#not incredibly pleased with the final render but I was taking too long so whatever

[sarsaparillaart]

Clothing set I recently finished for BS Elsweyr. Meant to have a casual version for monks to chill in and a training set equipped with bells for extra challenge.

Originally based on some sketches done by @sothasil but at this point the design has been ship of Theseus'd into oblivion.

[ateezmakemeweep]

playing with fire (part 1)

word count: 23k

fluff, smut (warning: age gap, infidelity, roommate’s father)

(series masterlist)

“is there any other way you could pay?” the woman behind the desk asked, stout and soft spoken with sympathy in her eyes.

she probably has to have this conversation with students a lot, tell them that their tuition payment didn’t go through or that they’re not eligible for government support.

or that the athletics department needed more scholarship money, successfully rendering you, one of the many photography majors on campus, unable to pay for your last semester of college.

“a loan of some sort or another scholarship, maybe?” she tried to help, “i could send over an e-mail of ones you might be eligible for.”

you swallow the lump forming in your throat, attempting to calm all the anxiety and stress violently making its way through your body.

“y-yes, that would be great, thank you,” you barely manage to get out, hoping and praying to some unknown force above that you don’t burst into tears.

you were nearing the end of the fall semester, the last fall semester you ever anticipated of having, when you found out just last week that you were no longer eligible for your scholarship.

in a short, curt e-mail explaining that, while you kept up your gpa and never strayed from the requirements, they’ve maxed out their amount of funding and are looking to use that money elsewhere.

“can they do that!?” your best friend and roommate of four years yelps, gucci sunglasses atop her head as she stomps around your shared, off-campus apartment.

“they can’t seriously do that! you’ve been a straight a student since you started and now they wanna take it away?! before your last semester of senior year?!”

“eunbi, it’s not ideal but i’ve already come to terms with it,” you explain gently, leaving out the part where you did, in fact, have a break down right outside the bursar office only an hour ago. “i’ll just save up money and come back in the fall to finish.”

“that’s so not right or fair though!” she whines, something about the concept of not getting what she wants unfamiliar to your roommate.

you first met park eunbi during freshmen move in day, your two raggedy luggages and beat up backpacks an embarrassing contrast to the multiple louis vuitton travel bags she lunged in.

you were intimidated for all of three seconds, before she looked at you with a smile and threw her arms around you like a long lost best friend.

it was obvious she came from money, the way she spoke and carried herself so confidently before her parents came in and introduced themselves.

they were both gorgeous and tall and looked far too young to have an 18-year-old daughter, covered in fancy jewelry and expensive looking clothing.

her dad, who introduced himself as mr. park seonghwa, didn’t seem to bat an eye at your more humble appearance. he reminded you a lot of eunbi, honest and genuine in the way he was kind and nonjudgemental.

mrs. park seemed nice enough, too, though you could see the judgement behind her pretty eyes.

the way she sneered at your bags and looked down at your hands, so different from her and her daughter’s not covered in diamond bracelets or acrylic nails.

“did we just miss your parents?” she asked, her voice just as pretty and rich sounding as she appeared; you bet if she laughed, she’d had have that melodic, care-free laugh all rich women seem to have.

“oh, uh, yeah, i’m sorry,” you apologized, lying through your teeth with a shy smile and averting gaze - you had to move in by yourself, the same way you traveled here all alone with no one to send you off.

“it’s okay, we just thought it’d be nice to meet them,” eunbi’s father interjects, the smile on his handsome face causing your stomach to swoop - how is he a dad?

“we were gonna take eunbi to an early dinner before we left. do you wanna join us?”

“oh no, it’s okay, i’d hate to intru-”

“no, you’re coming, c’mon!” your new roommate whined, grabbing your hand and pulling you toward the door. “we’ll be able to get a lot of dessert out of them. probably the whole menu if we wanted.”

and you saw that over the years, eunbi knew she could, in fact, get whatever she wanted from her parents. they had the money and the means and the fondness in their hearts for their only daughter.

but it never seemed to get to your friend.

she was always kind and thoughtful of others and never said or did anything to suggest she was just a brainless, spoiled rich kid.

even in your guy’s second year when she found out you were going to school on an academic scholarship, she didn’t care. she didn’t turn her nose up or think you were lesser than her for not having the funds; if anything, it only made her praise you more.

that you were smart and ambitious enough to work under the strict guidelines of a prestigious scholarship.

“i know it’s not fair,” you mumble, not wanting to cry or have another anxiety attack over this matter. “but it is what it is. i’ll figure it out.”

she lets out a dejected, defeated sigh so uncharacteristic of the girl, plopping down on her pink, fluffy bed and bringing you down with her.

“we’ll sell feet pics over winter break,” she concludes after a few minutes of silence, wrapping her arm around yours and curling her body into yours. “you know how much money we can get from that? and we have pretty feet,” she says, sticking her leg up and wiggling her red, painted toes.

there’s a little less tightness in your chest and a little heaviness lifted in your stomach as you let out a giggle, looking over at your best friend who truly got you through the last four years of school.

you really don’t know how you’d still be functioning if it weren’t for her.

“you’re sick.”

“i’m serious,” she giggles out, flipping on her side and causing the bed to bounce under you. “you’re still good with coming tomorrow, right? i told my parents you were.”

she had invited you to her house for the winter break this year, the girl not wanting you to spend a month alone in the apartment.

you’ve shared with her how strained your relationship with your parents has been, really, since birth. never seeing eye to eye to them and feeling as if they never had your best interests at heart.

when most kids get full ride scholarships, their parents are immensely proud. bragging about how smart they are and telling them how proud they were.

but your parents were the opposite.

they didn’t want you to up and leave them to pursue an education. they thought you were gonna stay with them forever, not go to college like them and help run the family business back home in your tiny little hometown.

it was your dream to go to college and get a degree, though, so that’s exactly what you did for yourself; but they saw it as a giant fuck you.

saw it as you thinking you were better than them and basically told you to never come back if you thought you were so much smarter and better off without them.

so you’d spent every winter or summer vacation in the dorms, this year finally being the time you accepted eunbi’s invitation to stay over - reluctantly.

“i packed all my stuff, yeah,” you mumble, hands twisted into one another nervously. “but... are you sure they’re okay with it? i don’t wanna intrude or be there if i’m not wanted.”

“y/n, please,” she whines, “my mom may be a raging bitch but you know i make the rules in that house.”

“that’s not what i meant,” you mutter immediately, looking to the girl with a small frown on your lips.

although it was no secret eunbi’s mom didn’t ever seem too fond of you, always sneering at your off-brand items or questioning the logistics of why exactly you needed a scholarship to afford college, you always tried to remain polite.

smile at her and greet her happily even though there was always a thick, palpable tension between you two.

“oh but it is,” she chuckles out, the girl far too aware of what a materialistic snob her mother is. “it’s fine, i know she’s a bitch. my dad’s just coming tomorrow anyway. i told him to bring one of the bigger cars so we can lay out in the back.”

you have to bite back a snarky comment about the fact there are multiple cars in question, though the look in your eye certainly gives it away. she can only giggle and shrug her shoulders, flopping onto her back as she tells you about how excited she is to be reunited with her boyfriend.

eunbi and jiwoon have been dating since their second year of high school, going to colleges only an hour away from each other; he was just as handsome as he was kind and good to her, leaving you with no other option but to love and support the both of them.

and you try to listen to her rambling that ensues, you really do, but your mind is swirling with some slight anxiety about staying with her family for a month.

you don’t wanna make her mom even more irritated, deal with the side eyes and passive aggressive comments and overall feeling of just not being wanted.

you don’t want eunbi to feel obligated to be with you 24/7, act as a cock block to her and her boyfriend who haven’t seen each other in almost six weeks.

and maybe, you don’t want your tiny, small, miniscule crush on mr. park to make you feel any more awkward than it does, wondering how a married man who has a daughter in college is still so handsome and alluring.

it also doesn’t help that he’s just so incredibly kind, always making everyone feel so comfortable and welcomed, it’d be hard not to just develop a little, secret crush on him.

“eunbi, who is that sexy ass man who just dropped you off?” one of your suite mates asks your roommate, everyone gathering back in front of the dorm building after winter break.

it was sophomore year and you spent a month in the quiet, almost eerie college dorms alone (apart from the ra down the hall). you were grateful for everyone to return, no matter how loud or catty things were about to become.

“yeah, for real. is that your new boyfriend? he’s hotter than the last one and i didn’t even think that was possible.”

“uhhh.. no,” eunbi says, shooting the crowd of girls with lustful eyes and curious glances a look of distaste. “that’s my dad.”

and that’s when a chorus of disbelief and inappropriate comments erupted from the group of college girls.

asking how a dad could look like that while hoping and praying he’s single.

inquiring about just how much her dad’s on campus and when’s the next time he’s gonna pick her up.

about how he’s definitely hotter than her boyfriend, with a more mature and sophisticated look than these college boys.

“are they fucking serious! like how disgusting? he’s my literal father!” eunbi rages once in the dorm room, sharing a few curse words and vulgar phrases at the girl’s before stomping away from them.

“and for them to say that shit in front of me? did they think i want to hear that?”

“i know, that was so sick,” you agree, because even though you, too, think he’s attractive, it’s not something you would ever verbalize to your friend.

“like... i know he’s younger than most dads, my parents had me when they were teenagers, but shit! how sick,” she rants, throwing down her heavy designer bags and flopping on her bed.

you can tell by the look on her face how much it truly bothers her, everyone always noticing her dad and making comments like that. she handles it well, she’s always able to handle herself well, but it doesn’t take away from the fact that it’s something that worries her.

people getting close to her to get to her dad, even if it was teachers or other moms in elementary school or her friends when she got to college.

it’s one of the many reasons you would never give away your little crush on him - because it’s not only inappropriate and uncomfortable for her to know but there’s also no need to tell her.

because it’s not like it would go anywhere.

he’s a married man and your roommate’s father, a twisted, dark, forbidden fantasy that will stay in the walls of your head and never see the light of day - no matter how thrilling and fulfilling being with him would be.

“eunbi, your dad’s gonna be here soon,” you yell into your roommate’s doorway, met with the sound of her groaned “five more minutes!” that you’ve been hearing for the past twenty.

she was on facetime with jiwoon when you went to bed around one, briefly waking to the sound of her girlish screams or high-pitched giggles three hours later; you wouldn’t be surprised if she only went to bed a few hours ago.

“you said five more minutes thirty minutes ago,” you say, stomping your way over before smacking her over the head with a pillow. she lets out a loud sigh before swatting you away, your surprisingly fast reflexes grabbing her wrist.

she peeks one eye open as a smirk covers her morning face, looking from you all dressed up and ready in your pink pleated skirt and white thigh high stockings, down to her wrist in your hold.

“that was kinda hot. and you look good. i don’t know how to act right now.”

“shut up and get your ass out of bed,” you demand, biting back a smile as you storm out of her room.

you’d been pacing around the apartment ever since you woke up at seven a.m., more and more unsettled about staying over her house as the time drew closer.

you checked to make sure you had enough clothes and chargers and skincare products for nearly an hour, finally settling the same purple suitcase you moved in with freshmen year near the door.

you hope mrs. park doesn’t notice, remembering the way she sneered at the wonky zipper and slightly stained bottom.

you also hope you can keep yourself in check, not get too nervous or flustered by eunbi’s exorbitant wealth or a new setting you don’t feel welcomed in or her hot ass father whose bones you wanna jump.

the knock at the door completely sobers you, jumping in your spot just in time to see eunbi fly across the living room to get to the door. there’s a big, happy smile on her face, ripping open the door and greeting her father in typical eunbi fashion.

“are those for me?” she asks, snatching the red box from his hands.

excitement bubbles inside the girl as she unveils twelve chocolate covered strawberries, a speciality at one of the local dessert shops just a few miles from her home.

“you shouldn’t have, dad, really. i’m much too tired to appreciate this.”

the man can only look at his daughter with a look of disdain and affection, waking up to an extremely passive aggressive text that she’d really appreciate an early morning treat from her favorite place ever and that it’d really inspire her to be ready.

but as he can currently see, given the state of her hair and pajamas pants, it didn’t at all act as a motivator.

“then maybe i should just-” but upon her father’s hand reaching out to grab the box of strawberries, the girl brings it to her body and runs away, yelling that her bags are packed and she’s just gonna wash her face.

he looks to you with a mock annoyed expression, your heart jumping in your chest as you send him a small, polite smile.

“how do you deal with her, y/n?” he asks, a smirk on his face rising as you let out a soft, slightly forced giggle - this man looks too good for his own good at ten o’clock in the morning.

“don’t talk shit about me!” she yelps before you can even think to say something, a smile lighting up his face again before he nods his head down the hall.

“i’ll bring down your girl’s bags,” he says, his tall, large frame coming toward you making your knees feel slightly wobbly.

you swear you see his eyes roam over you for the shortest of seconds, down to your shirt and exposed legs before back to your face, until he’s looking into your eyes questioningly.

totally not like someone who just checked out their daughter’s roommate - this is what you feared, your own delusionals and attraction making your crazy little brain see something that’s not there.

“her bedroom’s down that hall?”

you resist the urge to swallow nervously, begging yourself to snap out of it and remind yourself you have to deal with the man for a month. a month of his dark, piercing eyes and bright, white smile and skin so smooth and clear, it’s far too easy to forget he’s almost forty years old.

“yeah,” you barely manage to get out. “i-i can help and bring down mine.”

“no, it’s okay,” he insists, “help in getting eunbi ready. you know she’ll delay us thirty more minutes.”

you let out another strained chuckle as you nod your head, finally letting out the breath you’ve been holding when you hear his footsteps disappear down the hall and into her room.

as long as you distance yourself from him, not look him in the eye or let any sort of idea get in your head that an older, married man could want you back, this will be fine.

it’ll be a nice, calm, relaxed break actually full of interaction and socialization opposed to your usual lonely bubble of solitude.

eunbi’s not making that very easy though, when twenty minutes later, she’s opening the back door of her father’s black g-wagen and sprawling out on the black leather seats.

“where’s y/n supposed to go, eunbi?” seonghwa asked, the fatherly tone is his voice causing eunbi to let out a huff; the only time you see eunbi’s spoiled tendencies come out is around her father, the girl knowing he’ll do anything and everything for her.

and apparently, so will you.

sitting in the front seat of her car, next to her extremely hot father you’re trying to stay calm around, while she sleeps soundly in the backseat - if she didn’t invite to stay at her home, meals and bed and transportation free, you’d say she has to owe you.

“was she up all night talking to jiwoon?” mr. park asked, the past few moments of silence just as comforting as they were terrifying. it felt awkward to you, extremely tense and full of suspense, but you knew it was completely normal.

you bite down on your lip, looking back at eunbi sleeping soundly on the seat, even prepared with a fuzzy white blanket. you let out a soft giggle when you see her mouth open, the slightest bit of drool hanging from her mouth and threatening to spill on the dark leather.

“she might’ve been,” you mutter, a breathy laugh leaving her father that causes you to sneak a glance at him.

there’s not a hint of a wrinkle or imperfection on his glowing skin, black hair hanging in his face and red lips quirked into a content smile. that’s something you always noticed about him, despite his dark appearance and looming figure, he always appears to be happy.

smiles and laughs and never gives anyone without his same wealth a dirty glance - he treats everyone the same and that’s another reason you’ve taking a liking to him, not just because he’s the hottest man you’ve ever seen in your life.

“y/n?” he asks, your intrusive thoughts being ripped away at the sound of his voice calling your name.

your eyes move to his and he’s watching you in slight amusement, a rampant blush creeping up on your cheeks at the way you’ve been caught. you’re quick to look away, shake your head and let out an awkward chuckle and apology.

you miss the way his eyes roam your side profile, a delightful smirk and feeling in his chest blooming before he speaks again.

“how was your semester?”

“it was good,” you say, hands placed nervously in your lap. “a lot of work on top of an internship but it was good.”

“and you girls are almost done,” he hums lowly, one hand atop the steering wheel while his eyes focus on the highway in front of him. “eunbi’s been talking about a combined graduation party since the moment you guys met.”

you let out a small laugh as you remember eunbi’s plan since your second semester of freshmen year, ignoring the twinge of sadness in your stomach.

you could’ve never anticipated delaying your college career when you first received your scholarship, happy and proud and eternally grateful for the opportunity.

but you suppose you’re lucky enough to have gotten this far, and delaying one last semester is nothing compared to people who never get to go to college - but it still makes you feel upset.

you think you have the right to feel disappointed and sad, the lingering sick feeling in your stomach making you feel nauseous.

“is it okay if i open the window for a second?” you mumble to mr. park, the man looking over your face.

he presses down on the passenger window button immediately, your face met with cold air as relief floods through your body.

“are you okay? do you get car sick?” he asks, remembering how much eunbi used to get car sick (on the rare occasion she wasn’t passed out during a road trip).

“not usually,” you mumble, resting your head on the side of the door.

then again, i’m not usually freaking out about making tuition money or repressing my violent attraction to my roommate’s father.

seonghwa watches as you close your eyes for a few moment, allowing the cold, windy air to hit your face. he couldn’t help but notice the pinkish tint to your cheeks, suppressing the urge for his eyes and thoughts to wander.

you’re a college girl in the prime of her life and his daughter’s best friend, he’d be a fool to think you were blushing and nervous because of him - but he also doesn’t remember you looking like.... this.

so pretty and dressed up and pink in the face as you check him out with a soft and curious look in your eye.

“maybe try to take a nap,” he suggests, his gaze lingering back onto the road so he doesn’t look at your exposed legs. “i’ll pull off at a rest stop to get you ginger ale.”

“that’s not necessary, mr. park,” your sweet voice says, something about it causing his insides to jump - he definitely doesn’t remember you sounding like that. “i’ll be okay. just need the window open for a little longer.”

you spend the next few minutes with the cold, december wind blowing through the car, your back pressed against the comfortable seat behind you. a chill runs through your body, goosebumps rising on your exposed thighs, but it feels better than the alternative.

potentially panicking or vomiting due to current stress of your life.

your gaze shifts to the man beside you, whether it be to check him out or ask if he’s cold unknown to you.

“are you okay with the-”

the words are stuck in your throat when you see his eyes aren’t on the road but your exposed, goose-bumpy thighs, the white lace of your thigh high stockings and pink skirt leaving little to the imagination.

you wish you could see the look in his eye, if it’s judgemental and shameful or full of lust and curiosity. if he’s wondering what you have on just a few inches under your skirt and if that’s something he even thinks about.

or maybe he’s just looking because it’s there - your skirt blowing in the wind and him caught off guard by the sight right there in his passenger seat.

“um, i think i’m good now,” you mumble, watching from your peripheral as he shifts in his seat and tightens his hold on the steering wheel.

“alright, let me know if you wanna stop.”

you bite down on your lip as you nod your head, keeping your eyes on the view in front of you.

the faint sounds of eunbi snoring behind you act as a way to ground you, remind you that these thoughts and feelings you’re having can’t stay.

maybe you have to get it our of your system now, take all the looks you can and feel all the hopefulness your delusional brain needs until you act as if eunbi’s father is a mean, disgusting, grotesque man.

not someone who gets your heart and body pounding.

you’re not sure how many songs play on the radio until you both are talking again, seonghwa looking in the rearview mirror to see his daughter still passed out on the seats.

“do you think she’ll sleep the whole time?”

he hope for his sake, she doesn’t.

you look back at eunbi sleeping soundly, the drool previously trickling down her mouth successfully making a pool on the black leather.

“probably,” you chuckle out lightly. “i have a feeling she went to bed around six.”

“shit,” he laughs out, remembering the days he used to be able to pull all nighters in college or dreaded the idea of waking up in the morning. “i can’t remember the last time i was able to stay up past one.”

“you’re not even that old, mr. park,” you tease, not sure where you got the balls to say that and feeling, at least for a few seconds, that you overstepped; but then he lets out a deep, amused chuckle and it causes butterflies to erupt in your stomach.

“not that old, huh?” he quips, your tooth sinking into your lip at the tone of his voice. “you know i’m turning 40 in a few months, right?”

you crane your neck to look at the man in the driver’s seat, swallowing thickly when you see his eyes are already on you. there’s a certain type of lightness and teasing in them that you’ve never seen before, the man always happy and jovial but never like this.

never looking so... teasing and playful.

“yeah,” you say with a growing smirk, not being able to help your own nervous excitement. “that doesn’t seem too bad.”

the deep, low chuckle that leaves him causes your stomach to swoop, eyes wide and the small smile on your face causing him to look over you once more.

it’s shameless and bold but neither of you seem to care in that moment.

“i’ll keep that in mind,” he says, deep brown eyes piercing through yours before his face turns teasing and.. appropriate.. “the next time eunbi tries to call me an old man or something.”

“right,” you chuckle out, cheeks burning and heart pounding as you allow yourself to break eye contact.

the ride to eunbi’s house is just over two hours, hoping and praying that it goes by quickly - because you’re not sure how much longer you’ll be able to be alone, or mostly alone, with him.

you’re thinking too much into his words and his gaze and the way he makes you feel, making you silly enough to believe that, maybe, a part of him wants you too.

the second you arrived at eunbi’s, you had already felt unwelcomed.

not only because of mrs. park, who just about sneered at your presence in her exquisite home, but because of the dozens of other socialites in the immaculately white living room.

it looked and felt almost like a hospital. a white color scheme with black accents, extremely cold and spotless - the only bit of color was in eunbi’s room where it felt like you could actually breathe.

“i’m sorry, i told her not to throw her fucking gathering today,” eunbi complained, grumpy from her nap but still happy to finally be home.

“a bunch of stuck up snobs, i swear to god. they either have to get the stick lodged so far up their asshole removed or get dicked down by their lousy excuses of-”

“eunbi,” you hear her father’s deep voice reprimand, the girl not even feeling the slightest bit of shame or embarrassment for talking that way in front of her father.

“oh, c’mon, dad, you know it’s true!” she whines in a whispered tone. “they’re the worst! and she knew me and y/n were coming today, do you really think that wasn’t a coincidence?”

because, as far as eunbi thinks, she has sinking suspicions that her mom did this solely to make you uncomfortable.

she had already been hesitant to let you stay in the first place, had eunbi not gone full on bitch mode and stubbornly proclaimed she’d spend the break with you at the apartment.

but you didn’t have to know that.

“i don’t care, it’ll just be my first christmas without my family, mom, who cares about that,” she had said, all types of manipulative and toxic behavior that she learned from the best.

she’s sure her mother was sweet and good at one point in her life, she wouldn’t have ended up with her father in the first place if she wasn’t, but money changes people.

wealth and greed and having the power to get anything you want because you flash a stack of money around or write out a check.

“i told her to have them out by dinner,” he said, his eyes moving from eunbi to you, standing there with tense shoulders and a shy, uncomfortable look on your face.

“you’re more than welcomed here, y/n,” he said, his voice low and full of kindness as he stands in eunbi’s doorway. “don’t worry about it, okay?”

you resist the urge to pout at the touched feeling in your chest, looking from the man to eunbi who’s nodding at her dad’s words.

“thank you, mr. park,” you say, a phrase he swears has never effected him this deeply.

and because of that, he’s quick to haul ass out of there. tells you guys that dinner will be ready around seven and to come down whenever.

you and eunbi spend that time in her room to unpack both of your things and watch movies, her king sized bed nearly lulling you to sleep until her loud squeal and bounce of the bed causes you to jump in shock.

“y/n, don’t be mad at me please,” she whines directly in your face, all wide-eyed and cutesy as she looks at you with mock innocence.

“what did you do?” you mumble tiredly, pushing her away with the smallest of sneers.

“i’ll be back for dinner, i promise, but... is it okay if i go to jiwoon’s for a little?” she asks, cocking her head to the side before shimming closer to you. “i have to get railed so bad.”

“jesus christ, eunbi,” you snort, pushing her away again and burying your face in the pillow - you’ve never met someone who overshares as much as she does.

she plops down on her back with an unabashed giggle, popping right back up like an annoying little dog and looking at you with a smile.

“of course you can go, i’m not gonna hold you hostage here,” you say when she pulls your face away, looking at you so expectantly and sweetly, you couldn’t say no if you wanted.

“okay, but i don’t want you thinking that i’m gonna ditch you this whole time. i’m really not, y/n,” she pouts, knowing that was one of the reasons you were apprehensive about coming - that and her bitch of a mother. “i just miss him.”

a pout falls on your face as you look at eunbi and the genuine look on her face.

“bi, i’m serious, go. i want you to,” you insist, moving a piece of her tangled hair away from her face. “we were just gonna be up here anyway. i’ll probably take a nap, i was about to fall asleep before your loud ass-”

“thank you, thank you, thank you,” she says, pulling you into a tight hug before jumping off her bed and rushing toward her door. “i’ll be back a lot more calm and happy. oh, why, you ask? because i’m about to get my back blown the fuck ou-”

you thank god for your impeccable aim, promptly whacking eunbi in the face with one of her pillows.

“get out of here,” you groan, eunbi throwing the pillow back with a smile on her face.

“sweet dreams, y/n!”

you let out a sigh when she closes her door, falling back onto her bed with a soft plop.

you were definitely tired from your anxious pacing this morning but aren’t sure how much sleep you’re gonna get right now, tonight or for the rest of the month.

knowing that you’re unwelcomed by one person, extremely attracted to another and silently betraying the person you should be most loyal too - but as long as it just stays in your head, and you remind yourself that there’s no way mr. park could feel anything back to you, it’ll be fine.

you’ll just get by quietly and smoothly at dinners or in passing through the hallways, enjoy eunbi’s comfortable king-sized bed and the fact that you don’t have to spend yet another holiday alone.

reruns of drake and josh play in the background, keeping your giggles quiet as drake soaks his feet in lizard pee. you feel your eyes grow heavy the more episodes you watch, the shitty laugh track and loud, bickering brothers eventually lulling you to sleep.

it takes about five knocks on the door to eventually stir you, your eyes fluttering open to see mr park’s figure in the doorway. you can only stare at the man as you adjust to him, taking in his tall, slim figure just a few feet away from you.

taking in the way his white shirt clings to his body, broad shoulders and slim torso on display in a way that makes you wish you could see, just for a second, what he looks like underneath that a-

“sorry if i woke you,” his deep voice hums, the slightest bit of amusement in his voice that causes your cheeks to warm. “i didn’t think you’d be sleeping at seven p.m.”

“no, it’s okay,” you stammer out, sitting up in eunbi’s bed. “i... i don’t even know when i fell asleep, to be honest.”

he looks at the screen to see drake and josh playing, a smirk pulling at his lips as his gaze shifts back to you.

“it’s funny,” you defend with a mumble, a deep chuckle leaving his mouth that causes butterflies to erupt in your stomach - he’s far too handsome, everything about him is just far too attractive, even in his laugh.

“that’s what eunbi claims,” he says, remembering all the years of his daughter forcing him to watch ridiculous shows.

despite his daughter’s outgoing nature, she never had a lot of friends growing up.

there was once a small group of girls she hung out but they quickly drifted apart throughout high school, leaving eunbi really only with him and her boyfriend.

the boyfriend who seonghwa really didn’t wanna like out of principal but seeing that the kid really does love his daughter quickly coming around.

“speaking of, where is she? jiwoon’s?”

“yeah,” you tell him, settling back into the pillows and stretching your arms out in front of you. “she said she’d be back for dinner.”

“well she’s wrong, as usual, because dinner’s ready,” he quips playfully, the smirk pulling at his lips causing you to smile back at him. you swallow nervously when his eyes roam over your face, your own gaze trained on him before you see his mouth start to move again.

“do you want me to bring some up for you? or you’ll come down?”

he can see the apprehension on your face immediately, fear crossing your eyes and your arms folding into each other uncomfortably. he tries to ignores the way your soft white sweater dips by your chest, a hint of perky cleavage just barely showing that causes his dick to twitch in his pants.

he doesn’t know when this happened.

he didn’t know when he became a pervy old man who checked out college girls with his wife just downstairs and the knowledge that you’re his daughter’s friend.

“i’ll come down,” you say, surprising him just as he was about to insist he brings some up for you. “she’ll probably be back soon anyway.”

but five minutes pass by, then ten, then twenty and eunbi’s still not home - it’s just you, seonghwa and mrs. park at the long, glass dining room table.

white chairs with high backs and comfortable cushions to match the immaculate, hospital-like color scheme and environment; truthfully, you’ve never been more terrified to eat a plate of chicken parmesan in your life.

the sound of utensils scraping on the china and the crackling of the fireplace a room over are the only noises heard throughout the home, mrs. park taking a swig of wine and gently placing it on the table with a light clack.

“so, y/n,” she finally says, breaking the tension with her rich-sounding, nasally voice. “how has school been, dear? you’re an... art major, am i remembering that correctly?”

“uh, photography, yeah,” you smile tensely, trying to ignore the judgment in her voice.

“ah, so you never switched over to business then,” she hums, her wine glass back in hand as her dark, gorgeous eyes look you over.

you bite the inside of your cheek as you feel a pink flush cover your face, faintly remembering your roommate saving you a few semesters ago when her mom was grilling you about picking a more practical and useful major.

“she can do whatever she wants, mom,” eunbi eventually snapped, “whether she does business or photography or even liberal arts is none of your business.”

“no,” you mutter out, dropping your gaze to look over the intricate pattern on the table. “i thought about it but it wasn’t something i wanted.”

“so you didn’t want something practical? or useful?” she asks, using those two words yet again while cocking her head to the side with a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

“a business degree would’ve been great, y/n. everyone always has connections to somewhere, you could’ve found a job right out of college.”

you bite back the urge to tell her no. that not everyone has connections to multi billion dollar companies or numbers of ceos in their phones or the ceo of a tech company as their next door neighbors.

but instead, the same way eunbi defended you against her mother, seonghwa does against his wife. gives you a soft, sympathetic side eye before placing his larger hand on his wife’s.

“there are tons of jobs in photography too, honey,” seonghwa says, his voice so warm and soft and welcoming compared to hers even despite the slight edge in it.

“and she can travel to build her portfolio. it’s a fantastic opportunity to explore the world and make money. is there a particular type of photography you’d wanna do?”

you feel yourself relax slightly, a small smile on your face as you nod your head toward the striking couple.

“i would love to be a wedding photographer actually,” you mumble, a romantic at heart who’s read and watched far too many novels and romcoms.

“taking pictures of all those moments would be really fun, i think. like when the groom sees the bride for the first time or just everyone dancing and having fun. weddings are usually happy and i like to photography happy things.”

“that sounds perfect for you then,” seonghwa smiles, his brown eyes lighting up and making you feel even more at ease.

“i think you’ll do great, y/n. and you only have a semester left, right? maybe you and eunbi you could travel for the summer before you start your jobs.”

you ignore the swish of dread and anxiety in your stomach at the mention of next semester, instead choosing to smile softly and nod your head at the man.

“i think she’d love that,” you giggle out, knowing damn well your roommate already has an extensive list of cities she wants to visit before ‘real life begins.’

“and how do your parents feel about everything?” mrs. park asks, making your stomach twist with even more dread and discomfort. “are they proud?”

you wish you could fold in on yourself right now, swallowing the growing, nervous lump in your throat.

because not only is she making you incredibly uncomfortable right now, with her harsh looks and topic of conversation and snide little tone, she just mentioned the people you haven’t spoken to since you left home at eighteen.

you don’t know what to say, you have the slightest bit of concern you might throw up on her, when the loud, chipper voice of your roommate floats through the cold, silent house.

“i’m back!” her chipper voice yelps, sock-clad feet running through the house and sliding on the marble floor. “what’d you guys make?”

“you’re late, eunbi,” seonghwa mumbles warningly, an innocent smile on her face as she picks up her plate of food and plops down next to you.

“am i? or are you girls just early?”

“i’m not a girl.”

“it’s a figure of speech, father,” eunbi says, smiling playfully at her father before turning to you.

she’s able to tell the second she sees your face that you’re uncomfortable, the pink flush still lingering on your face and the tenseness of your shoulders making her frown.

“i’m sorry you were alone with them,” she whispers, genuine sorrow in her wide, mock-innocent eyes. “i got held up. or... down, rather, but i tried to leave on time. i promise.”

“uh huh, i bet,” you mumble back, fighting back a smile despite your discomfort.

because eunbi has always had something about her that made it impossible to stay mad at her, her carefree, unfiltered way of communicating that made being her friend so easy.

even if, sometimes, you wanted to kill her.

“so mom,” eunbi quips, turning her soft gaze to you before looking over her mother.

“what was with your little group of bitchy housewives today? you couldn’t have had them over any other day? what kind of christmas disgrace is that?”

“eunbi...” seonghwa chastises lowly, the girl with her brow already quirked and eyes narrowed.

“i can do whatever i want in my home, eunbi. are you forgetting how things work around here?”

“how could i, when i’m met with thirty middle-aged women with botox out the ass in my home the second i get back from school?” she asks, “you didn’t think me and y/n would wanna spend the break, like, resting?”

“you ran off to your boyfriend’s the second you got here,” mrs. park bites back, her glass of wine empty as she pinches the bridge of her nose. “left your friend all alone in your room. what did i tell you about leaving... guests unattended in the house?”

the accusation and direction of conversation is quickly making you feel uncomfortable, your head turned down in your lap and leaving your cheeks aflame.

she’s making it sound like you would steal something in her home for christ’s sake, like you’re not a guest who’s dreaded coming here due to this very reason.

you block out the back and forth between eunbi and her mom, a few more seconds of yappy feminine voices before a deeply spoken “enough,” echoes through the dining room.

you even look up at the sound, watching as mr. park’s eyes rest on you. his eyes narrow as he takes in the sight of your red cheeks, his gaze shifting from you to his daughter to his wife beside him.

“y/n’s here for a month and we’re gonna make her feel welcomed the entire time. if you two are gonna fight, don’t do it at the dinner table.”

“but dad, she totally-”

“maybe you should’ve taught your daughter-”

“no more,” seonghwa growls, a sense of finality in his tone that causes the room to go silent.

you can tell your friend is unbothered by the reprimanding, shoveling food into her mouth and sipping from her wine glass completely unbothered.

sometimes you wish you could be more like her, so unfazed by conflict or loud voices or the strained relationship with a parent.

eunbi was always open with you about the rocky relationship with her mother, saying more than once to you that if it weren’t for her father, she would’ve long cut off any contact with her.

she had never really been there for eunbi growing up, having nannies and chefs take care of her for most of her life - it was her nanny of fifteen years who taught her how to walk and talk, was there with her for all the milestones she met through infancy, childhood and even adolescence.

but even then, eunbi was nonchalant and carefree about it.

saying that she’s not gonna waste her time being upset over it when she knows her mom doesn’t think about her at all. it makes your heart hurt for eunbi, grateful that the girl at least has a good relationship with her father and boyfriend.

and you, of course. you consider her your best friend and you know she does the same - even if sometimes, you wanna pull her hair out.

“i’m gonna go the food store tomorrow, eunbi, so if you and y/n want anything, just text it to me.”

“oooh can we come!” she squeals, knocking her arm into yours like an excited kid in a candy store. “we wanna try making our cookies again.”

“you’re gonna bake?” the girl’s father asks, a look of doubt on his face that causes you to bite back a smile.

“no, we’re gonna bake,” she corrects with snark, “y/n measures the ingredients and stirs, i put it in the oven and watch.”

“right, silly me,” the man hums, a smirk pulling at his lips the more he sees his daughter get irritated. “but of course you girls can come,” he says, his eyes flicking to you for just a few seconds too long.

you can only look back with a small smile, a quiet “thank you,” leaving your mouth that you’re positive he doesn’t catch.

(he did).

you help clean your plate off before you and eunbi go up to her room later that night, once her door’s closed and she’s sitting down shooting her a look of disdain.

“i know you’re mad, okay, i’m sorry, i really am!” she whines, holding her arms out for you to come over. “i tried to leave but he wouldn’t let me. he just kept wanting to-”

“i don’t need the details you sick freak!” you yelp, going over and plopping down on her bed. “ugh, it was just... so awkward. your mom hates me. she was utterly perturbed that i didn’t switch my major to business.”

“ugh, she’s a crotchety bitch i swear,” eunbi says, falling onto her back and looking at you with sorrow in her eyes. “i’m sorry, i really am. i won’t leave you alone with her again, i promise.”

you quirk an unconvinced eyebrow her way, eyes full of doubt and distrust before she throws herself on you and squeals that, at least, now you can have a scary movie marathon without any interruptions.

it seems you also probably should’ve made her promise last night that you’d never be alone with her father either; it didn’t even occur to you at the time, not thinking that she’d really ditch you two days in a row.

but alas, jiwoon’s car pulled up when all three of you were walking out of the house to the g-wagon for the trip to the food store, her shooting you an apologetic look and whispered condolences in your ear.

“i’m technically not breaking my promise because my dad’s nice,” she mumbled, the feeling in your body more nervous and aroused than it is angry and upset.

but she could’t know that.

“and when i break your head? then what, eunbi?”

“i love you,” she giggles in your ear, the playful tone of your voice letting her know she got off the hook again. “it’ll be fine. my dad’s a good man. he wouldn’t ever talk shit to you the way my mom does.”

little does she know how much you want her dad to talk shit to you.

talk to you in a way that’s casual and playful and teasing, like the hints of it you’ve seen in the car or in eunbi’s room when you were alone last night. you just want him to look at you with the slightest bit of something, even though it’s wrong.

not only because of his wife, no matter how big a bitch she is, but because of-

“do you still wanna come with me?”

seonghwa’s voice pulls you away from your thoughts, looking to the man dressed in a long, black jacket and expensive loafers. he looks far too fancy and delectable for a trip to the grocery store.

eunbi is long gone by now, her giggles and carefree run down the driveway and into her boyfriend’s car leaving you and mr. park alone, with only the blue sky and crisp air as your witness.

him looking you over hopefully, with a twinge of teasing and longing in his gaze.

you looking at him full of nerves and excitement, biting down on your lip as you nod your head timidly.

“s-sure, if that’s okay,” you say, looking from him to his car just a few feet away. “it’d be better than sitting in eunbi’s room again.”

a handsome smile crosses his face as he nods his head, heart pounding and throat constricting as you watch him walk toward the car.

he walks around the front of a smaller, sleek suv, your own eyes watching in confusion until he opens the passenger side door.

you can only stare blankly, head cocked to the side as you really start to wonder if this man is about to make you drive his car costing more than your life.

“are you getting in, y/n?” he asks, an amused smile pulling at his lips - almost like he’s making fun of your nervous, intimidated disposition.

you shake your head of the confusion, cheeks flushing in the cold december air as you do an awkward jog toward the car. you dip in beside him as your body hits the cool leather, craning your neck to shoot him a small, grateful smile.

your faces are closer than you anticipated, breath catching in your throat as his gaze watches you closely.

he doesn’t say a word or move a muscle, taking a few moments for his eyes to roam your face and body before mumbling to buckle up.

you wish you knew how long the drive to the store would be, as it would slightly settle you and the thick, awkward tension in the air. it appears to be enough time for the heat to go on, warm air blowing from the vents before he asks if you want your seat heater on.

“oh, sure, thank you,” you mumble, a smile quirking on his lips as he presses down on the small circular button.

more silence lingers in the air as the trees outside you pass by, the bright winter sun and blue sky not making it feel like christmas is only a few days away.

you can’t remember the last time the holidays have actually felt like it, though,  all the lonely days blending into one and feeling as if they were the same.

maybe this year, because you’re surrounded by eunbi and her family, it’ll feel less lonely. maybe you’ll actually enjoy yourself and find that you’ve missed out when you denied her invitation each and every-

“i’m sorry about my wife last night.”

those are words you don’t expect so they shock you even more, looking at the older man beside you with a wide-eyed, confused gaze. his dark eyes are expressionless and casual on the road, one hand on the wheel while the other rests beside him.

“i... what do you mean?” you ask, knowing damn well you understand his apology - and given the unamused look he throws you, he knows you’re full of shit too.

“i don’t think she means to judge you so harshly,” he begins, his deep, smooth voice full of sympathy and softness. “it’s not her place to question your education or major, so i just want to apologize for her.”

“that’s not necessary, mr. park,” you insist, shaking your head as a small, breathy chuckle leaves you. “and it’s not like i haven’t heard it before.”

because no one is ever too confident in any of the arts being your main source of income or profession; even your own parents, although it really wouldn’t matter what you would have chosen, haven’t been supportive.

and you especially haven’t missed the looks of pity or distaste when you tell people on campus or at parties in the frat house, future business leaders or stem majors looking at you like just said the sky is hot pink.  

“well that’s just ridiculous,” seonghwa says, ripping you from your thoughts so you can roam over his strong, handsome face. “it’s a great field to work in and something you’re passionate about. that’s what matters most.”

he can tell by the way your cheeks flush that you’re slightly embarrassed and he can’t help but find it endearing, licking over his lips as his mind begins to wander.

wonder about what other parts of you could flush so easily or what else he could say to really make the pinkness deepen.

“i guess,” you mutter, shrugging your shoulders as you look at the passing oak trees and mansions.

“and... what you said last night about traveling to build my portfolio,” you begin, shocked by the words continuing to leave your mouth. “that’s something i’ve thought about doing. i think it’d be really fun, regardless if i did wedding photographer or not.”

“yeah?” he asks, the smile on his face causing your head to jump. “i think that’d be good, too. where would you wanna go first?”

your lips purse to the side as you think it over, a love for traveling anywhere you could but having an especially strong pull toward the tropics.

“cancun or the maldives,” you answer, the financial aspect of the trip leaving it most likely impossible for you. “it’ll probably never happen, because i’d have to sell my first born, but i’ve always wanted to go somewhere like that. somewhere tropical and fun.”

seonghwa bites his tongue about his multiple trips there, instead letting out a chuckle that causes butterflies to erupt. his eyes are too drawn to your body in the front seat, legs crossed and arms over your lap politely.

“you never know,” he hums, ripping his gaze away before you catch his gawking. “you might get there one day, after being the best wedding photographer the city has to offer.”

“oh, please,” you glggle out, cheeks flushing despite the absurdity of the comment.

you catch the smile that creeps on his face, the same handsome, carefree smile you saw in the car last time.

you try not to let it get to you, let your brain convince you that maybe he likes hanging out with you alone as much as you like it too.

“i’m serious,” he says, the earnest tone of his voice slipping into dad mode in a way he doesn’t even realize. “your parents must be proud.”

you bite down on your lip as you let out a soft, almost scornful, chuckle, a quietly mumbled “yeah,” leaving your mouth that causes his eyebrows to pull together.

he always thought it was a little suspicious that in the four years eunbi has known you, she’s never told him about your parents; as far as he knows, she’s never even seen them.

“she has her scholarship and stuff so she doesn’t really need them,” his daughter said one day, the two of them discussing why you were spending yet another break alone in the apartment.

“but they don’t want her home for the holidays? you told her she was welcomed, right?”

“ugh, about a thousand times,” his daughter groans in the seat, throwing herself against the window dramatically. “i basically begged her, dad, but she said she didn’t wanna intrude. i’m telling you it’s because mom is the biggest fucking-”

“eunbi...”

“you know it’s true!” she squeals, seonghwa biting his tongue in an effort to be the bigger and better parent. “i don’t even know why you guys got married.”

but that’s what happens with teen pregnancies and rich families. how they were destined to marry anyway, due to their parents companies and stupid business politics.

it was one drunken night at his dad’s company party and a broken condom that sealed his fate with finality - made him go from a single, carefree high school student to a married businessman with a child just two short years later.

his wife was good at one point he likes to think, remembering she was gorgeous and sassy and not like the other girls who would drop to their knees for him.

but marriage and a child and just life quickly caught up with them, already trapped in a loveless, pointless marriage by the time he hit 25.

he’d be lying if he said he didn’t stay for eunbi, that they both didn’t stay for eunbi throughout her childhood and now just grew too used to being an unhappy married couple who live separate lives.  

there was never any reason for them to divorce though, no one serious in his or his wife’s lives and the hassle of money and disputing houses and cars and assets far too draining.

“i don’t believe i’ve ever met them,” seonghwa says, pulling into the store parking lot to see it’s less crowded than he suspected it’d be. “what do they do?”

you couldn’t imagine anything more unbearable than disclosing to your friend’s hot dad who you may or may not have feelings for about the messed up relationship with your parents.

it just screams daddy issues, which might say a lot about your very attraction to him in the first place.

“they run a little restaurant back in my home town. it’s about three hours from campus, which is why i don’t really go home for breaks.”

seonghwa hums lowly, nodding his head as he looks at you at a stop sign.

you’re unnerved by the way his eyes roam you, like he can see signs of you being uncomfortable about your parents and wants to know why - but why would he care? you’re only his daughter’s roommate.

“do you miss seeing them?”

you lick over your lips nervously, watching as his eyes darken every so slightly.

he watches each and every of your movements carefully, so in tune with your reactions and breaths you can just feel yourself getting more and more worked up.

not in the slightest, you wanna say. i’ll probably never see them again and have no qualms about it, mr. park.

“i suppose,” you mutter, shrugging your shoulders as you apprehensively meet his gaze.

“you suppose?” he asks, concern etched on his face. “when was the time you’ve seen them? since your freshmen year?”

you avert your gaze as your teeth sink into your bottom lip, in no way wanting to have this discussion at ten a.m. when, much to your pleasure, an impatient car behind beeps at seonghwa’s mercedes.

his dark eyes move to the rearview mirror, narrowed and irritated in a way you can’t help but think is sexy, before he puts his foot off the break and turns into the parking lot.

“i think this person’s leaving,” you mutter when you notice another car go in reverse, seonghwa snatching the spot before the impatient, crotchety lady behind him could steal it.

you can’t help but smirk as seonghwa eyes her when you get out of the car, giving him a look that’s half judgmental and half amused.

“what? she beeped at me.”

“aren’t you supposed to be, like, an adult?”

he rolls his eyes as he takes a cart from the pile, nodding his head for you to go in front and “stop talking back to an elder.”

you can’t help but smirk at his playfulness, taking your spot in the front and pretending as if you always move your hips this much when you walk casually; you would’ve felt embarrassed, had you not turned around a few moments later to see his eyes already on you.

“where to first, mr. park?”

he has to bite back the groan threatening to leave his mouth, reminding himself to keep himself in check this month - starting tomorrow.

“depends, y/n,” he hums, voice far too deep and sultry to be surrounded by innocent bystanders in the grocery store. “what do you want?”

words are caught in your throat and you can only stare dumbly, your plan quickly back firing as he appears to do the same - but it’s gotta be in your head, right?

regardless, it quickly humbles you in the form of a small, unsure shrug.

it’s how you two start walking up and down the aisles, seonghwa putting in what he remembers and items on his mental list while also insisting you put in anything you want.

your arms bump ever so often, softly apologizing and acknowledging it the first few times before you both realize it may be happening on purpose.

you stick close to him when the aisles get tight and crowded, his deep voice telling you to “go ahead,” causing you to swallow shakily. you feel the presence of his hand just a few inches from your hips, lingering and hovering but never fully touching.

it’s finally when you’re in the bread aisle, seonghwa a few feet away talking to the man at the bakery counter, that you decide to put something in the cart.

you would usually never accept someone’s offer to buy you something, already feeling bad about staying with them rent free and eating their meals without compensating.

but the brioche loaf brand is one of your favorites, only sold on occasion at the corner store near campus.

you press up on your tippy toes to grab the bag of bread, stretching your arm up with all your might. the plastic slips through your fingers just as you’re about to snatch it down, letting out an annoyed huff as you pulled down your sweater dress.

you mumble your annoyances before trying again, back on the tips of your toes with your arm raising when you feel a hand on the small of your back.

it’s large and warm and seeping through the thin material of your burgundy dress, a snappy protest about to leave your mouth when you catch mr. park’s face in your peripheral.

there’s a content look on his face as he takes the bag with ease, holding it above your head as his hand moves from your back to your waist with a gentle touch.

you look at him with wide eyes and a pounding heart, his hand on your waist so foreign and strange but... good. something you didn’t even realize you’d been craving until it happened.

the strength and warmth of his hand, though if you think about it just enough, you can feel the weight of his wedding band through the fabric.

“is this what you wanted?”

his voice is deep and low as he speaks to you and you alone, your eyes raising to see him staring down at you. you can’t make out the expression in them, just the darkness in his eyes and the frantic beating of your heart.

you can’t even being to understand the context of his words right now because, yes, this is exactly what you’ve wanted - but he doesn’t know that, right?

“w-what?”

he can’t help the smirk that crosses his face, all sorts of pride and satisfaction and arousal coursing through his veins at your current disposition.

“the bread,” he says, stepping back and holding it out to you. “is this the one you wanted?”

your eyes narrow as you look at him, the smirk on his face, the amusement in his gaze, the playfulness that’s radiating off him - is he fucking with you?

“oh... i... yes,” you finally say, coming to your senses and not allowing yourself to think this way anymore. “that’s the one. i hope it’s okay.”

“of course,” he hums, placing the bread in the cart before going back to the front handles. “you can get anything you want, i already told you that.”

you nod dumbly as you follow beside him, seonghwa picking more things off the shelves and muttering the list to himself as you try to get your shit together.

because yes, you’re attracted to him and yes, you’ve found yourself alone with him for more than two days in a row and yes, there’s been some lingering looks and touches but that doesn’t mean anything.

you can’t let your own deluded thoughts and desires get in the way of reality.

the reality that he’s your friend and roommate’s married father and you’re a college student. he doesn’t want you just as much as you shouldn’t want him so what’s the problem here?

maybe it’s that you’re a 22-year-old woman who’s only been on a handful of dates.

that the last time you made out with someone was when you were drunk and dared to kiss the first guy that walked through the bar (luckily, somewhat attractive and surprisingly polite).

that, maybe, you’re so horribly touch-starved and aching for affection, you’re trying to find it in a hot father figure who’s just as kind as he sexy - and that, you think, is the second most tragic thing here.

because the first would absolutely be thinking that any of this, any of these stares or touches or coincidences of eunbi leaving you two alone, means something.

means that maybe this break is for you two is create an attraction and build some sort of bond and-

“y/n.”

you’re barely able to register seonghwa’s voice before his arm is wrapped around your waist, pulling your body into his taller one and having you pressed up right against him.

you were so lost in thought of him that you didn’t see the older women skirting her cart around the aisle quickly, phone pressed to her ear as she yells to her husband about the christmas ham.

you’re not even sure if she shoots you a look of sorrow or utters any apology, too consumed and distracted by the feeling and proximity of mr. park.

his arm wrapped around you, your body pressed flush up against him, his neck craned down to look at you with a building... something in his eyes. playfulness and teasing but also something darker, something that makes your stomach swoop and renders you unable to move.

“are you always so clumsy and distracted?” he mumbles lowly, his deep voice quiet for only you two to hear - like he knows even in a sea of strangers, he has to keep these interactions quiet.

“what would you do if i wasn’t here to help you, y/n?”

i wouldn’t have been distracted in the first place, you’re tempted to say - but you certainly don’t wanna open that can of worms, especially not in the middle of this grocery store with the way your heart is pounding.

“i... i’m sorry, i was distracted,” you mutter, playing up the damsel in distress just a little bit. “my mistake, mr. park.”

he licks over his lips, swearing his name just being spoken has never effected him like this. he doesn’t even know where this attraction came from, seeing you leave the dorm building yesterday morning and something in his body jumping at the sight of you.

maybe it’s just showing how unhappy he really is with his life, living day to day to just work. hang out with his friends and go to sleep alone - he doesn’t remember the last time his wife touched him, looked at him like she wanted him or made any move to be with him.

he just knows that you showed up, looking so pretty and wide-eyed and coy, and is now about to lose his mind.

“it’s alright,” he says, hoping you don’t hear the thick tension he hears in his own voice, like he’s some idiotic, hormonal young boy. “i think we only have a few more aisles left, anyway.”

he plucks the remaining items off the shelves before you both make your way to the self check-out, him scanning and you bagging because “eunbi says if my career as a photographer fails, i could be the best grocery bagger ever.”

“that’s just because she puts the bread on the bottom,” seonghwa mutters, a smile on your face as you nod your head - she squished one too many of your brioche loafs before you realized bagging just wasn’t for her.

your fingers graze ever so often, the coldness of his tips a stark contrast to your warmer ones.

a particularly big, bulk bag of vegetables proves to be a challenge for you, working through the packed bag with some difficulty. you let out an annoyed groan as you play a dangerous game of tetris, trying not to rip open the brown paper bag.

you finally get the box inside, a little bit prouder than you care to admit, when your precious brioche loaf is dropped right atop. you look up at seonghwa to see him already apologizing, your brow raised as you look at the older man in confusion.

did he think your hand was out? why would he just throw the food at you?

but it’s only when you feel a little more air than normal on your chest that you see what could’ve possibly caused the distraction, the white lace from your bra sticking out.

your cleavage in this dress was hidden for the most part, only becoming a little more obvious when you moved around or packed a shitload of groceries. it makes you bite back a smirk as you put two and two together, looking up to see his eyes still lingering over you.

two can play at this game mr. park.

“mr. park,” you begin, feigning a certain kind of innocence as you place your bread atop the other groceries and finally look up at him. “are you always so clumsy?”

it takes a few seconds for a smile to pull at his lips, the tick in his jaw not going unnoticed to you - so maybe this wasn’t all in your head. maybe he wants you too... possibly.

“you’re funny, y/n,” he mumbles, a smile pulling at your lips as he takes out his black card. “i guess i was distracted, too.”

you swallow the lump in your throat as you feel the slightest hint of arousal run through you, shaking it off and letting out a forced, girlish chuckle.

you pack the car a few minutes later without any lingering eyes or touches, seonghwa telling you about the meals they plan on cooking for christmas.

they usually don’t make their own food for holidays but decided to have a more traditional set up for you and eunbi’s arrival - he also hasn’t cooked a meal for his family in god knows how long.

“that’ll be great, thank you,” you tell him, clicking your seatbelt in as he backs out the spot. “i’m kind of a picky eater but i’ll eat anything you guys provide me.”

“and you have the whole brioche loaf,” seonghwa says, a giggle leaving your mouth as you nod your head.

“true. it’s really good.”

“i’ve never tried, perhaps you’d be willing to-”

his wife’s name popping up on his car dashboard acts as a way to bring you back to reality, brings a certain kind of silence over the both of you for a few seconds.

like he wasn’t just rubbing his body against yours and you weren’t just flirting with him in the form of smirking lips and snarky comments.

you watch a twinge of annoyance behind seonghwa’s eyes, gaze roaming over the screen as if he’s in contemplation before muttering “one second.”

“hello?”

“where are you?” her voice snaps in annoyance, “i told you we had that board meeting at one.”

“and it’s only noon,” his deep voice mumbles, not matching her level of irritation but sounding a whole lot different than a few seconds ago. “me and y/n are coming back now.”

“y/n?” she spats, like it’s a disgusting piece of food she wouldn’t dare put in her mouth. “what about eunbi?”

“she went off with jiwoon before i could get her in the car.”

“so it was only you two?” she asks, the snide judgment and underlying tone in her voice causing your stomach to churn. “did she ask you to buy a bunch of-”

“i’ll be home in twenty and then be on my way over,” he says, cutting her off and hanging up before she can even get another word you.

your stomach churns and a sick feeling comes over you, her utter dislike and disdain for you causing you to bite your lip.

because not only does she not like you to be with her daughter, she doesn’t want you with her husband (although, you suppose, you can’t really blame her for that one).

“i’m sorry about that,” seonghwa winces, the silence lingering between you two heavy. “you could’ve gotten anything you wanted, y/n. this is your christmas too. don’t feel bad about anything, okay?”

you swallow the lump in your throat, your gaze moving to his as he stops at the red light.

your eyes lingering over his and his doing the very same, hand twitching to reach out and move the piece of hair from your slightly flushed face.

and there was something about the way you were both looking at each other, eyes so focused and unwavering and honest, that had you thinking maybe all of this wasn’t in your heads.

but it didn’t mean either of you could act on it - they were just... feelings of lust and wonder and all things forbidden, not seriously believing that a relationship like this could unfold right under the nose of his wife, his daughter and your roommate.

unless the pull was so desperate.

so overwhelming and all-consuming and present between the both of you, little moments couldn’t help but happen.

strike one:

with none other than eunbi as a distraction, the girl promising she wasn’t gonna leave you alone anymore, you were able to take your mind off everything.

the tension-filled, heart pounding moments with mr. park that felt just as wrong as they did right.

you spent a few nights going out with her, jiwoon and all of their high school friends, a surprisingly nice group of young adults who you got along well with.

they were loud and crazy and did far too many shots but they also seemed to be genuinely kind. even the boy who was flirting with you all night, handsome and tall with pretty dark eyes, acted as a good distraction.

grinding up against him as the music pounded throughout the bar, alcohol coursing through your veins allowing you to forget about the older man who’s been living in your head for almost a week now.

“how have i never met you before, y/n?” the boy mumbled lowly in your ear, your head against his shoulder carelessly.

but it was right there in that moment, him saying your name, that the moment was over.

because it just didn’t sound like seonghwa, as delusional as that was.

it didn’t get your heart racing or lips quirking the same way it did when you heard the older man say it. the smile attached to his handsome, mature face and the deep, lowly spoken tone that always held a hint of teasing and sincerity.

“but danny really is so freakin’ nice!” eunbi squeals to you on christmas eve, the two of you in her immaculately white and modern kitchen prepping the chocolate chip cookie cough for tomorrow.

“and you two seemed to be getting along, i saw your ass all up on him.”

“eunbi, that wasn’t me. that was the vodka. i don’t know who that girl was.”

she throws her head back as a loud chuckle leaves her, telling you again that she warned you her snobby, rich little friends have been able to handle their liquor since middle school.

it’s how they cope, she had said, unloved kids with more money than god learning to deal with the world of limitless funds and minimal parental supervision.

“well he hasn’t stopped asking me about you, you know,” she hums, her eyebrows quirked suggestively as she mixes the bowl of ingredients lazily.

“and not just because of your newfound grinding skills, which by the way, are usually learned by the tenth grade.”

your eyes narrow at her comment, throwing a small ball of dough at her that she, impressively, catches in her mouth.

“he really is just, like, so taken by you, y/n. seriously. i told him that you’re graduating this year with a degree in photography and he nearly came in his pants. he loves the artsy girls.”

“you are so vile,” you snort out, shaking your head at the girl sitting criss-crossed on the counter. “and stop saying that. we both know i’m not graduating this year,” you mumble, her face falling pathetically.

“i told you we’re gonna find a way,” she whines lowly, looking at you with all kinds of sympathy and sadness in her eyes - she would offer to pay for you, if she didn’t think you would smack her upside the head.

“oh and what? is my new boyfriend danny gonna do that for me?”

“in exchange for more grinding and a photoshoot, i think. do you want me to try?”

she lets out another giggle despite the way you pinch her leg, peeking inside the bowl with a surprising amount of pride.

"this looks good,” you mumble, swiping your finger to collect some of the chocolate dough.

“hey!” she whines brattily, thrusting a spoon toward your hand just a second too late.  

“why are you whining in here like a child, eunbi?” seonghwa asks, walking through the entryway and the large, white island in the center. “what are you making? please don’t burn the house down.”

“haha dad, you’re so funny,” she mocks sarcastically, jumping down from the counter with her hands on her hips. “where are the baking sheets?”

a simple shrug from her father causes her to roll her eyes, grumbling about how she was really trying to avoid her bitch of a mother today. he holds back his smirk, about to reprimand her before she’s out the kitchen and shouting for her mother upstairs.

it’s only you and seonghwa in the kitchen now, a heavy silence in the air as you stand there dumbly - bowl beside you, cookie dough adorning the top of your finger.

“what are you girls making?” he finally asks, his body moving closer and closer causing you to swallow.

“i... uh, cookie dough. for tomorrow,” you say, lifting your finger and wiggling the tip full of batter. “chocolate chip.”

his eyes move to your finger before grazing over your mouth, his tongue peeking out ever so slightly as he reminds himself to act right.

he hasn’t been alone with you since that day at the food store, just seeing you in passing in the hallways or outside the house as you and eunbi went to and fro.

he hears your giggles at night and tired groans in the morning, quietly yelling at his daughter to wake up and get her ass out of bed.

and he knows it’s probably for the better, that you two don’t find yourselves alone with each other, but he can’t help but feel a rush of excitement right now.

you watch as he moves closer, with the same wide-eyed look you’ve been giving him since he first saw you in your apartment weeks ago.

“ahh, you’re making it from scratch? that’s ambitious.”

“yeah, we googled a recipe,” you tell him, finger still beside you in the air.

you don’t know what causes you to be so bold, maybe him attempting to carry out a normal conversation even though he’s looking at you with so much lust and desire, but you can’t stop once you start.

“how’s it taste?” he asks, his voice deep and slightly strained as he nods his head toward your finger.

you don’t even bat an eye as you slip the tip of your finger in your mouth slowly, swirling your tongue around as you take up all the dough on your skin.

it’s sweeter than you originally thought it’d be but it tastes good nonetheless, keeping your eyes on him as you reamin as innocent and unassuming as possible.

“it’s good,” you say, dropping your finger like you didn’t just make a show of licking and sucking it. “i like it better raw.”

you don’t even realize your words until you see the fleeting look on his face, tongue swiping across his lip and eyes hardening. they roam you so slowly and darkly, you can’t control the growing butterflies and swooping in your lower stomach.

“mm, me too,” he hums lowly, the hardening of his cock in his pants something he hasn’t felt in forever. it’s taking everything in him to control himself, from his eyes popping out of his head to letting out the deepest of growls in the back of his throat.

“do you want some?” you ask, cocking your head to the side questioningly.

he has to desperately hold on to his composure, not think about how easy it’d be to pin you against the cabinet right behind you. take just a few steps closer, have your back against the cold granite and let you feel just how much he wants some.

but he has to play it cool, push down these building desires and ignore your teasing because he’s almost fucking positive that’s what’s happening here.

“want some what?” he asks, his voice lowering just a tad.

he hasn’t played a game like this since college, watching as your eyes widen and brow quirks up.

but he sees that’s exactly what it is when you turn around and face the bowl of cookie dough to him, a smile just as sweet as the cookies on your face.

“cookie dough. before we put them in the oven and possibly burn them.”

the breathy chuckle he lets out leaves your stomach in shambles, his tongue peeking out and poking the inside of his cheek causing a swooping sensation to flood through you.

but before he can even think to say anything, before your eyes can look over his body and make you feel even more warm and bothered, eunbi floats back in and fiddles in the cabinets for the baking sheets.

“that woman is too much, i swear,” she grunts, whipping out the materials quickly before her head snaps to her father. “why are you still here?”

“i wanted some cookies. and to ensure y/n won’t allow you do burn down the kitchen.”

“it was one time, dad, and an accident. how many times do i have to defend myself in this house?”

you let out a giggle as you look from eunbi to seonghwa, your roommate turning her back to set up the practice baking session.

“let’s go bitch! i hope we didn’t fuck this up.”

seonghwa’s eyes roam over you for a few more moments, his tongue swiping across his lips before, finally, leaving the kitchen with his dick hard as a rock.

strike two:

christmas consisted of successful cookies per your and eunbi’s homemade batch, passive aggressive comments from mrs. park about your degree and a whole fuck ton of sexual energy between you and seonghwa.

you could almost always feel when his gaze was boring into you, when you got up to take more mashed potatoes or kept your attention on eunbi as she told her parents about what job she wants to start at next semester.  

it’s also when eunbi almost let it slip about your scholarships, had you not viciously pinched her arm and caused a pained cry to leave her mouth - if you ever thought jiwoon was gonna verbally assault you, it was certainly in that moment.

“why did you pinch me so hard?” she whined later that night, jiwoon passed out on the couch after five too many homemade cookies. “look at my bruise.”

a genuine frown crosses your lips as you look at her arm, rubbing her skin gently as you mumble your soft spoken apologies.

“i’m sorry but i just... i didn’t want your mom to know that,” you say back just as whiney and pathetic. “she already thinks i’m an incompetent idiot. knowing i have to wait a whole year because i’m broke is just too embarrassing.”

it’s an admission that, while eunbi already suspected that, still makes her feel bad - it nearly makes her wanna cry, that you don’t feel welcomed and loved in her home because her mom has to be a judgmental bitch.

“y/n...”

“bi, it’s fine, oh, my god do not cry right now,” you grumble, flicking her in the head lightly.

“i just feel bad,” she cries lowly, moving hrself closer to you and away from her boyfried. “it’s not fair, y/n. you worked so hard and now you have to wait. how could they do this to you?”

a small, touched smile crosses your face at eunbi as you shake your head, dabbing at her watery eyes.

if jiwoon wakes up, he’s literally gonna beat my ass,” you say, smiling when a wet giggle leaves eunbi; you don’t want this time to be sad or upsetting. “i thought he was gonna hit me at dinner.”

“okay if he’s hitting anything, it’s gonna be my-”

“no. no, no, no.”

the snort that leaves her mouth doesn’t help the sinking feeling in her stomach, looking at you with a frown still adorning her face.

“i’m sorry if my mom’s making you feel uncomfortable. she does it to every single person ever and i don’t-”

“it’s fine, please stop apologizing for her,” you say, the sinking reminder in the back of your mind that seonghwa had been doing the very same thing - apologizing for that woman.

“i know she’s stressing you out, too. we’re in it together.”

“that’s true,” she sighs, letting out a long, dramatic groan before resting her head on your shoulder. “i’m so bloated, i don’t think i’m ever gonna be able to eat again.”

and it was funny that, days after the holiday, eunbi was still convinced that she was bloated from christmas dinner.

“babe, i don’t even think that’s possible,” jiwoon consoled her, you and him sitting in her room as she gets ready to go down to the pool.

because, naturally, like everyone in this godforsaken rich town, they get ready to go to the pool that’s inside of their homes; when eunbi told you to pack a bathing suit back at your apartment, you looked at her like she was insane.

until she clarified that her pool is heated and, conveniently, indoors.

“just through the backyard,” she had said - and she truly meant it.

just a few yards away from the main deck area, with floor to ceiling glass windows that showcase the extravagant landscaping and, of course, the outdoor pool and jacuzzi just a few feet away.

“eunbi, this is insane,” you say, marveling at the sight before you.

“don’t you wish you came sooner?” she asks with a wink, your eyes rolling as you place down your towel.

you had the option to bring two bathing suits - a skimpy black one you don’t remember being so scandalous or a red one you remember eunbi insisting you buy last summer.

and you just knew it was because danny was coming, currently showcasing his impressive eight pack that, truly, just doesn’t do it for you - maybe if he was twenty years older, apparently, and somebody’s father and husband.

you shake the thoughts out of your head, walking a few steps toward the pool before eunbi tackles you from behind. you both land with a loud splash, followed by the excited shouts and loud splashes of her other friends.

you’d be lying if you said you could remember the last time you had this much fun, splashing and giggling and acting so carefree despite the many challenges you’ll have to face soon.

but that’s not any of your concern right now, currently sitting atop danny’s shoulders and trying to knock down eunbi in a game of chicken.

“you little bitch! get your nails out of me!”

“coming from the girl who literally just tried to choke me two seconds ago!”

“like it’s your first time being choked!”

and you don’t know whether jiwoon was shocked by you saying that statement or the fact that his girlfriend exposes all of her sexual kinks to you but alas, it did the trick in sealing you a victory.

a smug smile on your face as danny jumps up and down in excitement, your body bouncing and nearly falling over him had you not gripped onto his shoulders.

it’s at that time eunbi pops up from the water, hair a soaking mess and mascara running down her face. she’s about to open her mouth, probably to yell at you, before a volleyball is thrown through the air and just misses her face.

instead, it hits danny square in the head. the boy letting out a yelp before you promptly fall backwards in the water, hearing eunbi’s shrill squeal and giggle on your way down.

you pop up and throw her a dirty look, danny rubbing at the back of his side before apologizing profusely.

“it’s okay,” you giggle out, about to say you shouldn’t have been up there for so long before eunbi’s squealing in the air.

“dad, what the hell kind of aim was that!”

you feel your body stiffen before you quickly shoot around, none another than mr. park standing there looking as handsome as ever.

he puts the young men around you to shame, good-looking, muscular college boys who anyone in their right mind would find attractive - but they just don’t beat him.

his striking eyes or tall, lean stature or the fact that he’s just so fucking-

“got worse with age, bi, what can i say?” he chuckles, extra white fluffy towels in his hold that he places on the chair. “sorry, danny.”

seonghwa’s known danny for a few years now, one of jiwoon’s friends who seems... alright. not a bad guy but also not a good guy - just kind of there; but it didn’t occur to the man just how much he was bothered by him until he saw you on his shoulders.

because he could’ve put you in danger, of course. put you in danger at his house where if things got bad, he’d be responsible; as for the ball, it merely slipped from his finger tips.

“no problem mr. park,” the kid smiles, the other friends gathering around and looking at him expectantly. “we’re gonna play a round of volleyball. you in?”

“no. no dads allowed,” eunbi whines, seonghwa rolling his eyes at his bratty adult daughter.

“why not? because i’m better than all of you, eunbi?”

“oh please,” she grumbles lowly, rolling her eyes and grabbing you to lead you toward the stairs. “you know what, we’re going in the hot tub anyway. since she decided to rock my shit in chicken. enjoy my father traitors,” eunbi grumbles to jiwoon and his friends.

“i did not,” you protest weakly, feeling two pairs of eyes on you as you make your way out of the pool with your friend.

the first thing that strikes seonghwa, apart from the major twitch in his pants, is how skimpy your bikini is.

red bottoms with thin straps holding it up, a matching red top showcasing cleavage and beauty marks on your chest and all the things that are proving to drive him fucking crazy upon seeing you every day.

it’s taking everything in him to control the growing ache in his shorts, your eyes looking at him so coyly and attentively that you’re ignoring the college boy gawking at you right in front of him.

there’s a certain sort of twisted pride in his chest, you giving him attention and seemingly reciprocating his interest, when there’s someone younger right there for you.

younger and unmarried and more suitable for you. someone you can actually be with where it wouldn’t be considered dirty or wrong or secretive; but maybe that’s why you’re both drawn to it in the first place.

that, and because you’re both really hot.

“he’s literally hot, y/n! why don’t you like him?” eunbi whines to you, the two of you sitting across from one another in the hot tub outside.

the december air is crisp but feels nice comapred to the steaming water you’re gratefully submerged in. anything to take you away from mr. park shirtless and wet in the pool right now.

“i do like him, bi,” you mutter, trying your best to convince her and now seem suspicious.

“okay, yeah, as a person but who cares about that!” she whines, flopping her hands dramatically in the water. “you don’t want him to rail you.”

“eunbi!” you squeak, splashing in her direction as a warm, embarrassed blush rises to your cheeks.

“i’m serious y/n. you’ve never been railed before and danny’s such a good option. he’s hot and he’s sweet and he’s so pathetically into you, it’s a little sick.”

you don’t know what to say so you don’t say anything, shooting her a look that screams can we please not talk about this because you don’t know how much i actually wanna be railed by your father so let’s stop this discussion.

but she only rolls her eyes, moving herself closer to you so she can tug at your arm annoyingly.

“is he just not your type?” she questions, her eyebrows pulling together in confusion for a few moments before utter shock crosses her face.

“wait, what is your type? it’s... men, right? have i been hooking you up with the wrong gender this whole time?” she asks in disbelief, “could we have been hooking up this whole time?”

you press your lips together so you don’t burst out laughing, dryly replying “yes, eunbi, i’m into men.”

but the more you think about it, the more you think maybe you don’t have a type.

“and i’ve... never really thought about it before, to be honest. i just know i’m not into like... frat guys or whatever.”

because any party you’d been to, any douchey college guy wearing a backwards hat or cut off shirt, you had never been more disinterested. you couldn’t ever picture yourself falling for someone like that, romantically or sexually.

the one time you remember thinking someone was hot was when you took film and lit with your 31-year-old professor.

“so older guys?” eunbi concludes after hearing that, a smirk on her face as she raises her eyebrows playfully. “we gotta scope out some golf courses or retirement homes?”

“please,” you scoff, a giggle leaving her mouth as she throws her head back gleefully.

“okay, really though, i’ll tell danny you’re not interested and to stop trying so hard if you’re really not interested.”

but maybe danny as a distraction will be good.

will make you see that, perhaps, someone single and your own age and not your best friend’s father will be good thing for you to explore.

so you shrug lightheartedly, the smirk on your face causing eunbi to let out a low “oooh shit.”

you look over at her and your smile only widens when she knocks your shoulder, saying that you’re looking to be a play girl and drain a rich, lovesick man of some christmas presents.

“yeah, right! why drain a rich man when i can drain my best friend,” you tease, looking around her yard and still in astonishment that this is really her life. “i mean, two pools? is that really necessary?”

“three actually. there’s one behind the guest house on the other side. a small one. very humble.”

“oh, a small one, okay. great.”

she lets out another giggle, the two of you talking over plans for new years eve.

you might go up to jiwoon’s parents house in the mountains for the weekend, spend the time drinking with the small group of friends you’ve come to genuinely like over these past few weeks.

“it’s only two hours away so it won’t be that bad either,” she says, getting up to shake the hot water off her arms. “i’ll be right back, i have to pee.”

you nod your head, grateful she didn’t piss in the pool and allowing yourself to sit there, eyes closed, body relaxed, in the silence.

you can hear the faint screams of the boys from the indoor pool area and the swish of the hot tub filter, peeking open your eyes when, suddenly, you think you hear a boom of thunder in the distance.

you watch the sky darkening and clouds coming in, signaling a storm is coming in soon and quick. a sigh leaves your mouth, enjoying your last few moments of peace before finally standing in the hot tub.

the crisp winter air blows and sends goosebumps up your arms, a shiver running through your body as you attempt to splash some hot water on your upper body.

you don’t know how you know someone’s watching you but you do, some sort of strange intuition within you looking up to see none other than mr. park standing a few feet away from the hot tub.

his dark hair is wet and hanging in his face, swimming trunks soaked and his exposed chest still dripping chlorine water.

you press your lips together as your eyes roam his chest, a hint of abs on his lean stomach that causes a small, strangled groan to leave your mouth - you will never understand how this man is pushing 40.

but the same way you’re looking at him, he’s looking at you.

water covering your body, currently hunched over trying to warm the rest of your body; but it’s when you stand he really starts to gawk, your figure standing full and tall and giving him a perfect view of your hardening nipples from the cold crisp air.

you can see the lust in his eyes the same way you know he can and you’re about to do something to just make him crack. mistakingly untie your bottoms, catching them at the last second so he thinks he’s about to get a peak.

or undo the back of your top and pout at him, ask him to please tie it back for you because it’s way too hard to reach behind and do it yourself.

or maybe you’ll just drop to your knees right there, try to see if there’s any hint of a bulge in his swimming trunk bottoms and-

his body is gone just as fast as he arrived, confusion covering your face before you shake your head of your perverted thoughts - dropping to your knees when his daughter and wife are right here, what the fuck is wrong with you today?

you blame eunbi, all her talk about getting railed when you’ve been wanting to jump her father’s bones.

you carefully make your way out of the hot tub, not wanting to eat shit and scarp your leg on the concrete.

it feels like you’re about to freeze in the cold, another shiver wracking your body before you turn to stick your cold, goosebump-ridden arms back in the hot tub. it warms you for just a few seconds, a low, satisfied hum leaving your mouth before you hear footsteps coming up from behind you.

something in you tells you it’s him again.

whether it be the way your body heats up and feels prickly, the obvious feeling of eyes burning into your exposed back causing you to remain still and oblivious.

but you can longer remain oblivious a few seconds later, when a tall body is just a few inches away from completely pressing against you.

“you forgot a towel,” is all he says, placing it on the wet rim of the hot tub.

when he leans forward to place the white towel down, he’s careful and meticulous with his movements. brushing up against you every so slightly and carefully that you can feel his hard bulge on your ass for a few seconds too long.

at first you think you’re crazy, feeling what you were trying to envision in your head, but then you absolutely know it there’s.

you can feel the wetness from his bathing suit on your legs, his cock right there resting on the thin, red fabric of your bikini bottoms and if you were as weak as you felt inside, if he stayed there just a little bit longer, a moan would’ve absolutely left your mouth.

if you pushed back just a little to feel more of his cock on you, grind your ass his hardness just enough to hear him let out a low groan or maybe curse a little.

but he moves away, almost like he knew the perfect amount of time before that happened and almost like he did it by accident - but when you turn around and see the look in his eyes, you know it wasn’t.

the same way he can see a palpable desire and surprise and tension in your gaze, causing him to suppress a growing smirk. it makes you wanna tease him back in whatever way you can but you know that eunbi’s due back from the bathroom at any moment.

so you only cock your head to the side, lick over your lower lip carefully as you grasp the towel in your hands gently.

“thank you, mr. park,” you say, your voice as airy and sweet as you can possibly make it without sounding like an idiot.

“you’re welcome, y/n,” he says, taking a few steps back as his eyes lock on you. he stays there for a few moments until he hears the door to the pool house open.

you watch his lustful, dark expression change right then and there, a towel wrapping around his lower body and his face stretching into a happy, father-approved look.

“so you’re good with anything for dinner, y/n?” he asks, his voice loud and clear enough for his approaching daughter to hear. “i know you mentioned you were picky.”

“let’s get pizza!” eunbi screeches through the air, telling seonghwa that everyone’s staying over and they’ll need at least four boxes.

but you can’t even think about pizza right now, not when this moment right here is solidifying the crazy thought in your head that your best friend’s dad wants you just as much as you want him.

you called him out later that night around one a.m., after eunbi and jiwoon were the last to pass out to your scary movie marathon.

the others were sprawled out on the basement floor, an intricate array of blankets and pillows on the floor that you attempted to weave through, both, skillfully and quietly.

there was a dryness in your throat that could only be settled by a cold glass of water, making your way through the house quietly and praying you don’t run into mrs. park.

she’s been just as passive aggressive as she usually is in front of people so you could never imagine being alone with her. wondering what the hell she’d say to you without seonghwa and eunbi as buffers.

you were relieved when the lights were off in the kitchen, padding your way to the fridge to take out a bottle of water. you twist and turn the cap off to gulp down the cold liquid in the refrigerator light, a quiet gasp leaving you as your thirst is quenched.

you briefly consider going up to eunbi’s room to sleep tonight, not sure how you feel about being squished in with eunbi and jiwoon cuddling on the couch, when the light suddenly flicks off.

it causes you to freeze and halt all thoughts, fear running through you for all three seconds before you see seonghwa’s tall, familiar figure pass you. you watch him carefully in the dim light of the fridge, his shirtless chest yet again right in front of your face.

leaned back against the counter across from you, giving you a perfect view of his toned chest and gray sweatpants.

“midnight snack?” he asks, the smirk on his face almost causing you to roll your eyes.

instead, your lips quirk into a small smile. raising your water bottle by your head and shaking it, the water swishing in your pounding ears.

“just water,” you respond quietly, matching his low tone. “i hope that’s okay.”

“that you took water? of course, y/n,” he says, amusement in his gaze as he looks you over.

you’re freshly showered and in a pair of pajamas, matching pink sets that eunbi got you for christmas one year - he remembers because he was with her when she bought it.

a soft smile crosses your face, your back getting cold from the open fridge but not daring to move a muscle. not with him looking at you the way he is and with his body just a few feet away from you.

a silence lingers in the kitchen, you not sure why he’s looking at you and him waiting to see if you say something, before he bites the inside of his cheek.

“i wanted to say sorry about before.”

your eyebrow quirks up, interest so clearly peaked as you cock your head to the side.

“what do you mean?”

a smirk crosses his face as he watches you play dumb, head cocked and eyes wide and everything about you with such mock innocence, he thinks that’s what’s driving him the most crazy.

that you do this shit and say certain things with almost complete unawareness and innocence, if it weren’t for the hidden look of desire and teasing in your eyes.

“you know,” is all he says, his voice dipping and eyes twinging darker, it makes your lower stomach swoop.

a part of is positive, even if you ask, he’s not gonna say it aloud.

he’s not gonna say or acknowledge any of this aloud and make you guys play this game until you leave in a few weeks.

and then when you leave, unsure about your next prospects of college or education or even living arrangements, who knows if you’re ever gonna see him again.

so you only hum lowly, closing the fridge behind you and leaving you both in darkness. the only source of light is from the moon outside, lighting up half the kitchen from the large bay window.

it leaves you both incredibly exposed, anyone from the outside able to see the two seemingly innocent bodies standing toe to toe with each other; but they don’t see the lustful looks and eyes full of desire, both of you so entrapped by the other, it’s obvious with the tension in the air.

“oh, well, then... it’s okay, mr. park,” you say with a smile, taking a step back as your eyes roam his chest one last time. “i didn’t mind.”

you’re about to say goodnight when you see his arm reach out, shocked but oh, so ready ready to give into your desire and feel your body crash against his or your lips connect finally.

moan into his mouth and feel more of his hardness against you - but he only takes the water from your hand, presses his mouth against the plastic rim and swigs down a big gulp.

you watch with wide eyes as his adam’s apple bobs in the moonlight, head tipped back and body perched calmly on the counter as he takes a swig of your water bottle, spit exchanged and his mouth right where yours was.

he pulls back with an unreadable expression, licking the excess water from his lips before simply closing the cap, holding out the bottle and smiling at you with the most wise-ass smirk you’ve ever seen, you’re not sure how you’re ever gonna one up this man.

"sweet dreams, y/n.”

strike 3:

your new years weekend get away turned into an extended stay that consisted of sleeping on a lumpy air mattress, five extra guests and so much alcohol, you’re positive you’re still hungover three days later.

“it wasn’t that... we only did a... i mean it wasn’t like we were....” eunbi says, the two of you laying on her bed nursing headaches and body aches to the severest degree.

“okay, it was pretty bad. we were kind of rowdy and out of control.”

“you don’t say?” you grumble, never one to black out and get that shit faced and then doing it nearly every night - maybe to deal with danny’s pathetic soft looks or whispered sweet nothings to you.

“nothing is working either. not advil or water or greasy food. we might’ve fucked ourselves for life, bi.”

but if there’s one thing that always helped for eunbi, it was a nice, long bath. steaming hot water that burned her skin and the prettiest bath bombs to make the entire bathroom smell of strawberries and cream.

so even though you didn’t want to, nothing more comfortable than eunbi’s king size bed and warm, fluffy comforter, you allowed the girl to drag you to the bathroom down the hall to set up ‘your last resort, hangover paradise.’

it consisted of every type of bath bomb and lotion and bubble bath the luxurious could dream of, sending her out immediately when you saw her sneaking in with a glass of champagne.

“are you crazy?” you ask, dipping your toe in the water to test the temperature. “that’s what started this disaster.”

“fine, more for me!” she squeals happily, turning down the lights and pressing the bluetooth button for your phone’s music. “enjoy. i’ll see you in an hour, completely hangover free.”

“we’ll see about that,” you grumble, your words falling on deaf ears as she locks and closes the door to makes her way back to her ensuite.

and as much as you wanna give eunbi shit for her pompous tactics and techniques for everything in life, you have to say that this is certainly helping.

soaking in the steaming hot water, with cucumbers on your eyes and quiet music playing through the ceiling speakers. the jets in the tub also added another layer of relaxation to it, healing your sore muscles from days of waking up on a hard, wooden floor.

the mirrors were steamed and the room was boiling by the time you got out, stepping on the fuzzy bath mat and drying yourself off with a towel. you had tried not to get your hair wet but it proved useless, your relaxed body sinking further and further down until nearly your whole head was wet.

you stretch your arms above your head as you let out a content groan, feeling the best you’ve felt in three days and ready to take a nap.

but it’s at that moment, looking around the large steaming bathroom, that you realized you didn’t bring a change of clothes in. meaning you’ll know have to walk done the hall and into eunbi’s room in just a towel.

it’s fairly late, almost 11:30, so you’re hoping that her parents are in their rooms and fast asleep by now.

you peak your head out, feeling like a spy in a cheesy action movie as you look up and down the hall. you turn off the light once the coast is clear, walking quietly but quickly down to eunbi’s room - or wing, as it could be considered

you’re almost out of the gate, just a few more steps until you round the corner down eunbi’s hallway, when seonghwa’s tall figure is coming right up the stairs.

his head is down as he looks at his phone, still in his dress shirt and tie from his long day at work. you noticed that after the holidays, he’s been around the house less - working from home when he can but also needing to go into the office more often than not.

he’s at the top of the stairs when he finally notices your figure watching him, wrapped in a towel with a flush on your cheeks and your wet hair dripping on the floor.

it seems to be the thing to break him right now, not able to tear his eyes away or think of any fun, flirty comments to keep you from suppressing the need to roll your eyes.

because his days have been long and stressful and the only thing he needs right now is to just get off - and then there you are like something his prayers have answered, standing there quiet and awestruck at the sight of his loose tie and messy black hair he’s been running his hands through all day.

“h-hi, mr. park,” your quiet voice says, sweet and soft-spoken and utterly apologetic, like you’re embarrassed to be caught in just your towel - and he supposes that would make sense, to feel embarrassed about getting caught like this your friend’s father.

but he can’t find it in himself to care right now, two seconds away from dragging you down to his office so he can finally fuck you over his desk - but he knows that would be the worst decision in the world, for countless reasons.

“hi, y/n,” he grumbles back just as low, leant against the railing with a voice that sounds defeated and gruff.

“are you okay?” you ask, something about his voice and demeanor off.

he has to hold back a strangled laugh, his lips quirking up before he bites down on his lip.

“i’m... i’m fine, thanks. work’s just busy,” he says, a certain part of his chest warming at the fact you even asked - he knows his wife won’t when he walks in their bedroom in a few minutes.

“oh, okay,” you respond, twirling with the end of your towel nervously. “well... i’m sorry to hear that.”

he allows himself to let out a chuckle this time, shaking his head as he looks over your bare, wet face; you’re too pretty for your own good, he’s not even sure you realize just how pretty you are.

just how much he really wants you and just how much he’s coming to like seeing you in his house everyday.

“it’s alright, that’s why you gotta do something you love, right?” he quips, his long fingers up to recreate a camera, pressing down as if to snap a photo.

it cause you to let out a soft, genuine giggle, nodding your head and easing the slight embarrassment of him catching you in a towel.

“right,” you say with a smile, shy smiles and gazes shared until you finally look away in fear of your cheeks warming again.

but it doesn’t stop him from admiring the view of you, your bare face and exposed chest before the towel covers up all the parts he wants to so desperately explore.

he pictures dropping your towel and hearing it fall to the floor with a plop, take in the sight of your perky boobs and hard nipples in the air.

drop his mouth just a little bit to your neck, pressing small kisses against your skin as his fingers knead your nipples, all the quiet moans and breaths to make sure you two don’t get caught shooting right to his cock.

he probably wouldn’t be able to control himself, sliding a finger into you right then and there in the middle of the hallway, pressing your back against the wall to have you trapped against his larger body.

he’d pump his finger in and out of you slowly and tauntingly, hearing how wet you are and feeling how tight you are. it’d be similiar to how this past month has just been both of you taunting and teasing and beating around the bush, occasionally letting his fingers curl to his your g-spot or graze your sensitive clit.

and then he’d drop to his knees to taste you. make sure he sucks and licks and takes your clit in his warm mouth that you’re-

“i should get back to eunbi,” you finally say, breaking the silence and ripping him from his dirty, hidden fantasies. you can’t take the lust and desire in his eyes that you see when he looks at you, an painful ache building between your legs more and more.

“goodnight, mr. park.”

you nearly run into eunbi’s room and slam the door had you not seen her sleeping form, passed out right there in the middle of her bed wearing a baby pink robe.

you look beside her to see an extra one laid out, a silky lilac one that causes a small smile to cross your face.

you’ve never felt material like this on your skin, basking in the feeling of the smooth, silky material as you clean up her room quietly - both to tidy up and distract you from the ache in your legs and last encounter with her father.

for eunbi growing up with housekeepers and nannies her whole life, it always surprised you how clean and tidy your roommate was; the sink was never full of dishes and you alternated vacuuming the living room carpet.

but it’s obvious all of that is a facade because since the moment she got home, her messy ways have shown through - you find it endearing, though, and it’s all very eunbi: a homey, lived in mess of luxurious items and articles of clothing worth more than your childhood home.

the girl in question had moved to the right side in her sleep as you cleaned, a quiet chuckle leaving your mouth. you look to see both your water bottles are empty, deciding on the brave decision to go downstairs to grab two new ones.

the last time you’d done that, you thought for sure mr. park was gonna jump your bones - and you know you were gonna let him.

your mind is littered with memories of that night as you make your way through the dark house of twists and turns, carefully going down the stairs as you walk toward the kitchen.

there’s a room with beautiful double doors on your left, a room you’ve walked past hundreds of times throughout your stay here. eunbi told you it was her dad’s first floor office, where he usually worked and had his meetings from home.

the first thing you notice from down the hall is that the door is slightly cracked open, a peak in from the dimly lit kitchen showcasing some fancy decor of a globe.

as you make your way closer and closer, your ears are met with a quiet, strangled groan that causes you to stop in your tracks; your mind begins to race with a million different scenarios of what you could be walking past right now.

your first thought is that you’re about to see mr. and mrs. park in a very compromising position over his desk - and, as sick as it sounds, as delusional and crazy and absurd as it sounds, that prospect makes your stomach sink and twist painfully.

but that would be normal, you suppose; they’re a fucking married couple after all and seonghwa had seemed stressed from work. obviously he was gonna ask his wife to help calm him down and relax him.

get all of his stress out in the form of-

you shake your head before you can even think about it, forcing your feet to move past the office doors.

and it’s like you can’t even stop yourself from peeking in, confirming to see if your thoughts are correct and you’re about to be gutted, when you take in the sight before you.

seonghwa still in his loose tie and white dress shirt, pants around his ankles and his head thrown back in his office chair as his own hand jerks his cock off.

everything about it is dirty and wrong and you know you shouldn’t be looking in but you can’t stop.

you can’t stop watching the way his hand works around his cock expertly, long and thick and so fucking nice it nearly makes you drool. the thought of you on your knees before him, taking him in your mouth and licking and sucking around the tip, making you bite back a moan.

you can’t stop your eyes from looking at his face, his head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut with his neck on display - perfect for you to bite and give hickies, if you were on top straddling him.

you can’t stop the painful ache and wetness seeping in your thong as you watch him get off, his groans and grunts and heavy breaths making you wanna whine out in arousal.

and it’s that suppression right there, getting so worked up and horny over the sight of your peeping tina activities, that cause you to pull yourself away.

because as much as you don’t want to and as much as you wanna help him, you can’t.

you can only scramble into the kitchen and get water as fast and quiet as humanly possible, scurrying past the office and up the stairs with the stealthiness of a lion.

you can only lay in bed with the thoughts of your roommate’s father and the noises he makes, the sight of his cock and the hand movements replaying over and over in your mind.

and you realize that night, with only a few more days until you both have to leave for the spring semester, you can only hope to never see mr. park again.

let this flirtation and fascination and utterly screwed up infatuation with your roommate’s dad be nothing but a dirty memory you’ll keep to yourself for the rest of your life.

because if it’s not, if you have to see him again and have him in your daily life again, you won’t be able to hold yourself back.

your lust will turn deeper and you’ll find yourself in a much bigger issue than damp underwear and secret, forbidden moments with mr. park seonghwa.

you should’ve known with only two days left of your stay that eunbi was gonna let the news slip.

you were at least grateful for the fact that mrs. park had a charity ball with her clan of “botox getting, bitchy sounding gold diggers who need to desperately get laid,” successfully riding her of your last friday night dinner.

“so you girls don’t want a new apartment then?” seonghwa asked, glass of wine in his hand as he looks at the two of you questioningly. “that building’s looking for a new owner, eunbi, i think it’d be perfect for you both.”

“dad don’t be ridiculous, we can’t own the building!” eunbi says, swatting her dad playfully as she shovels a piece of food in her mouth. she’s casual and comfortable without her mom’s prying eyes and biting tone, her foot resting on the white fabric beneath her.

“and besides, i might be alone in there soon. we still don’t know if y/n is gonna be starting her-”

you kick the girl under the table roughly, her face pulling into a wince as a cry leaves her mouth.

“ow, y/n! what the he-”

but it’s upon seeing your white face and annoyed expression that she realizes what she said, her mouth falling open and silent as she looks at you apologetically.

“oh shit...”

you can only shoot her a pained, sarcastic smile, daringly looking at seonghwa who’s watching the two of you with a curious expression.

“what do you mean?”

silence hangs in the air, you and eunbi sharing side eyes and dejected looks with her dad before he cocks an eyebrow at the both of you.

“girls... what do you mean?” he asks, his voice deeper and more serious, taking on a dad-like tone eunbi isn’t used to hearing from her relaxed, playful father.

and that’s when, before eunbi can open her big mouth any further, you calmly and regretfully explain the situation with your scholarship.

how you got an e-mail a few months ago about alternate funding for the art department and that you were one of the many students who, while keeping up your end of requirements, could not be awarded money.

“it’s awful that they can do that,” seonghwa says, his eyes full of the same sympathy and outrage eunbi’s held - except he knows that this happens all the time. that it’s unfair and sick and a big ploy in the education system that needs incredible reform.

especially when it hurts students like you.

“yeah but it is what it is,” you say, trying your hardest to steer the conversation to literally anything but this (in fear that you’ll scream or start crying or have yet another anxiety attack).

“i can just finish up in the fall, it’s no big deal,” you lie through our teeth, a sad smile on your face as you look at eunbi. “i’m just sorry it messes up our combined graduation party.”

a frown crosses eunbi’s face as she smacks you in the arm, pulling you closer to her just so she could cuddle herself into your arm.

“i will wait for you,” she proclaims dramatically, a pout on her lips and starry-eyed look in her gaze. “i will wait as long as i have to. if they delay it any further, father, you will simply have to sue the school.”

“father, huh?” seonghwa hums lowly, his lips quirking into a smirk.

father is the term eunbi uses when she wants to use him and his money, whether it be blackmailing unfair teachers or shitty students or calling for him when her and her mom are fighting.

“yes, father,” she says, looking to you with a sweet, apologetic smile on her face.

“i’m serious, y/n. we got your back,” she quips with a wink, a pained smile on your face that she knows means you can’t wait to let her have it when you two are alone.

“you had one job, eunbi, and you were doing so good,” you say in her room later that night, pacing back and forth as she sits on her bed like a scolded child. “literally two nights left and you let it slip out!”

“i’m sorry, okay!” she whines for the ninth time, a pout on her face as she plays with fingers; you wanna roll your eyes seeing it, knowing for a fact that’s something she does when she’s in trouble with jiwoon.

“i didn’t mean to, it just slipped out!” she begins to defend, “and it was only my dad! he wouldn’t dare say a bad word about you, y/n, he loves you.”

you ignore the twinge in your chest when you hear her say those words, feeling a tad guilty at the bodily reaction you have about her own father. how much you’re hiding from her and that you have these suppressed feelings and secret moments in the first place.

“loves me or not, bad word or not, it’s still embarrassing, eunbi,” you say, a frown on your lips as you start to hear the situation aloud. 

“i still can’t pay for my tuition and have to wait almost a whole year to take a degree in fucking photography. like how embarrassing is that, all of this just for me never find a job and live in a box.”

you’ve only seen a flash of anger on eunbi’s face a few times in your life, the incident with the dorm girls and her dad and when a sorority girl tried to kiss jiwoon at the bar.

and you see it right now, her small but mighty frame jumping off the bed and lunging toward you quickly.

“are you kidding me!” she squeals, smacking you in the arm and pushing you down on the bed.

“what the hell do you mean a degree in fucking photography? or living in a box? you’re gonna be the best photographer in the world and shoot every event in my life and charge me quadruple the amount!”

a smile pulls at your lips as you hear her go on and on, hype you up and build up your confidence and tell you to never talk that way about yourself again. how there’s nothing embarrassing about not being able to afford thousands of dollars when you were alerted about the expense on such short notice.

“okay, okay, i know that,” you eventually give in, letting out a sigh as you flop down on her bed. “it’s just.... stressful. i can’t move back home but i also need to get like, a real job. a job that’s gonna pay well so i can save up as much as possible.”

“and we’ll find you that when we get back,” she says, assuring with a confident look in her eye and her hands in yours. “i can promise you, with or without my father’s connections, we’re getting you a job.”

her words prove to reassure you for the remainder of the night, when, after she kisses your ass a little more, asks if she can go to jiwoon’s for a little.

you spent that time in her room looking at nearby job offerings and building up your resume and cover letters, working well into the night hours with a text from jiwoon that she fell asleep and will be back in the morning.

you stretch your arms above your head with a quiet groan, noting it’s almost one o’clock and you’re fucking parched yet again.

it’s no surprise to you when the lights in the kitchen are on, dimly light and no noise around as you pad your way to the fridge.

you almost expect the footsteps that come in a few moments later, when you take a sip from your water and close the fridge without hesitation.

“have you told your parents about tuition?”

you’re confused by the statement that leaves seonghwa’s mouth, brows pulled together and a sinking feeling in your stomach at this conversation again - because as if tuition wasn’t enough, he just had to bring up your parents.

but you don’t wanna beat around the bush any longer; you two seem to do that enough.

“me and my parents don’t talk,” you say, straight forward and quiet as you look right at him.

it’s the first time he sees you look a little broken and defeated, a certain kind of sadness shining behind your eyes that makes him wanna pull him into you. it feels like a protective instinct he’s used to, caring for the people in his life and not wanting to see them struggle.

“they wouldn’t help me anyway.”

this protective instinct feels a little different in this moment, something else tugging in his chest that he hasn’t felt in a very long time - not until he started seeing you more.

“but it’d be a shame if you didn’t finish, y/n. you got so far and you’ve done so well for yourself.”

you smile a little at the praise, tongue rolling over your lips in a way he certainly doesn’t miss - but this moment isn’t about that. it’s not something he cares even a little bit about right now.

“thank you, mr. park, but i am gonna finish,” you say with finality, the confident and sure tone making a strange sort of pride swell inside of him.

“i just have to save up money and i’ll start in the fall. it’s really not that big of a deal,” you tell him with a smile, taking a few steps back so you don’t feel too crowded by him.

“eunbi’s gonna help me look for jobs when i get back,” you say, a teasing smile pulling at your lips as you look at him. “a big girl job. something real and hard, that’s gonna make me super stressed and agitated.”

so much so that i have to get off at the thought of you.

a deep chuckle bubbles out of him that you match with ease, the two of you sharing small smiles and quiet giggles in the middle of this spotless, white kitchen.

“can’t do what you love quite yet, i guess,” seonghwa says, his eyes roaming your face so slowly and carefully, it makes you a tad bit nervous.

you hadn’t realized how natural and easy this conversation was between you two, like you were talking to someone you’d known your whole life opposed to someone you’ve barely known for four years.

his hand itches to reach up and touch your hair, tuck the soft, silky looking strand behind your ear and watch your cheeks heat up when your skin touches; but instead, he smiles down at you, inching closer until he’s just looming over you and staring down at you with a soft, undetectable look in his eye.

“but it’ll be worth it in the end, i think. it’s just gonna... take some time.”

you lick over our lips, throat and mouth suddenly so incredibly dry, as you nod your head.

“yeah, i think so, too,” you say, your lips smushing together nervously before you open your mouth to speak again - this could be one of the last times you’re alone with him.

“thank you for letting me stay with you guys, mr. park. it’s been... really nice spending time with people for the holidays.”

he feels his heart twinge in his chest again, his eyes falling down to your lips and swearing he’s never wanted to kiss someone so bad in his life.  

“of course, y/n, it’s been a pleasure,” he says, a smile quirking at his lips with a hint of something you just can’t quite make out. “maybe we’ll see each other again soon.”

it was five days before classes started that you got the confirmation e-mail - a message confirming your tuition for the spring semester was paid in full and your current balance was $0.

you had to look over the message for three whole hours making sure you had read the e-mail correctly, even going as far to call the bursar office to make sure they had the correct address.

but they had confirmed with surety that your balance was paid off, urging you to quickly sign up for the classes you need before the day was over.

“okay, you will never believe what interview i was able to score for you,” eunbi says the moment she walks in the apartment, shopping bags up her arm and gucci sunglasses perched atop her head.

“i’ll admit, the vibe was a little off with the coworkers but i think it’d be a great opportunity to-” her eyes catch your laptop screen on the school website, a list of classes and times on your screen that causes her eyes to widen.

“oh?” she squeals, running over and throwing herself down on the couch beside you. “what the heck are you doing? are you... did you...?”

the lie came way too quick and easy to you, excitedly blabbering out that there was a change in the system and your scholarship was approved - “i think they felt bad that i was a graduating senior,” you said, eunbi’s face pulled into the happiest smile you’ve ever seen.

she clapped and danced and bounced around in excitement, proclaiming you guys just had to go out and get drinks to celebrate the fact that your surprise party was back on.

but you could only sit there with your thoughts and suspicions and this overwhelming feeling deep within your stomach that, while eunbi definitely doesn’t know, her father might’ve just paid your college tuition in full.

(part 2)

tag list: @mochibabycakes @atinyarmyx1 @middle-of-a-wonshua-sandwich @baekhvuns @marksflvr @bunbaebae @markleeyeosang @inkigayeo @nlost21 @hyunjeansuniverse @cherryeonii @songsoomin @reeateez @biaswreckingfics @yunhoiseyecandy @sophrosyneeeee @uglychildd @happycandynoelle @seolarjk @liqhtiny @maedesculpaeusoubi @revehosh @svt-mangos @hcwurld @ateezappreciation @sanisms​ @khjssss​ @yixing-jaehyun​ @yeosangs-left-ass-cheek​

couldn’t tag: @ateez-after-dark @arkive78 

[silversatoru]

Ok ok- don’t judge me but get this- College AU, Where Ereh and his friends all go to a nearby maid cafe and turns out his s/o works there, and his s/o is wearing a EXTREMELY short maid outfit and she starts to flirt with Eren’s friends, and basically Eren had enough and dragged his s/o to a bathroom stall, and fucked them calling y/n their little slut, etc. and fucked them so hard they couldn’t work the rest of the day- BYE- 🏃🏻‍♀️ 💨 🚪

maid cafe

a/n: i would never judge you for this???? your mind is incredible and this idea has corrupted my brain for days,, please send more of your wonderful ideas to my inbox. and please let me know what u think bc i truly hope i did u proud

eren yeager x female maid cafe!reader

synopsis: eren and his friends go to a maid cafe and his new girlfriend is their waitress — so he drags her to the bathroom and makes sure she knows who she belongs to

tags/warnings: smut, dom/sub, degrading, mild humiliation, mirror sex, public sex, mentions of drug use

word count: 3.4k

“hey, we should check out that maid cafe downtown. i heard the waitresses are fine,” jean smirked as he proposed the idea, passing a blunt he’d just finished rolling over to eren.

eren graciously accepted the weed, but clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes at jean’s new idea for their friday night. a maid cafe wasn’t particularly up his alley -- he’d just started dating you a few weeks ago and didn’t have any interest in drooling over other women all night. but he was bored and if everyone else wanted to go, he supposed he’d tag along too.

“hell yeah, pretty girls in short skirts sounds good to me,” connie jived, a giddy smile on his face as he blew out some smoke from his own blunt.

“don’t you think that kind of place is a little disrespectful, guys? we shouldn’t view women as-”

“you’re too uptight armin, maybe we can find a nice girl to suck you off and loosen you up a little bit” jean laughed and cut him off as the blonde boy continued to give his immature friends a disapproving look.

“whatever i’m in, just let me finish this first,” eren held up his blunt and took another long drag, “i wont be able to stand you assholes all night if im not high”.

the four of them hung around their shared four-bedroom college apartment a little longer, finishing up their smoke sesh and flinging half-assed insults at one another. the sky was already getting dusky by the time they actually left and were walking through the small, bustling town surrounding their campus. the cafe wasn’t too far, maybe a thirty minute walk, but it was a beautiful spring night and shit, gas is expensive.

armin’s face was horribly flushed when they finally arrived and entered the front door, the poor boy completely unable to even make eye contact with the hostess standing in front of them. his shyness earned him a swift elbow from eren — his way of telling the blonde boy to relax a little bit.

the young hostess spoke to them in a sing-song tone, her hair perfectly curled to frame her face and her cheeks pink with blush. connie and jean completely ate up everything she was doing, gawking at her like a bunch of losers who hadn’t gotten laid in way too long — which is exactly what they were. eren was almost relieved when she finally sat them at a table and walked away, because he couldn’t stand to listen to jeans' horrendous attempt at flirting any longer.

everything on the menu had cute names that matched the theme of the cafe, and while eren and armin browsed the options, connie and jean continued to whisper about the different waitresses and which one they hoped they got.

as for you, it had been a pretty uneventful night, normal customers and nothing too crazy — that was until you walked up to the newest table you were assigned and saw your boyfriend and his friends sitting around the booth. eren and you hadn’t been dating all that long, a few weeks at most, and you hadn’t even met any of these friends yet. anxiety began to pool in your chest, but you tried your best to put on your best voice and greet them like they were any other table — after all, eren was staring so intently at the menu that he hadn't even noticed you yet.

“welcome home, masters! can i get any drinks for you?” you push your voice up to a high octave and make sure to draw out the word masters — it was the opening line that every waitress was required to use by the cafe.

two of the four boys are ogling at you so intensely that they might as well have drool hanging off their desperate lips. a third boy is keeping his eyes fixated on the table as if he doesn’t want to look at you — which is something you’re not quite used to. and eren is staring at you with his mouth gaping open, which he quickly shuts before any of his friends can notice.

he decided to sit back and watch, an amused look on his face as you continue to flaunt your extra-girly facade. he decides that now isn’t a great time for introductions to his bonehead friends — plus he knows you’re nothing like this in real life, so it’s entertaining to watch you act so out of character.

not to mention you look hot as fuck in your skimpy maid outfit — the tight corset-like top hugged your breasts perfectly and your skirt was so short he could practically see the base of your ass cheeks. he could definitely get used to seeing you like this.

but his amusement quickly started to fade as connie and jean shamelessly showered you in compliments and flirted with you like their lives depended on it. and what makes it worse is you’re playing along — he gets that it’s your job but still, can’t you just tell them to shut the fuck up?

he shoots the two idiots across from him a dirty look as soon as you walk away, “hey dumbasses, cut the girl a break”.

“hey man, i didn't hear you call dibs or anything,” connie raised an eyebrow at him.

“yeah dude, we’re just fucking around, chill,” jean added, a light laugh hanging off his last word.

eren couldn’t do anything but roll his eyes in response. he didn’t want to outright expose your relationship yet but he wouldn’t be able sit here and watch this all night either.

his blood was practically boiling when you returned with a tray full of their drinks. connie and jean turned their charms right back on for you, and fuck, if he had to hear you call them “master” one more time he was gonna lose his mind.

“armin get the fuck out of the booth,” he glared at the blonde boy, practically pushing him out of the booth so he could get to you.

armin yet out a small yelp, clambering out of his seat and letting eren climb out after him. the dark haired boy gave you the sweetest smile, but his eyes were lit up like flames.

“hey, mind showing me where the bathrooms are?”

you find yourself frozen in place for just a second, but quickly recover and give him a quick “of course master, follow me!”

the two of you walk to the bathroom in silence, but you can practically feel the heat radiating off of eren.

when you reached the restrooms you opened the door for him and bowed your head, but he grabbed your wrist and yanked you inside behind him, earning a small yelp from you. you noticed him snap the lock down behind him, and before you could even question his motives you were backed into a wall with his lips working roughly against yours.

“so this is what you do all day? walk around with your ass hanging out while calling people master?” he growled in your ear while moving down towards your neck and placing violent kisses along the sensitive skin.

“i- ah- if it bothers you-“ you breath out between gasps, your hands pressed defensively to his chest, “god, you reek of pot, eren”.

“no, it doesn't bother me, i love watching you flirt with other men. but let me remind you who you actually belong to now,” he murmured, voice dripping with sarcasm as he nibbled up to your ear and his hands fondled with the zipper at the back of your uniform.

“eren!” a strangled yelp leapt from your throat as he unzipped you and let your costume fall around your ankles.

for a second you thought about trying to stop him, but his hot lips against your cool skin was starting to win you over. your neck was undoubtedly covered in bruised love marks now, your skin aching in the most beautiful way.

“take it all off,” he mumbled into your ear as he snapped the strap of your bra against your skin.

“we’re in a bathroom eren, i don’t-“ you tried to reason with him, but any inkling of a rational thought was long gone from his mind.

“what’s with all the protests? you had no problem following orders when my friends were the ones giving them,” he cocked an eyebrow at you and lifted his loose shirt over his head in one swift motion.

you could have retorted or made a jab back at him, but your attention was caught up in the perfect lines of eren’s physique. between the sculpted curves of each of his muscles, his dark hair tied in a loose knot at the base of his neck, and the evil smirk across his lips, you were rendered indefensible. everything about eren was so intoxicating, and the idea of letting him have his way with you right now, in this bathroom, was starting to sound less and less like a bad idea. you weren’t sure how long you’d been staring and admiring when his lusty voice filled your ears again.

“did you forget how to use that pretty mouth of yours? i’m sure i can give you a little refresher,” he faked a frown and pointed to the floor with his index finger.

without a shred of reluctance you sunk to his feet. he had you in a state of utter compliance now, and all he had to do was mutter a few arrogant words and take off his shirt — you were almost ashamed, almost.

after a few smooth movements of his fingers against the drawstrings of his sweats, the tip of his member was hanging mere centimeters from your face. you glanced up at him with giant eyes as he stared down at you with his clouded ones. between his raging hunger for your body and the high that was still clouding his mind, there wasn't a single coherent thought in eren’s head other than the way your lips would feel wrapped around his cock.

“open up, princess. if you wanna act like a slut, i’ll treat you like one,” he grabbed the back of your head and forced it forward.

your lips parted without even thinking, and he thrusted his full length down your throat without any warning. you were left coughing and sputtering, the walls of your throat constricting against his cock and sending a few curses from his lips.

he slowed down slightly after that, but kept a steady pace as he mouth-fucked you until tears were leaking down your cheeks. you were gagging and coughing and your face was stained with salty saline but you loved every second of it. his head rolled back as raspy grunts fell from between his teeth, his fist tightening at your scalp.

after he thought you’d finally had enough he pulled back and released your hair from his steel grip. his cock was aching now, coated in a thick layer of your sticky saliva and yearning for more.

“get on the counter,” he ordered, and you scrambled to your feet in a way that was embarrassingly desperate.

you boosted yourself up onto the cool countertop, positioned perfectly between two sinks and leaning back against the mirror. eren placed a firm grip on each of your legs, shoving them open and snickering at the slick patch of fabric between your thighs.

“you like being treated like a whore, don’t you?” he clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth and reached down at your panties before yanking them off in one fell swoop.

he squatted down so his face was level with your cunt, sticking out his tongue and dragging it up to your clit with antagonizing slowness. he moved the warm muscle up and down, sliding it between your folds and in circles around your clit — but his tongue was just barely making contact. and every time you bucked your hips towards him, begging and yearning for just a little more he’d pull his head back and click his tongue at you.

you were aching, leaking, and so incredibly needy for him and he knew it. he’d transformed you into the crumpled mess laying before him in a matter of minutes, and he was very proud of it.

“i’d start begging if i were you, or i’ll leave you here like this — a stupid broken slut with no one to fuck her,” he stood up and cocked his head to the side before beginning to tease your entrance with a single finger.

“ah- eren, please! i’ll do whatever you want,” you whimpered at him, a pitiful look on your face.

“eren? you know you’re not supposed to call customers by their name here,” he shook his head, “you’ll have to do better than that”.

“please- master, use me however you want. just please fuck me already”.

that seemed to suffice for eren, because after that it didn’t take long for him to shealth himself inside you and have your sweaty back slamming into the glass mirror behind you. strangled moans and pitiful whimpers slipped from between your lips, your eyes rolling back into your head in complete bliss. he’d teased and tormented you for so long that the sudden intense stimulation was almost too much.

he fucked himself into you so hard you thought you might break — your legs ached and your back hurt from awkwardly leaning into the mirror. but those feelings were quickly pushed to the back of your head because the overwhelming pleasure was so forceful that you could barely focus on anything else. eren’s length was grinding deep into your aching caverns so good that it was completely clouding your brain.

you let out a stifled gasp when he abruptly pulled out, leaving you feeling empty and aching for more.

“why-,” your voice was so destitute and so, so desperate.

“shut up and stand in front of me,” he commanded, pulling you off the counter and twisting you so you were facing the bathroom mirror.

“look at yourself in the mirror and watch me fuck you,” he practically snarled, placing a palm on your back and pushing your chest down against the counter, “look at how much of a slut you are for me”.

the only response that came out of your mouth was a tiny whine of acceptance — it was pathetic.

a breathy moan fell from your lips as he slid back in, and your cheeks blushed a dark shade of red as you watched yourself get fucked from behind. it was embarrassing, humiliating even, having to see yourself like this, but what made it even worse was that you fucking liked it.

“look at yourself,” he nodded towards the mirror, picking up his pace and tightening his grip on your hips, “just a dumb whore who’s good for nothing but taking orders from other people”.

“only- you!” you let out a strangled yelp.

“what was that? i don’t think i heard you,” he thrusted hard, reaching deeper than he had the entire time and then leaning over your back so his head was positioned right next to yours.

“say it again,” he murmured, burning holes through your eyes with how intensely he was staring at you in the mirror.

“i’m a dumb whore, but only for- you,” you repeated, squirming and whining at the painful pleasure he was forcing into you.

“that’s right,” he flashed you a satisfied grin, standing back up and resuming his original pace.

the sudden shift had you clawing at the smooth countertops — desperately wishing you had a pillow or sheet to grasp onto for some kind of support. you flinched when you felt a couple of his cool fingertips find your clit, immediately rubbing hasty circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“i want you to come for me,” he locked eyes with you in the mirror again, “and i want you to think about how i’m the only one who will ever make you feel this good the entire time”.

his words were harsh but they sounded like honey when they flowed through your pathetically devoted ears. between his consistent thrusts and the pads of his fingers working their magic, you were a pitiful mess of whimpers and moans in a matter of minutes. your body twitching and legs shaking as you mumbled his name over and over — it was the only word your brain could comprehend right now.

seeing you like that nearly pushed eren over the edge himself, but he forced himself to last a little longer, wanting to milk your orgasm for everything that it was. he was genuine when he said no one else would ever make you feel the way he could — your head was spinning and your body was on a high that felt like it would never end.

only once your body finally fell limp and tired, signifying that your climax had ended, did he pull out and spray his seed all over your exposed back. you were a sticky, sweaty mess and your legs didn’t have the strength to stand even after eren was done coming down from his own high.

your face was buried in your arms when you felt a wet paper towel cleaning up the mess of semen off your back. eren tossed the towel into the garbage and wrapped his arms under your torso so he could help your pitiful self stand up. you let out a few pained whimpers, stumbling into his arms and wrapping your hands around his neck.

“that bad, huh? how are you gonna go back out there and work for all your masters? i’m sure they’re waiting,” he smirked at you, and there was no sympathy in his voice.

“i- i don’t think i can,” you whined, clinging to him as your legs continued to shake underneath you.

eren shook his head and clicked his tongue, helping you over to your clothes and assisting you with getting back into your uniform. even after getting dressed your legs refused to work — you were a shaky, stumbling mess. you sat in a pitiful heap against the tiled wall while you watched eren get his own clothes back on.

“i think you might need a new job,” he snickered, squatting down and lifting you onto his back once he was dressed.

you graciously climbed onto his back, arms wrapping around his neck and burying your face into his neck, “yeah, yeah i’ll get a new job”.

“good idea, because everyone’s about to see how pathetic you are as we walk through the cafe,” he wrapped his arms back under your backside to support your weight.

“there’s a back exit right down the hall, please take that one,” you begged, “please”.

“well. since you asked so nicely and did so well i guess you deserve that,” he complied, exiting the bathroom and following your directions to the back door.

but because you have the worst luck in the world, one of the cafe managers came walking right around the corner just as the two of you were about to leave. you buried your head deeper into eren’s neck, unbearable amounts of embarrassment and shame flooding your veins.

“hey man, she quits, sorry!” eren yelled and handled it for you, dashing out the back door before the manager could even comprehend what he’d just seen.

“thank you,” you mumbled into his shirt, and you were truly thankful that you didn’t have to speak for yourself in there.

“no problem, princess,” he adjusted one of his hands so he could squeeze your ass, making you jump against his back, “let’s head back to my house for round two, yeah?”

“r-round two?” you stuttered.

you could barely handle round one, and he was ready to go again? how!?

“i’m joking, relax. let’s go watch a movie or something,” he chuckled, hoisting you higher on his back and beginning your long walk back to his apartment.

you sighed and sunk into his back, that sounded nice. there was a huge difference in how eren acted earlier and how he was acting now, but you were a sucker for both personalities. you expected college to consist of classes and work and maybe a few new friends but meeting eren yeager was sure to make it a lot more interesting.

[hobidreams]

november 1869.

to remember what has been lost; to protect what still remains.

pairing: joseon king!yoongi x reader genre: drama. words: 2.4k contains: descriptions of blood/death, a reckoning.

moonlit throne index. this is drabble 26. start from the beginning?

Before Queen Jeonghui’s tomb, you stand with hands bowed in reverence, mind laden with warm memories as sticks of incense burn above your fingertips.

“We all miss you, daebi-mama. I hope you are resting well,” you murmur, letting the smoke mingle with your breath in the air as you bow, deeply. “Happy birthday.”

A little ways away, the single guard that accompanies you is also offering his thoughts to the raised, grassy mound that the queen lies beneath. You’re glad it’s Myungho to come with you today. He’s a good man, one who allows you as much freedom as possible. He understands your need to escape sometimes. Nearby, the horses you rode here are grazing on the field, quietly snorting as their tails swish from side to side.

As you look upon the tomb, you wonder wistfully if mother has found the queen in the spirit world. If they’re playing the game of janggi they so loved in life, when both could find the rare time to continue their decade-long (friendly) rivalry while indulging in cups of strong, dark tea. The thought brings a smile to your face even as fresh tears fall at the remembrance.

In your peripheral vision, you see a swish of fabric, the sign of someone approaching. You give one last bow and slot your incense in the traditional tray, realizing it must be time to leave before it gets too cold and your limbs begin to freeze even under the layers of clothes. You must go back eventually, you know it, but that doesn’t make it easier.

But when you turn, the man that stands beside you wears royal robes — the scarlet fabric and golden dragons unmistakable.

“Jeonha?”

The king’s face holds only sorrow as he holds matching incense in his hands. Staring straight ahead, he bends into a bow, dipping his head repeatedly low, low, lower until he’s almost on the dying, waterlogged grass with it, the lit grey tips flickering in the wind as they are nearly doused from the force of his movements. He bites his lip hard, so hard he draws blood as he punishes his own legs with the bows but he doesn’t stop.

You watch him with emotion clinging to your throat, but you swallow the questions you want to ask as you swipe at your wet cheeks. Why are you here? Why did you change your mind? How are you? Are you okay? All these impertinent questions are for you, to satisfy your own curiosity, and that’s not what he needs right now.

Quietly, steadily, you wait until he has finally stuck in the incense in the memorial ash. You wait until he opens his eyes, red-rimmed as they are, and finds your gaze.

“I… decided at the last moment,” he murmurs. “You… were right. I had to see her.”

You nod. Think you understand everything else he means as well, even if he’s left it unspoken. “Me too.”

“She would have liked that you’re here.”

That simple sentence threatens another wave of nostalgia and longing. You let it pull you under. Sink yourself into it. The mourning, the grief. And the love. The love that was there. The love that still remains, the traces of it held in you both. Your fingers twitch with a sudden, daring want to take his hand. To meet your palms and find the warmth and the life pulse that beats so closely, so resolutely just beneath the surface despite all this pain and all this loss. If you could just reach out. If you could just take another risk…

“Jeonha, run!”

The scream comes from the hill behind you. You both whirl.

The head of the royal guard comes running over with his sword drawn. His teeth are grit, hair blown from the wind that sweeps through the grass, rippling. His blade is already stained with a color that makes your stomach lurch at the implication.

“Hoseok— What’s going on?” The king yells back.

“Rebels! An ambush. We don’t have enough men!”

These few seconds are all the warning you get.

An incredible roar of voices comes exploding up and then you see them. The thick crowd of men that come surging over the hill, fighting their way towards you. The unforgettable clatter of metal on metal desecrates this once-sacred ground. Your legs go soft as you panic, scrambling. You’re trying not to watch as guards and rebels alike are cut down, but the enemies are steadily advancing still. What should you do? Where should you go?

“Myungho, get the horses!” The king barks out. But one look at the steeds tells you that they’re frightened, rearing back as men descend upon them. They’re off, running away on instinct to preserve their own lives while damning yours.

“Jeonha, what are your orders?” Myungho’s grip on his weapon is tight.

“Go. Help Hoseok.”

“Yes, jeonha!”

But as the battle wears on, the dread in you only grows. The king’s men are skilled, but it seems there were only a few to begin with. They are overwhelmed by sheer numbers, yelling for jeonha to escape but he doesn’t move. You don’t know what to do. You are at a complete loss, standing beside him with fingers growing steadily numb. You have to do something. You— You can’t just let it end here, at the hands of these men bellowing with violence and anger and pain.

“Jeonha, w-we have to run,” you stutter, forcing yourself to move, tugging at the fabric of his robes. But when you look back at the opposite side, your only escape route, a throng of rebels come scattering across the grass. Cutting you off; rendering you helpless.

“Myungho, cover the rear!” Hoseok spits out as he takes down another three by himself, the quick whip of his blade reflecting a beam of sun. But even he, with two other guards in front, cannot hold all of them off, though there are less of the rebels now that remain standing.

Caught in the middle, you can only watch your allies strain and sweat. In your heart, you promise desperately that you heal them in the end, if only they will hold on now.

With an awful cry, one of the guards hits the ground and a rebel uses that chance. Breaks through the line of defense and charges right towards you both.

“Fuck the king!” He yells, his face smeared with dirt, his sword raised as his bare feet trip upon the grass but he just keeps coming somehow and you have no weapons and you have no shields but the very first instinct, the most primal one you have is to throw yourself in front of the king and take his pain for him and—

Hoseok dispatches the rebel from behind just as you move a single step forward.

“You…” The king’s voice is hoarse. His eyes are wide with shock as he stares at you, at what you just did. Then he’s shoving you aside and stooping to pick up the abandoned sword from the ground.

You realize what he means when he sweeps up his sleeves, adjusts his grip on the worn handle. “Wait, no, jeonha, you cannot—”

“Stay behind me.”

“I cannot allow you to—”

“Do not argue with me.”

Again, he leaves you with no choice but to watch his back.

Fear pounds away in your body like a thousand drums, thunder booming through the pulse of your clenched heart in your ears as the king takes a first brutal swing at an enemy. Somewhat out of practice against the towering man, he’s shoved back by the sheer force of the clash, feet skidding across the wet grass but he refuses to yield. Stubborn as he always is, he rushes in again only to be pushed back. Again.

The king tilts his blade, slices it quick only to have one sent right back at him, barely missing his shoulder by an inch. He doesn’t even flinch as he stands firm. Adapts in the moment and tries a new strategy, a new tactic that has him spinning, robes fluttering in the winter air as his shuddering breath comes out in a puff of white and ends in a fury of red. And again. And again until finally, finally, only the strongest of the rebels remain standing with the few allies you left, along with your brutal, bloodied king.

Before you, all the men are panting, open mouthed, every last one of them desperate for a victory that spells the doom of the other.

“Come on then,” the king goads, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand in a show of nonchalance even though he’s obviously fatigued. “Attack.”

“You little shit!”

This man is enormous, easily a head above the king and he’s strong, muscles bulging from his torn tunic as he thrusts the sword ahead with surprising speed. The quick rush of air slices through two layers of robes, splitting the dirtied fabric open as the king narrowly escapes without a new scar. But his return stab doesn’t meet a mark and he’s slow on the rebound, steps lost some of the agility he had at the start.

Please. Please, you beg to whatever god may be listening, don’t let him die. But that rebel seems to have an endless strength as he forces the king back, meets him blow for blow for blow and you are so worried, terrified you’re going to see his last moments like this. Like this you will have been with him until the end just like you once stupidly wished. You’re so caught up you don’t realize what’s going on behind you.

“Su-uinyeo-nim! Watch out!” Myungho’s voice cracks as he cries your name, but you turn too slow. Myungho’s on the ground and the rebel that beat him is sprinting towards you, savagery in his scowl, his crude axe already suspended in mid-swing, just a few more steps, just one more shove to land right across your heart and you, you who has never held a weapon before in her life, you who has lived to heal and mend instead of hurt, what can you do right now but die?

“No!”

The scream is hoarse, a furious sound matched with a rush of robes that whip past your own.

You peel open your eyes in time to watch the king take the axe blow meant for you with his left arm. Despite his bark of pain, he swings with his right in exchange and it’s enough. The rebel falls, his axe plummeting uselessly beside him. Then the king falters too, sword clattering down as he finally drops to his knees.

“Jeonha!” You scramble to him. “Oh god, oh god, jeonha, why did you do that— Jeonha, how could you do such a thing? Jeonha!” You part the stained robes, stomach churning at the raw sight of his sacrifice. “We need to fetch you help. You need medicine, oh god, oh god.” This is panic like you’ve never felt it before as you look around, as if some miracle could occur, as if it hasn’t already occurred by the fact that you’re both still alive.

To one side, Hoseok is alone, gasping hard with the enormous rebel lying prone beside him, evidently having finished him off. Myungho has a gash running down his side, but he’s crawling towards you both still with a hand pressed to his wound for pressure. There is no one else. You have to do this on your own. You have to calm the hell down.

Using the nearby sword, you force yourself to focus and stop shaking as you cut strips of the inner layer of your skirt. You have to save his arm even as nausea swims in your mind, nerves making you want to empty your stomach.

“Hah...” The king’s chest lurches as he struggles for air. His eyes are hazy but he manages to fix them on you, as if to ground himself. “You’re… safe?”

Nodding frantically, you start to wrap the cloth around him, willing your fingers not to slip. “I-It’s deep, jeonha. Your wound is so deep.” You’re quietly sobbing as you tie the makeshift bandage to stop the worst of the bleeding. How could he be thinking of you at a time like this? It must hurt excruciatingly so, yet he is still trying to be strong.

Beside you, Hoseok is carrying Myungho’s weight, using the extra cloth to help his ally with his limited medical training.

“…Hoseok.” The king sucks in another long breath. “They… Those rebels were peasants, weren’t they?”

“Yes, jeonha… I think they were.”

He accepts this knowledge silently as you finish your preliminary treatment, but lack the resources to do anything else. You stare at the fresh red seeping through the flimsy cloth and hope desperately that it will be enough for now, until one of you can return to the palace and gather reinforcements to take you home. Feeling your fingers stop, he immediately tries to move his arm but winces, bites his lip at the sudden jolt.

“Don’t move, please,” you instantly say.

The king huffs a long, exhausted sigh as he sinks into the ground. Lets the tension seep out of him, though likely not by choice. His dark eyes flicker to the tomb briefly before they slide closed, the scar ever slashed startlingly crimson across the right side. Despite his best attempts, he is still winded, depleted. Human, after all. After all of this.

You brush matted strands of light hair away from his forehead, and pat at the drops of sweat that linger and prove how hard he pushed himself to fight. He shifts into your touch like a stray animal, allowing you take care of him for once without argument until his breaths even some, settling only in your arms.

“It seems it’s been a long time,” he says softly after a moment, his eyes remaining shut.

“Since?”

“Since I’ve protected someone.”

Your pulse catches. Blood thrums through you as you whisper, “but you did.” Your voice is viscous with relief, and gratitude. “You did.”

Only now do you dare to reach for his hand, to lend him some of your strength, even though you have seen again just how much of it he already holds in himself.

Wrapped in your warmth, he squeezes back just the once. Lets you know he is here, he is here, he is here with you still.

a/n: because i could never forget the way he wielded that sword in the mv. so... how you feel about our king now?

[julek]

for love, for love, for love

for @writinglizards <3 love you, i hope you enjoy the filth. | READ ON AO3

rated E | 2.8K | warnings: A/B/O, intersex omegas, knotting

The sun was shining, birds were singing, and Jaskier was in love.

After years and years and some more years of pining and moping around miserably, Jaskier had finally gathered up the courage (and the liquor) to look into soft vanilla-eyes and utter the most important three words that had ever crossed his mind. And he’d watched as Geralt’s eyes had softened, melting into amber, and crinkled around the corners; felt the way his scent had gone sweet and the faint smell of lust had begun to fill his senses.

And they’d fallen into bed — after a murmured yes, I do too, and a sigh of relief, and sweet nothings whispered between long-coming kisses. And Jaskier had found himself pressed flat against the rickety inn bed as Geralt’s breaths came hot and heavy against his throat, their hips pressed together. They’d come just like that — legs entwined and sweaty kisses being pressed into each other’s skin.

Jaskier had expected Witchers to be different — Geralt had offhandedly mentioned some of the changes they’d had to go through in their adolescence, the way their skin stretched and their muscles tore apart just to be rebuilt anew. He was the only omega in his pack, he’d told him, and had therefore been trained harder, pushed into new limits just to be assured he would stand his ground in a fight. What a load of shit, Jaskier had thought, the image of a brown-haired Geralt chained to a bed, crying out in pain making his hackles rise.

“I want you to knot me,” Geralt had murmured against his chest, unprompted, that first night. Jaskier groaned.

“You— that— you can’t just say that to me, Geralt,” he’d huffed, frowning at Geralt’s self-satisfied smirk. “You’ve basically rendered me useless for the months to come, dear.”

Geralt shrugged. “I want you to,” he said simply. “I wanted you to, tonight.”

“Oh?” Jaskier made an inhuman effort to sit up straighter, propped against the wall with two-hundred pounds of satisfied Witcher on top of him. “I didn’t— I would never assume.”

Geralt pressed a kiss to the hollow of his throat, burrowing closer into Jaskier’s warmth. “I know,” he murmured. Then, he took a deep breath. “It’s harder, for us,” he said. “To be… prepared.” He looked up at Jaskier. “Here,” he said, and took Jaskier’s hand, guiding it down to his crotch. Jaskier’s breath hitched as his fingers gently brushed against Geralt’s folds, but a tiny frown appeared on his brow when, instead of hot wetness, he was met with dry skin.

He looked at Geralt. “But did you—”

“I did,” Geralt reassured him. He closed his eyes. “Witchers— I can’t produce much slick. No matter how much I want to.”

“Oh,” Jaskier said, his voice small.

Geralt took Jaskier’s hand back, began playing with his fingers. “I’m— I can’t carry. The Trials took that away, and they thought… they thought I wouldn’t be tempted to try, either, if it was harder for me to…” He trails off, gesturing at their bodies. “I’m broken. I’m sorry.”

Jaskier took him into his arms and hugged him tightly to his chest, his nose pressed against the crook of his neck, and felt Geralt’s shoulders release some of the tension they were holding. “I love you,” he murmured. “You. You’re not broken.” He kissed the top of his head. “I want you to feel good. To enjoy yourself.” He pulled back, meeting Geralt’s eyes. “You make me feel—” He spluttered, at a loss for eloquency, and it made Geralt laugh. “I don’t even have words for it. You make me feel incredible, love, and I only want the same for you.”

Geralt leaned his forehead against Jaskier’s. “Thank you,” he said, his voice small. “I do want your knot, though.”

Jaskier laughed, his thumb rubbing Geralt’s hip soothingly. “And I’d love to give it to you, any time, no questions asked,” he replied. “Is there something we could do?”

Geralt leaned back, sitting on Jaskier’s lap. They were touching everywhere, and Jaskier couldn’t get enough of it. “Oil could work. Takes too much time, though, and it— it doesn’t feel good.” He frowned. “We could… when my heat comes,” he said, awkwardly. “No way of telling when that would be, though.”

The sole mention of sharing Geralt’s heat made Jaskier’s Alpha preen. “You’d like that?”

Geralt nodded. “I would.” His shoulders slumped slightly. “I’m sorry it’s all I can offer you, Jask.”

Jaskier shook his head, his hands coming up to rest on either side of Geralt’s head. “You are enough,” he said. “All of you, always. Believe me” —he rocked his half-hard cock against Geralt’s thigh— “you will never leave me wanting. I want you because I love you, not because I want to fuck you.” Geralt smiled. “Which I do want to do, because you drive me insane— but I’d happily be by your side if all you ever wanted to do was kiss,” he said, and pressed a sweet kiss to Geralt’s lips to emphasize his point. “Because I love you.”

There was a faint blush on Geralt’s cheeks, and he smirked. “You’ve said.”

“And I hope you know I’ll never stop,” Jaskier replied, grinning. “I love you, I love you, I lo—”

Geralt had shut him up with a kiss of his own.

Seasons had passed, flowers had bloomed and empires had fallen, and they’d gotten creative. Geralt was insatiable, Jaskier had learned, and he’d discovered countless ways to make him come — on his fingers, on his mouth, rutting against his half-blown knot. Their scents were intermingled, now, sweet jasmine and olives entangled with leather and fresh bread.

“My heat is near,” Geralt whispered to him one night, pressed against his body as they were laying on their bedrolls.

“Yeah?” Jaskier replied, willing the thumping of his heart to slow down, even if Geralt would be able to tell anyway. “How near?”

Geralt rolled around to face him. “A week.”

Smiling softly, Jaskier pressed him closer, wrapping his arms around him and dropping a kiss on his temple. Tentatively, Geralt purred against him. “A week.”

As the days passed, Jaskier could feel Geralt grow more and more restless, pacing around their camp on nights when he had nothing else to do and kicking and thrashing in his sleep. His scent was changing, too, turning sweeter and heavier, making Jaskier dizzy whenever he caught a whiff of it.

He secured an inn room for them, his hard-earned coin going into the sticky hands of the innkeeper. Geralt had protested — had argued he could spend his heat in the forest, for crying out loud, but he’d taken one look at Jaskier and realized there would be no bargaining.

He hadn’t let Jaskier help with the nest, though. In fact, he’d made him leave the room — just outside, though, as he couldn’t stand it if Jaskier wandered too far — and had looked very sheepish as Jaskier had walked in again, his eyes falling on his arrangement. Jaskier had refrained from calling it adorable and shedding a tear or two, only because Geralt’s heat was hours away and he could not get his hands off him.

“I need you,” Geralt whined, already scrambling to get Jaskier’s clothes off. “Now.”

Not one to argue, Jaskier hurried to remove his doublet and chemise as Geralt hungrily tore at the knots on his trousers. Their mouths clashed against each other, hot and wet, as Geralt kissed him fiercely, Jaskier giving as good as he got. He got a hold of Geralt’s undershirt and took it off, tossing it on the floor, and his pants followed. He pulled back, and took a moment.

“What?” Geralt said, and Jaskier’s Alpha roared at the sight of him — fully nude and covered in a light sheen of sweat, the sunlight pouring from the closed window enveloping him in warmth, his flushed cheeks and tousled hair the picture of his dreams, his hard cocklet jutting against the cut of his abdomen, an inviting sight.

“Look at you,” Jaskier rumbled, his hands coming down to frame Geralt’s waist. Geralt let out a pitiful whine, embarrassed. “No, no— how could you be ashamed, when you look this beautiful.” He nosed at his throat, breathing in the sweet, ripe scent of him. “I want to eat you up.”

“Please.” Geralt pressed himself against Jaskier’s body, his cocklet rocking against Jaskier’s half-hard cock. “Please, Alpha.”

Any thread of sanity Jaskier had been holding onto snapped as he growled low in his throat in response, mouthing at Geralt’s shoulder, feeling the shudder that ran down his spine. “Geralt.”

“Yes, please, yes, Jaskier,” he panted. “Please.”

Pressing a tender kiss to his mouth, Jaskier led him to the bed. They fell against the soft, worn blankets, Geralt’s back pressed against them as his thighs winded around Jaskier’s waist.

“So eager,” he teased, but rocked down against Geralt. He pressed kisses to his mouth, his cheeks, his throat, any part of him he could reach as his fingers travelled down Geralt’s chest, down, down, down until he brushed against his cocklet, making him moan. “There you go,” he said, jerking him between his fingers. “Good boy.”

Geralt gasped at the praise, falling back against the mattress, boneless, as Jaskier pressed open-mouthed kisses down his body, following the invisible line his finger had drawn just a moment ago. “Such a good boy for me,” he murmured, reveling in the needy mewl it pulled out of his Witcher. “So beautiful.”

“Jask—” whatever Geralt wanted to say died in his throat as Jaskier licked a stripe up his cunt and his words dissolved into a punched-out moan. “F-fuck, Jask.”

Jaskier hummed against him, his tongue lapping gently against Geralt’s folds, the taste of his slick inundating his senses. He wasn’t dripping, not yet, but as Jaskier pressed his finger against Geralt’s opening, he could feel its warmth as it clenched around nothing. “So wet for me,” he panted, pressing a kiss to the curls just above his cocklet. “Such a pretty omega.”

“Jask,” Geralt moaned, his hand coming down to rest on Jaskier’s head as he continued lapping at his cunt, the filthy sounds of Geralt’s moans and his slick going straight to his cock where it hung heavy between his legs, neglected. Gently, Jaskier pushed his tongue against Geralt’s entrance, fucking him with shallow thrusts in a rhythm he knew drove Geralt crazy, delighted in the barely-there resistance he found as he pushed his tongue inside.

“I’m— Jask,” Geralt panted, his grip tight on Jaskier’s hair, “I’m gonna—”

Jaskier hummed against him, and that drove him over the edge. Geralt’s thighs pressed hard against Jaskier’s head, locking him in, his cunt clenching around nothing as his hips rocked forward against Jaskier’s tongue, little ah, ah, ah sounds being pulled out of him.

“So good,” Jaskier purred, his fingers rubbing soothing circles on Geralt’s thighs as his breaths evened out. Jaskier had always teased him for how useless he was rendered once he’d come, but the scent of his heat was thick and heavy around them, and he could see in Geralt’s eyes that he wouldn’t be sleeping any time soon. Good, his Alpha rumbled, let’s keep our pretty mate awake.

Jaskier shook his head, willing his possessive Alpha away. Geralt wasn’t his — as much as he’d wanted to — and he wasn’t going to be yet another knotheaded alpha who couldn’t keep his teeth to himself.

“Hey,” Geralt said softly, bringing him out of his reverie. He was looking at him with tenderness in his eyes. “C’mere.”

Jaskier went happily, his mouth finding Geralt’s in a slow, deep kiss. He swallowed Geralt’s moan as he tasted himself in his mouth, his fingers brushing lightly against Geralt’s soft stomach.

He grinned when he felt Geralt whine.

“Desperate already?”

In response, Geralt flipped them around, positioning himself above Jaskier as he ground down against him. His cocklet was rock-hard again, brushing against Jaskier’s leaking cock, making him moan.

“You feel so good, pup,” he managed, his hands resting on Geralt’s hips, not guiding, simply holding. “So— fuck, so perfect.”

Geralt bent down to kiss him, filthy and hard, and suddenly the movement stopped. Jaskier was about to complain when Geralt lifted himself up a bit, and Jaskier felt his dripping cunt grind against the base of his cock.

“Fuck, Geralt— fuck.” The pressure on his aching knot made his eyes roll back in his head with pleasure, and fuck— Geralt’s cunt was wet and soft against him as he moved up and down. They both moaned as, on a well-aimed thrust, the head of Jaskier’s cock caught on Geralt’s opening.

“Jaskier,” his Witcher panted, and there was a needy edge to his voice, “please.”

“What do you want?” Jaskier asked, out of breath himself, his hands running up and down Geralt’s sides as he rocked his length against Geralt.

Geralt whined. “You.”

“You’ll need— ah— to be more specific, dear.”

“I want— fuck,” Geralt shuddered. “I need your knot.”

Jaskier was a mere mortal, after all. In a swift movement, he pressed two of his fingers to Geralt’s sopping cunt, rubbing his entrance just to get him used to the feeling. He was used to it — had come on Jaskier’s fingers rubbing against him more than once — but Jaskier needed to be sure.

“C’mon, I’m good, please.” Jaskier pressed his fingers inside, punching out a groan out of his Witcher, who rocked down on his fingers as deep as he could go. “More,” he pleaded, and Jaskier could do nothing more than comply.

With three fingers deep inside of him, Geralt deemed himself ready. “Now, Jaskier, please.”

Jaskier used his slicked-up hand to smooth over his cock, and Geralt whined at the loss, chanting feverishly, “Please Alpha, please, I need your knot, want it so bad, I need—”

“Geralt,” Jaskier said, reaching for a kiss. Geralt melted against him, and Jaskier positioned him over his swollen cock. “Ready?”

Geralt clawed at his back. “Yes, yes, please—”

In one smooth motion, Jaskier entered him. It felt heavenly, the wet warmth enveloping him and swallowing him whole, the feeling of Geralt’s body against him, sweaty and wound-up and perfect, his needy mewls coming out of his chest unbidden. He reveled in it.

But then, Geralt started to move, and whatever ode Jaskier had been composing in his head flew out of the window, because this— this made Jaskier sob, for there was nothing like it.

Jaskier leaned back against the blankets and watched, enraptured, as Geralt bounced up and down on his cock, and it was filthy — the way his hair was messy and disheveled, his cheeks dark red and his eyes shut with pleasure — but it was also oh so tender, watching him chase his release with abandon.

“Fuck, Jask,” Geralt moaned, his hands on Jaskier’s chest as he picked up speed, Jaskier’s swollen knot catching on his entrance. Slick was dripping down his thighs. “Feel so good.”

Jaskier groaned, his orgasm building up inside him. “Geralt, dear— fucking Melitele— fuck, I’m not going to last.”

“Good,” Geralt purred, his pace never faltering. “Give me your knot, Alpha.”

And oh, how Jaskier wanted to. Still, “Are you sure?”

Geralt slowed down the slightest bit, and pressed a soft kiss to Jaskier’s lips. “I’m sure,” he said. “I love you.”

Jaskier pushed his knot inside as he came with a groan. All he could think of was Geralt, Geralt, Geralt, as he felt him clench down on his knot, milking him. “Fuck, Geralt—”

“Yes, yes, good Alpha,” Geralt chanted, reaching down between his legs and rubbing his leaking cocklet. “Jaskier—”

He kept coming, pumping Geralt full of it, and the thought made him shudder. “My sweet omega, so beautiful, so good to me—”

Geralt came with a cry, his hips stuttering and pushing Jaskier’s knot deeper inside him. It dragged a moan out of Jaskier, feeling the tie tug against him, and Geralt collapsed on top of him.

Gently, and with as much care as he could manage, Jaskier arranged them on their sides. They moaned as the movement tugged on Jaskier’s knot, and Jaskier pressed a kiss to Geralt’s temple, his arms wrapped around him.

“Geralt,” he whispered.

“Mmm.”

Jaskier laughed, dazed. “Love.”

“Mmmmmmm.”

Ah, useless after coming. “How do you feel?”

Geralt pressed back against him, clenching weakly around him. “Good,” he rasped. “So good.”

Jaskier hummed behind him, pressing soft kisses on his shoulder, his neck, his cheek. “I’m glad.”

Geralt turned his head, reaching for a kiss. Jaskier gave it to him. “I love you,” he whispered against his lips, and Jaskier felt his heart leap in his chest.

“I love you too,” he answered.

Geralt watched him through half-lidded eyes. It made Jaskier laugh. “Go to sleep, old man.”

Geralt frowned at him, then clenched hard, making Jaskier gasp.

“You—” Jaskier hissed, “are lucky you’re pretty.”

Geralt closed his eyes, smug, and nestled himself against Jaskier, kneading at the blankets.

“Sleep,” Jaskier murmured. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Geralt’s scent spiked with lust. “Gather your strength,” he mumbled sleepily. “You’ll need it.”

[lattechans]

𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: seeing two guys at the same time isn't so bad when there's no strings attached, until it turns out the two are actually best friends. however, as they are both sweet, there is still a smugness to them both that might just be your doom.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: nonidol!changbin x female reader x nonidol! wooyoung (ateez)

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: smut

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: pet names, oral (f and m receiving), praising/lots of dirty talk and a lot of build up

𝐚/𝐧: better late than never, right? so sorry this took so long to post, my life got in the way of writing and all that but excited to finally hear what you guys think about this duo that's just full of trouble

₁₈₊

“as promised, i’ll be making you my specialty pasta for dinner tonight,” changbin told you whilst guiding you to sit on the couch at his place. you had been seeing changbin for a about a month now and truly enjoyed every aspect of his company – he was incredibly funny and caring and you two always had something to discuss about.

it didn’t hurt that he was an incredibly good lover too, treating you just right. and yet, you were seeing someone else on the side. not because changbin wasn’t enough, he truly was. but you had made it very clear you wanted nothing serious out of the relationship, thus you had agreed on a quite open relationship for now.

“y/n,” changbin snapped you out of your thoughts and sat next to you, hand inching closer to yours. you looked at him with a bright smile, happy that you got to spend time with him again. “this might come as a big surprise to you, so please don’t freak out okay,” changbin explained. your expression switched to one of confusion when he took your hand in his and carefully rubbed circles on your skin. was there something he hadn’t told you? was he secretly married?

“yeah?” you questioned under your breath, trying not to overthink the situation yet. “so i had a chat with one of my best friends and i told him about my dates with you, about how adorable and smart you are and...you know, other things,” his voice nearly silent by the end, however, his expression giving away how the thoughts of your naked figure beneath him truly made him feel.

you let out a laugh, thinking this was all he had to say; reassuring changbin that of course he got to talk about you, even your sex life with his friends. it was completely normal.

“well, the funny part about this is that my friend, wooyoung, found a lot of the things that i described to be very familiar.”

as soon as the name left changbin’s lips, you froze. you had started seeing wooyoung about a week after you had met changbin. wooyoung had grabbed your attention at a bar and to your luck, he had made the first move and asked you out the next day. things hadn’t really escalated between you and wooyoung yet as you were very much still getting to know each other but all you knew was that his kisses left you breathless and now in hindsight, he was very similar to changbin.

“oh, i–”

“so yeah, we made a short investigation into this and what we found out was that the two of you actually do know each other. and with nothing but good intentions, i invited him over tonight so that we could have dinner all together,” changbin explained, fingers still drawing calming circles on the back your hand. however, you couldn’t help but to notice the smirk appearing on his lips when a knock was heard from the door.

with that, changbin rushed to go open the door to his best friend and you were left squirming on the couch, suddenly conscious about how you looked – tugging your dress further down your legs, trying to combat the dull ache between your legs. why was this exciting you?

you heard the friends talk for a bit by the door, casually chatting as if wooyoung wasn’t invited over because of you.

“hey sweetheart, nice to see you again,” wooyoung chatted you up as he walked into the living room, quickly signaling that it’s okay that you were sitting down before you could get up from your seat on the couch. changbin slowly followed behind him like a shadow, but nevertheless, you couldn’t help but to divert your gaze between the two of them. both of them so different but inconceivable attractive, and buff.

“hi wooyoung, glad you’re here,” you greeted him with a smile, trying to hide your somewhat flustered state.

“she’s so flustered already, did you tell her?”

“oh about the thing? no i didn’t yet. you came over sooner than anticipated,” changbin explained to wooyoung, which undoubtedly peaked your curiosity even more. was this going where you thought it would?

changbin took a few strides to be able to sit by your side, hands finding their way to yours again. his touch still warm and comforting but a mischievous glimpse behind his dark eyes. “so, the thing is that we both really like you, so we figured that–”

“that it’d be fun to hang out, the three of us and, just have a good time together,” wooyoung interrupted and inched closer to the couch. you unconsciously licked your lips, the dull ache between your legs now almost pulsating. but you didn’t want to get your hopes up just yet.

“i was getting to that wooyoung,” changbin sighed and glared at wooyoung, who in turn just snickered. you knew wooyoung could be a tease but seeing he was exactly the same even with changbin, turned you on more than he would know.

changbin looked back at you, eyes scanning your features for a reaction, expecting you to not be as excited as you turned out to be.

“there’s no pressure of course. we’re both fine with this thing and–”

you didn’t want to interrupt but you really didn’t want whatever relationship you had with the two of them to be called ‘a thing’ anymore.

“can we not call it that?”

"what?" changbin asked, brows slightly furrowed in confusion. god, he looked attractive was all you could think about before you stuttered a vague answer.

"whatever this is..." you were signaling to the three of you with your hands, trying to get them to understand what you meant without saying the words.

“oh, would you prefer us to call it a threesome then?” wooyoung said without hesitation, and to no one's surprise, with a smirk now plastered on his lips. a devilish one at that.

and as much as that word should’ve shocked you, all it did was confirm that you were all on the same page about what was happening. so, you nodded and uttered a confirmation.

“that’s right sweetie, no strings attached...just pure fun,” changbin murmured and raised your hand to his lips, pressing a sweet kiss on your skin. it felt like his lips left flames after them, feeling incredibly warm in your clothing.

“such a good girl,” changbin whispered against your skin before connecting his lips to yours, his lips taking your breath away. you leaned into the kiss without holding back, your hands tangling in his hair as soon as they could, eliciting a soft giggle from changbin. both of your hearts doing cartwheels.

“let me see that beautiful body of yours,” wooyoung says as he kneels down on the floor in front of you, pushing the hem of your dress up to uncover you. after that, he let his hands keep rising up until he landed on your breasts, roughly massaging them in his hand.

“no bra? fuck,” wooyoung whispered under his breath, admiring the way your body moved in slow, passionate waves as your lips were attached to changbin’s.

"i want to taste you," wooyoung almost pleaded, hands trailing back down from your breasts to your thighs. spreading them open slowly, eliciting a soft gasp from you that interrupted your kiss with changbin.

"want to get on your hands and knees?" changbin asked, although it was more of a rhetorical question – you understood it as an order to be obeyed.

...

after positioning yourself on the couch, wooyoung climbed behind you, rubbing comforting circles on your hips.

“such a good girl, now, spread your legs a little wider for m– oh wow, you are so fucking sexy, baby,” wooyoung was basically drooling behind you. his words turning you on beyond your imagination.

changbin in turn, settled to kneeling in front of you, able to hold eye contact with you and presumably, help with the growing erection visible through his pants.

wooyoung eventually tugged you closer to him, his warm breath so close to where you needed him causing your body to tense up to which he sends you a sweet smile that you only catch a glimpse of before changbin’s cock prods your lips, turning your attention back to him. and with that, wooyoung licked a stripe down from your ass to your clit.

although the suddenness of wooyoung eating you out from behind nearly makes you lose your balance, changbin is quick to help you out.

“you can hold on to me,” he ensures. you nod and slide your hands to rest on changbin’s thighs, gripping on them to stabilize yourself before his cock.

the moans that you are unable to keep at bay sound like music to both of their ears and encourage wooyoung to go harder. he might have started off slowly, but is now ruthless and eats you out as if you were his last meal. his lips latch onto your clit, alternating between sucking and pressing his tongue flat. he groans and smacks excessively, sending vibrations straight to your core and rendering you speechless. wooyoung takes and takes and takes, finally pulling you even closer to him, silently instructing you to ride his face.

you don’t know if your brain received the message, but your body surely did. although your knees were giving out on you and you were at the verge of collapsing, his tongue had you entering all stages of heaven and hell at once and you kept chasing for more.

“babe, look at me.”

you pick up changbin’s command and look up at him. your hips stuttering once you met his eyes, half-lidded and blown with lust. he’s staring at you as if he was about to devour you, burning the very image of you in his mind.

“i think it’s time for us to give that pretty mouth of yours something to do, huh?”

you drew your tongue out as changbin slowly slid his length into your mouth, lewd groans leaving his lips as you took him in as deep as you could. you built up a pace he was pleased with, sucking on him with fervour, moans threatening to spill past your lips even with your mouth full. but you knew changbin liked it messy, so you were not afraid of letting saliva drip down your jaw onto the sofa, trying to slurp it up.

it didn’t take long before changbin was as much of a mewling mess as you were, choking on his spit as you continued to swallow around him, throat wet and tight.

behind you, wooyoung is nearly growling, telling you to be good and suck changbin, and you moan around the cock in your mouth at the filthy words he’s spitting right into you.

“gonna take him down your throat? let him fuck you? will you let him pound into your throat till you can’t even talk?”

you shudder as wooyoung presses his lips on the small of your back, hand coming to contact with your ass as a light spank. you can tell by the tilt in his voice that he’s smiling, and it sends embarrassment surging through you, and arousal. being sandwiched between these two beautiful men while you suck one of them off and the other one whispers filth against your skin, fingers dancing on your ass like a dream come true.

your pace quickens on changbin, your own high not too far away as wooyoung kept his attention on your clit, sucking on you with new hunger.

changbin’s hands tangle themselves in your hair, pulling softly on the strands as he loses himself in the rhythm; wooyoung slightly rocking you forward and making your mouth meet perfectly with changbin’s thrusts.

“fuuck, don’t stop,” he pleads, “i’m so close” and his head falls back, eyes squeezed shut. changbin’s skin is hot to the touch, and you notice the way his abs clench and his hard length throbs in your mouth. his lips are plump and pink from biting down on them to quiet himself, but it’s no use. the way your mouth so enthusiastically swallows around him has him falling face-first towards a climax.

his hips stutter and his thighs shake slightly under your touch, waves of pleasure rocking through his body as he finally releases thick white ropes of cum on your tongue. your mouth, tongue, and hands continue to work him, cum and saliva dripping down the side of his length as you suck him thoroughly, moaning around his tip for good measure. the sensation of it all almost overwhelming him now.

“i think it’s your turn darling,” changbin teased as he held your jaw, his cock falling from your mouth with a quiet pop, a moan leaving your lips directly as wooyoung hit an incredibly sweet spot with his tongue.

wooyoung just moans in response, clutching onto your hips as changbin toys his fingers now on your lips, admiring the way that there was still remnants of him around your lips.

“keep your eyes on me as you cum,” changbin hisses, chewing on his bottom lip as he watches the scene unfold. he swears he could’ve ascended to heaven right there and then as you struggle to maintain eye contact with him; struggle to keep your eyes open as you begin unraveling on wooyoung’s tongue.

your mouth opens for a silent scream, their names leaving your lips as gasps for air. you come back to soft praises, gentle hands wiping at your forehead, patting your shoulders, nimble fingers fixing your hair away from your eyes.

as wooyoung and changbin both look at you, the former rubbing softly at your wrist while the later stares at your teary eyes in quiet wonder, you allow yourself to smile at them.

“that was amazing.”

“glad you had as much fun as we did,” wooyoung murmured, wiping the sides of your mouth with a warm washcloth. you would have usually protested such treatment but you couldn’t lie – the sides of your mouth hurt from changbin’s girth and the soothing rubs on your thighs made the burning between them feel less uncomfortable.

after what felt like forever, changbin gently leaned to give you a tender kiss, letting himself sink down beside you on the couch. your thank yous were slurred, but he just shushed you and placed another kiss on your forehead.

“wooyoung c’mere,” you giggled when you realized that he had simply sat on the armrest of the couch, further away from you two. he took a quick look at changbin, and although you were unsure of what their silent stare meant, you welcomed him for a kiss that still faintly tasted like you nonetheless.

couldn't you just have the both of them?

taglist @es-kay-zee @lizsvcks

[echo-of-sounds]

i’m not angry. i’m concerned

Small drabbles of Aizawa, Toshi, Hizashi, and Gang Orca taking care of you after you have a relapse of self-harm.

Warnings: self-hate, self-harm, punching a wall, hitting oneself with an object, bad bruising/swelling, (semi-graphic) cutting, blood

Aizawa Shouta

You knew it would only deform your hand more. And you still did it. Now you were left with bruised and swollen knuckles. Damage jarred your bones. Trauma twitched your muscles. And they just kept swelling. They were so big, pulling tendons, stretching skin uncomfortably, distressingly. Cries and hiccups slipped through your stifling.

Footsteps hurried down the hallway. You turned around. Shouta questioned your back, “What was that noise?”

“Drop- Dropped something.”

“It didn’t sound like it. It came from the wall. Did you throw something?”

“I-” Tears and twinges killed your reply. You gripped your wrists, trying to cut off the rocketing pain spasms. He’d criticize, blame you for your stupidity. He wouldn’t even have to speak to let you know the shame he held. One apathetic, antipathic look and his repugnance would be clear, ridiculing your caricature of a hormonal, huffy teenager.

Even your body was revolted by the action. Eight months of self-power- no knifed skin, no disfigurements- was snapped in one vulnerable second- a weak, weeping second that left you pitiful and hopeless and useless and worthless-

Warmth wrapped your back. You jerked from his embrace, crying for him to leave. His voice was as warm as his body, “I’m not going anywhere. You need me right now.” Hands supported your monstrous one while he wordlessly directed you to the living room then the couch.

He briefly left your side before coming back with ice, pills, and a drink. You readily accepted the painkillers. 

While you sipped the water, he closely examined your knuckles. He asked, extending one of his fingers, “Can you push down?” It hurt but you could. “Can you bend them?” It was rigid but you could. “Can you make a fist?” It was tight and inflamed but you could make half a fist. “You have motion, which is always a good sign. If the swelling doesn’t go down by morning, we’re going in for X-rays.”

His words were caring. Yet guilt burst. You sobbed and tried to stand, to get away from his judgment. But he caught your hips, moving them onto his lap, hushing your feeble protests. “It’s alright. Just stay with me.” The cloth-covered ice pack was lightly swathed around your hand.

“Sho, don’t be angry. I didn’t mean to…” you cried through the smothering tears.

“I know, honey. I know.” He kissed your forehead. “I’m never going to be angry with you for something like this. I’ll only ever be concerned. I promise. I love you.” Two more kisses came. You nuzzled into his neck, wanting his warmth to soothe the frayed and confused emotions. “I love you so much.”

Yagi Toshinori

A loud sob broke through your attempts to remain quiet. You smacked your hand over your mouth, hoping he didn’t hear. But your hopes were dashed almost immediately. The door creaked open. You kept your head down, clutching the damp towel to your water-coated skin.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Why are you crying?” His calm voice trailed closer. A faint hum came as he noticed the issue. Delicate, cautious hands settled on either side of your lower thigh, cradling the bruised, swollen skin. He whispered your name, so earnestly, so soberly. It caused another sob to escape. “What did you hit yourself with?”

You shook your head, digging your nails into your hair at your juvenile, near infantile, action. The vague thoughts, the acute, uncontrollable anger, the snapshot self-harm wasn’t understandable no matter what the fucking DBT book said. And now your eight-month progress was rendered pathetically pointless.

One hand found your arm, caressing, seeking any response. He breathed your name. “Did something happen?” At more silence, he dropped to his knees, begging, “Sweetheart, please, talk to me. I’m not angry. I’m concerned about you and your safety. What did you use?”

You weakly pointed to the discarded brush. The handle broke off from the rest at your final, hardest hit.

“Did you do anything else to yourself?”

“No,” you choked.

“Okay, okay…” he muttered. “Can you stand?”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on. Let’s try.” Your grip on his outstretched hands was horribly frail, unable to haul your weight. He helped, easily pulling in your absence. The towel fell and left you naked but you couldn’t care.

Your first step ended with you against his chest. The swelling spread to your knee, stiffing, tensing the joint. “I’m sorry,” you wept into his shirt. “I’m so sorry. I don’t- I don’t know why…”

“You don’t need to be sorry.” He kissed your head. Bearing your weight for you, he slowly guided you to the bed. A pair of underwear was guided up your legs then he laid you down comfortably. He kissed your head again, mumbling, “I’ll be right back. Okay?”

You nodded and nearly nodded off when your leg was lifted and a pillow was placed under it. Cold covered your knee next followed by a blanket. You welcomed the water and pain relievers.

After multiple gulps, you tried to explain but your breath caught, “Toshi, I didn’t- I think- I- I-”

“Shhh. It’s alright. It’s alright.” He slid under the blanket, curling up beside you, affectionately rubbing your stomach. His endearing voice softened into your ear, “You don’t need to talk right now. All you need to do is relax. Can you take some deep breaths?” He counted for you. And again for your next one.

“I love you.” Lips brushed the side of your face repeatedly. You leaned into them, letting his arms wrap around you. “I love you so much, sweetheart. You’re going to get through this, I promise.”

Yamada Hizashi

A couple of knocks startled you. Hizashi called your name. “Are you okay? You’ve been in there for a while.”

You didn’t hear his usual rambunctious proclamation of coming home. If you didn’t answer, he would obviously know something was wrong. “I’m fine,” you croaked. Your voice shouted that you weren’t, in fact, fine.

The door opened and you cursed yourself for not locking it. “Oh, baby…”

It was deplorable. You mashed your palms into your eyes, not wanting to face his anger, his horror, his utter disgust. Your defenseless, nude body, blood-soaked paper towels, smeared red thigh and hands, and the razor that did the defiling laid out helplessly, staining the floor.

Eight months went down the drain in just a few minutes. You couldn’t recall why or what you were thinking. It was all moronic, whatever it was. Now you only felt pain. An itching, pulling pain that was accompanied by gruesome liquid and coagulated blood.

He called your name, trying to reach you. But you didn’t want to reach back. He’d reprimand you for dirtying the floor. He’d criticize you for failing. He’d be sickened at your cuts. It was gross. You were-

“Please talk to me.”

The tears you thought you stopped sprung out loud and pathetically. You apologized, again and again, hoping he didn’t hate you and your beastly body.

A hand took your shoulder. You were moved as you continued repeating remorses. A cool cloth tried to gently clean your imbrued leg. Raw skin ignited. Slashes stretched. You gripped his wrist, shaking your head for him to stop. It was all too ugly. And you didn’t want him to see it, touch it.

“I need to clean some of the blood to see the cuts better. I need to see if you need medical attention.”

You collapsed and wailed into his chest, “I’m so sorry. Please, please, don’t be angry. Please. I’m sorry- I didn’t- I’m sorry, Hizashi. Don’t be angry. Please-”

“Shhh, baby girl. I’m not angry. I’m not even close to being angry. I’m just worried about you.” He mourned your name, kissing your temple. “Everything’s gonna be alright. I promise you that.” 

The cloth went on in a light motion. It eventually settled against the wounds, pressing with pressure to stop the rest of the bleeding. 

You continued crying into him. A few of the tears weeping onto your shirt weren’t yours. Lips graze your forehead, whispering, cherishing, “I love you so much.”

Gang Orca

The slits spilled over, painted your palm and wrist red. It happened too fast. You couldn’t think. You couldn’t stop your hand from gripping the blade and opening your skin.

Anger and fear didn’t control your movement. There wasn’t any sadness or anxiety harassing your mind. For so long, everything’s just been insignificant and now that blood slurred your skin, everything was still nothing. Injuries and confusion don’t count. Shame was a given. Pain was another but none of it was whatever you wanted.

There were no paper towels or tissues near. Your legs wouldn’t move. You could only stare at the detached emotions leaking from your hand. But seeing the layers of skin separate more and more grated pain into panic. Your voice broke as you shrieked, “Ku-GO!”

Heavy footsteps rushed into the bedroom. Your name waned softly from his mouth. You couldn’t look at him. You didn’t want his revulsion. Or his annoyance at your inane, weak-minded behavior. You were supposed to be clean of it. Though it always found you, no matter how many months you thought you outran it. 

He whispered, “I’m right here. It’ll be okay.”

“It hurts,” you gasped, tears now blurred everything. His warmth seated beside you. Your hand was carefully lifted and a cloth wrapped tightly around the wounds.

“I know it does. It’s scary, isn’t it?”

You nodded, desperately trying to calm yourself.

“It’s going to be alright. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, I promise,” he helped compose your breathing. A hand barely stroked your back when you shrunk away from his touch, his irritation, his condemning of your feral actions.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do this. I don’t- I don’t- I don’t know why. I fucked up… I fucked up… I'm sorry…”

“You don’t need to apologize. I’m not angry with you. But I am incredibly concerned and worried. Right now, these need to be cleaned. Will you let me pick you up?”

You nodded again. Kugo easily lifted you, stopping to grab the medical kit before taking you to his comfy armchair. You curled up in his lap and rested against his chest while he thoroughly dressed the injuries. Despite his bulky fingers, he was as gentle and graceful as can be. Quiet praises came in between each bandage.

They brought more tears. Turning into his shirt, you cried out your grief. He hugged you close and caressed your arm. “Everything's okay. You’re okay, my love.” He held your hand to his mouth. “I love you more than anything else. You're going to get through this. And I'm going to be right here the entire time.” 

[gojo-x-reader]

Confessions in a Drunken Night

Relationship(s): Gojo Satoru x F!Reader

Warnings: excessive drinking, mentions of sex (not related to drinking), getting drunk, job stress

Tags: communication is key

AO3 Link: here

Words: ~2k

Request:   “ Hey, I hope you're doing okay. I have read your scenarios and I fell in love with them They are so cute and adorable . If you take a request would you mind taking mine. About a f/reader who is depressed about her job pressure and Gojo not being home lately so she would be drinking at home not knowing that Gojo had arrived and was sleeping and he would wake up because of sound and he would find her saoul , and he would try to make up with her , with a lot of fluff please , thank you .”

You heard the door hurriedly slam from the other room and sighed. This was the third time just this week alone that date night was interrupted with you and your boyfriend, Satoru. Every time, he promised that nothing would come up, but every time something did. You didn’t understand why exactly his job was so important for him to just leave like that. He was just a high school teacher. 

You sighed again, then picked up the uneaten dinner you cooked for the both of you. You placed the food in containers for later, if there was a later with him. You might end up eating both portions by yourself. You finished up cleaning up the romantic date you had prepared, now incredibly sad and frustrated. 

You started pouring yourself a glass of whiskey. You weren’t a fan of the stuff straight, but tonight seemed like the night to drink. How many hours of overtime did you put in this week just to try to have an evening off to spend with your boyfriend? How much sleep did you lose just to stay ahead? How many times did your boss scoff because you asked off not one night, but three nights this week? You’d be lucky if you could get another night off in a month after this week. 

You sipped on the whiskey, cherishing the warmth it brought to your core. You grabbed the bottle and glass and took them the to couch. The whiskey bottle was less than halfway finished; might as well finish it tonight. You lounged on the couch as you brought the glass to your lips and reminisced about your relationship with Satoru.

You had been together for over a year now, but it didn’t feel like it. You were practically in a long-distance relationship, despite only living twenty minutes from each other with how scarce you got to see him. He was always busy on “business trips” or whatever for his job. The thought that he was cheating on you crossed your mind a time or two, but Satoru didn’t seem like the type. 

The two of you met in your favorite bakery just down the street. You had fought over the last piece of tiramisu, which he eventually gave you in exchange for your number. He was incredibly easy to talk to and within a few weeks, the two of you were going on your first date. He was suave, but you soon learned that was just a front he put up. The true Gojo Satoru was a dork with an almost insufferable personality that somehow you were able to stand. 

You were sure that in the year you had been dating, you had only gone on three successful dates with Satoru and well over fifteen attempted dates. The three successful dates all had a special place in your heart.

The first successful date was your first date. It was a cozy café date followed by a nice walk through the nooks and crannies of Tokyo you never saw on your work commute. You remembered how you gained the confidence to hold Satoru’s hand on the first date, only feeling like there was a literal wall between you two for a few seconds. It was strange, but it was the only incident, so you never brought it up to him. 

The second successful date was a few months later with another failed attempt in between the first and second. This one was a trip to a fancy restaurant in the heart of Tokyo. This was the date you learned that your boyfriend was loaded. Not just well off, but rich enough he could spend a couple hundred thousand Yen and it was just pocket change to him. Somehow, the reveal left more questions than answered them; namely, how did he become so rich with a teacher’s salary? Was he part of some kind of Old Money or something?

 He never told you where you were dining, so of course, you dressed like it was a casual outing. Before heading to the restaurant, he bought you a dress that was worth more than two years of your yearly salary (against your protests). It was a gorgeous dress, in your favorite color. It still hung in your closet; while you wanted to sell it for some extra money, you didn’t want to upset Satoru. 

The third and final successful date was your first anniversary. Neither of you wanted to go out, so you both stayed in. The two of you cooked dinner together; you were pleasantly surprised to learn that Satoru had a talent for cooking and wanted to taste more of his cooking. He insisted you were a much better cook than him, but you disagreed. 

After dinner, one thing led to another until you were swept off your feet literally to the bedroom. 

You smiled fondly at the memories of your first time together. It was only two months ago, but nothing had happened since then even though you desperately wanted a repeat of your anniversary tonight. Ah, you remembered why you were drinking. You swallowed the rest of the whiskey in your glass, grimacing as it burned in your throat.

You were already tipsy after one glass. You were a lightweight; you were sure you would be shit-faced before the end of this bottle. Satoru never drank, yet he always had the audacity to make fun of how much of a lightweight you were. 

Who knows how long passed before you finally swallowed the last drop of whiskey. At that point, you were fighting your eyelids that were trying to close. Without Satoru there to entertain you as you were tipsy, you became a tired drunk. You just wanted to go to sleep but didn’t want to leave the couch. If you got up, you’d probably stumble and fall back anyway. So, you grabbed the blanket draped across the couch and wrapped yourself around it.

A sudden wave of sadness washed over you right as you closed your eyes. You missed Satoru, desperately. It felt physically painful being away from him at the moment. You brought a hand up to your eyes and wiped them, rolling over and finally going to sleep for good. 

You woke up to the feeling of someone shaking your form. You groaned. Your head was pounding from dehydration, you were still sleepy from the alcohol; who dared interrupt your sleep?

You blinked a few times to find Satoru and his beautiful blue eyes staring at you. He appeared slightly worried, but also tired.

“Time?” you asked, not even forming coherent sentences yet.

“Almost 3am,” Satoru answered.

You groaned. “Let me sleep.”

“How much did you drink?”

“Does it matter?” you snapped back. You then realized how hostile you sounded, then started crying. “Please don’t be mad at me,” you said between hiccups. 

Satoru took you into his arms, soothingly rubbing your back to calm you down. You suddenly felt worse because you were a mess, just because he left for an emergency with work? Pathetic. 

Your sweet, incredible boyfriend helped you slowly sit up, then obtained a glass of water for you to drink. You chugged it, not even realizing how thirsty you were. Satoru refilled it for you, urging you to instead sip the water. 

“What’s wrong?” Satoru asked as he sat down next to you on the couch.

“...Nothing,” you answered.

“Nothing? I come home to find my girlfriend passed out on the couch drunk off her ass and sad. You’re upset, and I want us to work through this. Now, what’s wrong?”

“I’m sad,” you admitted. 

“Obviously.”

“I don’t feel like you--” hic “--love me as much anymore. You keep leaving during our dates, you don’t spend much time with me anymore, and my job is just so stressful because I keep having to work overtime to get days off and I doubt I can get another day off for a month now. That just makes me so fucking sad because I wanna see you every day but I can’t--” 

Satoru gently placed a hand on your cheek. His gaze was filled with so much love it rendered you speechless. “That all?” he asked. You nodded.

Satoru tenderly placed a kiss on your forehead. “I’ve been keeping a secret from you,” he admitted. Suddenly, your brain raced through all of the possibilities, fixating on the idea he was cheating on you. Oh, no, here it comes… 

“I’m a jujutsu sorcerer.”

“Excuse me?”

That was not at all what you were expecting. What did that even mean?

Satoru backed away. “Here, try to grab my hand.”

You reached out to him, feeling the familiar wall like you did on your first date. “Oh!”

“This is Infinity,” he explained. “As you get closer to me, you slow down, unable to reach me. It’s a jujutsu passed down through my family.”

“I think I’ve felt it before. On our first date.”

Satoru sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “I always keep my Infinity going at all times, 24/7, even when I’m asleep. I only let down my guard around you because I trust you with my life.”

“So. What does this all mean? What else are you keeping a secret? Your job too?”

“No, I really am a high school teacher. For the first years, to be exact. The bunch this year are… interesting to say the least. So I’ve been having to stay late to train them, and I actually do go on business trips. A lot of them are overseas.” 

“What are they for?” You were now very invested in your boyfriend’s secret life he had been hiding from you all this time.

“We exorcise curses.”

“Curses?”

“The evil beings of the jujutsu world. I have to go on more missions than the average person because I’m one of the very few Special Grade jujutsu sorcerers in the world. It’s the highest rank a jujutsu sorcerer can reach. And your boyfriend is the strongest in the world.”

“Are you really, or are you self-proclaimed?” you asked, knowing his personality. Satoru pouted. You pinched one of his cheeks gently, then dragged his face to your lips, pressing them against his cheek. “I’m just kidding.”

“I really am the strongest, though,” Satoru continued to pout. “Anyway! I think it’s time for us to sleep. Tomorrow, I can take you to see my school and you can meet my students!”

“Really?” you asked, excited. Finally, your boyfriend was allowing you into the part of his world you were always curious about.

“Really,” he promised. 

You yawned. The sun was just starting to peek through your windows. Suddenly, you felt yourself being lifted and carried to your room. You weren’t quite sober and made sure to warn Satoru about that, lest he moved you too fast and caused you to throw up on the two of you. 

(“It wouldn’t get on me, though,” Satoru argued. “I can just activate my Infinity and I’ll stay clean.”)

Satoru tucked you into your bed, then made his way to your side. You were actually kind of glad you decided to get drunk tonight, as the liquid courage gave you the confidence to speak your mind to your boyfriend instead of keeping your feelings inside like usual. Tonight, you learned a side of your boyfriend you never thought existed. It brought you relief and curiosity to learn more about him and his life. 

But for now, you needed sleep. Meeting part of Satoru’s world could wait until tomorrow. 

[morganaspendragonss]

quédate un segundo más (1/8)

@911lonestarangstweek day 8 - t is for...tumour, terminal, treatment

title from voy a quedarme by blas cantó, translates roughly to 'stay a second more'

thanks to @halsteadmarchs and @tarlos-spain for the beta!

as shown above, this will be eight chapters if all goes to plan, and i hope to finish it before season 3 begins. much of what is written both in this chapter and in future ones is ripped directly from life and i am only writing from my own perspective and experiences of losing a loved one to cancer.

ao3 | 1.6k | angst, hurt tk, cancer, terminal illness, more warnings to come in future chapters

A rare genetic mutation.

That’s what the doctors tell him when the results come back.

A rare genetic mutation that has rendered his cancer practically undetectable until its latest stages, until all that’s left to do is wait to die.

TK’s hands shake as various leaflets on Managing Your Diagnosis and What To Expect and Looking After Someone With Cancer are placed in them. He feels two steps to the side of himself, his entire world halting in its tracks the moment those words had left the doctor’s lips.

“I’m afraid it’s not good news,” he’d said, eyes wide and empathetic. “Your scans and blood results have come back showing evidence of a tumour on your pancreas. There are treatment options which we can and will—with your consent—pursue, however I have to inform you that your cancer is entering stage IV. It has begun to spread to your bladder and liver. I’m sorry to say that, at this point, treatment is more focused on managing your pain and making you as comfortable as possible; we do not anticipate recovery.”

It’s just… TK’s fine. He feels fine. Like, sure, he’s been a little more tired recently and he’s been getting these weird pains, but they always fade after a while, and he’s fine.

But he couldn’t deny the blood spotting his pee, the last straw which had finally sent him to the doctor’s office.

Too late, apparently.

A touch on his knee brings him back to reality with a start. TK looks up to meet the doctor’s kind gaze, and he wants to cry.

“I understand this is a lot to take in,” he’s saying. “If you have any questions, please ask.”

“I…” TK shakes his head, swallowing a couple of times before dropping his eyes to his knees, the words on the pamphlets blurred through his tears. “How long?”

The doctor hesitates a moment, then sighs regretfully. “I can’t say for certain. People frequently outlive their projected timeframes; equally, it could be less. However, given the way your tumour looks and the rate it appears to be spreading at, I would estimate around six months.”

Six months.

Six—six months.

“Oh,” TK says, and it feels wildly insufficient but it’s all he has. What even is there to say? He’s dying, and that’s...that’s that.

“Do you have a support system in place?” the doctor asks. “This is going to be a difficult process, and you are going to need other people to help you through it.”

TK nods slowly, not looking up. “M-My husband. Carlos. He was supposed to come with me today but he was called into work last minute. He’s a detective, so he couldn’t exactly refuse—not that that stopped him from trying.” He laughs wetly, remembering how he’d insisted that everything would be fine when Carlos had stalled leaving this morning. “And there’s my dad, and my team—my family. I’m a paramedic and I work in a fire station, so we’re all pretty close. I… Shit, I’m sorry. You don’t need to know all this.”

“It’s okay.” The doctor is still smiling, still so understanding, and TK wonders—just how many times has he had to do this? “I’m glad to hear you have solid support behind you; that’s going to be incredibly important for the coming months. I’ve also given you a few leaflets about support groups you can access, that your family can access, and, of course, your treatment team will be there every step of the way.

“Now,” he continues, returning to a semi-professional aspect, “I want to see you later this week to iron out how we’re going to proceed. For now, why don’t you go home and rest, allow yourself to process this? Does Friday at 10.30 work for your next appointment?”

TK nods absently, clutching the pamphlets tight enough to crease them. “That’s fine,” he whispers.

“Okay,” the doctor says, just as quiet. “Are you going to be okay to get home?”

“Yeah.”

But he doesn’t move. He can’t. In this room, he’s separated from the rest of the world—TK doesn’t want to go back into it, where he’ll have to tell everyone he loves that he’s… That he…

“TK.”

TK’s head snaps up at the doctor’s voice and he flushes a little at seeing his pointed look. “Sorry,” he mutters, scrambling to stand up.

The doctor stands too, much more gracefully than TK, and gets the door for him. “It’s okay. I’ll see you on Friday, TK, alright?”

He mumbles an affirmative then steps out of the office, taken aback for a moment by the bustle and noise in the corridor. It’s strange to witness it now, to see all these people who don’t know him from Adam going about their lives, while his has, in the span of thirty minutes, completely crumbled.

TK takes a deep breath (and how many of those does he have left?) and joins the flow.

*

He’s home.

That’s… He doesn’t remember it. He must have unlocked the front door because the keys are in his hand and he’s standing in the entryway, but TK has no idea how he managed to get from the doctor’s office to here.

He made good time though, judging by the clock on the wall.

Small victories.

With heavy steps, TK walks to the sofa, easing himself down and tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. It still doesn’t feel real that there's this—this thing inside him, growing and mutating and killing him. He’s not sure when it finally will.

Maybe in a few months, when his skin is sagging off his bones and his hair is gone and even the very act of breathing is a challenge.

Or maybe in a few hours, when Carlos comes home and TK has to break the news. TK can picture his face now, the way his ever-present smile will crack and break, the shock and hurt and grief that will take its place.

He thinks he understands his dad now.

TK closes his eyes and tries to clear his mind, just for a moment, of everything that’s happened today.

Which, as it turns out, is a mistake, because that’s when he remembers the letter that came for them yesterday and the phone call they’re going to make after dinner.

The phone call they were going to make after dinner.

TK wants to scream at the unfairness of it all. They’ve been waiting for that moment for so long, the moment in which they found out they were finally cleared to adopt a kid. And now…

Gone.

Carlos is going to be crushed.

As if the universe is reacting to that last thought, the door suddenly swings open, marking Carlos’s return from his impromptu shift. For a moment, TK panics. He’s not ready, dammit, he needs more time to plan and to figure it all out, how he feels and what he’s going to say, but—

But, in the end, it doesn’t matter. He could have had the most detailed and well-thought out plan in the world and it wouldn’t have mattered.

Because all it takes is one look at Carlos’s smile for TK to fall apart.

Carlos is by his side in an instant, gathering him in his arms and sliding to the floor with him when TK can no longer support himself on the couch. TK fists his hands in his husband’s shirt and cries into his neck, all the emotion that’s been slowly building all day exploding from him all at once.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Carlos shushes, which only makes TK cry harder, because how is he supposed to tell him that it’s not?

He shakes his head and clings onto him tighter, feeling Carlos do the same to him in return. TK’s always felt safe in his arms and it’s no different now; he thinks that, if he can just stay here forever, maybe things will turn out okay after all.

But the moment ends, as they tend to do. When TK’s sobs have run dry, Carlos carefully pulls back from him, his hands rising to cup his face and wipe the tears from his cheeks.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” he asks softly, so much worry in those damn eyes that it hurts. “Is it… Did the doctor say something? Are you okay?”

TK opens his mouth, but the words refuse to come out. All he manages is a wordless shake of the head, and even that turns Carlos’s expression into the picture of devastation. He can’t bear to look at it, so he wraps his arms around Carlos’s waist and leans into him again, resting his head on his chest.

Carlos holds him and presses a kiss to the top of his head. “We’ll get through it,” he promises. “Whatever it takes.”

And it turns out that he does have a few more tears left in him; TK squeezes his eyes shut and breathes out shakily as a couple of lone drops fall down his cheeks. “We can’t,” he whispers hoarsely. Carlos stiffens and shifts as if to look TK in the eyes, but TK doesn’t let him. If he has to look at Carlos, he doesn’t think he’ll have the courage to say it. He hesitates a moment longer, a huge lump forming in his throat, but eventually he manages it.

“It’s cancer,” he chokes out. “Stage IV. Incurable. They think… I’ve got six months.”

It’s like time stops.

They’re both motionless on the floor of their front room, neither saying anything, barely breathing as the weight of it settles between them.

TK doesn’t know how long it lasts for, but suddenly Carlos sobs and grips onto him with a bruising strength. Carlos’s body heaves and shakes with the force of his cries, and it’s TK’s turn to hold him as tears drip down Carlos’s cheeks into his hair.

And, in that moment, it becomes real.

[lemontwst]

— anonymous asked: Can we get uhhhh male mc topping azul, with a side of breeding kink and extra slutty azul? I just want that octo man begging for nut. Thank you in advance uwu

content warning: m!reader  |  mpreg, heat cycle, (light) degradation, mentions of voyeurism, azul being a needy bitch.

It's funny how some people are so disgustingly stubborn, clinging to their past with bleeding fingers even as the iron grows hotter and hotter under their touch and the chasm stretches deeper under their dangling feet.

Funny how, even as his heat renders him a mindless wreck, panting and shaking with anticipation as you finger his asshole, the only thing Azul can think of is that he won the game.

"Ah….(y/n)......" he quietly calls out to you, clinging to the edges of the table with nervous hands as he feels your long fingers slide in and out.

“That’s enough, I’m ready...” Azul spreads his ass for you in an uncharacteristic display of impatience. Fuck, he just wants you inside him already. He’s waited so long and fought so hard to be the one you fucked through this heat cycle—not Floyd, not Jade, but him, that having his prize so close and yet so far is driving him to the brink of insanity. 

You give his ass a little pinch and he squeals, embarrassment flashing scarlet across his cheeks. He has some nerve giving you orders when he’s the one laying on a table in the middle of his prized bar with his ass spread and his dick leaking. 

He was so impatient he didn’t even let you take him to the bedroom.

“Don’t come crying to me if this hurts, little idiot.” You stare at his cute little hole with mild disinterest on your face. It is stretched, and wet with his saliva, but it doesn’t look like it’s good enough, and you don’t really care about hearing an endless string of whines and complaints once Azul’s crazed brain comes off of whatever high his heat has sent it into and he realizes his ass hurts.

“I won’t, I promise, just—please…!” Azul is on the verge of tears, frustration almost taking his breath away as he struggles to keep himself from drooling like bitch in heat while you slowly take that cock he reveres like it’s a saintly relic out of your pants. You can be so cruel sometimes. So completely heartless in front of his desperate pleas and so enchantingly mean...

“Well…” you’re suddenly hovering over him, your hands on either side of his face and Azul stops breathing entirely. 

“...since you asked so nicely.” 

…

It’s too much. Your handsome smirk and that velvet-like voice, your eyes that burn with nothing but malice and a lust for destroying everything in your path... Azul is so in love, and he knows Jade and Floyd are too, which makes the way your cock teases his entrance that much more satisfying. 

And then you push inside with a single thrust and the pain that suddenly tears him apart is so mind-numbing Azul almost cums on the spot, eyes squeezing shut as he wraps his arms around your neck and locks his ankles behind you, pulling you closer to him until he can feel your strong heartbeat on his.

There’s something to be sad about the way you go slowly at first, like maybe you’re not all bad. Maybe you care about your lover’s well being, and maybe you want to ease him into a sweet, romantic rhythm fit for the kind of sex you’re having, the kind that leads to children being conceived.

But Azul knows better.

He can feel it in the way your hips slooowly pull back until you’re almost out of him, and the way your dick scrapes against his prostate when you slide back inside just as slowly. It’s agonizing. He’s in heat and you’re torturing him, planning to drag this out for as long as you can if it means getting Azul more addicted to you than he already is.

Fuck, he’s in love.

“Ah... please…" he places needy kisses on your ear, cheek and jaw, his slender legs pulling you closer to him but it's still not close enough—he doesn't have enough limbs to hug you properly so he greedily tries to keep you in place while he savors the hardness of your cock, "Harder-- do me harder (y/n), please…" 

You chuckle against his pulse point and Azul gasps loudly, frantically arching his body into yours, "Really, Azul? Even when I'm giving you my children?"

Shame pools in his stomach and it's delicious. Not like when he was bullied—no, this is something stronger, more vicious and intimate and it makes Azul blush all over with need.

"I'm—ah! So—sorry I'm a…" he pulls away, shaking so bad he has trouble moving, and looks into your eyes, glasses crooked and eyes blown with lust, "I'm a...useless octopus—slut!" His tongue lolls out when your hips snap back into his hard, his eyes dart to your lips and you know he wants you to kiss him so fucking badly, "I'm your—empty-headed—octopus bitch! Please hurt me more, master! Fuck me harder—please!"

... He's gotten so good at saying it just like you taught him. To think he was so shy at first! With how desperately his dick is throbbing and leaking at his own dirty talk you'd think Azul was born to say stupid, perverted shit like this.

His good behavior is aptly rewarded when you grab his arms hard enough to bruise and slam him down against the table, your thrusts picking up a ruthless rhythm that leaves Azul delirious.

He's a drooling, whimpering mess under you. The mixture of pain and pleasure shatters his consciousness into millions of pieces. It's not seeing stars, it's more. It's feeling everything at once at maximum sensitivity—your powerful, commanding scent, your sweat that drips on him and makes him want to lick it off like a pig, your hard cock that throbs with every heartbeat, lodged so deep in his ass he can feel it hit that special place that needs to be fertilized over and over again...

He's being bred like he was meant to. And it's you. You, you... you you youyouyouyou—

Azul cums with a high pitched whine that echoes across the lounge, loud enough to be heard from outside the room. His body stiffens and arches into you, elated at being pinned down in such a submissive position. His cum splatters against your abdomen and his, the action completely useless to his mother-like biology. His body is not made to give eggs, not even this inferior human shell he carries around.

It's meant to take them.

Azul slumps down, completely boneless. His eyes dazedly find the ceiling as he enjoys the feeling of coming down his high while still being fucked like a whore.

Tiny, delighted moans leave him as you continue to rail him, his tongue sweeps his lower lip as if he's tasting you in his mouth and he does his best to respond to your movements even though he's so utterly exhausted.

"Aah...it's.....coming…..." his eyes go down to where you two are connected and he sighs dreamily, "Shoot it all—inside me… ple—ahn! …..please make me your wife! I'll give you...ah….the best children…way better than Jade or...Floyd's…." He smiles a lewd smile, hearts in his eyes as his body jolts and recoils from the force your thrusts.

It's coming... it's coming….comingcomingcomingcoming—

Azul throws his head back and goes cross-eyed when you finally explode inside him, filling his tight passage to the brim with hot semen. His hole clenches around you instinctively and his entire body shakes with a dry orgasm as the foreign sensation of being impregnated pushes him over the edge again.

Finally...finally—

Azul chokes back a sob, feeling like he just touched the gates of heaven after a grueling climb up purgatory. Tears stream down his face as he shakily touches your forearms, hoping to be blessed with one of your hugs.

And he is blessed today—or maybe a part of you just took pity on him—when you roll your eyes and envelope him in your arms, laying on top of him in that way that makes Azul's submissive body tingle with delight and his legs spread to accommodate you.

...

“... I don’t think...once is enough…” his hug is borderline demanding as he keeps you inside him, making sure not to spill a single drop of your precious genetic material. “We have to...make sure…” he chuckles, the sound airy with exhaustion even as he tries to convince you to fuck him again.

“What if Floyd and Jade walk in?” You smirk against his neck, knowing exactly what he’s going to say next.

“Then let them watch. I won’t let anyone interrupt us.”

... He sounds so pompous and so incredibly possessive you can’t help but laugh.

[lady-star-strings]

About Dream’s Tweets...

To begin with, I’m demisexual and have been part of the community for years - I think I have pretty good credence to speak on this matter. I try not to throw my two cents into situations like this because I can’t stand the ignorant responses of the internet anymore at my age - DeviantArt Dark Ages vet right here - but sometimes I just have to. Whether you agree or not, I could honestly care less, but I would appreciate it if you read everything and gave it some thought before responding, be it positive or negative. With that said, let’s dive in...

At this point, if people are taking the shipping/fanservice jokes and banter between the Dream Team and other creators surrounding them seriously, I don't know what to tell them or really even say, honestly. They've all stated they're not looking to start relationships with each other - multiple times and on-stream/Twitter, might I add, because people keep donating and asking/demanding an answer to both that and about their sexualities - and that it's just messing around with friends. (If we want to talk about making people uncomfortable and being offensive in that regard, don’t you worry because I've got opinions on that too.) Bottom line is, you can't get mad at them for the fan-service now when you supported it before, especially when nothing has changed and they’ve been transparent about how everything actually is.

I understand that some may feel it’s an insensitive and inappropriate thing to do in some regards, and that's perfectly valid, but please don't go mobbing through the town with pitchforks over literal jokes between friends. Keep in mind, they’ve made it clear that’s all it was before people starting jumping down their throats, and still there are groups using their sexuality to attack them over it because "YoU'rE nOt MlM sO yOu CaN't MaKe ThOsE jOkEs, YoU'rE hOmOpHoBiC!!!!!" They're even openly attacking lesbians and bisexuals - whether they agree with them or not - because they're not gay and that somehow renders their words “invalid.” You can't accuse them of being ignorant for messing around as friends because it entertains the fans, and then turn around to attack literally the entire rest of the community for offering their opinions because they aren't valid enough for you in the argument to count - that makes you ignorant. You also can’t claim to be of the opinion that everyone’s sexuality is their own business, but then demand for them not to be ambiguous about it when it pleases you. Honestly, even thinking about people doing that is so incredibly hypocritical that it gives me whiplash.

I completely understand not everyone is a fan of this behavior, but to accuse them of queerbaiting, being homophobic and faking allyship over it all right now is just ridiculous and borderline disgusting to me. They've made it clear they're not romantically interested in one another countless times and that it's just fun between friends because they're super close - they aren't playing the "Am I, or am I not?" game with anyone for gain so no, they're not queerbaiting. Queerbaiting is when it’s not explicitly said at any point whether someone is or isn’t LGBTQIA+ so they can play both the community and conservative side by putting them in ambiguous situations that can lean one way or the other for gain, whether it be monetary or otherwise. Not to mention, if they were really as “homophobic” and “falsely allied” as everyone thinks, why would other LGBTQIA+ creators such as Antfrost, Eret, Scott Major, etc. not only support them, but also consider them friends? Again, I get the offense and hurt people might have taken from this behavior, but your opinions and feelings are ultimately not universal so while they are all valid, that doesn't make them right and the final say on the matter. I don’t mean this to say you’re wrong or inferior in the argument, just that you can’t demand others to see your point of view and abide by it without granting them the same respect. The road goes both ways kiddos, I’m sorry. 

Side note, there's no one to blame but the fans themselves for the jokes and whatnot to have continued on this long because they not only supported it, but also actively encouraged it. It’s been taken so seriously that Dream has outright stated on a stream - and now on Twitter - that he and George aren't together and more than likely never will be because they're honest to goodness just really good friends screwing around. Now if you think you're uncomfortable as part of the community, how do you think they feel being accused every five minutes of being against it because they won’t openly state their sexuality? Not to mention, they can't ever talk about actual relationships or joke about other ships because people will literally send death threats to whoever the other party is because they're "rUiNiNg ThE sHiP" at this point - need I remind you of the Septiplier fiasco? It’s alright if it’s a persona or a personality, but for the love of all things holy, please stop treating people like Barbie dolls that you’re trying to make kiss. They gave us the go-ahead to ship them because it makes us happy and allows us to be creative with the concept - don’t ruin it by trying to force them to play the parts you’ve constructed in your head and then get pissy because they won’t.

Also, it is unbelievably messed up for you to donate money to ask their sexuality and/or for them to tell each other that they love them - which then basically makes it a demand because if they ignore it they get blasted for not responding and “taking their money.” For example, Dream will say he loves any of his friends without issue because he does - just not in the way everyone is assuming or wants - and that's just the type of person he is, but George doesn't like to express it that way and that's okay. He shows his love in other ways that we don't always need to know about or see to make it real, just as it is with anyone else in the world. I don’t know how so many people miss it, but when he gets a donation to tell Dream - or anyone for that matter - he loves him on stream, you can easily tell how uncomfortable it makes him - and yes Dream presses/teases him about it sometimes, but he still drops it and doesn't flame him for it for eternity. Those that donate and chat, on the other hand, will not let it go when he doesn’t say it and continue to pour donations in begging him to say it when he’s already made it clear he won’t. You honestly shouldn't be bribing them to say or do anything through donation because that's beyond messed up and manipulative, especially where these matters are concerned.

And even if they weren't straight - which used to be the case and may have changed by this time, we can’t determine such things nor should we try to - or were in a relationship with each other, it isn't any of your goddamn business to know - no way, no how. What they do offline and out of the public eye isn't anyone's business but their own and people need to respect that, not try to force it out of them or play detective to dox that information for the attention. I mean, if you want a good reason as to why Dream hasn't done a face reveal yet, this is absolutely number one on the list because there will be little to no form of privacy for him after he does and he isn't ready to lose that just yet. I certainly can’t blame him for that considering all that’s been happening to him and his friends as of late, and neither can multiple other creators who hold the same beliefs and fears - ie. CorpseHusband, H20Delirious, Ohmwrecker. No one should have to tip-toe on eggshells in their personal life because fans online don't understand boundaries, that's just cruel and unfair after providing the content and comfort that they do without asking anything but support in return.

At the end of the day, I truly just don't understand how people can join in and support the jokes that they've made clear are purely just messing around, but then turn around and crucify them for the exact same thing later down the road. How can you practically harass them about their sexuality and relationship status through providing monetary means, then go on a witch hunt because they’ve decided to be more private with that information in the present? You can't play both sides and then expect to somehow be right or justified in the situation whichever way the tide turns because, at that point, the only wrong one is you. I completely agree that they need to watch their step with what they say and do sometimes - just as everyone with a strong platform does - but only more so now because people will create a problem the second they do anything that could spin into them being horrible people with too much power.

They’re all still incredibly fresh and new to the realm of social media popularity all things considered, and they reached said popularity startlingly fast so it can’t be easy to adjust to all the attention on everything you say and do. With that said, they’re doing remarkably well so far and I have faith that they’re going to continue to learn and grow in this arena given the time. They might mess up and make mistakes - already have, in fact - but that’s part of the gig and you can’t always please or satisfy everyone, so the best you can do is acknowledge your faults and move forward. You can’t demand someone’s head on a pike when they’ve made an effort to right things and it wasn’t good enough for everyone, it’s just not a fair standard to hold anyone to. In that same vein, you also can’t demand whatever you want out of them with the excuse that they owe it to you as a fan - you’re not a fan in any way, shape or form when you play that card, and you need to either shape up or ship out if you're doing that.

If you don't support it and/or don't like it, just don't follow or watch them anymore, it’s truly as simple as that. You can't continue to watch and support them as a “fan” while also touting how ignorant and horrible they are as detractors, that's just not how it works - pick one or the other and stop attacking them and those that don’t agree with you. They’re only on year one of their careers and the amount of people trying to “cancel” and tear them down over things that really aren't issues already is ridiculous, you aren't the righteous keyboard warriors you think you are and it's things like this that are ruining the internet for everyone, not just you.

That’s all I have to say on the matter and will continue to say going forward - sorry if you came here looking for my usual nonsense, but I really felt this needed to be said and addressed. I usually try not to do these sort of rants, however, this is a serious matter and a discussion that we as a community have been needing to have for a while, so now’s as good a time as any.

So, with my peace being given and my two cents thoroughly tossed, why don’t we focus on the bigger issues with YouTube such as their blatant ignorance of pedophilia and copyright abuse? Those seem like a much bigger problems to address at this point in time since that effects creators and fans as a whole - both in the present and the future - don’t you think?

[the-chick-of-the-air]

This is late but I wanted to do something for reaching 400 followers- are you guys kidding? That is insanely awesome!!

You guys are incredible and I am so happy that I’ve gotten to know some of you better over time since creating this blog, thank you all so much for your support! 🥰🥰

In return for that, and cuz I was feeling the writing vibes, have this one shot!!❤️

From One Phase to the Next (with you)

Summary: the bare-bones of friends to enemies to lovers. Like the barest of bones- it’s cute, you’ll see!

“Jude doesn’t ‘hate’ people, she just strongly dislikes them.”

A prince. She hated a prince. One with dark curls and darker eyes. Regarding others? Sure, Taryn was right, but the one person she absolutely did hate was Cardan Greenbriar.

She hated everything about him. Just, his whole being. Everything he did, all the things he said, all the clothes and jewels and the innumerable crowns he wore to lessons just to remind everyone who they were sharing a room with.

It was fine, he hated her too.

“Cardan has no time for mortals, the born-dead’s. those rotten pieces of dust-filled corpses. We hate them.”

Locke wasn’t incorrect. Especially when it came to a certain insubordinate mortal with auburn hair and fire for eyes. Taryn was tolerable when she kept her mouth shut. But Jude Duarte?

The very way she existed angered Cardan deep into his core. Her being alive was an insult to every life value The Folk stood for. Her breathing would one day cease and the earth would rightfully re-consume her flesh as though she had never been alive in the first place. Yet she had the audacity to act as though her fleeting life had meaning.

What did he care? She had no love for him.

However, Jude supposed, he had a certain…charm about him. Once you dove past the malice and cold front he so carefully held in place, he made a decent companion. So, perhaps she only disliked him, occasionally.

The way he ruled, the way he acted, how he flirted with her and courtiers and even Lady Death herself had a playful nature to it at times. A long day of council meetings bleeding into an even longer night of revelry had only one reprieve and that was the time, the quiet, stolen moments she got with him. A few minutes here and there to just breathe.

His quips and witty remarks as they worked on reports together-and working together, what a bewildering notion- while at first grating on her every nerve, soon melted whatever icy, calloused wall she had built around herself. With that, a sort of playful banter was born.

“Stare any longer at that missive and you’ll be reading it in your sleep.”

“Perfect! All the better way to get more work done!”

“Go to sleep, my villain, before you coax death into claiming you early.”

“Well, someone has to keep this kingdom running.”

All as well, after all, were they not comrades?

That was his sentiment on the matter. And Jude happened to be a riot in her own right. Her dry sense of humor that she allowed to slip through the cracks of her broken front was enough to keep him on his toes in dull moments. She wasn’t horrid when all was said and done.

Her cunning, her wit, every decision she made for a kingdom that disregarded her entire existence was-oddly enough- a source of pride for him. Every event, every meeting with insufferable court members, every task a king was responsible for was made lighter and bearable with by her presence, astonishingly.

Ideals and worries that stemmed from her in regards to Elfhame had ways of rendering him speechless. At first it was daunting, and jealousy over her abilities that contended with an odd sort of amusement soon transformed into an unusual friendship-dare he call it that- and he shortly found taunts and insults replaced with flirtatious tiffs and shared jibing.

“You’d think your crown would be too tight, what with that big head of yours.”

“As if you didn’t just take full credit for placating a mob of moody courtiers at tonight’s revel.”

“Had you not been distracted with that pixie, you could have shared in the glory.”

“…Perhaps I’ll focus solely on you, next time.”

To think he thought her meaningless not so long before. What folly.

Inevitability did have a funny way of being…well, inevitable, though. Witty remarks gave way to inquisition regarding one another’s welfare. Flirty banter folded into genuine compliments. Cutting remarks still engrained into their daily exchanges finally lost all their venom and morphed into whispered confessions under silken sheets.

The undeniable attraction, the strengthening bond, the ever growing need to be near each other all soon culminated into gentle touches, aggravated kisses made more potent by the prolonged wait it took to cross the threshold from hate to tolerance, to lust, to adoration, to…love.

She loved him. She’d whispered it for the first time as his lips moved over her skin, as every feeling they had been chaining up and burying in the depths of themselves finally broke free.

‘Worth it.’ She’d thought as he had stilled in his feverish reverence of her body to stare at her in unbridled disbelief.

He loved her. He uttered it back again and again and again in between each kiss he pressed to her lips. Demonstrated it in the way her touched her, every point of contact a testament to the truth he’d no longer wished to keep from her.

‘Forever, my love.’ He’d mused, perhaps even whispered, as she’d gazed at him with the softest look reserved only for him.

Finally joined on the path they had both been taking, the King and Queen let their love catalyse the health and the joy of the very land they ruled together.

And what more, the story of their journey was inked into tomes that the Folk cherished for generations after them.

As always let me know what you think!❤️❤️

Tag-list: (please let me know if you would like for me to include you on the list!)

@maleckanejnessianjurdansolangelo @woodsbeyond1 @cardan-greenbriar-tcp @thewickedkings @aneurwin @snusbandxknifewife @jurdanhell @andromeddea @dressedindustandshadows @thesirenwashere @b00kworm @hizqueen4life @unidentifiedblackthorn @iminsanenotobsessed @df3ndyr @brittneyal @aelin-queen-of-terrasen @thefolkofthefic @yafandomsdotnet @fuzzypineapples

[f0rever15elf]

Could you please do headcannons on an S/O or lover who is taller than the boys? Would they find it hot or think you're intimidating?

Thank you so much, I love your headcannons!

Hi there lovely!! I’m so sorry this took so long!! I hope you enjoy it! 

Head Canon Masterlist

When you’re taller than them

Whiskey: Please, please wear those tight jeans he bought you for horseback writing. He loves the way you look in them, how long your legs look. Leading up to meeting you, Jack didn’t know he enjoyed being the little spoon, usually being taller than his dates so it just made sense to him that he was big spoon. Then one night you wrapped yourself around him and the man very nearly started crying. Now, it’s his preferred place when y’all are sleeping. He loves the fact that you’re taller than him, especially when it comes to hugging you. Easier access to grabbing the booty, and it’s easier to nuzzle into your neck. Jack is infatuated with you and will gas you up any time you feel self-conscious about being taller than him. 

Javi: height doesn’t really matter to him, honestly. Tall, short, same height as him... it really doesn’t bother him. He’s still gonna cuddle you the same way, he’s still gonna stick his hand in your back pocket the same way. he’s still gonna praise you and fawn over you like you’re  the most gorgeous creature he’s ever seen. And that’s cause you are. Plus, it’s an advantage, cause if he ever loses you in the crowd, you’re fairly easy to spot. He won’t lie though, you being taller gives him easier access to the booty, and just like Jack, Javi GREATLY appreciates that. 

Frankie: “I love my tall partner,” is probably his most used phrase. The man says it at the most random moments too. Like, you’re out at the grocery store, reaching for something on the top shelf and you just hear him sigh and say he loves how tall you are and you turn around and he’s staring at you with these big goo goo eyes. The man is absolutely helpless when it comes to you. He has absolutely no issue with asking for help reaching things, either. He makes ample use of your height, in fact, but in reality it’s just a reason for him to thank you with a kiss (he likes kisses.) 

Ezra: The man won’t be quiet and will 100% be comparing you to the Amazons. Grace and beauty and height unparalleled. He writes poems about you, absolutely. He also clings to you like a koala any and every time you’re laying down together, big spoon or small spoon, he doesn’t care. If you ever had any sort of self-conciousness about being taller, he’s gonna double down on erasing it. No love of his will ever look down on themselves for such regal beauty. He’s still of the mindset of doing everything on his own, even with the loss of his arm, denying your help. that is, until you come up behind him and reach over him to get whatever he needs for him. Then, he looks up at you with bright red cheeks and he swears his heart is gonna beat out of his chest. He acts purposefully stubborn after that just to get you to do that too him again. 

Oberyn: The gods made you, and it delights him. Everything about you, but especially your height. He’d make sure you’re outfitted in the finest garments that accentuate your height, and you’ll never miss how his eyes rake over you when you do. He likes things his way, but sometimes his way is you in control, over him, taking advantage of your height over him. Only for you, would he ever allow this, much less crave it. When he introduces you to the sand snakes, they’re also in awe of your height, just as much as he is. The term “godly or heavenly” is thrown around a lot in reference to you, after all, such regalness could only exist in the heavenly realms, right? 

Din: He adjusts things in the crest as best he can to compensate for your height, apologizing the whole way that the craft is smaller and has the potential to make you uncomfortable. You assure him it’s ok, but whenever you’re on a relatively safe planet, he makes sure to find a place to stay where you can effectively stretch out. He secretly really loves the fact that you’re taller than him, but he’ll not say it out loud. Not that he needs to with the sounds he makes when you come up behind him and rest your chin on his shoulder or head. It makes him weak in the knees and he tries to cover the sound with a cough, but you know what you’re doing to him. And boy do you enjoy it. 

Pero: A tall partner is a strong partner. You must have been well fed as a child to grow so well. Your height means you have a longer reach too, which is good for sword fighting, which he will definitely be teaching you. He feels a sense of pride walking with you, that his lover is taller than him. Tall and strong and powerful. He feels nothing like intimidation or envy, he could never feel those things about you. He still encourages you to cuddle with him at night, tucking you under his chin to keep you safe and warm. He’s also incredibly stubborn, still demanding that he reach the things on the top shelves so you don’t need to, even though you can reach them much more easily. HOnestly, it’s endearing.  

Max: He buys you clothes that show off your ass and long legs because he LOVES them. Easier access to grabbing your ass? Yes please! Easier access to shoving his face into your chest when he hugs you? He can die a happy vamp. He’s also a heat leach and WILL koala to you every chance he gets. Because of this, more often than not you end up wrapping around him at night while you sleep and he is in heaven. Expect many ass smacks because it’s right there and how could you expect him to resist? 

Maxwell: At first, he’s a little self-conscious.  He doesn’t have a good self image, and feels like he needs to appear bigger than he is. He definitely wears shoe inserts for a while until you convince him to stop when he complains about how they make his feet hurt. He’ll take lots of gentle motivation and confidence boosting to be able to accept that it’s ok that you’re taller than him. When he’s finally comfortable, it’s like there’s a whole different side of him. He likes tucking himself up against you, feeling safe and comfortable. He gets rid of his inserts, not put off at all that you have some height on him as he walks you around parties on his arm. He decides he needs to make up for lost time, praising you and telling you how much he loves your height, especially at night when you’re cuddling and he’s super sleepy. 

Marcus Pike: Perfect boyfriend loves his tall partner. Heart eyes, all the time. It’s adorable, really, to be walking with him and looking down to see him smiling up at you. The only time he ever really shows any sort of self confidence was one time when the two of you were just chilling, and he asked if you ever wished that he was taller. He had taken your no at face value, smiling at your confirmation. He’s the type to play at the fact that he’s always having to move the seat up in the car when he drives after you, but it’s always in good fun. 

Marcus Moreno: Marcus kinda glitches out sometimes when he looks at you (much to Missy’s embarrassment). He likes tall people. He likes them a lot. His jaw falls open and he kinda just stares while you go about your business until you look at him and he snaps out of it. It doesn’t matter how long the two of you are together for, it’s gonna keep happening. Sometimes, when you come up behind him he loses all manner of brain function until you press a kiss to his cheek and move from behind him. It’s honestly pretty incredible how you can render the leader of the Heroics positively speechless. Missy jokes that that’s your superpower, and Marcus is inclined to agree. When it comes to cuddles, Marcus prefers the small spoon 9 times out of 10. Gods, he just really loves his tall partner. 

[fireinmywoods]

the heart of the matter (is Leonard McCoy)

Followers...friends. I come to you today, hat in hand, to ask for your support in a certain fandom matter, a trifling concern of little real consequence which nevertheless has been driving me absolutely cross-eyed bonkers for some years now.

Simply put: can we please all agree that Bones is the heart of the Enterprise???

In AOS, I mean. I’m not aware of any debate over this when it comes to TOS, where the roles of the triumvirate have always been explicit, though there are a few different ways to identify them:

Spock = logos = superego = head

Bones = pathos = id = heart

Kirk = ethos = ego = soul

So clear! So clean! So universally accepted by Trek fandom at large!

Oh, but things get murkier in AOS, and there are plenty of posts floating around which suggest that it’s Kirk, not McCoy, who serves as the heart in the Kelvin timeline. Even the writers of the first two AOS films have outright stated that their interpretation of the triumvirate had the original roles switched, with Kirk as the highly emotional one and McCoy as the arbiter between Kirk’s passion and Spock’s logic. It’s true that this technically counts as a Word of God pronouncement by the actual creators of 2/3 of the series thus far, which some would argue renders it canon. However, it’s equally true that those same creators also felt that Kirk was a fuckboi and that Benedict Cumberbatch wonderfully embodied their vision for Khan Noonien Singh, so honestly, who gives a hot hollerin’ fuck what those dingdongs think. This seems as justified a time as any to invoke Death of the Author, and in fact, it’s my firm belief that despite the writers’ intentions, Star Trek and Into Darkness both support the original triumvirate breakdown.

Under the cut you’ll find a long-winded and self-indulgent ~*~character analysis~*~ of the Kelvin-timeline incarnations of Jim Kirk and Leonard “Bones” McCoy, reviewing why Leonard is still unmistakably the heart, unpacking what the hell Jim’s deal is, and finally taking a look at some key examples from canon, because ya girl believes in showing her work.

Let’s get down to business.

[A quick warning, as this is starting to spread beyond my own followers: if you don’t like McKirk as a romantic pairing, you ain’t gonna like part IV, so I’d bow out before then or just take your leave now.]

i. Leonard

Independent of Jim’s characterization, it should be blindingly obvious that Leonard is the heart. He’s by far the most nakedly emotional of our seven core crew members, a trait we see writ large and small throughout the films. He’s reactive; he’s passionate; he’s humane. He cares, first and foremost.

Not about Starfleet, of course. Leonard doesn’t give a damn about playing the game or advancing his career, or even really about the Enterprise’s mission - he has no desire to explore strange new worlds, he’ll pass on seeking out new life and new civilizations, and he spends half his time trying to convince everyone else that boldly going where no man has gone before is a great way to die horribly. Fuck exploration, fuck space, and fuck the Federation while we’re at it. Leonard is perhaps the most improbable of the Enterprise’s senior officers for the simple reason that he seems to resent everything about the job.

Well. Almost everything.

See, what Leonard cares about is people. He cares about their lives, about their stories, about their hopes and dreams, about their suffering. That’s why he entered and has stayed in an extremely taxing caring profession, and it’s why he’s still on the Enterprise despite his incessant bitching about everything they do. He wouldn’t trust anyone else to take care of the crew he’s become so attached to, and he finds fulfillment in helping the people they encounter out there in the nightmare of space.

In every timeline, Leonard McCoy defines himself by what he can do for others: the pain he can ameliorate, the wounds he can heal, the diseases he can cure, the small amounts of good he can bring to a galaxy filled with so much absolute horseshit. Unlike most of his colleagues, he’s not motivated by curiosity or an adventurer’s spirit or a burning desire to make sense of the universe. (Fuck the universe, too, as a matter of fact.) Instead, he’s driven by the incredible depths of his compassion and empathy and concern for the people he serves alongside and those they meet along the way.

Sure sounds like the heart to me.

ii. Jim

I actually totally get why some people characterize Kelvin-timeline Jim as the heart. He’s quite literally a different man than the original timeline’s Kirk, and he definitely has more of the pathos qualities to him. Early on, he’s a total spitfire, fierce and hot-blooded, quick to anger and other sharp-edged emotions we’re not used to associating with James T. Kirk. Even as he grows into himself and leaves some of those traits behind, he remains spontaneous, passionate, protective, and self-sacrificing - easy enough to mistake for the heart if you squint.

But let’s not confuse having a heart for being the heart. Sure, Jim is more openly emotional and reactive than his TOS counterpart, but there’s still a marked difference between the way he and Leonard express and act on their emotions.

AOS Jim definitely has a lot of feelings - big ones - but at the end of the day, he’s not driven by his heart. He’s driven by his gut.

Whenever there’s trouble, Jim makes a beeline right for the center of it. He’s impulsive as hell, rarely pausing to think past his first instinct, because he just wants to be doing something, no matter the odds, no matter what it costs him. He explicitly calls himself out on this in ST:ID when arguing with Spock: “I have no idea what I’m supposed to do. I only know what I can do.” He doesn’t have the patience or the constitution to sit and debate all the options, either internally or with his crew. If there’s a path forward from where he is, even a bad one, Jim’s gonna take it.

[Sidebar: One could make the case that the roots of Jim’s instinct to act reach back to his childhood traumas - canonically ignored abuse and neglect on the one hand, and the Tarsus IV famine and massacre on the other - but that’s a whole post on its own and we ain’t got all day here.]

Jim can’t not act, and while that gets him into a lot of trouble, it also saves lives. Sulu probably appreciated that Jim’s gut drove him to leap off Nero’s drilling platform without a moment’s hesitation after a man he’d only just met. He may have been a real shithead about it, but Jim’s impassioned insistence on going after the Narada and not wasting time on the possibility of a better option was key to saving Pike and Earth itself. And I don’t know why Spock was so surprised that Jim intervened to save him on Nibiru, considering that the reason they were there in the first place was because Jim couldn’t sit back and watch the Nibirans die when there was something his crew could do to help them, even if it meant risking a violation of the Prime Directive.

Jim is a good man with a big heart, and he cares about people, absolutely. But he cares most of all about Doing The Right Thing - which in the heat of the moment often translates to Doing Something, Anything, Hold My Beer.

iii. heart vs. gut (i.e., time for some receipts)

I think one of the main reasons Leonard and Jim’s characterizations get confused is because they both tend to act on instinct, only lightly informed by higher reasoning. However, I’d argue that their motivations and the nature of those actions are super distinct, and those distinctions remain relatively consistent throughout all three films. (And y’all know I really mean this shit if I’m out here calling ST:ID consistent.)

Jim is a big picture guy, figuratively and often literally heaving himself full-body into the mix of whatever problem the crew has encountered for lack of any better alternative. That energy propels the plots of all three films: the chaotic path he carves through the events of Star Trek and ST:ID, and the slightly calmer but still undeniably bananas course he charts for himself and his crew in the second half of Beyond.

As the heart, Leonard operates on a more micro level. His concern invariably lies with the individual people caught up in those grand events Captain Chaos is busy dragging them all through. While Jim’s zooming around flipping plot switches, Leonard can always be counted on to bring it back to the personal.

We frequently see this juxtaposed right there on film. Think of that slow pan through medbay in the first movie after the Narada’s ambush and the destruction of Vulcan: while Jim is stewing over what to do about the Big Bad, Leonard has stepped into the CMO role without fuss or fanfare to care for the wounded crew and traumatized survivors.

Or jump ahead to Beyond: during Krall’s attack on the Enterprise, there’s a gorgeous cinematic shot of Jim sprinting down the corridor with two crew members to take on the invaders - and then we cut to Leonard moving slowly through those same ghastly red-lit corridors, searching for casualties in need of help, visibly affected by what his scanner is telling him about the downed crewman he tries to save.

Actually, Beyond as a whole does terrific justice to each of their roles. (Perhaps because it was not written by dingdongs.) The first act finds Jim flailing around for a sense of purpose and forward momentum - an understandable consequence of a gut-driven character having stalled out for too long - and he ultimately gets his mojo back by spending the rest of the film careening through one insane seat-of-his-pants ploy after another. Meanwhile, in the quieter moments between all the mayhem, Leonard serves as the empathetic sounding board for both Jim and Spock as they struggle with deep emotionally charged secrets and Big Life Questions, helping them untangle their feelings and reminding them of the emotional attachments which are ultimately key to their respective decisions to stay on the Enterprise.

More examples, you say? Don’t mind if I do!

Star Trek

GUT: Jim hurtles around the Narada, improvising almost every step of the way and paying the price for his and Spock’s scheme in bodily harm, and ultimately succeeds in rescuing Pike. HEART: Leonard calls out for Jim as he runs into the transporter room, overwhelmed with relief that he’s made it back, and takes Chris Pike’s weight literally and figuratively onto his own shoulders to begin healing him while Jim runs back off to the center of the action.

Star Trek: Into Darkness

GUT: Jim argues with Leonard, Spock, and Scotty in quick succession as he’s preparing to drag them all off to Qo’noS, immune to their attempts to reason with him because, unraveled as he is by grief and pain, he can only focus on his visceral drive to Do Something. HEART: Unlike the others, Leonard is upset not about the larger moral questions of whether it’s right to go after John Harrison or bring torpedoes aboard the ship, but about the fact that Jim himself is hurt and hurting and won’t accept help.

GUT: Jim makes a snap decision to sacrifice himself by hurling his body against the warp core to realign it and save his crew. HEART: Shellshocked by the emotional grenade of his best friend’s death, Leonard suddenly realizes, through the haze of his own numbness and upswelling grief, that he might still be able to do something for this lonely radiation-ravaged body he’s been brought and the life it represents.

Star Trek Beyond

GUT: At the tail end of an improvised plan to out-maneuver Kalara, Jim quite literally shoots first and asks questions later, igniting a fuel tank and setting off an explosive series of events which he and Chekov just barely escape. HEART: The next time we see Leonard, Spock is opening up to him about Ambassador Spock’s death and his own plan to leave Starfleet for New Vulcan - and while he’s empathetic toward Spock (I can’t imagine what that must feel like), Leonard’s thoughts go immediately to the emotional impact of Spock’s plan on the other people he’s closest with. (I can see how that would upset [Nyota]. / I can tell you, [Jim]’s not gonna like that.)

GUT: Jim frantically strains to reach the final switch in the life support hub, believing that he’s going to die either way since the vent has already opened, but spurred on by the knowledge that his ability to move that switch is the only thing standing between Yorktown and annihilation. HEART: Knowing exactly what’s at stake, with the fate of the station and millions of lives hanging in the balance, Leonard’s greatest concern is that Jim won’t make it out in time.

iv. never bet against the heart

Let’s wrap this up with a deep dive on one of the absolute best examples of Leonard as the heart: his decision to sneak Jim onto the Enterprise in the first movie.

As relentlessly as I drag him for the, you know, poisoning and kidnapping aspects of that whole deal, there’s no denying that it is a god-tier heart move. Is it logical? Absolutely not. Is it really the right thing to do for either himself or Jim, as far as he knows at the time? Nope. It’s 100% the wrong choice for his own job security, reputation, and relationships with his fellow crew, and it’s almost guaranteed to get Jim into even worse trouble. Leonard is a smart dude who must understand that this course of action will likely end up coming back on them both in a real bad way. For someone who argues loudly and often in defense of self-preservation, this is a shockingly bad idea.

But none of that matters, because Jim shakes his hand and tells him to be safe with that horrible empty-eyed smile, and it gets him right in the heart, one-two-three.

One: sympathy, worry, and affection for Jim - his best friend, his wild and troublesome stray, his only family.

Two: guilt over adding onto Jim’s pain, and the instinctive urge to fix whatever‘s hurting him.

Three: fear of heading out into the unknown by himself, the agonizing uncertainty of not knowing what’s coming, craving for the security and reassurance Jim’s presence would give him.

“Dammit,” Leonard says, as his heart wins out over his brain. He knows this is a garbage plan, and he doesn’t care. His heart chooses Jim. That’s all that matters.

So he goes back for Jim, and to his own surprise it turns out that this Very Bad Idea was actually a Very Good Idea because Jim’s impulsive instincts end up saving Earth, and Leonard’s not in the habit of fixing what ain’t broke so he figures he may as well keep on chasing Jim’s crazy ass around the galaxy for a while, through jungles and off cliffs and into the goddamn afterlife when need be, until finally one day Jim’s gut drives him right into Leonard’s arms and he suddenly realizes that this is what his heart was choosing all those years ago: Jim’s wide terrified eyes, Jim’s voice breaking over his name, Jim’s hand pressing hard against his chest, reaching out for what’s his.

But that’s another story.

[shintorikhazumi]

A Warm Diana Chapter 7: A Scorching Heat

A/N: Sorry this took so long. Ahhh, I don’t know why I struggle with writing this story, haha. It’s like I just open the file, stare at it, and worry. I’ve opened this file every day for the past week and some days more without updating it. Damn.

Anyway, on an odd sidenote, someday I hope to be a good enough writer to get recommended to other people haha. I’m not quite there yet. But I might get there… probably. Probably? Probably. Let’s start with finishing this fic.

Right, reminder that this is still around after Ep 20 so please don’t be surprised if Akko still thinks of Chariot as Ursula. I’m going to be giving a heads-up though, that I might not be able to integrate canon events into this anymore and may just have to do the Chariot Croix reveal a different way. Or we’ll see. Anyway. Apologies in advance if the quality and plot is bad…

This is so long, I could not beta and spot the mistakes. If you did, please tell me ahaha, I’ll fix it, I guess. Sorry if there are a lotta typos.

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

 A Warm Diana Chapter 7: A Scorching Heat

One kiss, two, then three.

Again, again, and again.

In their hidden corner of the library, behind the fountain, in front of their room door.

At morning, in the afternoon, and as the starry dark night blanketed the sky.

Warm, hot… hotter. Hot until their touches burned already heated skin.

And it would only get hotter still.

Ever since that day, the day they finally cracked, when they had finally overheated, it was as though the struggle to curb their emotional wants and affectionate gestures for one another only grew. It felt like shackles being removed, freeing them to do as they pleased.

Diana, in particular, wrestled with her will to keep her hands to herself every time Akko was near. She was just so lovely. Like a flower- well, a wildflower, but a flower nonetheless. What Diana would do to stroke her petals… Eyes, alluring and hypnotizing, seemed to always invite Diana in with their shyness, but at the same time heated passion.

Diana’s throat would run dry as a desert. She would sometimes wonder if she harbored her own personal sun within her. It rendered her with a dry throat, sweaty palms- and sometimes feet-, intense heat boiling up from the deepest part within her… Diana felt thirsty. So, so thirsty.

Oh wait. If she was searching for the sun, Akko was the sun. Her bright, shining, warm, marvelous sun that lightened up her darkest days and had given her hope. Akko drew her cold-blooded soul in like a moth to a flame, and sometimes she worried. She worried she’d be an Icarus, free from the imprisonment that was the expectations of being Diana Cavendish; she was afraid she was flying too close to this Sun. She’d burn her wings and fall… fall… fall.

But Akko would catch her.

She was sure she would.

Just like right now.

Locked in place between Diana and a desk in an abandoned classroom- how cliché- Akko’s breath heaved, cheeks tainted red. Diana loved that color on her. It suited her. The school was right to assign her to that specific-colored team. They chose well. It pleased Diana.

Akko pleased Diana.

So much so that Diana spent almost every moment she could basking under the sun’s glow that belonged to Kagari Atsuko. She would always steal her away any moment she could.

Her restraint was that slim.

But still…

Though it happened often, their moments of heat and warmth were always hidden, tucked away behind curtains and closed doors, and covered by the shield that was Diana’s reputation. The shield that might very well be a double-edged sword instead.

 //-//-//-//-//

 It was a normal day, a normal class to attend.

Diana strode down the halls as she always did, normally. With her teammates by her side, as per usual. That was normal. And she was at her normal state as well: Elegant and perfect.

Though this time, she had… someone else trailing a little after her, not exactly the same picture of elegance, but… perfect, nonetheless. In Diana’s eyes, she was perfect.

It was a rule they decided to establish when in the public eye. As intimate and touchy as they were when in their own corner of the universe, PDA was something they both knew would greatly affect them both negatively while they were out and about in society. Especially for someone like Diana.

It pained her to think that this was something necessary as of the moment, seeing as how she had just found the opportunity, and had been given the chance to step forward as the next Cavendish heir- she needed the acknowledgement of the rest of her family, and she needed to prove her drive and sincerity to succeed the role she was to play in the household by being incredibly focused on- and dedicated to becoming a top-tier witch. She needed to prove to them that she was capable and driven, and wanted this position above all else.

But this wasn’t just about that. There were so many things that prevented them from making their relationship public. School duties and responsibilities, studies, the teachers’ mindsets when it came to such involvements, societies eyes. The connections they had to everyone. Not just to the elite, but to their friends and families as well.

Though maybe the ‘friends’ part wasn’t quite as difficult-

Scratch that. Despite being so supportive of them before they made things “official”, currently, Diana would catch Sucy and Lotte giving her warning looks every once in a while, to which she would return with a gaze that asked, ‘what?’.

She wasn’t doing anything wrong, was she?

Not when she would simply hold Akko’s hand under the table; not when she would sometimes caress the smooth skin of her thighs and make her struggle to not squirm in that adorable way of hers; not when Diana would pick Akko up from her dorm room every morning, and take her back a little later than usual- but never breaking any curfew rules! She swore!

She was glad her team seemed to have warmed up to Akko. Hannah and Akko would have the occasional cooking session, borrowing the academy’s kitchen from time to time; Hannah was surprised to learn that Akko sometimes contributed to the breakfast preparations when she had spare time, or in the event that she woke up too early.

Barbara had been close with Lotte as of late, and she wasn’t one to stay spiteful for long. She and Lotte had taken a shine to dressing Akko up in Nightfall-related clothing after the Japanese revealed some of her cosplaying habits back home.

Well, that was one way to bond, surely.

Diana loved watching them all interact.

(Though they all prevented her from watching whenever Akko was made to change into some of the aforementioned costumes. They even went so far as to kick her out of the room! Excuse them, but Diana was the one dating Atsuko, not them!)

She sighed.

Her roommates took a shine to Akko, but why did it feel like they took too much of a liking? They seemed more protective of Akko than of her. And the student body had supposedly labelled them as her lackeys back then!

And she hadn’t even gotten started on the green team.

If a bullet were shot at Akko and Diana each, at the same time, their friends would rather form a line in front of the former and leave Diana to get shot.

These people.

She swept a glance over their little group. Despite all that, she smiled rather fondly. It was nice to know they were all closer, perhaps happier? Diana certainly was. And it was all thanks to the wonderful person she knew as Kagari Atsuko. She was a light, a hope. She was brilliant.

And everything was normal.

And just a tad bit better than that.

Drawing near to their designated classroom’s door, Diana could hear the normal class chatter, though something felt slightly off as it seemed to be buzzing with more intensity than just the standard excited gossip, morning greeting, and casual conversation.

She shrugged it off as the tiniest change from the normal class dynamic, striding into the room with her typical air of confidence and authority. And then everything quiets.

Diana quirked a curious brow at this, feeling the weight of many gazes on her. Whispering ensued; some students not subtle enough as they throw glances at Diana far too frequently that she preferred they just stare blatantly instead.

Then Akko comes in right after her and the whispers increase their volume; not quite amplified enough to return to the earlier sounds of talks, but everyone was certainly louder in their murmuring

Not one to lose her composure in spite of the oddness of it all, as well as the pressure of all this attention, Diana takes a seat in the same normal way she does every school day. Once more, it quiets. This time she has to admit, she’s begun to feel it: unnerved.

They are heavy. The many stares.

Then their first professor of the day walks into the room, and Diana felt her lungs capable of respiration again. Yes, this day would continue on as it always does. She would pour her all into her studies, she would be called as an example to the class, she would perform flawlessly, answer questions knowledgably, and she would have lunch with Akko and all their friend. They would get back to studies, and after class-

The teacher scanned the room, a nervous glint in her eyes, as if in search of a threat or a criminal.

Her eyes fall on Diana’s, and they lock gazes. She found what she’d been looking for apparently, lighting up as she spots a certain brunette a few seats back. Diana knows that’s who the teacher is looking at. She just knows.

And there is a call for them.

More whispers.

Diana barely misses Hannah shooting a glare at everyone staring, and she catches out of the corner of her eye, Barbara biting down on her lip while looking around nervously, the red and blue teams clearly confused and uncomfortable with whatever was occurring at this moment.

She tears her eyes away from the teacher, and regards Akko with a nod instead, a silent beckon to go out together. Lotte had taken a hold of the cuff of her teammate’s sleeve, afraid to let Akko go, not knowing what this was all about. Or maybe they did. Maybe they all did.

Sucy is quiet. Not her normal Sucy quiet with underlying playful malice or sarcasm waiting to be released. Neither is it boredom or deliberate evil planning.

She was just so quiet. And still. Her eyes followed the brunette’s retreating back, a hand on Lotte’s shoulder, a way to keep the Finnish woman from following after her. She looked just about ready to run off with Akko somewhere where they wouldn’t be subjected to this painful awkwardness.

Louder. Everything just gets louder. And maybe Diana has just become more sensitive to everything as her senses are heightened by adrenaline and nervousness. They exit the door just as it closes with a click behind them. And the droning whispers still follow them as they leave the area, barely drowned out by the silence of the halls.

 //-//-//-//-//

 “Miss Kagari.” This is normal. Akko argued with herself that hearing this particular name from the strict disciplinary professor was nothing out of the ordinary. A perfectly normal addressing of her name, she and Diana used to it as the heiress was usually in the area when she got scolded. “Miss… Diana Cavendish.”

Now those. Those were unfamiliar sounds, an unknown tone of voice directed at her partner. Odd on the palate of someone like Finneran, foreign. The way it was spoken, anxiety-inducing.

“Before I reveal anything, would you perhaps happen to know why you are here?”

Headmistress Holbrooke sat wordlessly in her seat. She did not look as though she was angered. There was something else in her eyes. It did not look to be something against her students, but rather, it was frustration towards the atmosphere surrounding all of them.

Akko had been genuinely confused since leaving their classroom, trying to list off all the things she could have done wrong; the rules she could have violated lately. Nothing came up, she only drew a blank in her head. After all, there was no reason for her to do anything unwise since most of her time had been spent with Diana- …something flashes in her eyes, a deep worry.

She hopes it isn’t what she thinks it is. Every time she’s made trouble before, the atmosphere was never this suffocating. Coupled with the fact that she was called together with Diana, it ruled out all possibility that this would just be Akko’s normal scolding for things she had ruined/destroyed on campus, be it tangible items, or things such as classes and her teachers’ temperaments for the day.

In contrast to her tense nature, Diana, calm as ever replied, “I’m afraid I have no clue.” The heiress was brilliant in everything, even acting. But Akko could see the tiniest tremor of her hand, and the fear in crystal blues. “I don’t believe we’ve done any wrong to warrant a call from you, ma’am.”

Diana may be an expert at meeting any problem as they came, but even she couldn’t keep her eyes from widening at the object their professor procured out of her coat pocket, hand holding it out in front of them pointedly.

“Well, then. I suppose you would have no problems explaining this photo?”

Them. It was a picture of them. A captured portrait of Akko and Diana in the library. This alone wouldn’t have been anything of concern, but it was the act that they had been engaging in at that moment that warranted the alarms in possibly everyone’s head.

They both knew when this was.

They could never forget it.

It was a memory that would play vividly in their minds in many moments. They saw it in their dreams, they dreamed it in their waking moments. It coursed through their minds, into their veins, a heart-pounding, magical sensation.

It was their first kiss.

“What…” Akko had no words to complete that. Her tense arms fell limply to the sides, legs trembling as if they would give out at any moment.

Diana was similarly speechless, staring at the photo blankly, mind running miles an hour.

“One would say that this was possibly photo-shopped to ruin your reputation, Miss Cavendish.” Finneran continued, and Diana had half a mind to nod, maybe realizing that she could go along with this possible lifeline of an excuse… before it was harshly cut. “But the source is far too reliable to be that.”

That seemed to have caught the heiress attention as she posed her inquiries. “What do you mean, professor?” Red eyes watched as fists clenched and loosened, the heiress’ voice barely staying level. “Who exactly produced this photo?”

Finneran paused, appearing as though she were weighing some options in her mind, before deciding with finality. “It’s something I cannot divulge to you. Not now, as you are. Maybe once you’ve reflected upon the wrong you’ve done.”

Akko’s head whipped up, that word she was so used to being associated with used again. But in this setting, in this context of her feelings for Diana…

Wrong.

Wrong…

Wrong?

What was?

Being in love with someone? Being in love with each other? Being in love with Diana?

What wr-

“And what wrong have we done?” Diana’s sharp tone cut through the fragile air. “Is what we have together so wrong? We haven’t broken any public rules, we did not bother anyone, nor did we force others to accept us right away, right in these very moments.” She fumed, at the edge of bursting from all her emotional tension. “What right do you all have, to tell us who we can and can’t love?!”

“Miss Cavendish.”

Akko flinched, noticing Diana did as well at the Headmistress’ tone of voice.

“We did not wish to jeopardize you, or undervalue your rights to freedom of choice, of expression, and of love. But there is one thing that is out of our control as of the moment and that is that these types of scandals are tied to a much larger picture. I’m sure someone like you can understand. The economy and society that used to be against us have only began to turn to support our school’s growth-“

“So, this is about money; I see now.” Diana butted in harshly, scoffing; anger, distress, and desperation blinding her usual rationality. She went on and on, words she would never mean or say. “You fear the support will pull out from you so you go against your values and standards in choosing witches, in raising witches and people, in guiding students, in encouraging their futures, and in teaching-“

“Diana.” It was cold. The usually warm, kindhearted woman was so cold. “You know that is not true. It’s not about that.” The voice demanded attention, and Diana relinquished hers. “The person who produced this photo is threatening to spread it to the outside world, jeopardizing- not only Luna Nova’s safety and reputation, as well as business opportunities- but the students’- your rights, future, privacy and safety as well. For all we know, it could have been published in newspapers, spread to inner circles of high society; and you know what that would mean for you.” Holbrooke’s voice dropped volumes lower. “You know what that would mean for your inheritance…”

Diana’s brows were still pulled together, but tears of helplessness and frustration had pooled in the corner of her eyes in addition to the frown still marring her beautiful face. Even in anger, Akko found her to be the most stunning. And yet she feared that she had tainted that power of Diana’s. The power to beguile and charm… simply because she was found greedily desiring the spot next to her. Like dirt on a gorgeous painting… Akko would destroy Diana’s shine in the eyes of many if that picture leaked out.

No.

That could not be. Should not be.

The Japanese witch could only imagine how difficult this situation would be, how complicated, how humiliating it was for someone such as Diana.

The headmistress stood up, walking towards the blonde at the center of the room, head dropping low from its earlier defiant stature.

“We are trying to protect you.”

Diana’s back wasn’t large by any means, but Akko had always thought it to be wide and intimidating. At this very moment, however, it seemed so small. As her hands were held in the wise professor’s, Akko could faintly here the smallest hidden sniffle.

“Please, Diana.”

 “… Understood.”

 //-//-//-//-//

 Tap. Tap. Tap.

Taptap-tap-taptap.

Tap.

“Akko?”

At the mention of her name, wine-red eyes blink out of their stupor, turning to her motherly tutor as the pen in her hand freezes just before it can touch the desk of the woman’s personal office another time. “Yes?” She offers a cheery smile that does little to convince Ursula of her current state. And Akko knows that.

“Are you alright?”

Akko would have scoffed at that question. Clearly, everyone in the school knew of her issue already. She loved her teacher, but that question felt too unkind. ‘Are you alright?’, the woman had asked.

Was she?

“I… guess not…”

“Would you like to tell me about it? How you feel?” That was somewhat of a surprise. After having been told off for ‘how she felt’ so few hours ago, she wasn’t in the mood to discuss it, only to be told they weren’t right.

But this was Ursula-sensei. She might just be different.

Akko hoped she would be.

Or her heart would break from having the only adult supportive of her who was close by, betray her as well.

She had already tasted it many times now. First, with her good friend Andrew, the wound still unhealing… Andrew… had he been right all along? That she could not bear the weight of a love like this, with someone like Diana?

No… that was not it. It should not be it. Diana was… Diana is…

Andrew was…

Akko shook her head. There was nothing to compare. Diana was a star, and Andrew was simply a friend she once had that had tore her trust to pieces, and though she longed to mend their former relationship… was it possible to recover in the first place?

These feelings of battling possible prejudices did not stop with the boy. It continued with the teachers, and then the judgment of possibly the entire school. Who even knows if her friends weren’t just pretending at this point? Could they even stand to… stand by Akko? When everyone was leaving her bit by bit?

… just as her mother had, not even intending to.

Could she still open her heart to someone right now, without fear of it being trampled into the dust, the monsters of her mind daring her to try. Try and be cursed by the inevitable consequences of rejection and abandonment. Try to let people see… see her feelings. See the emotions that many had already labelled as filthy.

But she desperately needed to let it out. To let her pain and frustrations out, she needed someone to confide in. She needed… she needed… she needed someone there. Beside her. Someone not chained to society’s expectations like Diana, someone not at risk of being ostracized from the rest alongside her…

She wanted to try to tell her.

Try… Trying… might not hurt. Or maybe it would.

“…Maybe.” Ursula had her full attention to her beloved student at the first sounds that escaped her anxiously shivering frame, arms wrapped around her upper body in a protective stance, eyes unfocused and dimmed. Her heart broke at the raspy voice and the quietly posed question that came soon after. “Would you… hold it against me as well? These dirty feelings.”

...

“Akko…”

The little witch’s eyes hurt. They were stinging with pinpricks here and there, allowing tears to well up, only held back by sheer will to not cry in front of someone who might just judge her like everyone else. She couldn’t take it. Not from one of the so few she trusted in, the few she believed in. One of the only people she could confide in.

Please, don’t let Professor Ursula be one of…them.

Her hold on herself tightened as she curled into a ball in her seat, every part of her just hurting and wanting to hurt even more. Her chest felt so tight, almost as if it denied any fresh air from clearing her lungs and her thoughts that were filled with all the restrained sentiments she had held back for god knows how long after she’d left the office. Her heart clenched and yet tore apart at the same time. She felt as though every part of her being was bleeding. Bleeding what? Blood, sweat and tears, maybe. Her throat itched, and she let out a few coughs.

Please… not you.

Please…

Ursula had been so quiet; the atmosphere was weighing heavily on Akko and she was quickly being crushed by her demons of anxiety. Her eyes had begun darting from place to place on the floor she was staring at, the signs of a panic attack and stress making the back of her neck up to her ears burn hot, her hands and feet freezing in stark contrast.

Her eyes squeezed shut as her head began to spin, all these negative thoughts swirling about in a whirlpool of sickening negativities and passions.

Please.

Please just-

Arms wrapped around her, squeezing so tight, Akko would have complained about the inability to breathe. But then the dam broke as Ursula kissed her temple, whispering words like magic. “It’s okay… I understand. I heard you. I heard your heart.”

“Please… stay by ME.” Akko felt helpless, like there was no one else. She just needed someone… Please someone. Anyone who would choose her. Who would believe in her.

Ursula continued to press gentle kisses to the crown of Akko’s head, rubbing her back soothingly as the girl hiccupped, writhed in pain, moaned out her frustrations and wants.

“Please.” Her voice cried, broken and tired. “I don’t have anyone else… Diana… my friends… I don’t want them to be…” A choked sob hid her words for a moment. “-just because of me…”

“No, No, Akko. Sweetheart, no. You are not to blame. I know. I also know you are in need. Of support, of someone.” Ursula took a breath to calm her own wild horses, wanting to be rational in this fragile balance of a situation, but also let Akko know she would help. “There… there may be many occasions where I won’t take your side, especially when it involves you getting hurt, or in trouble. But at this moment…

…I’m here beside you right now, and I believe in you. You and your feelings.”

A sniff.

Then whispered words.

“They… are they so wrong? To love someone so amazing and try to do your best beside them… is that so wrong?!, Voice in a crescendo, Akko questioned everything. All the conflict that came even before this point. “Is it so wrong to want to be someone better, but by their side instead of being alone?” The professor only hugged her tighter. “Are my feelings so wrong?!”

What could she even say besides her earlier words of standing by Akko? If encouraging these emotions meant more danger and future turmoil, should she shield the girl instead and save her from a crippled future? Or should she nurture them in some way, and choose the narrow path that could lead to everyone’s destruction? In her heart, Ursula knew she was also betraying her, but on something unrelated to the current turmoil the girl was going through. It was a secret she was willing to take to the grave, even, if it meant that her beloved student would only reap more pain. But she mustn’t think of that now. This was about Akko’s state of emotion, her love for Diana, right now.

This situation was just not something in their control. She had heard from the headmistress that Holbrooke herself hardly minded such relationships so long as they were properly monitored, and proper behavioral protocol was still observed within the school.

The problem lay in the person who was against all of this, against the two students, against Diana… and her inheritance.

It wasn’t something that they could easily intervene in. But the person seemed willing to pull all stops, even to the extremes to ensure that Diana never took something that was very rightfully hers. It was all they could do to be careful, and calmly try to protect the girls, even if it wasn’t as effective as they liked.

Really. If only they could do more.

“I’m sorry…”

 //-//-//-//-//

 The “consequences” of the spreading scandal were laid out clearly for them to follow just before they left the room. They could still attend classes as the teachers had agreed that they didn’t want to jeopardize their future, or make the situation look worse than it really was. This was also to stop rumors from spreading, and/or being confirmed. However, despite this privilege, they were not to linger after classes: Akko would go straight to Ursula for tutor sessions, and Diana would either study on her own in her room, or go on patrols; and Diana and Akko were forbidden from meeting at any time in any place.

To ensure this condition was met without struggle, Akko was moved to a different class to be separated from Diana. But this would also mean that she was separated from the rest of her friends, and the sole people who could be her comfort and support. In the new class, she was truly alone.

She knew no one.

She only knew judgment.

And that knowledge stabbed at Diana’s heart each passing moment as she’d catch sight of their friends, the brunette’s teammates, or simply her now-empty seat. It hurt.

Distracting her from being consumed by that ache in her heart, however, was the heat of everyone’s gazes: overbearing, scorching Diana; her palms would sweat, ears turning red. Subjected to the discriminating scrutiny of people who knew no better than rumors, Diana acted with an air of defiance, trying to mask her frustrations with her situation with a cold pride.

Still, the comments…

“I didn’t think Miss Cavendish was like that.”

They were words she’d rather not hear.

“What about sir Andrew?”

“Was all of that just an act?”

“She acts like that to woo men in, only to actually lead them on, is that it? I’d never have thought.”

“So miss goody-two-shoes actually has a rotten personality? I kinda saw that coming.”

They made no dents on Diana’s pride, nor did they hurt her one bit. If it was about her liking women, they could come at her all they wanted. If all they engaged in were rumors of her and men- most specially that disgusting Andrew, she couldn’t care any less. Rumors were rumors. And people believe what they believe. She didn’t think anything she’d say would change their impressions anyway, and she would rather die than plead for the acceptance of such shallow characters.

It was just that the chatter was becoming rather annoying. No longer able to bear the irritating notions thrown about her classroom, and seeing as class had been dismissed, there was no reason for her to lurk about here for much longer.

Swiftly standing from her seat and drawing the attention of all those around her, it seemed, Diana left with a swish of her hair, shoes tapping off the floor. She knew the mumbles would start up again as soon as she left the room, but she could no longer be bothered as she traversed the halls, following her mind’s map to her room where she would spend her remaining hours before dinner.

Eyes followed her even in the halls, but that was to be expected. However, gazes once pointed at her due to admiration were replaced by wariness and possibly scorn. Though scorn may not be that new, after all. Diana was used to the burns of jealousy, but maybe not harmful judgment.

As she neared a corner, the average amount of students she encountered remained the same, but fewer and fewer were looking at her passing figure. Curious, she saw some holding a piece of paper, most of them identical from the last individual or group she saw. They all appeared to be quite shocked and interested in the photo. But Diana had no time for them. She only had time to figure out how to turn this problem in on its own head.

She was curious, nonetheless. More identical papers appeared in the hands of more students. And they all were simply captured by whatever was on it. Now it really got to Diana, and she was confused as to why.

Then her eyes caught sight of the bulletin board in the hall, and ‘why’ no longer existed. Diana stared at photo and article on the bulletin, disbelieving, ocean blues widening.

Now that she knew what was on it, Diana whipped her head about frantically, reconfirming the amount of people now in ownership of a copy of what was supposed to be one of the most magical moments of her life. Her first kiss with the one she loved more than anything in this world.

Like the sudden crash of lightning and thunder, noises filled her ears; she couldn’t hear anything else but their judgmental murmurs. Overwhelmed, heating up, and feeling like she’d soon go mad, Diana took a step forward towards the nearest group of girls, having plans of snatching each and every photo to burn the torturous material to the ground.

The noises only got louder as people began to notice her plans and actions. Murmurs, mumbles, whispers… the usage of her name, the dragging of Akko’s. She tried to reach for the girl’s hand, but her school mate had moved away, everyone taking notice of her.

This silent, desperate Diana look-alike.

No.

No.

Stop.

Please stop.

She swiped at the paper, but again, it was held out of her reach. She tried to snatch it, tear it apart; she could probably take it away so easily had she been in the right state of mind, but after the stress her usual composure had been subjected to, no one could recognize the pathetically mute, and desperate person the top student had become. As she stepped forward to make another grab for the item from fast hands, she could just see the evil little smirks, and the taunts forming on cruel lips.

“Oh? What’s this? If it isn’t the high and mighty Diana Cavendish, here to erase the evidence of her dirty little secret.” Venomous and harsh, Diana loathed the tongue that spat out those words. “First, playing at friends, then now playing at lovers or something? Then being all ashamed of it?”

No. That’s not true.

I’m not-

“Well, I guess I’d be ashamed too if the other party just so happened to be someone as embarrassing as that idiot, Akko.”

Stop this,

I’m not like that.

I’m not ashamed of Akko!

Stop!

Please, stop-!

“She’s such a-“

“What is this photo?!” A voice bellowed, righteous anger making its presence known. But though it was on Diana’s side, she still did not want to be called out. She did not want more people prying into her well-kept private life.

Stop.

Don’t look at it.

Diana wanted to scream.

Stop.

Don’t look at me!

“O-oh, It’s just the new story going aroun-“

“Oi.” Biting and cold, if this was how death sounded like, so many ladies were already at death’s door. “You all take that shit on the bulletin down, and stop yer annoying yapping. If you got nothing better to do than gossip, then fucking scram!”

Diana had lowered her head in her unusually timid state, so she could not see the expressions of the person? People? It seemed like they were accompanied, who had saved her. She felt arms wrapped around her shoulders, helping her fix her posture and begin walking again. Lifting up her eyes, she saw that at her side were her teammates glaring at anyone who dared take so much as a peek at her.

Sparing a glance around, she saw Lotte, Jasminka and Constanze taking copies away from students and walls where they could see the papers with the pictures. The voice Diana had heard was apparently Amanda, now cornering the group of girls who had kept Diana from taking their copy of the scandal away.

“Imma throw all this trash away,” The redhead snarled. “-or in your faces if you keep up this little attitude.” Amanda had suddenly appeared like the typhoon that she was, snatching the photo out of the girl’s hand, tearing the photo loudly and savagely in front of them as a warning. Diana wasn’t sure if she appreciated that, or if it made her want to cry. That moment… was not meant to be walked all over like this, trampled like the dirt. But it was her only salvation in this moment.

The rest of the girls were doing the same with the papers they had gathered, crumpling, tearing, Sucy burning a few. She had never quite seen Sucy and Jasminka angry, but by the looks on their faces, many students knew that they were dead serious with any threat they posed- or were about to pose.

Diana breathed deeply, eyes shutting as her inner working swam about, rendering her nauseous and barely conscious in the arms of her teammates. Upon opening them, her teammates helped her find her bearings, steadying her on her feet. They were about to walk back to the dorm before professor Croix came marching up to them and halted right in front of them, arms crossed intimidatingly at first, and Diana thought she’d have to fight another battle. But then she began scratching the back of her head awkwardly, before sighing.

“Cavendish. You have a call in the office.”

“What do… they want with me this time?” Diana breathed out.

“I don’t know. Something about a call from a manor is all I know. I think you better be quick. Holbrooke looks like she’s dealing with a lot to keep them entertained.” With that, she turned on her heel, leading the way for the trio to stagger on behind her.

Upon reaching the large doors of the office Diana had been in not too long ago, Hannah and Barbara were blocked by the teacher from entering with their leader. They would have voiced their opposition if not for Diana’s chilling lifeless eyes that ordered them to obey. She then shut the door behind her.

 //-//-//-//-//

 “Who was it.” She murmured, stomping down the halls, Hannah and Barbara barely staying in stride beside her.

“Hello? Who might be calling?”

“Who was it.”

[“Young Lady… it’s Anna… I… I don’t know how to tell you this…”]

“Who was it.”

 [“There… have been rumors circulating… almost in all of… well England… and…”]

“Who was it.” The eyes… the gazes, they burned, they were scorching hot. The scrutiny like magnifying lens under the sun. But Diana could spare them no mind as she approached the library to blow off steam, maybe through studying, or borrowing a new book on spells to occupy her mind instead of her rampaging thoughts.

[“The people… who initially wanted to support and back you… for the succession… are pulling out one by one…”]

“Who was it.” She tapped her foot under the table, tapped it impatiently as she lined up at the counter to have her book checked out.

[“Young Miss… what must we do? How can we help you?”]

“Who was it.” Not touching her food in the dining hall, Diana was found harshly tapping her fork against her plate.

[“Is there… even something we can do? It’s become so wide-spread miss, I… I…”]

“Who was it, who was it… who was it.” She walks the dorm corridor to her assigned room. She entered, slamming the door shut. “Who was it?” She queries, hitting the wall with closed fists.

Hannah and Barbara looked up from their bed and study desk respectively, turning to one another before deciding to leave Diana for a bit. “We’ll be back, okay Diana?” To Give her the space she so clearly needs.

[“Miss, not to offend you, and I have nothing against it… I was simply surprised…”]

“Who was it, who was it, who was it?!”

[“…I didn’t know you… it… was like that.”]

“WHO DAMN WAS IT?!” She finally screamed out all the pent up frustrations, slamming her hands on her desk.

A Knock on the door. Soft, but continuous. This only furthers her irritation as she runs to the door in blind fury, abruptly pulling it open to curse at the guilty perpetrator daring to add on to her madness.

“WHO BLOODY IS IT, DAMNIT?!”

…And there stood Akko, eyes wide, curled back into herself in horror. Diana only registers this as the girl lets out a whimper, tears released by lovely rosy eyes that Diana loved so much, but had hurt just as much.

“I-it’s… it’s only me, Diana.” She croaked, backing up when Diana reached for her, making the heiress flinch. “I’m sorry, was I… was I bothering-“ No, Akko could not leave, not now. Not when Diana needed her- the only one capable of keeping her sanity in tact- the most!

The brunette yelped as she was pulled in, door shut behind her, before being engulfed in a tight hug, arms circling her waist and a face buried in her neck, a tall nose inhaling her scent, tickling the spot with gentle brushes.

“It’s just you… Akko…”

And the girl feels Diana’s labored breathing calm, her high body heat burning against her skin.

“Diana…”

“Akko…” She murmurs in a defeated tone, broken. She the realizes what she had just done to Akko mere moments ago, dropping to her knees, the brunette going along with her. “I… I apologi-“

“Shh… It’s okay now.” Akko wraps her arms around Diana’s shoulders, turning to plant kisses on any part of her head and hair that she could reach. “It’s okay now. I’m here. It’s okay now. We’re here. Together.”

She felt the bundle of blonde sorrow nod against her, and she raised her up, assisting her towards Diana’s bed before sitting the tired heiress down. Diana refused to release Akko, and so the latter stood there between her legs, allowing Diana to draw her comfort from her. She’d do anything to help her calm.

“Let’s talk this through, and make it out together. We will get past this. I know.” She murmured, leaning down to plant a kiss against Diana’s throbbing temple. She was under so much stress. “Do you want to lay down and rest?”

A shake of the head.

“But you really need it.”

A sniff.

“What if… I rest with you, will you go to sleep?” Akko was hesitant to place down this offer, knowing that if she didn’t leave soon, who knows what would happen if she got spotted.

But she couldn’t leave. Not now, not even if she wanted to. And she didn’t want to.

At Diana’s nod, Akko guided them both to a better position atop Diana’s dorm mattress, the top student, though with a larger frame, snuggled closely into Akko, resting under her chin, allowing the brunette to shield her away from anything outside of their tiny bubble of tranquil.

And in so few minutes, to the sound of each other’s tired breathing and beating hearts, they both fell asleep.

 //-//-//-//-//

 The sound of soft rain pattering against her glass windows woke the light sleeper in Diana up. At first, she had panicked at the feeling of being wrapped up in someone’s arms, under someone’s weight. But faint scents of strawberry and a pleasant type of fresh earthiness tickled her nose, and she knew just who that someone was. With a wistful smile, she looked to the person who held her heart, and remembered every bit of yesterday, said heart aching. Brushing her bangs to clear Akko’s face, Diana planted the faintest kiss on her chapped lips before sitting up, still in the other witch’s embrace.

Her eyes surveyed the quarters, finding the absence of her roommates, but by her bedside, a small note, telling her of their location. Barbara and Hannah had left to fetch them some food in the event that they’d wake up late and/or around a time when many students would be walking about and would have a high chance of catching Akko leaving the room. They had also tried their best to make sure that no one was lurking about their room by placing a barrier spell that would alert the people inside if there ever was anyone. It was their way of looking out for them, and Diana cried with gratefulness in her heart for their gracious actions.

Not too long after she had closed the note, the door came ajar, and in peeked a ginger hair, looking tense, but then relaxing as they met Diana’s eyes, realizing all was well.

Locking the door behind them as they entered, Hannah and Barbara placed the trays down on their little table in the middle of the room. Diana nodded gratefully as everyone seemed to have the same idea of allowing Akko more moments of rest after everything that had unfolded yesterday. They were all certainly drained.

Diana never knew of what other things the other seven had gone through while apart from them, but from the little she had witnessed, she knew she could trust them with her life. And really, she was already doing that.

Once Akko had woken up, the pair had their breakfast as the inhabitants of the room exchanged ideas on how to get Akko out to her own before anyone realized she was gone. It was already a surprise to see her here and without anyone barging in the previous night after rollcall. Hannah and Barbara assumed that Akko’s roommates must have done something similar to them, telling the monitor that Diana was sick and asleep- which was not totally untrue.

Not long after, they had received a small note through the window, delivered by one of Lotte’s little sprites, and it was urging them to return Akko. They knew she had to be in the blue team dorm, as that was the only place she’d logically be in after they had asked the green team and Professor Ursula and were given a negative that she had been with them the night prior. They had Alcor do a few rounds across the school grounds to confirm if Akko stayed in the ruins or tower, and with that turning up with a blank, the only remaining place she would be safe, was there.

Sucy had prepared some kind of dummy that was almost believable, and with Lotte’s sprites, they were able to create a believable, clone that did minimal shuffling movements under blankets, a waving of hand, and a weird groaning sound that was very convincing for the dorm monitor.

But that wouldn’t hold up in class.

They needed Akko back as soon as possible. So, they could only plan to sneak Akko out as discreetly as possible.

They began with the everyone taking their turns washing up and preparing for class. They somehow needed Akko to meet up with her own team on the grounds, far from the room. How they would accomplish that, they did not know. The most important part was that Akko and Diana were not to be seen together. They were under a probationary rule, and should they break terms regarding that, heavier consequences would definitely follow.

They wondered if they could have Akko transform herself into her mouse form and climb along the windows, but should anyone be outside and see that familiar brown creature, they might still be caught, especially if said animal was coming right from Diana’s window.

However, the idea of transformation magic wasn’t all bad. They decided to slip her into Hannah’s pocket, hoping that if suspicion were directed at Diana and she were checked, they could get away somewhat.

With that agreed upon, they put their action into motion, Akko climbing into Hannah’s uniform, and the blue team striding down the corridor, attempting to look as normal as possible.

Then Finneran barred their path, raised her wand, and for a moment, they thought it was an attack spell. A spell that would harm students, cast by a teacher.

But then-

“Metamorphie Faciesse!”

 And laying on the ground was Akko. Caught.

 “Not only did you break your agreement to stay apart, but what else could two people, essentially lovers, do when spending the night together?” The implications were strong, and they all knew it.

Very quickly, a crowd had begun to form around them.

“I never thought you’d dare engage in such… illicit activities, Miss Cavendish. This is beneath you!”

“Illi- No! There is nothing of the sort! Why would you-“

“Regardless of what you have done, the relationship in and of itself is immoral, and you two should not have been granted this much freedom.” Finneran stated, stepping forward to grab Akko, before Diana came between them. “Diana Cavendish. You do not seem to understand your situation. You do not seem to understand that I am protecting you. You do not seem to understand that there may be eyes and ears all around you who could so easily procure another proof OF YOUR RIDICULOUSNESS IN PURSUING WHATEVER IT IS WITH… WITH THIS CHILD!”

“WHAT DON’T I UNDERSTAND-“

“It was all me.” Akko’s voice was barely raised, yet it tore through the tension, above all the screaming, clear and heard. “I’m the one who came to her room despite knowing the consequences.”

‘No... No!’ Diana’s eyes bolted to the girl behind her, disagreeing with her whole being, trying to reach for the girl, before her hand was slapped away and Barbara and Hannah held her back to prevent further damage from adding on to the situation. Akko was now their friend, yes, but her eyes had told them all they needed to know. That she was taking a bullet for Diana. And they were also reminded, that in the end, Diana was to be their priority. As her teammates, as her first friends.

This answer seemed to please the professor as she stepped back. “…Indeed. It was you. It would be hard to believe Miss Cavendish would initiate such… I believe even this whole charade of a relationship was of your doing? I don’t know how you managed to do it, but to bribe and convince someone with a social standing as high as a Cavendish, you have quite the nerve.” She scoffed. “Come to my office. We’ll discuss the details of what will now happen to you.”

Akko no longer responded verbally, nodding as she dusted herself off, trudging after the disciplinary teacher, not sparing Diana’s pained form any glance.

Akko had taken the brunt of blame.

She had taken it all.

If only to lessen the weight of the events and rumors about Diana. If the headlines would soon change to be, ‘An Untalented Witch Seduces An Innocent Rising Leader: Bewitching Is A Reality’- or something of that ridiculous sort, maybe things would work out. Anyone could conjure a tale that was almost believable. Maybe this would give Diana’s reputation some leeway to be worked out.

So why shouldn’t Akko be the first to create it?

As icy blues stared at the figure leaving her behind, slouched shoulders, and the gradually quieting echo of steps bouncing off the walls reaching silence, Diana’s sense of hearing was replaced by those horrid sounds that infiltrated the peace of her mind.

They were back, to make Diana’s ears bleed. To drive her insane.

The murmurs.

The rumors.

The whispers.

And hidden among those was a slivering hiss passing by, with eyes that would always say,

‘No.’

 A/N: I’m really sorry. I have a lot of disappointment for how I’m performing in this story. It’s just so hard because, as I may have mentioned before, my laptop broke last year and wiped all my data, and my flash drive was lost with the backup. I’ve lost hours-worth of stories and data, and I really did cry for it. So I have no clue as to the direction the original scenarios were supposed to go. I’m trying to build off the older chapters, coming up with the story now. Ahhhh. I sincerely wish I could deliver this story better as I’m attached to it.

AHHHH I DON’T KNOW ANYMORE. Somehow, I don’t like how I’ve written this out at all :’<

Lowkey, the office scene feels like I wrote it from experience…

Everyone’s attention in this chap on Diakko may seem a little dramatic (I’m sorry), but if you’re somewhat well-known in school, and in a place that’s either really strict or conservative, especially when it comes to morals, you’d know that people can be quite… scary. Maybe this Is just justification, I’m sorry.

~Shintori Khazumi

[hannigramficrecs]

Mpreg

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Dahlia by YouAreMyDesign [words: 12,435]

Hannibal merely stares at him, and wonders if the lamb's wool was hiding this wolf all along. "I know what you did to me. What you've done to all those omegas in the press. Butchered, childless, discarded like the trash they are."

Steak au Poivre by therunawaypen [words: 770]

Alpha Hannibal is used to having the finer things in life. And he's used to showering those fine things on his beloved Omega Will. Even if Will wants those fine things at three in the morning. Honestly, who wants Steak au Poivre at three in the morning? A very pregnant Will, of course.

Candlelight Carol by the_heart_and_the_brain [words: 2,105]

A very dear friend of mine requested a Christmas Hannigram fic with mpreg and Alpha/Omega...this is the result...

Surrogacy by Anonymous [words: 12,966]

Will is broke, unable to afford college. Instead of working multiple jobs or in something he would not appreciate, he decides to sign up at a surrogate agency. He meets the Lecter's, an alpha/alpha relationship where Alana is unable to have children, yet Hannibal wishes to carry on his lineage. They meet with Will, finding him exactly what they want in a surrogate. Only, it is not as simple as having Hannibal's child.

Becoming Three by FlannelEpicurean [words: 4,602]

Hannibal and Will mate, resulting in a surprise pregnancy.

Family by thisisthefamilybusiness [words: 947]

Will wakes to his alpha pushing his tunic up to expose the heavy swell of his belly, pressing kisses to the taut skin. Hannibal hums under his breath and smiles up at Will, beaming with happiness. "Good morning." He brushes his lips over Will's belly button.

What To Expect (When Your Mate Is Expecting) by maydei [words: 3,761]

It’s simple biology, a tale as old as life itself. Alpha and Omega bite, bond, mate, and procreate. However, for the unsuspecting Alpha, the changes your mate may go through in the midst of pregnancy can be alarming. Hormonal fluctuations can cause changes in sleep patterns, eating habits, sexual desire, lapses in memory, and even shifts in personality. You may expect these changes. You may even read about them before they occur. Experiencing them firsthand is another matter entirely.

Worthy Is the Lamb by cloudsarefluffy [words: 3,951]

I want a fic in which Hannibal is found to be the Ripper and he's not too happy that Will outted him. When he escapes prison he intended to punish/kill Will for his betrayal, but Will manages to save himself with the fact that, bc of a one-night stand, he's pregnant with Hannibal's baby

Matched by LittleUggie [words: 48,859] 

The government requires that all unmated alphas and omegas at the age of 30 must register with a matchmaking agency to be paired up and mated. After 5 years of no matches, Will finally gets called in with an extremely high match to one Dr. Hannibal Lecter. Neither of the men wanted a mate, but life doesn't always work out the way one wants...

Quatervois by stratumgermanitivum, whiskeyandspite [words: 33,226] 

Will is an Omega who desires independence and freedom. Hannibal is an Alpha who finds his mind curious. They make a deal: if Will can convince Hannibal that he is worth more than breeding stock, and can go through his heat without begging for his Alpha, Hannibal will not mate him, but make him a ward instead; Will could go to college, get a job, do anything he wanted. If not, then he will be Hannibal's mate, bear pups, and accept his role. But is it really as simple as that?

Purity by PixieDust291 [words: 130,528] 

Will is cast aside by his alpha and sacrificed to the Wendigo that hunts in the forest. However, after confronting the creature Will then finds himself in the home of Hannibal. The alpha lives alone and seems to have taken it upon himself to nurture Will back to health. Over time Will grows comfortable with Hannibal and slowly reveals the reasons for his abandonment. Hannibal, being a pure bred alpha of the highest caliber, is well aware of just how rare and valuable Will is and decides to take the wounded omega for himself.

De Profundis by AGlassRoseNeverFades [words: 88,471] 

An Omegaverse story in which male Omegas are considered rare and precious according to society's standards. Hannibal decides he wants Will and is ready to start a family with him, regardless of whatever Will wants.

Tonight It's Only You and Me by IBegToDreamAndDiffer [words: 24,400] 

Hannibal's taken from his cell to meet his mate, who's in heat. At the end of their conjugal visit Will tells Hannibal something that makes the doctor realize that his escape must happen sooner rather than later.

Make Room for Daddy by slashyrogue [words: 37,520]

Will stared down at his belly, and then back up at the both of them. “Are you telling me I’m having a cannibal’s baby?”

Not Interested by Watermelonsmellinfellon [words: 64,333]

Will Graham, an Omega of forty-four years, finally finds himself interested in an Alpha. The only problem... that Alpha is not interested in him! And he can't stand it!

Omegahood by LittleSpacePrince [words: 15,706] — (Mpreg)

Who knew omegahood would fit Will Graham so nicely...

Arriving at the Crossroads by HigherMagic [words: 7,558] 

"You haven't been my psychiatrist for a long time," Will echoes. "But you've been my friend. You've helped me. With…" He gestures vaguely to his head. "When my brain was on fire. On consults. When it's dark and I need a guiding light." "It pleases me very greatly to be a source of comfort and reassurance for you, Will," Hannibal says. "I have wanted to be that for you, for a long time."

The Hanged Man by justhavesex [words: 13,076] 

Will Graham had never wanted children before, but he had never considered it to be a consequence of his omegan brain not finding anyone worthy, but the moment he had met Hannibal Lecter he had been filled with want. In which a dinner party one-night stand results in a pregnancy that changes Will's entire life.

Love is love by FandomsAndShipsGallore [words: 1,263] 

Will gets pregnant. His mom is pissed. Will goes to live with Hannibal and his family

Predator by eijirouN_17 [words: 7,619] 

Will hasn't presented, he doesn't give off any scent at all so everyone, including himself, assumes he's a beta. Then Will goes into heat. At a crime scene. In front of everyone. And Hannibal tries so hard not to go feral.

I Need You To Run To Me by calabazaraley [words: 1,733] 

Will gets something he always wanted. He can have it, but only if he leaves his lover. Hannibal's worst fears gain a foundation as time progresses. Can Hannibal find Will? More importantly, can they forgive each other for the sake of their love?

There's a Monster Inside of Me by Stronglyobsessed [words: 2,557] 

“I have a monster inside me.” Will unthinkingly blurts out while his free hand goes to his stomach as if it’s metal, and the small being growing inside him is the magnet. He rubs the flat area, feeling incredibly warm and full.