic in front of you. “I’m good, just on cloud nine.”

“Am I your favorite collab?” The answer is yes but you’ll never admit that to him, especially not while you’re live. Truthfully this barely even feels like a collab. It just feels like you and your boyfriend fucking in front of a camera. Wait, boyfriend…? What are you even thinking? Are you catching more feelings for him right now? Ugh, okay, you gotta sort that out later. 

“Are you trying to get me in trouble?” You lightly push his chest with your foot before resting it back over his shoulder. He chuckles and kisses the inside of your ankle. “Just fuck me.” 

“My pleasure, this is what we’re gonna do. I’m gonna slip into this pussy nice and slow.” He runs his pointer finger between your slick folds and your back slightly arches off of the mattress. “Then you’re gonna cross your ankles over my chest and I'm gonna hold them.”

“Is this supposed to be some type of forbidden position?” He rolls his eyes, laughing at you as you smile up at him. “It’s gonna make that tiny cunt of yours feel even tighter.” 

You take a shaky breath in as he starts sinking into you. It feels like there can’t possibly be enough air in your lungs. They’re burning but you willfully ignore it. “Oh, come on baby, this messy cunt takes me so well.” His voice is thick with aroused exasperation as he fills you. He halts his movement for a second to allow you to adjust. “Breathe for me.”

You suck in a slow breath but that’s all in vain when he starts rocking into you. “Hyunjin” Your eyes roll back as you moan his name repeatedly. It’s amazing how perfect he feels, like he was made specifically to be inside of you.

 “Cross your legs, baby.” You do as you’re told, moving slowly as you adjust to his languid strokes “That’s it.” His gentle pace only lasts another second or two before he starts getting more reckless. He brings his hand up to his mouth and bites on his bent finger while your mouth hangs open in a silent scream. 

“Oh what the fuck, Jin. What the fuck.” The moan that escapes you is desperate and nearly has a primal ring to it. The pressure on your clit for your legs being crossed mixed with him feeling as deep as he does is a recipe to blinding orgasm. 

“You’re so fucking - Oh my god, you’re the only person I ever wanna fuck. This cunt is mine, can it be mine Princess?” He settles into an unrelenting tempo, he grips your thighs with both hands to steady himself while his desperation sets in. “Tell me it’s mine please, please please.”

“Y-yours, all yours, fuck me like I’m all yours.” A deep groan rumbles through him, That’s exactly what he wanted to hear. He wants to be yours and he wants you to be his. He wants to be the only one who gets to feel like this. The only one who makes you cream on their cock. You look so pretty, you sound so pretty, fuck you’re so pretty. 

You turn your face towards the camera so that they can get a better look at you, eyes crossed and drooling onto the sofa.

“My brainless baby is drooling?” A broken moan interrupts him.  “My cock really got you fucking dumb, huh?” 

“I wan’ your cum, Jinnie, please. Need it. Need it inside.”

“You want it? Baby’s gonna milk my cock, huh? Gonna make me creampie that cunt. Shit - I’m close.” You clench around him and he swears that he can feel his soul leaving his body. He pushes all the way in, hitting spots that you could never reach alone. Your orgasm comes into sight when he hits your cervix just right. “You gonna take it, baby? Gonna take all my - fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

 “Don’t.” He groans, slowing down a bit but you whimper in protest. “Keep fucking me like that, p-please please. Deep like that, you’re so deep like that, fuck - please.”

“Pri-princess, I can’t - fuck, I can’t”  He whines and buries himself deep into you, hips stuttering as he gets closer and closer to losing control. 

“Don’t you d-dare cum, Jinnie. Don’t.” You press your thighs together in a desperate attempt at reigning in your orgasm. The pleasure build inside you, slowly creeping up your spine before it hits you all at once. Your body tenses as shockwaves rush over you and your walls spasm and contract around him.

“Holy shit, baby I can’t fucking take it.” His movements become erratic as he tries to help you ride out your high but the feeling of you flooding his cock throws him over the edge. His orgasm hits him like a freight train and he throws his head back and practically screams above you. He bites his lip in a desperate attempt to quiet himself but his efforts are not enough to keep his moans of euphoria at bay.

 He empties himself inside of you until his seed is spilling out in a helpless attempt to escape your plugged pussy. You uncross your legs from his chest and let them plop against the sofa once he releases his death grip on your thighs. With the lack of support Hyunjin falls forward but he catches himself before he collapses on top of you, his hips shake as he comes down from his high. Sweat drips down and runs along the valley of your breasts as he hovers above you and tries to catch his breath. You stay still, your body still trembling as the aftershocks of pleasure course through you. You stay like that until he finally pulls himself out and collapses next to you. 

Only your labored breaths can be heard throughout the room as you try to fill your lungs but that’s easily drowned out by the sounds of your hammering heart pulsing in your ears when you feel Hyunjin move next to you. 

He’s holding your hand.

His fingers intertwine with yours, giving you a light squeeze and you smile at the gesture, the butterflies in your stomach erupt into a clumsy swarm as the two of you lie in silence for a while longer.. 

“So.” Hyunjin breaths out, propping himself up onto his elbow so that he can look down at you. “Are you impressed?” You push him down with a laugh and roll over on top of him.

“I am impressed.” You lean down and catch his smiling lips in a slow and soft kiss. You both sigh into it, his hands tracing up your sides as yours run down his chest. You break the kiss with a smile and whisper. “Your majesty.”

“If you’re the Princess what does that make me?” Hyunjin teases with a smile and you stare down at him with a surprised blush. You attempt to hide your face in his neck and roll off of him but he pulls you in for another kiss before you can make your escape. The two of you melt into the exchange, getting so lost in each other that you don’t hear Felix’s text tone going off. Actually, you haven’t heard it go off for the past ten minutes that he’s been texting you. Changbin has been texting Hyunjin for the same amount of time if not a bit longer but the two of you have been so deep in your own world. Right now nothing and no one but the two of you exist. You’re both completely and totally enamored with each other and you have no problem with everyone knowing that…Except no one will know that. Why?

Because the livestream disconnected twenty minutes ago.

Thank you reading! Please like and share, it makes my day!

ASLO, please follow my back-up acct. @minniee-verse ❣️

[rainsreverie]

i believe all my problems would be solved if i wrote silly self indulgent fics... :')

[sunflower-gvf]

thinking of steddie eating me out together!!!!

you're not even sure how you three ended up like this. steve and eddie lay on their stomach's between your shaking legs, their tongues lapping at your juices like they need it to survive. steve moves his tongue to dip inside your dripping hole, moaning into your core at the taste of your slick. eddie's mouth sucks at your clit, making you moan loudly. steve pulls back, slipping two fingers into you, "oh that's it, baby, let us hear how good it is." he says with a shit-eating grin. tears prick at your eyes, it just feels so good. you look down, locking eyes with eddie. he smirks around your clit and pulls back for a moment, "like fuckin' candy, sweetheart, could do this forever." is all he says before diving back in, his tongue brushing over steve's as they lick over your clit, steve's fingers pumping in and out of you. eddie's tongue laps at steve's, the lewd sight pushing you closer to the edge. "she's getting close, eds, can feel how fucking tight she is." steve mumbles around your pussy. eddie licks at steve's tongue on your clit once more before smirking at you, "soak our fucking faces, baby."

it's safe to say you do exactly what eddie says.

a/n: omg it's been forever since i've written like anything! send in requests for stranger things or greta van fleet!!

[sceletaflores]

"Dependence Is Weakness, Darling."

pairing: older!patrick zweig x fem!reader

summary: it wasn’t just the cigarettes or the lighters. it was the way you still find yourself thinking about him. patrick, with his tangled emotions and overwhelming presence, had left an inescapable mark on your life. and as much as you wished it, he wasn’t someone you could easily erase from yourself.

—or: it's been a little over twelve years since you've seen patrick zweig.

word count: 7.8k (hopefully this is long enough lol)

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, p in v, rough sex but in a loving way, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it y’all!), semi-public sex (fucking in a car, you know i had to...), angst, swearing, cigarette smoking as a love language, slight mommy issues lmao, hints of mean!reader cause i still live for that shit, love confessions, rain scene cause i'm corny as hell, porn with SOOOO much plot, no use of y/n.

author's note: this might me the filthiest thing i've ever written lols. i actually DID get a couple asks for some more angsty patrick fics and ofc i love writing angst i'm just a girl i live for that shit. look at me doing what was asked of me and not just whatever i wanted! i'm a giver, what can i say. this fic was revived because of a few anon's who demanded it and i'm so glad they did. you guys got me to give this a second chance and i'm so proud of how it turned out. extra special shout out to @bii-aan-ckaa who fiercely advocated and waited very patiently for this! i'm so obsessed with you and your beautiful kind words. hope you love it! mwah xoxo.

Fifteen minutes. 

That’s how long you can stomach sitting in the sticky booth of the bar watching Patrick Zweig flirt with a woman you don't recognize across the dimly lit room. Fifteen measly minutes until you were giving your friends some lame excuse of needing fresh air and leaving the table to escape out into the alley.

It’s been a little over twelve years since you’ve seen Patrick. A little over twelve years since you turned your back on him with tears spilling down your cheeks and your favorite racket a mangled, smashed mess gripped tightly in your shaking hand as you walked out of his life forever. 

Or at least what you thought was forever, you guess you were wrong.

To put it lightly, your relationship with Patrick was…complicated. You met him the summer before you started at Stanford. He was tall with green eyes and curly hair and he was kind of an asshole but he made you laugh, so you let him fuck you anyway. At the time, you thought that was it. One really good fuck with a really hot guy you’d never see again.

You thought you were hallucinating when you saw him on the campus courts two months later, when he sauntered up to you with an unmistakable “I know what you look like naked” smirk on his face. He was just as tall and had the same green eyes and the same curly hair and was an even bigger asshole than he was before. You still let him fuck you anyway.

You never thought you’d get sucked into the storm that was whatever the fuck was going on between Art, Patrick and Tashi. Never thought that it would completely ruin your self esteem, your tennis, your everything.

You weren’t particularly close to Art or Tashi in college. Sure, you were all in the same circle. That didn’t make you best friends. Art was nice enough, but he never went out of his way to talk to you. You and Tashi were on the same team but that didn’t mean anything. You respected the hell out of her and her game, and you could tell she felt the same. Even with that respect, there was still a tiny part of you that resented her. 

She was number one, the pride and joy of Stanford, had a constant slew of brands and scouts up to her ears. It seemed like no matter how hard you worked that she would always be number one. It felt like you were always just inches behind her.

Clawing and scratching your way through the ranks since you were twelve to be second best was never the plan. Your mother made sure to remind you of that every chance she got.

Then slowly, she started beating you at more than just tennis. Patrick wanted her, it was more than obvious. At first you didn’t care, he wasn't your boyfriend. He was just a guy you fucked, he could do whatever he wanted. You were friends. There wasn’t a problem.

When you realized you knew more about Patrick than just how he worked dick, then there was a problem. 

At first, all the things you knew about him were boiled down to the vulgar little tidbits you’d notice when he fucked you. You know that he has a birthmark on his lower back. You know when he’d be close because he’d always bite your shoulder before he came. You know his favorite position was really missionary even though he told everyone it was doggy.

Knowing all that was fine.

You also know that he’s allergic to kiwi. You know that he only holds his cigarettes with his thumb and his pointer finger. You’d always know when he was nervous because he’d start tapping his fingers on his thigh. You know that when he’d listen to music he loved, that his right hand would drum along to the beat just a little bit faster than his left would.

You knew all those things because you were falling in love with him, and Patrick Zweig is not someone you fall in love with. Especially not with Tashi Duncan in the picture.

You tried your best to push it down, to pretend you weren’t hurt every time Patrick chose Tashi over you. When he’d miss your games because he was with Tashi, when he’d blow you off to go meet Tashi, when he started to stop returning your calls or replying to your texts. All things you never cared about before started slowly eating at you. You felt awful most days, holed up in your room wallowing in self-pity. Your GPA was steadily dropping as the semester went on. Even your tennis started slipping, and you lost your winning streak to a fucking scrub. When you finally cracked and broke down to your mother over the phone one night she just scoffed.

“Well what did you think would happen when you started to depend on that boy? Dependence is weakness, darling.”

Dependence is weakness. You blocked Patrick’s number that same night.

It all came to a head when he blew up at you after Tashi’s injury. Everyone was pretty shaken up about it. You’d never forget the way it buckled, the way the sharp snap rang through the court, the way she fell to the ground screaming. You’d never seen her cry before. 

Patrick found you later that night, all alone on the practice courts trying to burn the day out of your mind by serving balls till you collapsed. It was the first time he talked to you in weeks. He was pissed. Screaming at you, calling you every nasty thing he could think of, getting up in your face. It was a fucking mess. You both said some things that should have never been said, but it ended when Patrick accused you of somehow being the cause of all of it.

“You hate Tashi, fucking hate her. You wanted something like this to happen. I bet you’re just over the fucking moon that she’s finally out and you can take her place. You can finally be number one seed and you're fucking ecstatic, aren't you? You’re so fucking pathetic, so desperate for validation. Maybe if mommy paid attention to you for once, you wouldn’t be so fucking needy. You're just a sad, delusional fucking runner-up, grasping at whatever shreds of importance you think you still have.”

You stood there, stunned by his outburst, each word hitting you like a physical blow. It was insane, nothing but Patrick blowing things way out of proportion in the midst of his anger.

You wanted to scream, to deny it vehemently, but the hurt and frustration choked off your words. Tears welled up in your eyes, a mixture of anger and heartbreak swirling in you. Vision blurring out everything but Patrick's face twisted up with rage as he glared at you, his words lingering in the air like poison. 

You told him about your mother because you thought you could trust him. You thought he was the only person that really understood you, his dad was a piece of shit too. Him using something so delicate as material to hit you where it hurts was the last straw.

You blew up, all the things you’d been keeping bottled up for months finally boiled over in you swinging your racket down on the green concrete over and over until there was nothing left of it to break. You didn’t even look at Patrick as you walked away. You never saw him again.

You’d love to say it was also the last time you thought about him, but that would be a lie. As much as he hurt you, and as much as you hated him for it, your mind refused to let you forget him.

You still smoke Camel Blues because that was your guys’ brand, even when you should have quit years ago anyway. You still buy the same color lighter, pink. You tell yourself it’s nothing more than an easy choice, that it’s a good color. It’s not at all because you can still hear Patrick’s teasing voice in the back of your head bitching, “I can’t believe you make me use a pink lighter.” when he always forgot his and had to borrow yours. 

It’s not based on a compulsive need to be reminded of him every single time you use it. It’s just convenient, okay.

You know deep down that they were the only remnants of a past that you still couldn’t fully let go of. As much as you tried to bury those memories, they lingered, melded into the corners of your mind like stubborn stains. 

It wasn’t just the cigarettes or the lighters. It was the way you still find yourself thinking about him. Patrick, with his tangled emotions and overwhelming presence, had left an inescapable mark on your life. And as much as you wished it, he wasn’t someone you could easily erase from yourself.

Even twelve years later you’re still trying to convince yourself that dependence is weakness, that you were better off without him. But sometimes, in the quiet moments like this when the smoke curls from your cigarette and the pink lighter flickers in your hand, you wonder if he ever thinks of you, if he regrets how things ended between the two of you.

Maybe it's not that you can't escape Patrick's grip on you after all these years, it's that you just won't.

You’re so lost in your own thoughts that you don't hear the heavy door to the bar swinging open, or the sound of gravel crunching underneath approaching footsteps.

“Holy shit,” a deep voice rings out from your right, “someone pinch me.”

Your whole body tenses, your cigarette freezing a few inches away from your lips. Something like fight or flight starts to quietly buzz beneath your skin. You’d recognize that voice anywhere, even despite the gruffer, more grown up tone that wasn’t there the last time you heard it.

Your heart’s already kicking into overdrive when you finally start to hesitantly turn your head, time almost slowing down as your eyes sweep over the alley. You kind of don’t want to believe that your luck is this shitty. That maybe it was all in your imagination, that you were thinking about him so much you were starting to hear things that weren’t really there, that he was still back in the bar feeling up that blonde girl. But it can never be that easy, and sure enough, there he is.

Patrick Zweig is standing a few feet away from you with both hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans and a wide, achingly familiar grin lighting up his face.

You’re quiet for a few long moments, completely shocked into silence. Your mind races with a million different things you want to say but can’t find the voice to. You should be causing a scene. You should be losing it, screaming, crying, throwing things, slapping him hard across his unfairly handsome face. But you don’t, too surprised to even move. 

Patrick speaks again, taking several steps towards you. “It is really you, right?” he asks, eyes wide and mouth pulling into an easy, lopsided grin. To anyone else, the laid back, carefree tone he was going for would sound genuine. You can barely pick up on the stunned, almost breathless edge lacing his words, like he also can’t believe you’re standing right in front of him.

He steps into the light shining from a dingy lamp above the door, it basks around him in a yellow orange glow.

Same eyes, same ears, same Patrick.

For years you’ve thought about this exact moment, what you’d say if you ever saw him. You lose all of that practice the closer he gets. He’s less than a foot away from you now, an expectant look on his face. He’s waiting for you to say something. 

You feel like running, like stubbing your cigarette on the pavement and making a break for the door. You already ran from him once, but old habits die hard. 

You don’t run, you refuse to take the easy way out. You’re a grown woman, you’re stronger than you were in college, you’re going to the goddamn Olympics. It’s only Patrick for Christ’s sake.

“What are you doing here?” It sounds harsher than you meant, but that’s probably for the best. He doesn’t deserve kindness from you. 

“Tennis.” Is all he says, fishing out a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket. Camel blues. “What are you doing here?” He parrots back, smacking the bottom of the carton, plucking the one that shakes out between his long fingers. “I’d think that Miss. Team USA would be too busy for bar crawls.”

You bristle, eyes narrowing skeptically. You can’t tell if he’s making fun of you or not. “It’s not a bar crawl,” you shoot back childishly, feeling defensive under his heavy gaze. “We’re celebrating.”

Patrick just nods, letting out a small hum in lieu of replying. He's close enough now that you can see gray strands streaked through his hair. He looks older, a few barely there wrinkles creasing his skin as he pops his cigarette between his lips. “Got a light?” he asks around the filter, holding his hand out expectantly before you even answer.

It’s still just as annoying. You roll your eyes, sighing dramatically as you fish your lighter out of your skirts pocket. You place it in the open palm of his hand, ignoring the fireworks that go off at the base of your spine when his fingers catch on your wrist as you pull away.

He mumbles out a half-assed thanks, cupping his hand around the flame to shield it from the wind. If he notices the color, he doesn’t say anything. It feels wrong that he doesn’t tease you about it, staying silent as he tosses it back to you when his cigarette finally lights. You ignore the hurt blooming in your chest as you pocket it.

Patrick takes a deep inhale, the tip of his cigarette burns bright red. The way his lips wrap around the filter has heat spreading through you. “Shocked you’re still smoking,” he waves his free hand at you vaguely, smoke flowing from his lips as he speaks. “It’s not super admirable.”

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “That’s really how you want to start this?

“Start what?” he asks coyly, leaning his shoulder too close to you against the brick. He’s playing dumb, the smirk on his face gives him away. 

You say nothing, not trusting yourself to speak. He has a beard now, sort of patchy and fairly new looking. You wrinkle your nose up at it. 

It doesn’t surprise you that he’s acting like this. All calm and collected like he’s catching up with an old friend, like he didn’t say all those horrible things to you. As if every single word he said that night isn’t still engraved in your mind and carried with you through your whole career. 

Patrick’s quiet for a bit, taking another slow drag. “Have you seen either of them?” His voice is hesitant, like he’s treading the water of your boundaries by bringing this up. “Or am I your first?” He lets the innuendo hang in the air, trying to joke his way through something neither of you really want to talk about.

You don’t look at him, keeping your eyes trained on the part of the street you can see through the alleys opening.

You don’t need to ask who “them” is.

You just shake your head no, not wanting to have to say anything out loud and make this into a whole thing. The smoke from your cigarette swirls through your lungs, warm and familiar. 

You’ve seen them both at multiple tennis events. Things like matches, and galas, and charity auctions. Hell, they watched from the stands when you won Wimbledon for the first time. You just make sure and avoid them like the plague, always running the other direction the second you see a short bob and cropped blonde hair.

You’ve been in the same room with them countless times over the years but you might as well have been in separate worlds. The only “contact” you’ve had with them since you all graduated was weirdly ominous.

Art followed you on Instagram after you got your third career slam, but he doesn’t like any of your posts. You’re one of the mere twenty accounts in his following. You never followed him back. 

Then, when your career first started taking off, the press somehow learned about your past with Tashi. They started using it to their advantage when picking headlines for any pieces written about you. “The only woman in the world to beat Tashi Duncan!” It pissed you off to no end. It was stupid, a way to get clicks on their sad little gossip sites. And it wasn’t even fucking true.

They finally stopped when you threatened to sue their asses. Apparently, Tashi noticed.

She sent you flowers. You threw them out.

Patrick nods back, taking his own slow drag. The sound of traffic hums in the background, the music from the bar bleeding through the wall mutely. 

“Congrats on that,” he says casually, looking you up and down slowly. You fight not to squirm under his gaze. “On making the team. That’s some serious shit. I always knew it’d be you, out of all of us.”

It’s a blatant lie. You were always four out of four in college, the one person in the group with the least potential for stardom. If it wasn’t for Tashi’s injury, she’d definitely be in your place — on top of the world.

He’s trying to pacify you, to butter you up. All it does is grate on your nerves and leaves a sour taste in your mouth. 

“Did you just come out here to interrogate me? To mess with me?” you ask sharply, frustration starting to get the better of you. “Do you want a fucking autograph or something?”

Patrick laughs, throwing his head back. “Nope, I wanted to catch up. It's been a while.” he shrugs, eyes darkening ever so slightly. “I just know how much you like talking about yourself, that’s all.”

You pause, picking up on the clear implication of his words. “Excuse me?” you question, turning towards him.

“Just saying,” he says, raising his hands in surrender. “When we were younger everyone always thought I was this arrogant, cocky, self obsessed prick…” he trails off, an infuriating smirk still playing on his lips. It does nothing to soothe you, only adding fuel to the fire of your anger. “And they were all right, I was. But, that’s also exactly what you are right now.” he finishes, tapping the ash off his cigarette.

You feel it, all the emotions swirling inside you of at seeing Patrick again threatening to burst. Anger and misery waging a war in your stomach. The wind is starting to pick up around you, making goosebumps break out over your skin. The fabric of your skirt swishes around your thighs. You feel clammy, but it has nothing to do with the temperature drop. 

“Was?” you ask, condescending and mean, crossing your arms across your chest defensively. “You really don’t think you’re still all of those things?”

Patrick chuckles, shoulders shaking with amusement. He goes to say something, but you beat him to it. “I’ve changed, Patrick.” you say sternly, brows furrowing in displeasure. Your tone is hard, frustration seeping into your words. Considering the last time the two of you spoke, this was almost going well. It’s just like Patrick to ruin something before he needs to.

You know distantly that you could deescalate the situation, but maybe you’re more alike than you thought. Maybe you’re just too greedy to keep the peace. “So fucking sorry that I’m not the same person I was in college, but I actually chose to grow up.”

Patrick snorts, exhaling a plume of smoke through his nose. “Yeah, clearly.” he mutters under his breath, it’s condescending and sarcastic. It pisses you off.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask sharply, cigarette now forgotten and steadily burning away at your side. 

Patrick shrugs, like it’s obvious. “You’re still so lost. I sure as shit don’t have a red, white, and blue track suit hanging in my closet, but at least I know who I am.” He doesn't sound angry, only sure of himself, like he may have been thinking about this for a while. His face is passive, body relaxed as he leans against the hard brick.

Your jaw clenches, anger running hot through your veins. He doesn’t know anything about you, hasn’t for over ten years. He doesn’t have the right to try and talk down to you, not after all the hard work you put in to get to where you are.

“My wrist alone is worth ten million. What are you worth now, Patrick?” You’ll be embarrassed about bringing up status later, you always try to stay as humble as possible, but you’re too mad to care. You just need to hurt him, to hurt him like he hurt you. You’d heard from a friend of a friend that Patrick’s parents cut him off a while ago, that he’s been slumming it ever since. “I know exactly who I am, I’m a fucking Olympian.”

The venom in your tone is sharp, each word from your lips like a knife stabbing through the tense air trying to draw blood. “You’re a fucking nobody, Patrick. You’re irrelevant. Washed up. Buried. Forgotten.” You pause when your voice starts to shake, taking a deep inhale of smoke to try and calm yourself. Your hand is shaking too, ash falls from the burnt out tip down to the gravel. Patrick just watches you, his expression doesn’t change. Smoke billows from between your lips, blowing away with the wind. “We’re not on the same level, not anymore.” 

Patrick’s unfazed, staring back at you with his cigarette dangling from his lips. He takes it between his fingers, letting his arm drop to hang at his side. “I’ve been thinking about you.” he says casually, head lolling to the side lazily. He looks at you through his lashes, eyes sweeping over your face slowly. “I was just thinking about you, and now you’re here. Right fucking in front of me.” he shakes his head with a dry laugh. “You look…” he trails off, green eyes taking in every inch of you. “You look amazing.”

Your pulse flutters wildly, you feel so light headed, like you could pass out any second. “I’ve missed you, missed you everyday since that night.” His expression is that same half cocked grin from before, all smooth bravado and easy smiles as if he’s not staring at you like you’re the very blood coursing through his veins. All the air drains from your lungs, mind racing what feels like a thousand miles per second. 

He sounds like he means it. He looks like he means it. He can’t possibly mean it.

A loud chant ringing through your skull is the only coherent thing screaming through all the mess. Don’t fall for it, don’t fall for it, don’t fall for it, don’t fucking fall for it–

“Well I don’t miss you.” A lie. “You were nothing to me, Patrick.” Another lie. “You were just easy dick.” Your stomach twists painfully, like your body is physically trying to stop you from lying to yourself any further.

His face stays neutral, it frustrates you to no end that you can’t tell what he’s thinking. Patrick had a terrible poker face in college, you could read him like a book with a single glance. It was one of your favorite things about him, how expressive his face always was.

Now he’s just staring down the bridge of his nose at you passively, the picture of indifference. It’s another reminder of how long it’s been, that he’s lived a whole life without you in all that time. He takes a long drag off his cigarette, never breaking eye contact with you as he does.

His lips are slick and pink, just how you remember them. The beard isn’t so bad, it makes him look more rugged, more like a man. It’s the most drastic change in his appearance, far different from the smooth skinned pretty boy he was before.

He exhales, a long stream of smoke blowing past your ear. “What are you still doing here then?” he muses with a small shrug. He leans in even closer, slowly, like you were a cornered animal he didn’t want to spook. You can smell him, something woodsy with a hint of musk. You can see the clusters of freckles scattered over the bridge of his nose, almost completely faded. “If I’m nothing,” he clarifies, simple, easy. “Why are you here?”

It’s a loaded question, one he obviously knows the answer to. It’s a dick move, forcing you to confront what you’re really feeling. Your eyes start to sting, complicated emotions welling up in your throat. “Fuck you Patrick.” you whisper weakly, all the bite in your tone getting lost in your dejection. Your lip wobbles warningly, you try your best to stifle it. You refuse to cry in front of him.

Patrick’s face does something funny, turning his eyes to the sidewalk. “I need someone like that again. Someone that isn’t afraid to fucking check me, that wants me to do better and not because they just see a check or a legacy or whatever the fuck else my parents expected from me. Someone that wants me to do better because they actually believe in me.”

The honesty in his voice takes you by surprise. He gets more worked up the longer he talks, chest rising and falling a lot faster than before. Rare vulnerability slipping through the cracks of his hardened exterior.  “I fucked up that night, I know. Now my life’s a fucking mess, and I need someone to help make it make sense again.“ 

You scoff thickly, shaking your head in disbelief as you fight back tears. “And I’m that person?” you ask skeptically, brow raised in question.

“You always were,” he replies easily, his face forming into a sad smile. He almost sounds like his old self. Your brain flashes the image of Patrick leaning outside the door of your science lecture, waiting to walk you back to your dorm. He’s smiling wide enough to show teeth, looking down at you with brilliant green eyes, just like he is right now.

Suddenly, he wasn’t the boy that broke your heart on a tennis court twelve years ago. 

He was the boy that held your hair back when you threw up after drinking too much at a frat party and still stayed the night even though you didn’t hook up, his chest pressed against your back like a security blanket the whole night. He was the boy that let you make friendship bracelets on the handle of his favorite racket, and secretly kept the one you made for him braided around the neck for weeks until you finally noticed the fraying blue strings still in place when he forgot his tennis bag at your dorm room one night.

Suddenly he wasn’t anything but the boy you fell in love with when you were eighteen years old.

You swallow hard, heart pounding against your ribcage. Your cigarette falls from the slack grip of your fingers, plummeting to your feet where it burns out on the pavement. 

It’s like you lose control of yourself, like all your morals get shot out of a cannon into the sun. You’re lunging forward before you know what you’re doing, fisting the fabric of Patrick’s shirt and pulling him down to meet you halfway. Your first kiss with Patrick in twelve years.

It’s a mess of teeth clashing together roughly, with way too much tongue and spit to be classified as romantic. It’s desperate. It’s angry. It’s fucking filthy and it’s exactly what you need.

Your tongue forces its way between Patrick’s lips when he gasps in shock, mapping out the familiar territory of his mouth like muscle memory. His big hands fly up to hold onto your hips as he eagerly returns your kiss, pressing you up against the brick and sucking your tongue lewdly. He tastes like smoke and bottom shelf whiskey. You moan into his mouth, wetness starting to seep through the thin material of your panties.

You stay like that for a while, just kissing until Patrick slides the hard line of his cock against your hip strategically. You moan at the size of it pressing onto you through his jeans, breaking the kiss to inhale a couple lungfuls of air. “You’re not fucking me in an alley.” You say bluntly as he trails wet kisses down the side of your throat.

He laughs, nipping at your collarbone teasingly. “My car’s a block away,” he offers between kisses.

You think about it for a second. Deciding on whether or not you’re going to let Patrick fuck you in the backseat of his car like you’re two horny teenagers and not full grown adults.

“Lead the way.” Is all you say, finally letting yourself smile when Patrick starts to drag you away from the bar. 

You shoot your friends a quick text letting them know you decided to head home early, already in the uber you ordered when you’re actually letting Patrick drag you across a blessedly empty parking lot to an old SUV parked in the middle. A completely one-eighty from the Porsche he used to drive.

He takes a second to press you against the door, capturing your lips with his again. It’s a slower kiss, sweeter than the one you shared outside the bar. You feel butterflies erupt in your stomach when he cups your face, gently rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone. He fumbles blindly for the car door with his other hand, pulling it open and pushing you into the back. He follows closely, climbing in and shutting the door behind him.

Patrick’s back on you in less than a second, yanking at the buttons of your shirt impatiently, fingers too big to work them through the holes as fast as he wants to. He lets out a frustrated growl, grabbing both sides and pulling hard. The buttons all go flying in different directions, landing in different spots around you.

“That was three hundred dollars,” you mumble against his lips, not wanting to stop kissing him for even a second. He looms over you, broad and all encompassing. He sits up to yank his own shirt over his head, tossing it aside and popping open the button of his jeans.

“You can buy another one,” he says simply, shucking his jeans and boxers off all in one go. His dick is long and lovely, tip red and drooling pre-cum that drips all the way down to his balls. Your mouth waters, desperate to taste it, to feel the weight of it on your tongue and down your throat. You push it to the back of your mind. There’s no time for that, both of you too keyed up to do anything other than fuck.

Patrick leans down, biting your bottom lip hard enough to make you moan. He turns his attention to your pulling skirt down, panties going with it and getting tossed onto the floorboard carelessly. His eyes zero in on your bare pussy, wet and on display. The cool air shocks your system, making you want to press your thighs together but Patrick’s hands keep you spread open.

“Fuck,” he whispers quietly, moving to roll the knuckle of his right index finger over your slick entrance, just barely rocking it into you. You gasp, your whole body trembling with need. “Just like I remember.” He mutters to himself, pushing in the smallest bit deeper. 

Your leg kicks out, patience starting to wear thin. “C’mon, Pat.” you mewl sweetly, bucking your hips up in a clear invitation. “Fuck me.”

Patrick shifts up onto his knees, silently shuffling closer to your spread thighs. His cock juts out from his body, so thick and heavy that it doesn’t point straight up, instead hangs angry and red between his legs. His big hands slide halfway up your thighs, you shiver at the way they skirt across your skin lightly. He presses you backwards by them, leaning over you with your legs slung across his shoulders.

His cock drags across your inner thigh, trailing a sloppy line of pre-come as it does. You nearly wail, wrapping your arms around Patrick’s broad shoulders as you beg for him to give you what you want.

“God Patrick! Put it in. Please, put it in. Let me have it, please, fuck–,” you beg frantically, arms tightening around his shoulders like you’re trying to drag him impossibly closer to you. He goes willingly, burying his nose in the soft skin of your neck. He presses a small kiss directly over your pulse.

“I’m gonna give you this cock, baby.” he whispers lowly, hot lips brushing against your skin with every word. He slides the head of his cock through your wet folds, stopping to rub it over your swollen clit a few times. “Gonna get all up inside you and fuck you exactly how you like.” He slides the length down, letting his tip catch on your empty, clenching hole.

You’re so damn worked up, writhing and pushing back and begging Patrick to just fuck you already, that you can’t take anymore teasing. Your hole contracts around the tip of his dick like it’s trying to suck him in. He sinks in deeper, slowly feeding every thick inch into your aching cunt.

“God,” Your name falls from his lips in a shuddery breath that fans over your fluttering pulse. “You still smell the same.” It’s the same stunned, breathless tone from when he first saw you. He presses his face cheek to cheek with yours, the rough texture of his beard scraping against your skin. 

Patrick moves his hips against you slowly, deep strokes that drag every thick inch of him against the walls of your cunt. The tip of his cock stabbing that sweet spot inside you that makes stars glow bright on the ceiling of his car each time you blink. The angle has his balls pressing against your cunt as he fucks into you, the excessive pre-come leaking from his tip mixing with the sticky wetness of your juices leaves an obscene ring of creamy white around the spread hole of your cunt. It sticks wetly to the base of Patrick’s cock with each thrust, shining back at you on his skin when he pulls out.

The slow thrusts feel amazing, but you know it’s not enough. You need him to pound into you, to bully his big cock into your cunt like he’s getting back at you for shutting him out. You need him to fuck you. 

“Harder, Pat…” you whine breathlessly, clawing desperately at the polyester seats.

He groans loudly, hips immediately speeding up, getting rougher, meaner. He leans up to get more power behind his thrusts, breaking your tight hold on his shoulders. “This is where you belong,” he grits out, sweat dripping from his forehead to fall onto your heaving chest. The sharp smack smack smack of his hips bruising your ass gets louder, the lewd noise filling the car. “Where you should have been this whole fucking time, spread open on my cock.”

The only thing you can even get out anymore are pleading whines and loud moans of Patrick’s name as he pounds into you like he’s trying to kill you. The harsh snap of his hips inching you further up the backseat until your head’s knocking against the doors handle on each mean thrust. Your feet bounce by his ears, body almost completely folded in half so all you can do is lie there and take it.

The car rocks steadily, anyone who spares a glance at the SUV will know what’s going on inside. 

Patrick sneaks a hand between your legs, fingers sliding over your swollen clit. You scream, throwing your head back in pleasure as the calloused tips over his fingers work you over. “Fuck yeah,” Patrick mutters, turning his head to lick and bite at your ankle. “You’re so fucking sexy, so fucking beautiful. I missed you so much, missed this pussy.” His voice is pinched, hips fucking into you impossible faster.

The wet squelching noise of your cunt is filthy, splattering against Patrick’s heavy balls with each thrust. “I know she missed me too, didn’t she baby?” he taunts, eyes wild and blown out. “Taking my cock so well, squeezing me so fucking good.”

“Close,” you gasp out. Patrick pitches forward, licking into your parted lips as he rubs tight circles over your clit faster. He kisses you sloppily, smearing spit all over your lips and chin. His sweat drips onto your face and mixes with your own, it should be gross, but it makes you even wetter. The primal part of your brain overjoyed to be claimed by him. He lifts his fingers up the tiniest bit, smacking them over your clit with the smallest amount of force.

Your orgasm hits you suddenly, back arching off the seat wildly as you gush around his cock. You claw at his back desperately, nails raking down his skin hard enough to leave angry red welts in their wake.

“Shit– that’s good, milk it out of me baby, work for this fucking load.” he groans, hips not slowing down as he chases his own release. His breath puffs over your skin, the rhythm of his hips starting to falter the closer he gets. You whine, trying your best focus on clenching your cunt over his cock in your fucked out state. “That’s it, baby– God – you’re gonna make me come, squeezing me so tight I can barely fucking move…” he growls, teeth sinking into your neck hard.

You hiss sharply, nails digging into his skin as the pleasure starts to become too much. He licks over the bite mark, like he’s apologizing. “Gonna fucking come inside you, fill you up so good, fuck–”

His rambling dissolves into a loud groan, hips giving one last thrust as he buries himself as deep in your cunt as he can. You feel rope after rope of warm come flood your insides, painting your walls with it. It feels like hours, him unloading into you with cut off moans and grunts. 

You're still desperately trying to catch your breath when he finally starts to pull out of you as gently as he can. The red tip of his cock popping free lets the river of his come leak out from your abused hole, spilling out of you to drip onto the car’s seat.

Patrick curses at the sight, scooping the white, creamy mess onto his fingers so he can fuck it back into you. You hiss at the over stimulation, thighs squeezing together around his hand. Your chest is still heaving, breathing erratic as you slowly come down from your orgasm. Patrick tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, smiling warmly as he takes you into his arms and shifts around until he’s sitting up against the door with you curled into his chest.

The windows are steamy, melting all the streetlights outside into a swamp of warm colors on the glass. They shine through the car like sunlight piercing through a stained glass window. You feel light and hazy, like you’re in a dream. Patrick’s body grounds you, firm and familiar against your back. It’s quiet for a long time, only the sound of soft breathing fills the car. You're scratching your nails through the hair on Patrick’s chest when he finally breaks the silence.

“There’s…” he says into your hair, trailing off near the end. He’s idly tracing shapes on your lower back. A circle, a square, a circle, a diamond, a square, a heart. “There’s this challenger in New Rochelle in a couple weeks, I’m entering it. You should come.” 

Your heart drops, the delicate cloud encompassing you and Patrick forcefully ripped away in less than a second. You’ve already heard of this challenger, seen all the publicity it’s been getting since Art’s name came up in the conversation surrounding it. The ‘Phil’s Tire Town Challenger’ is all anyone can talk about. 

If Art’s there, she will be too. Sitting in the stands in a classy Ralph Lauren two piece, watching her husband and Patrick on the court, looming over the two of them for the first time in years. You can’t stomach the thought of seeing her. You can’t stomach the thought of Patrick seeing her, terrified that the second she spares him a glance you’ll be right back where you were in college, an afterthought left in the dust for something better.

Your stomach lurches violently, you feel nauseous. The heat of Patrick’s backseat becomes almost unbearable, making it harder to breathe. You rip yourself away from him, tearing through the backseat to find your clothes. 

Patrick startles, sitting up with a concerned look on his face. “Jesus, what's wrong?” You can feel the warmth of his hands hovering over your back, not sure if he should touch. “What did I do?”

You don’t say anything, you can’t. Your throat feels tight, chest constricted and heavy as you try to take in lungfuls of air. You tug on your skirt and panties haphazardly, grabbing the first shirt you find strewn across the car's floor and yanking it on. You know it’s not yours but you don’t care, too busy trying to shove your shoes back onto your feet and push open the door all at once.

Patrick questions you the entire time, voice confused and insistent as you tumble out into the parking lot. The cool air feels like a life jacket, the smell of rain fills your nose as you try to steady your erratic breathing. You’re still trying to tug your right shoe on as you start to speed walk away from his car.

You can hear the sound of feet slapping behind you on the pavement as you walk. A strong hand wraps around your bicep, whipping you around. Patrick only has his pants on, shirtless and barefoot in his haste to catch up with you.

“What the fuck are you doing? What’s wrong?” He sounds genuinely concerned, his eyes searching your face closely. It makes tears burn hot at your waterline, blurring your vision and falling to trickle down your cheeks when you try to blink them away.

“This was a mistake, Patrick.” your voice is thick with emotion, you try to wrench your arm out of his grip. He doesn’t let go, not squeezing tight enough to hurt but to try and keep you in place. You need to leave, to get as far away from Patrick as you can before you’re in too deep. “Please, let go.” Your voice is small, shaky and weak and so unlike you. The panic from the car is still wrapped around you, growing tighter every second you spend with him.

Patrick shakes his head wildly, raindrops slowly start to fall onto his bare shoulders. “No, fuck no! We can talk about this. We just need to talk–”

“Patrick stop!” Your voice cracks embarrassingly, loud and desperate as you double your efforts to free your arm. “Please just let me go!”

You don’t know if it’s the way you said it or the look on your face, maybe it’s a bit of both, but something makes Patrick let you go. Dropping your arm from his grip and letting his own hang limply at his side.

Rain starts to come down all around you, large drops hitting your skin and soaking the cotton of your shirt. You let yourself meet his eyes, they're sad in a way you’ve never seen before. The green turned dull and lifeless. It looks wrong on him.

When you can’t stand the hurt look on his face any longer, you leave. Walking away deeper into the rain, small puddles splashing up around your shoes with every step. You hope Patrick doesn’t follow you, that he lets you go. You’re doing him a favor by making the choice for him, it’s easier this way.

“You know, I think I really loved you.” He calls from behind you as the rain really starts to pick up. His voice almost gets swallowed by the thunder, you wish it would have. 

Against your better judgment, you look back. Patrick hasn't moved, still standing in the middle of the parking lot. The rain is making his hair stick to his forehead, starting to seep into the denim of his jeans to darken the gray. 

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, voice tiny and pathetic. Patrick probably couldn’t even hear you over the wind whipping through the air. He stares back at you, there's too much distance for you to see the look on his face. You turn on your heels and keep walking.

It’s nostalgia in its sickest form, the dark familiarity of the situation washing over you with the rain as you walk away from Patrick again. Ignoring every call of your name and desperate pleas for you to come back is new, you can’t tell if it hurts more or less than the silence of last time.

You wrap your arms around yourself, tears mixing with the trails of rain running down your cheeks. It’ll make it easier to convince yourself later on that you weren’t really crying, that it was just the rain. Tomorrow you’ll wake up and this will all be behind you. Patrick will be fine, he doesn’t really love you. In a few weeks he’ll go to the challenger and forget all about you. 

You hear your mothers voice ring out in the back of your head as you walk.

"It's for the best, my love. Dependence is weakness."

You hope to God that she's right.

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

[ssinboo]

Say Yes to me

summary: You've been in love with Jeon Wonwoo since forever, and due to your family relations, you had hopes you'd marry him. Your only problem? he's getting engagement to someone else.

or

During his Engagement party, your childhood best friend and love of your life, Jeon Wonwoo, asks you to run away with him.

pairing: 1960s!AU - Childhood bestfriend! Wonwoo x F!Reader

word count: 10k (45~ minute read) – My longest ever!

warnings: unrequited crushes and overall foolishness, idiots in love, best friends to lovers to not lovers to lovers again, some angst?, Wonwoo is such a nerd, making out in dingy motels, unrealistic mileage for gasoline, seokmin being the sweetest

a/n: This will most certainly be my last fic of the year! So, Happy Holidays everyone! This year has been so troublesome, but I've grown so much and written a lot more, too! I'm so, so grateful for everyone I've met and everyone that's enjoyed my stuff! See you in 2024!

Had you been questioned, there would never be a concrete answer to the question of just how long you had been in love with Jeon Wonwoo. 

You’d know him forever, and maybe you loved him all along.

Your families were business partners turned friends. And there had always been talk of marriage between the children. Of course, for convenience. The Jeon’s produced top-class racing and sports cars, while your family were in the chemical business, specialising in industry paints and finishes, it was only natural to unite the two families and profit. 

Although your wealth was vast, it was nothing compared to the Jeon’s, despite always having the chance to frequent the same environments, you often found you were on different levels altogether. 

Jeon Wonwoo was the eldest son, and he carried himself as such — with all the poise and arrogance of the heir to a global conglomerate. He liked golfing and late night swims. Always took his coffee black with no sugar, and barely had anything for breakfast, preferring a hearty lunch instead. 

His younger brother, Lee Seokmin, was the result of an affair with a secretary, though that did not mean he was loved any less, no. Seokmin lacked a single mean bone in his body, he had a pure heart and a contagious laugh.  

They were by all means what people liked to call Irish Twins, born less than a year apart. And the nature of that fact only made their differences more apparent. Complete opposites they were, and that extended to how they treated you, too. 

Every summer growing up, your family would travel to the country house and you and your sister would spend the better part of the months at the club. Oh, how you loved the country club with the fun summer activities the clear chlorinated water, having a meal under the pool umbrellas and getting funny tan lines. 

But most of all, you enjoyed Jeon Wonwoo.

His family frequented the same club and every summer, you’d be practically glued to Wonwoo, even if he didn’t dare to pay you any attention.

You were only three years apart, yet he acted as if you were an immature brat. Seokmin had always been happy to play with you and your sister, though. 

More often than not, Wonwoo would lounge by the pool with a book, never daring to go in. And you would cross your arms over tile by the sides and try your damnedest to strike a conversation with him. He would ignore your every word, or worse, poke fun at your latest obsession. 

“Wonwoo, at what time where you born?” You ask, spitting out any chlorine filled water off your mouth. 

He arches an eyebrow, looking up from his book.

“What?”

“What time were you born?” You repeat, unbothered by his acidic tone.

“Why would I know that?”

“Can’t you ask your mum?” 

He rolls his eyes, “Why do you wanna know?”

“So I can see your birth chart,” You shrug, twirling a wet strand of hair around your finger. 

“The fuck is a birth chart?”

“It’s like… It’s a way to see your personality… And I can check to see if we’re compatible.”

“That’s stupid…” He rolls his eyes, again, “You’re stupid.” 

You scoff, “You won’t play along— You’re such a bore!” You yell out and dive back in the pool, leaving behind a cackling Wonwoo. 

Those hapless summer days were spent lazing by the pool with your sister and Seokmin — without a care in the world, laughing about nothing. With the isolated water-balloon fight every now and then. 

You’d grown up before you could realise it, never truly leaving behind your childish crush on Wonwoo. Even if by the age hierarchy, you had no chance of marrying him — Your sister were to marry Wonwoo and you possibly married Seokmin. 

Though you held hope, it crumbled away with every passing minute. 

But that year, your sister had the greatest early birthday present: She’d found the man she was to marry and best of all, your daddy could never say no to his girls. 

With your sister marrying the love of her life, it meant that you would marry Wonwoo, right? It was only a matter of time and you would be sworn to each other before God, your friends, and family. And your first love would blossom. 

On your 21st birthday, your father took you to work with him for the day, though you most lazed around and answered his calls. You only expected to have lunch for your birthday and a party on the weekend.

At noon, he drove to the Jeon’s factory to deliver the new paint samples. 

The workers, most of whom had watched you, your sister and the Jeon kids grow up, greet you excitedly and some even wish you happy birthday. Your father goes straight to the floor to speak to the manager.

Unexpectedly, Mr. Jeon himself shows up.

Mr. Jeon was a handsome old man a captivating smile, he was incredibly passionate about his work and adored mechanics, but he loved his sons above all — And he had great expectations for his boys. 

He greets you with a warm hug and wishes you a happy birthday before discussing business with your father. To which you busy yourself with staring at the pieces waiting for a coat of paint.

“Hey, baby, why don’t you come with us to the patio?” Your father calls and you oblige, skipping toward the two men.

The patio is where they stored their models waiting to be shipped out to agencies or sometimes, for the higher profile clients, directly to the customer. You look at the new line to be launched next winter: sleek and modern with leather seats and wooden accents on the interior. You could never criticise the Jeon’s for their taste, they knew their stuff. 

“Come here, baby,” Your father waves his hands, “What do you think of this car?” 

You study the convertible in a bright red with a cream leather interior; a classic. 

“It’s gorgeous, daddy, when are they launching it?”

“It should be out next year, but what do you think of the colour?”

“I like it,” You nod enthusiastically.

“That’s great baby, why don’t you read up on this model?” He hands you a tiny card, common in the factory, that has the model and batch number, as well as the signature from the supervisor. But just underneath the model, you see the colour name: your name.

As you look at your father, completely astonished, he just lets out a warm laugh and opens his arms for a hug.

“You named a shade after me?!” You glue yourself to him, still in shock. 

“Happy birthday, princess.” 

“Thank you, daddy, you’re the best!” 

“That’s your dad’s present, how about you open mine, now?” Mr. Jeon interjects, waving a tiny jewelry box in the air. 

You fix your hair and take it from his hand, expecting maybe a ring, or earrings. 

But you find brand new car keys.

Mouth agape, you look at him while your father can only laugh at your surprised expression.

“Why don’t you give it a spin?” Mr. Jeon encourages, rushing you toward the convertible. 

And though your father is beside himself with worry for you driving during rush hour, he settles for sitting in the passenger’s seat and doing some good old backseat driving, even though you barely make it past 30.

You drive around the block and return to the factory before your father has an anxiety attack over your driving. 

“Thank you so much, Mr. Jeon! When did you even do this?! I had no idea!”

“Wonwoo oversaw the whole thing, he’s the one you should thank,” He laughs it off, but your heart can only skip a beat at the mention of your beloved’s name. Especially thinking he was the one to take care of such a great gift.

Wonwoo loved mechanics as much as his dad, sometimes even more. He even went to a good college for it, coming back even smarter than before — and much sassier, too. He never stopped doing manual work in the factory, guaranteeing every car made was up to the Jeon standard.

And you were very biased toward his mechanic abilities, especially when he would furrow his brow, glasses perched on the very tip of his nose; he would wipe off sweat off his forehead with his grease covered arm. 

You remember to this day the last time your father came to discuss swatches and you stopped by the shop. Watching Wonwoo work on an older model with a leaky oil tank. 

He did everything himself, changed the tank perched under the car, soldering a brand new one. He also did a once over on anything else that could become a problem in the future, any filters needing change, checking wires and gears, making sure the oil was fresh. The problem came with the lights. He had such a hard time wiggling his thick arms through the machinery to reach the right spot, and you watched very intently how his triceps flexed, deep green veins bulging under his skin.

Wonwoo had gotten so frustrated he’d shed off the top part of his coveralls, sporting a white undershirt so tight you could basically tell the shape of his sweat-clad torso. Oh, how you’d hoped he never got that bulb in place.

“Come’ere,” Wonwoo calls out without further ado. 

“Why?”

“Need your help,” He mumbles under a sigh.

You rise from the barrel you were sitting on and approach the open hood. “With what?”

“Getting this fuckin’ bulb in place,” He hands you the tiny light bulb.

“Where do I need to put it?”

“See— in between this part, need to shove you hand until you reach back here in the light, then you just screw it in.”

“What if I get stuck?” 

“You won’t, you’re so petite,” He smirks.

You scoff, “Shut up.”

Leaning over the hood, you place your left hand on the chassis to steady yourself and shove your right hand in between gears and machinery, trying to find the spot he mentioned.

“I can’t find it,” You complain.

“Keep trying.”

“I am!”

“Here, deeper—“ He reaches for you, one hand on your waist and another on your arm, forcing you toward the place.

You’re way too focused on finding the damn spot for the light, that you barely notice the proximity at all. 

“Can’t find it!”

“Right, right— My right.”

“It’s the same freakin’ right, you idiot,” You hiss.

He laughs, “Fine, our right,” you groan at his stupid joke, “It should be there, try to bring it closer to you.” 

“Found it!” You squeal with a smile, screwing the bulb in its place. 

“Atta girl,” Wonwoo smiles. 

“There!” With a relieved sigh, you finally free your grease-clad hand from the machinery, slightly cringing at the black covering your fingernails — It’d be such a bother to clean it up. 

When you finally lean back, you stumble onto Wonwoo’s firm chest. Lucky for you, he catches you, steady hold at your waist. You’re finally aware of his proximity, to which he only smiles. 

Looking down at where his warm, tauntingly large hands meet your waist, you’re suddenly filled with nothing but rage. ‘

“You got grease all over my dress!” You whine, looking at the perfectly stamped print of his hand over your brand new summer dress. 

He only laughs, “Looks better this way, trust me.”

“Ugh!” You groan, stomping toward the washing area where they kept clean rugs. 

He closes the hood with a loud thump that echoes through the shop and slides into the driver’s seat. The car comes alive with a loud hum and ta-da! The headlight works. 

You are a little proud of your work, yes. But it’s not like you’ll show it.

“Do you not anything clean in here?!” You complain, eyeing the pile of grease-covered rags thrown in a corner. That had to be a fire hazard.

“What?” Wonwoo shouts over the running engine.

You huff and stomp your way back to the car, throwing open the driver’s door. “I have a formal dinner to go to,” You state, leaning over the door.

“Okay, then go.” 

Rolling your eyes, you hold back any possible insults, “Like this?” You gesture toward your otherwise perfectly fine dress. 

He holds back a little mischievous smile, “I have some clean clothes in the office.”

Wide eyes, mouth hanging agape, you stare at him dumbfound, “I hope that’s a joke, Jeon Wonwoo.” 

He laughs, genuinely. That sweet, deep, dorky laugh of his that reverberates through his chest and plunges straight into your heart. 

“Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

As much as he did tease you, Wonwoo never made short on his promises. 

“Is he around?” You ask Mr. Jeon, trying your best to suppress any expectations.

“Oh, he had some business… But he wished you a happy birthday.”

Your smile falters before your catch it, forcing the corners of your lips into a beautiful, rehearsed smile. “Let him know I’m grateful. For the wishes and for the amazing present.”

It would soon be Wonwoo’s birthday and you had been preparing for what felt like ages. You got him a really nice set of electric work tools since he complained often about how the shop’s tools were always malfunctioning. But you did feel somewhat bad about only getting him a gift relating to work on what should be a day about him. 

So you caved in and got him a gorgeous wrist watch with classy black leather straps; on the underside you had his name inscribed with a heart. — You actually hadn’t planned for the heart, but the jeweller got confused in between so many orders and it was too close to the date to have it re-done. You hoped you could play it off in a cool manner, maybe he would laugh at your story.

The party would be held the eve of his actual birthday, and you arrived at the venue with hours to spare. Your father and sister are by the entrance, speaking to Mr. Jeon, you greet them.

“Hi, Mr. Jeon! Where should I put the gifts?”

“Oh—“ Surprised, he looks at your father, “You’ve brought gifts—“ He seems… surprised? As if it were so weird to bring presents to a birthday party. “Uh— I’m not sure, let me check with my wife where you could place those.”

You father nervously sips on his champagne, avoiding your sister’s burning looks.

“You haven’t told her,” Your sister turns to your father, “Why didn’t you tell her?”

“Tell me what?” You ask.

“Honey… This isn’t Wonwoo’s birthday party…” Your father speaks very slowly, gauging for your reaction at his every word.

Eyebrows raised, you question, “What do you mean?”

“It’s an engagement party, he’s getting engaged to Suzy,” Your sister rips the band-aid off.

And you feel the air being sucked out of your lungs at once, an agonising knot pulls at your throat and your nose stings with the threat of tears. The shopping bags fall from your hands and you fight off the urge to bawl your eyes out. 

Before you actually do cry your eyes out, you rush outside.

“Baby—“ Your father calls but you just storm off, not wanting to be near anyone. 

Engaged? Engaged!

Engaged…

Wonwoo was getting fucking engaged. 

With a bitch named Suzy who had the prettiest hair you’d ever seen and knew how to talk to investors and could speak a thousand languages. And worst of all, she was the kindest, sweetest girl ever. You couldn’t even hate her!

You weren’t even allowed that! As much as you weren’t allowed a simple heads up. How hard was it to tell you beforehand “Hey, the guy you’ve loved your entirely life is getting married to some girl and you just brought lemon pies to his engagement party, thought you’d want to know.”

Maybe you should’ve taken the pies with you, at least you’d have some comfort. 

You know what, what the fuck. Why didn’t Wonwoo tell you anything?! It had been barely a couple of days since you saw each other, why couldn’t he tell you? Were you not even worthy of that? 

Like having known each other your entire lives doesn’t make you worthy of such ”wonderful” news? How hard is it to tell someone in passing that you’re getting engaged! And now, you’re supposed to smile all night and pretend like your guts aren’t festering in rage and melancholy and your blood doesn’t run cold at the mere thought of Wonwoo walking down the aisle.

Giving it a second thought, maybe it wasn’t set in stone yet. 

It’s the modern times and even back in your parents’ days, engagements were broken off all the time! He might not marry Suzy. You might have a chance. 

Maybe you could ask— no, you could plead with your father to tell Mr. Jeon to think it all over. Wonwoo is still young, it’s not time to settle down just yet. He wanted to study abroad, he talked about the automobile industry in Europe with such amaze, and if that took a little longer, maybe Suzy would get tired of waiting?

Who were you fooling? You should’ve seen it coming.

Of course, he wouldn’t have married you, what were you thinking?!

He’s the Jeon’s precious firstborn and you’re… someone who can’t even tell apart the sizing in wrenches —  To top it all off, Suzy was notably great with mechanics. 

You really wish you had those pies with you, it would make your salty tears a little sweeter.

By the time you’re done sobbing in your car, you look a hot mess with runny make-up and swollen eyes. With a sigh, you pull out your purse and muster up any cosmetics that can save you for tonight. 

You could cry all you wanted at home, but right now, you needed to look pretty and have your pictures taken.

By the time you return, the party is to start and guests are gathering at the front, your sister immediately rushes to your side.

“Are you okay?” she whispers, soft hands reaching for yours. 

Forcing out a smile, “Of course! Who do you think I am?”

By the look on her face, you know she doesn’t trust your words not one bit, but will not pry at your emotions any further. At least not for tonight, you’re sure tomorrow she will grill you about this. But for now, you put on a bright smile and greet all the guests.

From the Jeon’s, Seokmin is the third to arrive, missing only by the birthday boy himself. But he immediately greets his parents and comes to greet your family.

“Hey!” You smile, putting aside your glass of champagne so you can hug him properly.

“How you doin’?” He asks, gorgeous smile on display. 

“I’m— Well—“

“They’ve told you then—“ 

You press your lipstick coloured lips into a thin line, “Yeah,” You nod.

“Shit.”

“Yeah,” You shrug, “I’m happy, Suzy is… a—“ Nice words. Nice words. “—wonderful girl.”

Seokmin offers you a sweet smile. “Let’s hope she can handle his tantrums,” he nudges at your arm.

“Oh, please!” You laugh.

Wonwoo was known for sometimes having a bit of a short temper, not often, by any means and maybe that’s what made them so memorable. Like the one time he couldn’t finish a puzzle during game night, so he gathered all the pieces and set the ablaze in the backyard.

“Or—“ A waiter passes by with a tray full of champagne and he so kindly grabs two glasses, offering you one. “Listen to this— He gets to the church, covered in grease from head to toe.” 

You laugh at the thought. Gods, how many times has Wonwoo decided to work on an engine while wearing his most expensive outfit? His mother nearly had a fit every time he would show up dishevelled and smelling like motor oil pretending like nothing’s wrong. 

“Please,” You sip at your drink, “I bet he’s gonna be all greased up tonight.”

Seokmin laughs wholeheartedly. He was the sort of guy to never hold back a fit of giggles no matter how inappropriate it may be, and it was certainly refreshing to know someone genuinely found your company enjoyable.

“For sure, I think her parents will freak out.” 

You nod. 

Tapping at your glass, you hesitate the following words, “Guess we’ll be the ones getting married for the family, then…”

You didn’t hate Seokmin, far from it. You loved him to bits— Not like Wonwoo, of course, you believed you would never love a man like you loved Wonwoo, ever again. 

He was funny, and such a gentleman. Not to mention, handsome, too. If you weren’t hopelessly in love with his brother, he would’ve been the perfect husband of your dreams. But he did deserve better than a wife who could never give him what he deserves. 

“Sorry about that,” Seokmin comforts you and that only makes your nose sting with the threat of more tears.

“Stooop!” You whine in a shaky voice and he’s overcome with worry.

“Hey— What’s wrong—?”

“Don’t be so sweet— I’m emotional tonight—“ You laugh at your emotional state, despite the teary-eyes.

“Are you a crybaby tonight?”

You nod, fanning your eyes in the hope of drying your tears before they can wash away your makeup.

Seokmin smiles, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and you lean against his chest, fighting the urge to cry.

It’s only when you’re certain you won’t bawl your eyes out, that you respond. “It’s not that I hate you, you know I love you, but… You deserve someone that will love you like a husband.” 

He nods, “I know— But it might not be so bad, we’re friends! We’ll have sleepovers every day, and we’ll have Italian every night, we’ll watch those silly movies you like…” Seokmin lists off all the things you would do in your very platonic marriage and it doesn’t sound so bad. 

He knew exactly how you felt, he loved you, of course he did, you were so precious in his eyes, but not like a lover. 

You pull your face away from his chest to look up at him, “Are you gonna let me choose your clothes?” 

Seokmin sighs. You hated his questionable fashion since forever and in only very rare occasions did he accept your input, any other time and he assaulted your spirit with clashing patterns and silly shoes.

“Fine—!” 

You smile brightly, properly comforted. 

Before you can tease him any further, you spot Wonwoo entering the venue. Although he is immediately swarmed with congratulatory words, his shy nature makes it so his only response is always an awkward smile. 

He immediately spots you among the crowd.

You breathe in. In that moment, despite knowing he was sworn to another, that did not stop your heart from fluttering at the sight of him, his broad shoulders and the crooked tie he clearly put on a rush.

“Congrats, bro!” Seokmin is the first one to greet him, not letting go of your shoulder but instead pulling Wonwoo into a semi-hug. 

“Seokmin…” Wonwoo eyes his brother and then you, and then his brother again.

“Congrats, Nonu,” You smile, letting go of Seokmin’s comfort to reach for a hug. 

Wonwoo smiles, letting you cling onto his neck, your citric perfume seeping into his clothes and body. 

Oh, how his warmth could never compare to another. How you craved his affection like no other. 

“Thanks— Uh, did you bring me anything?” He asks in a teasing tone.

“Ey— Nonu!” Seokmin scolds his brother. 

“How did you know I brought you something?” You giggle, pulling away from the hug. 

Wonwoo shrugs. 

You reach for his crooked tie, straightening it to the best of your abilities. “I brought it earlier, but I think your mum took it to the back room,” You explain, focused on the tie.

He, however is focused on your concentrated face, parted red lips and furrowed brows. The proximity that lets him almost feel your chest pressed against his, as if extending the hug. 

“However, you, mister, have to greet your guests!” You scold, setting his tie in place.

Seokmin joins in, once again throwing his arm around your shoulder. “That’s right, mum already gave me an earful about how late you were— And I got here on time!” 

“Yeah— Yeah— You’re right,” Wonwoo nods.

“Liquid courage?” You offer your half-drunk glass of champagne and he downs it in one go.

You and Seokmin goof around a little more and gossip about certain guests behind their backs. Dinner is served and you all sit down to eat, Seokmin insists you sit beside him, which just so happens to also be next to Wonwoo. And you thank him for indulging you one last time.

Wonwoo is mostly quiet, but you were used to him not being rather fond of public parties, especially when all of the attention is on him. On his other side, sits Suzy, the blushing bride-to-be. She tries to make conversation with Wonwoo, though most of it falls flat, he only ever gives her monosyllabic answers and rarely contributes to discussions. 

That is until Mr. and Mrs. Jeon stand up, tapping forks to their glasses to call for everyone’s attention. The room quiets down instantly. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for attending our little gathering tonight,” Mr Jeon greets the guests. “We have some wonderful news we would like to share with you all.” 

“My beautiful son, how proud I am of you,” He adds, “Every day I am  amazed at your intellect. Often, I question just where did you get those smarts!”

Everyone laughs.

“You have grown into a fine man, and I can’t take credit for any of it. You are the most mature, talented, and intelligent boy and you did it all by yourself— ”

You can watch how Wonwoo’s eyes gloss over with tears. 

“I’m growing old, you know. And every father wants the guarantee that his children will be taken care of… That’s why I’m so relieved and happy to announce that my worries will soon be gone—“ He laughs but his son’s smile falters, “I’d like to announce the engagement of my son, Wonwoo, to this beautiful young lady named Suzanne. Welcome to the family, Suzy.” 

He raises his glass and soon, the room fills with uproar. Everyone claps and you join in, smiling toward Mr. Jeon and Suzy. She stands up, thanking everyone and raising her own glass.

But Wonwoo doesn’t move. 

“Nonu?” You whisper. 

In his ears all that can be heard is muffled screams of joy and the incessant acute ringing. He closes his fists so tight that his blunt nails almost break through skin, he doesn’t look at you, but it’s so clear something is wrong.

You and Seokmin exchange glances. 

Before you can call for him again, he stands up at once, the chair falling behind him with a loud bang that silences the room in an instant. In large and rushed strides, Wonwoo leaves for the patio. 

You stand up and follow him. 

“Wonwoo!” You call out, almost tripping over your party heels. 

He stands in the yard, hand gripping at his gelled hair while the other fights with his tie, pulling at the suffocating fabric until it slides down.

The yard is decorated with a gorgeous fountain, sound of running water somewhat soothing in this moment.

“Nonu, what’s wrong?” You whisper, a hand reaching for his heaving shoulder.

“What wrong?!” He yells back, shoving your hand away, “Did you not fuckin’ hear ‘em?!” 

You step back and his gaze somewhat softens, realising he just pushed you.

“You didn’t know…” You whisper to yourself, epiphany hitting you like a punch to the gut. How could Mr. Jeon do this?! Throw this on him without any previous warning?!

“You— You knew?” His voice is shaky, laced with the sharp sting of betrayal.

“I found it out myself tonight when I got here— I— I thought you knew! I thought you agreed to it!” You argue. 

“How— How can you think I would agree to marry someone—“ His words trail off in the night breeze, never to be finished. 

“Then— What will you do?”

“I don’t know!” 

You bite at your nails, finding a concrete surface to sit on and ponder. 

“I must leave—“ He speaks out, “Run away with me—“

“What?!” you stand up.

“Let’s leave, drive somewhere— Wherever! I can’t stay a moment longer in this place.” 

Oh, what a dilemma it was.

Abandon an engagement party with the groom-to-be, leaving behind furious parents and confused guests. And part of you knew that, despite your family’s closeness and no matter how much your father claimed you were all very close like family, driving off in the middle of the night with a committed man was a blow to any respectable, single, young ladies.

What a dilemma it could’ve been if you weren’t so enamoured with this man you would beck at any given call of his.

“I’ll get my bag and tell your parents you want to stay out here for a couple of minutes,” You announce and he nods.

As you walk back into the venue, all eyes are on you.

“He’s got the wedding jitters, everyone, not to worry. Wonwoo will return after he’s had a bit of fresh air,” You announce with a smile and all guests return to their previous activities.

But Mr. Jeon immediately corners you.

“What is he thinking?!” He half-yells, half-whispers.

“He’s just nervous, it’s a big bit of news…” You lie through your teeth, “I think a little heads up would’ve helped, you know he doesn’t do well with surprises.”

The man sighs, “He wouldn’t ever agree to it. I’ve offered him countless girls to marry and he never accepts any of them.“ Mr. Jeon looks at you and then sighs. “Do me a favour, convince him to come back, will you?”

“Yes, sir,” You nod and head off into the back rooms.

Unbeknown to you, Seokmin is on your trail and he waits until you are in the back lounge, gathering your bags and jacket to close the door and corner you.

“What the hell happened?”

You jump at the sudden intrusion, “You scared me!” You whisper.

“Sorry,” He whispers back.

“He didn’t know!”

“What?!” He says in a normal tone, soon realising just how loud that was. 

“What I said, I think your dad set up a trap… He knows Wonwoo won’t go against his word.”

“Shit. What are we gonna do?”

“He wants to run away,” You announce.

Seokmin looks at you, and then at the purse hanging from your should and the jacket in your hands. 

“And you’re coming with him?”

“I can’t leave him alone, not tonight.”

“And where are you going?”

“I don’t know,” 

“And when are you coming back?”

“I don’t know.”

“You are coming back, right?”

“I have no idea, Seokmin,” You realise, but the prospect doesn’t scare you as badly.

He scratches at his head. “Leave through the kitchen, I’ll hold off my dad. Make sure to give me a call once you guys are… I don’t know— Just give a call, will you?” 

You nod, pulling him into a hug.

Doing as he instructed, you pass through the kitchen staff and rush through the backdoor, unseen by the guests. Wonwoo is sitting on a concrete bench, his head between his hands.

“Ready?” You call out.

Wonwoo looks up, nodding before he rises to his height. You offer him a comforting smile and reach for his hand. 

Once you get hold of his hand, you bolt across the yard toward the parking lot. He almost stumbles over his lanky legs, but catches up rather fast. You throw your stuff on the backseat and enter your car, Wonwoo decides to jump over the door. 

You laugh at his antics with a shake of your head. 

Once your heels are discarded, you start the engine and drive off, leaving behind that dreaded engagement party. Wonwoo busies himself with shedding his formal wear, throwing his tie on the floor and removing his blazer. 

In any other occasion, this could’ve been such a lovely late-night drive, just the two of you in your beloved car, night breeze caressing your faces with her ice-cold kisses, cruising through deserted roads, barely a soul in sight except for the night owls.

And you might allow yourself to enjoy this moment.

The silence isn’t a bother, no, Wonwoo was always a man of comfortable silences to you, but this once, you’re worried about goes on in that busy mind of his.

“You alright?” You ask, looking away from the road to steal a glance or two at him.

“Yeah,” He replies.

“Truly?”

“No,” He scoffs at his own lie. “But I’ll be.”

You nod. 

You drive out of town and on the interstate roads for ages until Wonwoo finally speaks up. You’re completely engulfed in darkness except for your headlights.

“We should stop soon and have a rest.”

“Okay,” You nod, “Any preferences?”

“Anywhere.” 

And so you tell him to keep his eyes peeled open when a sign on the road says there should be a motel in the next couple KM. It doesn’t take too long before you’re pulling into the parking lot of a roadside motel, much of a far-cry from your expensive hotels and luxury living. 

You check in at the front desk with an old man who seems very unhappy with his life, he short of throws the keys your way. 

The room is… surprisingly nice, given the circumstances of the ambience. Only problem is the, although quite large, singular bed. You exchange glances.

“Shit,” Wonwoo curses, “I’m gonna 

“You wanna get hit?” You joke, “He’s minutes away from killing us over this room. We can just share the bed.”

He looks at you with wide eyes. “I’ll sleep in the tub.”

Oh, he certainly seems to hate the idea of sharing a bed with you, huh.

“Nonu, please, it’s late and we’re both tired. It will be just like when we were kids,” You explain, setting aside your stuff.

Wonwoo nods, sitting on the strangely comfortable bed.

“You think they have robes?” You ask, looking around.

“Wouldn’t bet on it.” 

“Oh, I’d kill to get out of this dress,” You whine, running to the bathroom to check for anything you could wear instead of your dress. 

He just bites at his lips, watching you pace from side to side in that tiny bedroom. 

That’s when you remember your forgotten shopping bags sitting in the trunk! Your compulsive shopping habits just saved you from a very uncomfortable night’s sleep, how convenient!

“I think I have some clothes in my car,” You announce, grabbing the keys and heading toward the door.

“Wait, you’re going by yourself? let me go with you.”

“I don’t wanna lock the door, though,” You whine.

He sighs, “Stay here, I’ll go.” 

You jump, “Thank you, Nonu!”

While Wonwoo rummages through your trunk and pulls out the surprising large amount of shopping bags, you shed off your clothes and head toward the bathroom, dying to get some hot water on your body, put on your new PJs and doze off. 

When he returns however, he is greeted by a sight any other man would die to see. You’ve left a trail of clothes from the bed toward the bathroom door. Starting on your pretty dress, splayed out over tiled-floor, and then your tights and then your underwear, matching, too— 

He clears his throat. “I’m back!” 

But you probably don’t hear him through the running shower, so he just sets down the bags and avoid the sight of your clothes. He decides to turn on the tiny TV and browse through any late night re-runs. You take only a couple of minutes in your shower.

“Nonu?” You ask from the bathroom.

“Yeah?” He turns down the TV.

“Did you find the clothes?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you bring me something to wear?” Wonwoo gulps. 

“Uh— Which one?”

“There should be a light blue bag and a pink one.” 

“Okay—“ He stands up and searches for the aforementioned colours. 

Wonwoo heads to the bathroom door and leans against the wall, facing away from the door. He knocks once. You open the door and shove your arm through, reaching for the bags.

“Thank youu!” 

He returns to the boring TV. Though all he could think about was the sight of your wet supple skin, knowing you were bare with only a thin sheet of plywood separating you. 

You leave the bathroom smelling of cheap soap and fresh into your brand new nightgown. It is tentatively short with an almost see-through round of lace over the hems. In your defence, you weren’t planning on showing this nightgown to anyone anytime soon. 

Sitting on the bed, you look around the room, not noticing how Wonwoo’s eyes don’t really meet yours or how red his ears seem to burn.

“Aren’t you gonna shower?” You ask.

“Feels a bit redundant to shower and get back into my dirty clothes.” 

“I think I might have something for you, if you don’t want to sleep in a suit,” You pry.

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow, “I’m listening.”

“But you can’t judge! I bought this for my dad because you know he deals very poorly with the heat— And he never buys himself anything!” You’re explaining yourself in advance because you remember very well what you bought.

Silky boxer shorts and a tank top, which your father loved to sleep in on stuffy summer nights but you doubted would be Wonwoo’s first choice of wear, ever.

He haggles with his own mind; give into the silky boxer shorts or sleep in the most uncomfortable outfit ever. With a tired sigh, Wonwoo accepts his fate and grabs the bag. 

You smile as he stomps toward the bathroom with a defeated frown.

By the time he returns, you’ve cleaned up your trail of clothes and made yourself very comfortable in the bed. You turn your head to face him.

God, he could make a potato sack look good. 

“How’s the fit?” You pull your eyes away before you look for too long. 

Wonwoo shrugs, “I’ve had worse.”

You laugh.

He coyly joins you in bed, keeping a large gap between your bodies, settling on top of the covers while you’re under their warmth. 

“Ain’t you cold?” You ask, fidgeting with the TV remote. 

Wonwoo shakes his head, leaning back into the headboard. With a pout, you cross the figurative bridge between the two of you and reach for him. He doesn’t shy away from your touch but it visibly confused.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, hands hovering in the air, far away from your exposed back.

“I’m sorry your birthday party sucked,” You murmur against his chest, Wonwoo smiles softly, letting his hands rest on you.

“It didn’t suck in its entirety,” he says, palms slightly tapping at your back, “it was fun running away with you.”

You giggle at his comment, heart fluttering at its meaning, “What are we going to do? About the engagement, I mean…”

“We?” He raises an eyebrow.

You pull away from him.

“Well— You dragged me into this!” You slap at his chest and he lets out a boisterous laugh that almost manages to pull the corners of your from into a smile.

“I know, I’m taking the piss out of you,” He extends his arms, pulling you back to your previous position, resuming the soft caresses he leaves on your arms. “I don’t know— This is the first time I’ve ever gone against my father.”

You sigh. “Don’t you wanna marry Suzy?”

There’s a pause and oh, you’re begging, wishing to hear the words you want most.

“Fuck no!” Wonwoo exclaims and you fail to hide your excitement.

“She is pretty,” You throw the bait, to pry at his true feelings.

“So is your sister, should I just marry any pretty girl?”

You raise from your position, eyebrows furrowed into a deep frown. Wonwoo looks at you, completely clueless to his words and its consequences.

“What the hell?!” 

“What?” 

Kicking off the covers in a flurry, you kneel on the bed, staring at him dead in the eyes.  “You have the hots for my sister!”

It’s Wonwoo’s turn to get angry, “What?! No— You’re twisting my words—“

“I’m twisting your words?! You just said you think my sister is pretty!” 

“Because she is!”

You jaw drops, you can’t believe he is doubling down. “Wow,” you shake your head. 

“What’s wrong with saying that?”

You shrug, turning away from him and crossing your arms. “I don’t know, why don’t you just go an marry my sister, then.”

Only then, does this thick-headed man you love so much realise he has been complimenting other girls without so much as telling you a single nice word — the bare minimum. He sighs and offers you a soft smile, shifting in the bed until he is near you again.

“I don’t want to marry your sister. I think she is pretty, but she’s not the prettiest sister, you are.” He waits for your reaction.

Hook, line and sinker. 

You turn around immediately, a hint of smile playing in your pretty lips. 

That’s enough for him to break into a wide smile, opening his arms to welcome you back into his warmth. You crash into his chest, wrapping yourself around his torso. 

He groans, falling back into the mattress but not letting go of you.

Minutes pass before you speak again. “It’s past midnight…” You whisper.

“It’s well past midnight… Why?”

You shift upwards until your faces are only inches apart, breath tickling his lips, your beautiful eyes gleaming under dim motel lighting. “Happy birthday,” You whisper between smiles, “Make a wish.” 

Wonwoo breathes in, eyes scanning your face, “There’s one thing I want…” 

“What is it?” 

If he said it out loud, he might’ve lost all courage to do so. 

So he just does it, Wonwoo leans forward until his lips meet yours in a chaste kiss. 

It probably lasted a couple of seconds, but those seconds felt like a lifetime when you were finally kissing the man you’ve loved for god knows how long. There’s a spark of electricity that burns bright from the moment your lips touch and travels through your body, blood boiling in excitement, shyness, and pure love. 

When the kiss ends, Wonwoo studies your face, watching for any sign of discomfort. Which is even more worrying when you’re standing there, froze solid with an empty stare.

But thankfully, before he can say anything, you throw caution into the wind. 

You pull him into a kiss. Throwing every sense of morale and shame you had out the damn window. He was a man sworn to another, for Pete's sake! But here you here, crashing your lips into his perfect, soft ones. 

Wonwoo lets out a quiet groan, almost inaudible, but you hear it, oh yes, you do. And it runs straight through your chest and down to your core. 

Although the sensible, rational part of your brain tells you to quit kissing him at once and just apologise, the other 99% of your brain, who’s been in love with him since forever, wants nothing of the sort. And you might have listened to the not-so-rational part of you, because you just deepened the kiss, shifting your weight until you’re partially on top of him.

Your lips move against him, shyly exploring this kiss, engraving every moment into your memory. 

Yet he reciprocates. His warm hands finds your waist, holding you flush against his torso, heartbeats thumping completely in-sync. You wrap your arms around his neck and he takes the chance to pull you deeper into those dangerous lips of his. His tongue finds its way into your mouth, licking and twirling against yours, hot and eager. 

He dips his head, one hand reaches to tangle into your hair and manoeuvre you around, allowing himself complete freedom to explore every bit of your mouth. 

Wonwoo kisses like no other. Not that you had too much of a repertoire to compare him to. 

But he consumes your lips with an unbound hunger, nothing similar to the calm and collected Wonwoo you knew, no. He’s hungry, messy, and very clumsy, clashing teeth one too many times, letting saliva drip down your chins and struggling to move with you on top of him.

When you part the kiss, you lay there breathless, gazing into his ridiculously beautiful beady eyes and long eyelashes, his handsome sharp nose and the most kissable lips you’ll ever see.

 It was breathtaking, mind-blowing and nothing like you’ve ever felt before. Your heart beats so fast you feel as if you might pass out at any moment but you’d die before you give up experiencing that again.

“What was that?” He whispers and his breath tickle your kiss-swollen lips. 

“Your birthday gift,” You bite at your lower lip. “Did you like it?”

Wonwoo smiles, breathless and half-lidded and your heart damn near bursts. “I did. Did you?”

You nod.

He nods. “Wanna do it again?”

You nod and he gives you that stupidly handsome smile of his.

And once again, you’re attached at the lips. This once, nothing like before, which you though impossible. It’s so much more desperate and it burns, it boils your blood in absolute desire. It leaves you light-headed, it wipes away your cognitive thoughts and leaves behind a foggy cloud of barely strung-together words that only translate into wanting more. More of him. 

You sigh into the kiss and he drinks it all up, he consumes everything you give him with erratic hands and eager tongue. 

Wonwoo leaves your lips and you whine with a breathless sigh of his name, almost chipping at any resolve he had left. But he nips at your neck nonetheless, warm, wet tongue trailing along your skin, making you twitch in his arms with the most delectable little ‘yips’ of surprise. 

He bites, feral and determined; determined to make his claim, to leave behind his mark on your body, to indulge in carnal pleasure without a prospect of tomorrow, letting everything else be a construct beyond these motel walls, away from where you laid. Away from this reality where he had you in his hands and you moaned his name with a soft smile.

Practically tearing your nightgown, he pulls the silky fabric just enough until your tits spill out of its confine. Wonwoo sighs at the sight, fingers trailing the contour of your boobs, raising goosebumps along sensitive skin. His eyes are burning in adoration, the most depraved glaze of hunger hidden behind sheer excitement. 

He dives in, hands kneading at the flesh, squishing soft skin. 

Slender fingers caress your aereolas, running fingernails along your nipples in curiosity, watching you squirm and bite at your lips as your nipples begin to perk up. 

And when you thought he was done, Wonwoo attaches his mouth to your nipple, sloppily running his tongue around it before he sucks. He makes sure to let his teeth graze, just to watch you jump.

All while his other hand makes work of your unattended boob, your attention is so thinly divided between his teasing fingers and his hot tongue and the sweetest, most satisfied groans that erupt from his throat. 

Your face burns and you bite at the back of your hand, shoving down every stubborn moan that tries to make it past; but he won’t have that, no. Wonwoo reaches for your arms, pinning them above your head without so much as pulling away from your tits. 

Mindlessly, you’ve been rocking back and forth against him, chasing a gut feeling you’re unsure of but desire more than anything ever. And without realising, you’ve been teasing him just as much as he has you, which is clear by the volume contained by his shorts. 

He wishes he could ravish your breasts all night, but any more of your squirming and he will come undone without so much as a touch from you. 

Wonwoo pulls away, hands once against finding your waist as he pulls you back to his chest.

“You know what comes next, don’t you?” He whispers against your lips, half-lidded, lust-filled eyes gazing so deep into your own. 

“I— I’ve never done it before,” You confess.

And something stirs within him, to know he is your first, the first and only man to every touch you this way, to trace his lips over your gorgeous body, to settle inside of you. 

Wonwoo smiles and kisses your nose, “I don’t care… But only if you don’t care that I haven’t either.”

You’re surprised, to say the least. 

Kissing in between smiles, you raise to your knees, letting him tug at the hem of shorts just enough to free his cock. 

It’s nothing like you’ve seen before and unlike the illustrations you remember from school. It’s red and veiny and it glistens with pre-cum under the dim lighting.

But it’s a part of him and you can’t help that your belly stirs at the sight of him stroking himself. 

When you reach for the hem of your nightgown, his hands stop you.

“Keep it on—“ He whispers.

“Why?”

“We’ve got all night to take it off,” He runs his tongue through his top teeth with a side smirk and you almost smack him up the head for being such a little shit.

As he asked so kindly, you bunch up your nightgown around your waist, hips circling around his warmth, meanwhile he’s playing with the flesh of your love handles, kneading and running his fingers over your skin. 

“Ready?”

You nod. He raises your hips and lets you control the pace, you feed in his cock, centimetre by centimetre, feeling it’s girth tear at your walls with an unimaginable sting, it burns hot and heavy in your hands.  

Crashing onto his chest, you cry out a pained yelp.

Wonwoo run his fingers over your back, kissing the top of your head, his eyebrows are bunched up, face painted with worry.  “We can stop— Let’s stop—“

“No!” you raise your head and he can see the tiny droplets bundling around your eyelashes, “Just gimme a minute!”

So you sit there, his cock half-in, pulsing angry red and throbbing under the  tease of warmth and tightness. Especially when you look so breathtakingly gorgeous, he gulps, leaning back against the headboard, urging his mind to be strong. 

It takes you minutes to get used to it, to slowly let the size settle until your muscles are well and accustomed to it and then you start it all over again, feeding the remaining inches until he’s bottomed out. 

And oh heavens, how utterly full and hot you felt. Despite the stinging pain, part of you wants to chase the pleasure, clenching in sheer hunger. 

Wonwoo stares up at you, looking for any signs of discomfort but he is met with the most enticing, beautiful, and tempting creature he’s ever laid his eyes upon. Your eyes are glassy with tears, but you’ve got a determined look on your face with a hint of a smirk that sends shivers down his spine and up his cock. 

“Shit,” He curses out with a smile, leaning back and rutting into your hips only to watch your eyebrows furrow and your mouth gape, a moan threatening to escape. “Ready to move, pretty girl?”

You breathe out, “Yeah.”

Steadying yourself against his chest, you raise your hips, feeling his absence leave you upsettingly empty until you let your body crash back down, his cock impaling you with its warmth once again. You rock against him, shallowly, though the motion is unbearably teasing, even for you. 

Wonwoo lets out an obscene, strained moan, fingernails digging into your waist, but you’re too focused on rocking your hips to notice. How he wants nothing but to piston his hips into your pussy like there is no tomorrow, he relishes in the feeling of your warmth, tight and gummy around his throbbing member. 

And he finds you might be just as insatiable as he is, especially when you’ve found yourself a steady pace, bouncing up and down, and his name pours out of your lips in such a beautiful manner. Though he can’t just let you have all the control, can he?

“Oh—“ You yip, “Feels so— Good—“ Still unsure of your thought, you explore the feeling, rolling your hips, feeling him stretch your wider, fill your insides and leave you full like you’ve never felt before. 

His hips meet yours half way, chasing your cunt every time you leave and pounding into you when you come back down, filling the room with guttural groans and the lewd sound of skin against skin. 

You run your fingers under his shirt, feeling bare, warm skin, the softness of his flesh against your hands, the definition of his pecs and the way his nipples peek through the fabric. Wonwoo groans at the way your manicured nails scratch at his chest, gathering momentum as you bounce yourself on top of him. 

He notices you’ve started moving faster, practically fucking yourself stupid on his cock and he would tease you halfway through tomorrow if he didn’t find himself in such a similar predicament. His pupils are blown wide, eyebrows furrowed across his brow, pretty lips hanging agape. You’re so utterly perfect and you were all his. 

“Tell me how you feel, baby,” He whispers, slowing down for a second. 

You sigh, nuzzling against his neck, “So good— I can’t even describe it—“ Your words are so airy and mindless, you’ve been consumed by the pleasure he gives you.

He catches the sight of the white rim that pools around his member, a mix of your juices, but it’s gone, sheathed inside you before he can admire it. There’s a poisoning thought that flashes in his mind, a fleeting, tempting picture. Of planting his seed in your womb, watching your grow full with child, his child. How absolutely breathtaking you would look, round cheeks and gorgeous smile, pretty fingers caressing your bump. And he would taint your taut stomach with his cum, watching it drip over your skin.

Wonwoo bites his lips so hard it breaks skin, throwing his head back, willing his mind somewhere else, anything else lest he come undone right then and there. 

Stomach tingling with indescribable pleasure, you lean forward, moaning incessantly, unable to contain your ecstasy. He supports your body, wrapping strong arms around your torso, firm hands planted on your hips, taking over the moving so you can lay still and let the buzz consume your body with its electric touch.

It’s a feeling you’ve never felt before, and it crashes over your body in a colossal wave, building up from the pit of your stomach; sending tingles rushing through your boiling blood. 

You raise your head, eyes meeting his and it seems he is familiar with this pleasure. His left hand meets your face, caressing your cheek, yet holding you still so he can gaze, he can watch you come undone around him. 

Wonwoo watches, unblinking, how your eyebrows furry, your eyes are glossy with tears that cling to your pretty lashes, your lips sit in an enticing pout. Yet you part them, letting out increasingly louder cries of his name. 

And you clench around him like there is no tomorrow, egging him on. He thrusts up into you, riding out your orgasm and chasing his over the edge. 

He crashes his lips into yours, savouring your hazy kiss, your tired sighs and it doesn’t take long before he’s spurting hot white strings into you, it trickles down him and stains the silk fabric of his boxers. 

Soon, he stills all movement except for heavy breathing and the soothing circles he runs over your exposed back. 

He kisses your hair. “How do you feel?”

“Good,” You breathe out, “Tired. But good.” 

His chest shakes with a soft chuckle, he runs slender fingers along your hairline, fixing any hairs that cling to sweaty skin. “Me too.” 

“It felt amazing,” You smile, raising your head to face him. “I’ve never felt anything like it.”

Wonwoo hums. 

“I’m glad it was you, Nonu,” You hid your face against his neck in embarrassment at your own mushy words, but Wonwoo feels their extent, hiding the blush of his cheeks. 

It doesn’t take long before the post-orgasm haze lulls you into sleep. 

And you slept like never before. 

The following morning, Wonwoo wakes up to an empty bed. He panics for a second or two, scrambling to look for your belongings, only to find everything is still there.

Calm, he washes himself up and gets dressed to leave. Finally having a moment to digest the previous night’s events. 

He had made up his mind, he would confront his father. His future was his to decide on. 

Looking for you, Wonwoo reaches the foyer, only to see you leaning against the wall, attached to the payphone. When your eyes meet his, you immediately say your goodbyes, ending the call.

“Who did you call?” Wonwoo crosses his strong arms against his chest and you try to ignore the sight of his muscly forearms peeking from the folded sleeves.

You don’t like his tone. “Seokmin.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Why did you call him?”

“I promised I would,” You shrug. 

Wonwoo can’t believe you would call Seokmin out of everyone, especially after you were glued to him last night at the party. “Why him?”

“He’s worried about you, you stupid— Stupid—“ You choke out on any mean names, simply stomping away from him. 

Why was Wonwoo being so mean so early in the morning? You thought after the amazing night you spent together things would change between you.   Stomping your way back to your room, you grumble under your breath.

While you’re folding your clothes, Wonwoo comes back. 

“I’ll talk to my father,” He announces. 

Before you can say anything about that, he continues. “We’ll get married— You and I, I mean— ” He clears his throat, “Will you marry me?”

Like a deer in headlights, you’re frozen, staring at him big-eyed with a dopey smile on your lips. 

“You’ll marry me?” You question, just in case you’ve tricked yourself into hearing the words you’ve wanted most. 

“Yes. And I— I’ll take full responsibility—“

You smile crashes into the ground. “You want to marry me out of… Responsibility?!” The words choke you on their way out. 

Wonwoo furrows his eyebrows, not understanding why you would be upset. “Do you not want to?”

“No, I don’t want to fucking marry you!” Not like that.

His face falls and he assumes a much scarier look on his face. “What would you rather marry Seokmin, then?”

And in your fury, you blurt out “Yes! Yes, I would rather marry him!”

You realise your rejection hurt him, you do. But you’re so blindsided by your anger you can’t bring yourself to care, not when he sees you as a responsibility. 

Wonwoo is suddenly not so angry, but indifferent. You watch his expression go away, replaced by one much scarier, in your opinion; nothing. A plain poker face. 

“Gather your things and go to the car.”

It’s all he says before he leaves the room. 

The ride back is the most nerve-racking hours you’ve ever experienced. Wonwoo is silent, even you huff and puff under your breath, angrily chewing on your breakfast of vending machine snacks. 

Though he says one phrase as you reach the city. “Leave me here.” 

And that’s the last you saw of him for over a month. 

Your previous anger dries up, turning into sadness. Then you’re furious. And heartbroken until you’ve accepted your reality. You’ve ruined your friendship and lost the love of your life.

It takes your sister plucking you out of bed for you to finally leave your bedroom in weeks. 

She was the first and only person you’ve told about the night spent with Wonwoo. Your parents were absolutely furious that you’d do something so dangerous, though relieved at your safety, they weren’t easy on their words. 

“He’s not doing well, you know,” You sister says. 

You humph. 

“I’m serious. Daddy said he’s clumsy, keeps messing up his work. I think you should go and see him.”

Closing your eyes, you let out a worrisome sigh. You still cared way too much to hear those news and not do something about it. 

So you dress up in whatever you can find and drive to his shop, building up a speech on your way there and practising every scenario. You just hoped everything could go back to the way it was. 

He’s working on an old model, hunched over the hood in his light blue coveralls, stains of grease from head to toe. 

“Knock knock,” You announced your presence, fidgeting with the hem of your dress, looking forward to meeting his eyes as much as you dread to. 

Wonwoo immediately recognises your voice, turning around to meet your eyes. 

And he looks just as wrecked as you felt. Deep-set eye bags and a tired gaze. Yet he still smiles just as handsomely. 

“Hey,” He greets. 

“Busy?”

“No! No,” Wonwoo scrambles, placing the wrench down removing his gloves. 

“Can we talk?”

“Yeah, I actually— I wanted to talk to you, too.”

It’s somewhat relieving as well at it’s worrying to hear him say that, it could be an apology as well as an insult or something of the sort. 

“We should— We should go to my office, someone might come in—“

“Yeah— We should.” You nod.

You walk into his office, one you’ve visited and killed time in quite often. But coming here after everything feels so crushing, all this distance between you. 

“Go ahead—“

“You first—“

You both say at the same time and that seems to ease the stubborn awkwardness pooling in the air. You laugh. 

“How about we say it together?” 

“On 3?”

“1”

“2”

“3”

Breathing in, you say the words that come to your mind from the bottom of your heart. 

“I want to marry you.”

“I love you.”

“What?!” 

“What?!” Once again, you both say it at the same time.

“You want to marry me?” He breaks into a wide smile.

“And you love me?” The words feel so alien to you, you can barely believe your ears, you feel the tips of your fingers shake in excitement, your heart pounds so strongly against your rib cage you can almost hear the thumping.

Jeon Wonwoo just said he loves you.

“I— Are you sure you want to marry me? You said you didn’t want to!”

“Yes. Well— I’ve loved you since forever! So when you said you wanted to marry me just out of responsibility— I was heartbroken! It’s like you were forced into doing it!”

“I didn’t want to marry you out of responsibility! I’ve been planning to marry you since the beginning—“

You choke, “You what?!”

Wonwoo sighs, “I never wanted to marry your sister and she was well aware of that… We were blessed that she found her husband and when everything went well, I thought— I hoped that it’d mean we’d be the ones to be wed.”

Processing every word, you almost feel dizzy. “But you said you’d take responsibility!” 

“For roping you into running away from my party.” 

“Oh.” You’re beyond embarrassed for assuming and above all, for getting so angry you didn’t even let him explain himself. 

“I should’ve been clearer,” He admits.

“No— I should’ve talked to you.”

Wonwoo smiles. “Thank you.”

With tiny tears threatening to fall, you can only confirm what you want to know the most. 

“You love me?”

“Always,” He smiles.

Wonwoo seems to remember something, he raises his finger in a “wait” motion and leans over his desk, reaching for the top drawer. It’s only when you catch a peek of the velvet box that you almost keel over.

Gulping, he gathers his courage.

In his grease-stained coveralls that smells of expensive cologne and lavender cleaning supplies, Jeon Wonwoo gets down on one knee, nervously looking up at your with his stupidly gorgeous beady eyes and an expectant smile.

“Will you marry me?”

And in your least presentable dress, the one he’d ruined with grease stains and an unruly hairdo, you respond with the biggest smile:

“Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Had you been questioned, there would be an answer to just how long you will love Jeon Wonwoo.

You’ll love him forever. 

[vraiao]

✰ . college au, fem!reader, reader wheres a skirt, this is SO cliche, plot >.<, scara's a little bit of a biter, orgasm denial once, nipple play, semi-public(?), this has been in the drafts FOREVER and is also really fucking long

you and scaramouche played an innocent prank on a professor-- which led to you both being trapped in a small storage closet. since you'd both be in there for a while waiting for someone to come get you out, why not make it more enjoyable, right? . . .

RANDOM DISCLAMMERR!! this fic has been in the drafts probably like,, since i started writing- WHICH, isn't THAT long ago but my writing style has changed a lot since then. i don't hate this fic so I'm not gonna change anything I've already written, but the smut part is what i didn't get to writing so that part of this fic will be more similar to my current writing style!^_^

for whatever reason, you let scaramouche, aka your university's most notorious troublemaker, coax you into playing an innocent prank on one of the professors that no one liked, which put you in the situation you're in now.

you weren't really friends with him, so you had no idea why he was asking you of all people, but you figured that it wouldn't hurt to do something fun for once. everything went as planned, but there was an unexpected turn of events when you and scaramouche had to duck into a nearby storage closet to avoid being caught by the professor who was chasing you through the halls.

you both slammed the door shut while laughing but also trying to shush each other to avoid getting caught, and you decided to wait it out for a few minutes just so the professor wouldn't see you both and chase after you again. amidst your giggles and shushes, you hear a faint jingle, and you pass it off as nothing before you hear a click followed by that jingle once more. you looked up at scaramouche who also seemed to have heard the sounds, and you both fell silent while glancing between each other and the door.

swiftly, your hand moved to the doorknob and you tugged at it and attempted to turn it a few times-- but it wouldn't budge. you shifted your gaze from the door and back to scaramouche with an inward sigh. "bad news! we're locked in..." you said in a trying-to-be-optimistic tone.

he raised an eyebrow whilst his eyes slightly widened in disbelief. "seriously??" he replied. his hand moved to the door and he did the same thing you did, tugging and turning at the knob for a few seconds, to no avail. he sighed and pulled his phone from his pocket, opened it, and moved to sit in a chair that was sitting against the back wall of the closet. he took a few moments to type something up on his phone before looking back up at you. "i texted a friend for help. they should be here soon, k?"

you responded with a curt nod and rested your back on the wall behind you, shifting your attention to your phone and trying to find something to do to kill time.

you both waited in a somewhat comfortable silence, considering you were both occupied doing whatever on your phones as to not make anything awkward. though as time passed, each moment started to feel longer and longer. at some point, your phone was no longer keeping you occupied and you've resorted to looking around the small closet that seemed to continuously shrink the longer you were trapped in it. not only was your boredom reaching its peak, but with scaramouche occupying the only chair in the room, and there being no space to sit anywhere else, you began to grow restless from standing.

just as you were about to prop yourself up from the wall and attempt to relieve the growing discomfort in your legs by stretching or something, you hear Scaramouche begin to speak and you move your gaze to him. "don't you ever get tired of standing for that long?" he extended his hand toward you with his usual mischievous grin. "here, sit with me," he said.

you raised an eyebrow with a skeptical expression and confusion in your voice. "sit with you? where? there's nowhere to sit," you replied. you figured what he said must've been sarcastic, and that he was taunting you since he was the one sitting and you had to suffer while standing, so you rolled your eyes at him.

he let out a brief laugh at your response and inched his hand a little closer, that smug smirk and undertone of sudden anticipation still apparent on his face. "come on, of course there is!" he said.

you looked at him, retaining that skeptical look, and sighed. though you didn't entirely trust him since he was the one that got you both into this situation in the first place and he was also known for having tricks up his sleeve, you couldn't bear to stand for another second. hesitantly, you reached your hand towards the one he held out for you, and the moment your hands made contact, he swiftly pulled you towards him, making you fall on his lap with your back pressed to his chest.

when you realized what just happened, you hurriedly sat up, remaining on his lap but creating some distance between the two of you. You turned your head to look over your shoulder, and your eyes met his, followed by his cocky grin that seemed to have grown wider. You furrowed your eyebrows and silently thanked the archons that the room was just dark enough to where he couldn't see the faint pink tinting your cheeks. "seriously?!" you said.

he let out a curt laugh and spoke almost tauntingly. "better than standing though, right?" he teased.

you then realized that this was better than putting your legs through any more pain and you sighed, indicating that he was sort of right. "..i guess. just.. not really what i had in mind," you replied. he snickered and went back to whatever he was doing on his phone before, as did you.

minutes pass, and you slowly begin to realize that you still aren't comfortable. then again, you remind yourself that this is better than standing and you won't be truly comfortable until you're finally out of this cramped closet. but that doesn't stop you from slightly shifting on scaramouche's lap every so often to try and make the discomfort a little more bearable.

the way he quietly gasped, his cheeks grew a reddish pink tint, and the way his hand inched closer to gripping your waist every time you shifted went unnoticed by you until you shifted once more and unknowingly brushed the plush of your ass against the bulge forming in his pants, eliciting a sharp gasp from him and causing him to place a firm hold on your waist with a swift movement of his hand. "stop moving so much.." he muttered.

you looked over your shoulder to meet his gaze and he prayed that the darkness of the room hid his flustered expression from your view. "sorry..!" you said with a mixture of awkwardness and guilt on your face.

his hold on your waist loosened but he didn't entirely let go. He took a deep breath and diverted his eyes from yours "it's alright, just.. don't move so much," he replied.

you responded with a curt nod and turned your gaze back to whatever you were doing before. as the moments passed, you found it harder and harder to resist moving even just a little bit. although you didn’t want to annoy scaramouche, you were so uncomfortable with the way you were sitting. you considered just getting up altogether and standing, but you didn’t want to be rude since scaramouche was the one who offered you a seat in the first place— and you'd rather not have aching legs from standing uncomfortably.

after a few minutes of silently fighting back and forth with yourself on whether or not you should move, you inwardly sighed and decided to move just a little in hopes that it wouldn’t be too much of a bother to him. in doing so, you heard a muffled groan from him and felt both of his hands steady at a firm grip on your waist.

he leaned forward, and you felt his hot breath fanning your ear as he spoke to you in a steely tone. "you really don't listen, do you?" he paused, a hand moving from your waist to trace gentle circles on your neck with his finger as he continued on, "then.. i guess I'll have to teach you how to."

you heard a low chuckle from him before he began to slowly drag his tongue from the bottom of your neck to the point where the tip of your earlobe met your jawline, gently kissing the spot where his tongue stopped afterward. shivers flew down your spine, and he hummed to himself, gently kissing the back of your earlobe before bringing his voice down to a low, daunting whisper. "i'm going to ruin you," he muttered.

your eyes widened and you swiftly turned your head around and raised your voice almost to a shout. "what are you--!!" but before you could finish, he placed a shushing finger over your mouth and spoke in between the kisses and gentle bites that he started to place all over your neck. "shhh," he began. "you wouldn't want anyone to hear us, right? hmm.. what would they think if they found us like this..?"

though you weren't looking at him, you could perfectly imagine the cunning smirk plastered across his face. his hands moved again, one stationed back to your waist, holding you in place while the other rested on your thigh, though slowly creeping up and moving toward the hem of your skirt while his fingers delicately tapped along your skin.

while his hand dipped under the fabric of your skirt and teased along your inner thighs, he started pressing slightly harsher bites on your neck, pinching your skin between his teeth hard enough to leave small red marks.

this was all too much. you were feeling so many different things all at once and everything scaramouche was doing was moving far too fast for you to process. your head spun as your hands clenched at your sides, and he was absolutely reveling in the power he held over you.

he pushed his hand forward, deftly dragging his fingers along your soaked panties, your breath hitching as he pressed against every little spot that made you want to squeeze your thighs shut. to prevent that, he placed a hand on your thigh and every time you tried to close your legs he'd just squeeze you harder, his nails digging into your plush skin.

his breath was hot and teasingly heavy against your ear, the feeling sending a shiver down your spine as he let out a mocking chuckle, "look at you. I've barely done anything yet," he teased.

you huffed. you couldn't tell if you were frustrated at how he was teasing you or because he was doing this in the first place, but either way, it did not matter-- it wasn't like he was going to stop any time soon. without warning, he pulled your panties to the side, not even bothering to pull them off before slowly slipping one finger past the entrance of your cunt.

slowly, very slowly, he moved his finger back and forth and back and forth, his pace painfully languid. he was teasing you, and you knew it. you couldn't deny that what he was doing excited you, but it wasn't enough. with furrowed brows and an expression akin to frustration, you bucked your hips forward in an attempt to gain friction-- but scaramouche was quick to put a stop to that. his free hand moved back to your waist, pulling you back against him and holding you still. "so impatient," he muttered before finally slipping another finger in.

you gasped feeling his second finger slip inside of you, though he still retained that same teasingly slow pace. as he worked his fingers in you, scissoring them back and forth and such, hushed moans and gasps spilled out of your mouth. though he, mere moments ago, told you to keep it down, he was a little dissatisfied with how quiet you were being. he leaned in, seductively whispering into your ear, "come on, pretty. i know you can give me more than that," he said before finally picking up the pace, moving his fingers a little faster just so he could hear more from you.

just as he'd hoped, your needy whines increased in pitch and you threw your head back, the back of your head resting on his shoulder as you arched your back forward. taking this opportunity, he bit down hard on a sensitive spot on your neck, and you yelped. he chuckled before resuming sloppy kisses all along your skin.

your face was flushed, hair disheveled, and you were panting heavily as his fingers speedily moved in and out of your dripping cunt. biting your lip, you tried to silence your moans, but he only increased his pace in response. your vision was splitting in twos, and you could swear you were seeing stars. nearing the edge, you found yourself caring less and less about the volume of the lewd noises that were leaving your mouth.

pure ecstasy was the only way you could describe what you were feeling in this very moment. a moaned whisper of his name spilled from your mouth, and just as the tightening knot in your stomach was about to snap, he suddenly came to a full stop, pulling his fingers out of you just before you came undone.

you whined in protest, looking back only to see him teasingly licking his fingers while eyeing you. slowly, he moved them into his mouth, sloppily licking all of your arousal off of them with his mouth open just wide enough for you to clearly see his tongue swirling around his slender fingers in delibaretly slow motions.

he slowly dragged his fingers out of his mouth, the tips of them still connected to his mouth by a string of saliva before he pulled them away. "like what you see?" he said. you huffed. despite such lewd situations, he could still be such a tease, and you disliked it. again, his lips moved back to your neck, licking and biting at the already red and purple marks all over your skin.

he moved his hands to where you couldn't see them, and behind you, you heard a zipper before feeling something long and hard pressing against your back. it took you a minute to realize exactly what that was, but by then it was too late. with both of his hands placing hold on your waist, he lifted you a little up and forward before bringing you back until you could feel his tip prodding at your hole.

you bit your lip, unsure if you guys should be doing something this sinful in a place like this, of all places. "wai— hngh!!" before you could protest, he bucked his hips up and pulled you down onto his dick. he bottomed out in you so quickly, and you moaned, the feeling of being so damn full sending you reeling.

he lifted you up again, pulling out until just his tip was left in before slamming you back down, the way he so easily manhandled you knocking the wind out of your lungs. as he repeated his slow and harsh thrusts, you could hear husky groans spilling out of his mouth. "this, is what you get.." he trailed off, his nails digging into your waist as he tried to keep his composure, "..for being so.. disobedient...!"

your hand flew to your mouth, desperately trying to muffle the strident moans that you were letting out. in between your stringy whines, you tried to protest, "i'm a-ah..! 'sorry!!" after slamming into you once more, he suddenly stopped, leaning in, his voice dropping to a low, seductive whisper as he spoke. "oh, you're sorry, hm? does that mean you want me to stop?" frantically, you shook your head. your mind was spinning in so many directions, but if there was one thing you knew, it was that you definitely didn't want to stop now. besides, the two of you were already too far into it to just end it now.

"n..no!" you choked out. he chuckled, "good," he said before bringing your hips up once more and slamming you back down on his dick, groaning before he spoke again "that's what i thought." he picked up the pace, repeatedly bouncing you up and down on his cock with rapid motions-- quickly turning you into a moaning mess. moving one hand away from your waist, he lifted your shirt, your bouncing tits on full display for him.

he had one hand on your waist, and the other was groping and squeezing one of your boobs, pinching and rolling your sensitive nipple between his fingers while he feverishly bucked his hips forward. he began to place kisses from your shoulder blade all the way to your ear before teasingly whispering to you. "can you imagine if someone walked in at this very moment? what would they do if they saw you like this, hmm?" he said. you whined out in protest, too fucked out to even try and form coherent words, but he continued to toy with you. "well, judging by the way your pussy's clenching around me, id say you like the idea of being caught."

you shook your head, but you couldn't deny the thought of it did turn you on a little bit. though before you could think about it more, he suddenly lifted you off of him, standing you up as he stood up with you before pushing you forward, bending you over with your hands against the wall. you didn't know just how many more of sudden movements you could take, and you were about to question him before you felt his hands take firm hold on his waist and he thrusted into you again.

already, his thrusts were accelerated and a little erratic, his dick hitting you in spots so much deeper than before. you couldn't control your moans anymore, and you honestly didn't care who heard you at this point. by now, he had driven so many marks into your skin by how harshly he gripped you-- not that you minded. you were so close, and your head was absolutely spinning. your vision was going blurry, and you could hardly form a single coherent thought as you felt the tightening knot in your stomach about to snap.

with a desperate cry of his name, you finally came undone, spilling all over him and leaving a milky white ring at the base of his dick. clearly, that did something to him, as his thrusts got more erratic and you could feel his dick twitch inside of you. "ah, fuck," he muttered. he leaned forward, chest pressing against your back as he harshly snapped his hips forward with a speed that knocked the wind out of you.

shamelessly moaning into your ear, he let out a strained groan as he finally came, spilling ropes of his warm, sticky cum right into you. his thrusts slowly lost speed as he made sure to fuck his cum deep into you before he came to a full stop. he paused for a moment, catching his breath before you felt his dick soften and he pulled out and pulled his pants back on, a few drops of your mixed arousal dripping out of you and onto the floor. he grinned, satisfied at the sight.

your legs wobbled, and you practically collapsed, plopping down onto the floor and leaning your back against the wall with a flushed face and heavy panting. crouching down in front of you, he tilted his head to the side with a cocky grin on his face. leaning forward, he gently kissed your lips, his sudden tenderness a stark comparison to the coarseness of his previous actions. "well? aren't you going to join me?" he said. looking at him, your vision was blurring in and out and you raised a confused eyebrow at him. he did not wait for you to respond before grabbing you by the hand, standing you both up and walking toward the door.

still very confused, you followed him with your eyes as he reached into his pocket and pulled out... a key?? he brought it to the little keyhole on the door and, he unlocked it! your eyes widened, and suddenly everything was starting to make sense.

that cunning bastard.