#so idk if this bit will be in the actual fic if i decide to write it from athos' pov but i think its fun
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What led to this (orufrey comic, cw an uncomfortable/creepy scene)
#witch hat tag#orufrey#er.... i'm too tired to have anything to say..i worked several days on this.#wait.. didn't i say just recently here that i probably wouldn't ever depict 'what if alaira is qifrey's sort-of ex'. What's going on#i don't even remember deciding to draw this..it's all a blur..i'm not sure why i WOULD decide to draw delicate scenes in my head#that i wouldn't really want to share with anyone/discuss so why did i draw it...#some part of me really really wants to draw things that are more and more true to myself...#maybe because of my alienation with most romance/shipping/dynamics the rest of the world depicts.#orufrey really is perfectly suited to me - what i read in the text and what is in my head. well anyway#i am TIRED of drawing poses and angles and..maybe now i will actually take a break from drawing bc of the tediousness of Angles#btw it really is a 'stretch of time' . . . assuming witches graduate age 18-20#well orufrey are canonically 30-ish. they've only had agott around for presumably about TWO years (?) bc she took the test age 10#and it feels like oru moving in/unknown atelier acquisition/building (?) .. i guess that could be a year or so before agott at most#(she was the first disciple) so... ????????? What about the other 7 or so years ?!?!?!!?!?! Unemployed Brimhat Hatred era#that time is very nebulous. after qifrey went to the tower i feel like it's been implied he and oru drifted apart a little.#certainly they didn't live together at first... no way. that doesn't feel like how it is based on things oru has said about becoming Eye#idk. I'm tired now. i don't usually think of alaira as necessarily qifrey's ex and this being how things went in that 'sliver of time'.#i usually prefer the idea that they have their first kiss with each other in their 30s cause That's Just The Orufrey Lifestyle#just felt like making a more relatable alternative view of my own Cai Orufrey Canon one time. btw im a big monoshipper and it hurt a bit#let's leave it there. this is surely the most i've worked on a 'single' art - though now i realise just how much longer the fic took :')
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one thing about katagawa redemption arc aus that i dont see anyone talking about is the fact that if he left maliwan he would be dirt broke. no inherited wealth. no cash whatsoever. and i think it would be very poetic if rhys REFUSES to hire him
#not until hes done some community service at least#maybe work in customer service a little bit#and if hes getting a cushy office job hes gonna get one where he sits in a cubicle with 30 other people in the same room#idk which one of these would piss him off the most#its not a redemption if he doesnt suffer a tad bit first#while also fighting the urge to kill people who get on his nerves#its a good exercise#theres also a janitor position at atlas waiting to be filled if rhys ever decides atlas SHOULD hire him#i actually need to learn how to write bc a multi-chaptered fic of katagawa trying to change and be normal#but always reverting and idk killing people and creeping on rhys again would slap so hard#im putting this in the tag why not#borderlands#katagawa jr#txt
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(context for watcher/listener!sausage can be found in the “videos” tag on my blog if you want it, but this ficlet can be read without said context)
- - -
“Y’know, of all the Hermits I was expecting to be pulling me into a dark corner tonight, I did not expect you to be first, Grian! I love the initiative!”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Grian says in a voice near a hiss. He’s got Sausage by the wrist, leading him into a small area of the upper floor of the tavern in Sanctaury that does look like it was built for the exact purpose Sausage is implying. Grian decides to ignore that as well.
“What are you doing here?” Grian’s straight to the point. He always has to be, with these Things, if he doesn’t want to get trapped in a loop of slant rhyming pleasantries.
“What do you mean?” Sausage asks, shaking his wrist out of Grian’s tight grip and leaning comfortably against the wall. “This is where I live. It’s my home. If anything, I should be asking you mysterious strangers what you’re doing here, but I’m sure you’ve heard that question enough for one day.”
“You know exactly what I mean.” Grian crosses his arms and tries his best not to look petulant, but he sure feels like it. “I thought They’d given up on trying to snatch me back, so why would They send you of all people? What’s your game?”
Sausage laughs, honest to god laughs, like he can’t believe Grian’s even asking him such a question. Grian thinks it’s a reasonable question, in this scenario, but what he thinks and what’s reasonable rarely seems to matter with these things.
“They didn’t send me,” Sausage looks him up and down in that way that makes Grian have to physically stop himself from curling inwards. This is why he never talks to Them. “Nobody sends me anywhere, they don’t tell me what to do and I like it that way! I just do my own thing. Isn’t that what you’re doing?”
“No you’re not! You’re not- you can’t be! That’s not how this works!” Grian begins to notice that he’s no longer whisper-shouting and starting to just-normal-shout and takes a deep breath, trying not to draw the attention of his friends enjoying themselves on the floor below. And, realistically, in the other dark corners Sausage seems to have built into this place.
“That’s exactly how this works. You didn’t think you were the only person who’d left, did you?”
Grian opens his mouth, closes it, and thinks. In hindsight… yeah, he had kind of assumed he’d been the only person who’d left. Not for lack of trying, probably- but They’d tried for so long to get him back, kept him closely surveilled even when They’d accepted he was gone- surely some people had caved to that pressure eventually. When there was no sign They’d ever let up, ever let you go… he could understand eventually letting it overtake you.
“Did- did you leave, too?” Grian doesn’t remember the last time he saw Sausage’s face. He didn’t know him back then, of course. He probably would’ve connected the man with the person Pearl so often spoke about sooner. But he knows it’s been a long time, maybe even longer than the last time Grian had gone There. He doesn’t think Sausage had been There, that day. This might explain why.
“Eh, not quite?”
“What-“ Grian flails, both mentally and with his arms a bit. “What do you mean not quite?”
“Exactly what I said! I was never- it’s complicated, y’know?”
“Explain. Now.”
“Well, uh,” Sausage seems to flounder for the first time since this conversation started, which Grian is choosing to take as a victory. “Look, I wasn’t- they didn’t pick me. For this, or for anything, ever. Sometimes things just happen and you get yourself into a place you shouldn’t have and then… they can’t get rid of me, I can’t get rid of them, it is what it is.”
Grian stares at him for a long moment. Really stares at him, in the same way Sausage had looked him over earlier, in the same way that makes you feel like you’re under a microscope. Judging by the sudden nerves in his eyes, Grian can assume he feels it too. Grian remembers his face. That had been the first thing he’d noticed, when the Hermits had arrived. It had been a long time since they’d seen each other, but Grian knew his face. And now that Grian was studying him, really trying to remember… he’s not sure he quite likes what memories he’s dredging up.
“What are you?”
“Grian!” Sausage’s voice drips with mock offense as he puts his hand up to partially cover his mouth. “We only just met, do you think that’s polite?”
“Answer the question,” Grian sighs. How Pearl deals with this man on the regular, he doesn’t know.
“Well, if you insist.” Sausage sighs, somehow even more exaggerated than his previous movements. “It’s just… if you’ll believe it, it’s somehow even harder to answer the first question.”
“It shouldn’t be,” Grian says. “They’re two very different People, you know.”
“But they’re the same species, when it all comes down to it. Like, you might be very different than a chicken, but you’re both birds in the long run.”
Grian pauses, fanning his wings out a bit behind him as he considers. “I don’t think that metaphor’s quite landing the way you want it to.”
“No, me neither. Anyways, let me continue.
When they don’t pick you, things go a little differently! You don’t get sorted onto one side or the other since, well, you’re not really supposed to be there? So I’m… whatever I want to be, really. I think I’m feeling like more of a Listener, today, but we’ll see how the mood shifts.”
Grian flinches at the Name, on instinct. He doesn’t know how to feel about that, so he files it away to be dealt with at a later date. As for the rest of what Sausage said-
“What?”
“You heard me.” Sausage shrugs. He’s so nonchalant, Grian thinks he might strangle him, if not for the worry that that’s exactly what he wants out of this, somehow.
“Did I? Did I hear you?” Grian wants to pace, but that requires leaving the security of the corner, so he forces his feet to root themselves to the floor. “I thought- I thought you had to- if you wanted to change sides, I thought you had to-“
Grian closes one eye and takes his thumb to it, twisting the finger into his eyelid. The gesture seems to get the point across.
“Well, that’s the funny thing about this, actually.” From the way he’s been talking, Grian assumed Sausage thought this whole thing was funny. He restrains himself from saying that out loud if only so Sausage will finish his explanation.
Sausage reaches up to his left eye, pulls his eye lid back a bit, and unceremoniously pops out his prosthetic eye.
“All these processes and rituals actually have a lot of loopholes.”
Grian doesn’t know what face he’s making, but it’s enough to make Sausage giggle while he pops the eye back in. Because of course he does. Because this how his day is going, apparently. Walk through a weird portal in his basement and wake up in a world filled with his friends who don’t recognize him and also a guy he only ever saw There, who he was never supposed to see again. Sure. Of course he’s laughing about it. Grian thinks if he was a slightly different person, he’d be laughing too. It is, undeniably, absurd.
“Well, I think we’re done here then!” Grian would probably object if he weren’t so shocked about the loopholes. As it is, he just stands there a bit stupidly.
Sausage turns away to return to the party before turn around again for just a moment, reaching over, and ruffling Grian’s hair. That shocks him enough to shake him out of his stupor and swat Sausage’s hand away, though not before his hair is suitably messed up.
“What was that for?!”
Sausage smiles as he reaches up to rough up his own hair as well. “I assumed you didn’t want your friends asking questions about why you were dragging me into a dark corner, you know?” Sausage even goes far enough to pull his shirt a bit out of where it’s tucked into his pants, because of course he does. Grian tries not to cringe, but Sausage is right about this one thing. It is the easiest way to dodge any questions about where he’d gone off to- at the expense of the many knowing looks and teasing remarks he’ll be getting from the other Hermits instead.
“Have a good night, Grian!” Sausage calls over his shoulder as he turns to leave for real this time. “And remember, drinks are on me for all you guests tonight! You look like you need it.”
#empires smp#hermitcraft#grian#mythicalsausage#hermitfic#empiresfic#long post#my writing#….do i need to tag shipping on this#they’re not actually DOING anything. and i would say i’m not really going much further than sausage usually does#but like. idk man. if i wake up in the morning and decide i need to tag shipping i will#anyways. fics for an audience of like two people total#but that’s ok cause i like this SO MUCH#the first few sentences have been rotting in my tumblr drafts for like at least two months#and i finally kicked myself into gear to just finish it#and i had fun! i liked the way i used capitalization here to really wedge the difference between how these two think of the watchers#(and listeners)#grian doesn’t necessarily respect them but he does still see them as Other. and he’s maybe a little afraid#so all the important stuff gets capitalized#sausage doesn’t. he doesn’t respect them and he doesn’t fear them and they’re just a weird bureaucracy to him#so no capitalization!#also ten seconds after posting this i got a post on my dash#of sausage posting a screenshot of e’s tumblr post about him checking tumblr in their twitter replies#terrifying. hey king if you see this keep the bit up. i think it’s funny#my art
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Angels can sense love (and other virtues), while demons can sense lust (and other vices).
Early on, Crowley can sense Aziraphale's little spikes of lust towards him, and he maybe thinks a time or two about tempting the angel into a serious sin, maybe even something worth falling over...? But he also genuinely likes Aziraphale, more and more each time they meet, and so he holds back. Gets him to try some human food and think a little independently from Heaven's company line. Calls it a win just to have someone to talk to, to have someone who understands even a little, and even more a win when he gets Aziraphale to relax and enjoy himself once in a while.
And then, of course, that sense of lustful, covetous desire coming from the angel wanes and eventually vanishes altogether. Oh, he still senses it occasionally, especially when it comes to acquiring a particularly rare manuscript. But it's never directed towards Crowley anymore, hasn't been for decades, maybe even centuries if he thinks about it.
It's not disappointing. Not really. He wouldn't want to tempt Aziraphale into anything that could actually be harmful to him, after all. Hasn't wanted to do that since sometime back in the Old Testament times, to be honest. It was just... nice? (Ugh.) To know he was wanted, at least in that way. And now that's gone, apparently, Aziraphale's physical desire for him having cooled as they've become friends over the millennia.
(He's still got it, though, if his success inspiring lust and envy in humans when a job requires it is anything to go by. Just can't inspire it anymore in the one being he'd be particularly interested in exploring it with...)
What a shock it is, then, when Aziraphale asks quite desperately one day, after they're finished with Heaven and Hell and their attempts to wipe the Earth from existence, if he can make love to Crowley -- but then also rushes to assure Crowley that it's alright if the answer is no! That what they have now is absolutely perfect! It's only that Crowley is so beautiful, and Aziraphale feels he's half gone out of his mind at times through the long centuries trying to ignore how distractingly much he simply wants to touch him, hold him, caress him... And now that they're here, together, and trying to be honest with each other, trying for open communication, Aziraphale doesn't want to keep this to himself any longer, wants it all out in the open and to know Crowley's thoughts on the matter so that he shall know how to act going forward. It's an excited, blundering, mess of a confession, ending on a stiff-upper-lip determination that most people think is so very English but don't know that Aziraphale actually invented it and that the Brits have just been following his lead all this time.
And Crowley has no idea how to respond, questions getting caught in his throat, tangled around his forked tongue. Because, what? What?!
He watches his angel's face start to crumble as he struggles, and finally his protests take shape: He could sense when Aziraphale stopped wanting him like that! It's been years and years and years! Without a single whiff of lust coming off Aziraphale when he looks at Crowley!
Which, Aziraphale replies, is simply not possible. Because, honestly, he's only come to desire Crowley more over the years: sensually and sexually, yes, but also as a friend and confidante, also romantically. Tenderly. He quite desires Crowley in every way it is possible to do, he thinks.
And really, Aziraphale goes on, feathers a little ruffled now, Crowley needn't pretend or make excuses -- if he doesn't want to be with Aziraphale in that way, he will absolutely respect that. There's no reason to pretend he can't sense how Aziraphale feels, just as Aziraphale has been able to feel Crowley's love for him growing, starting with those bits of affection and interest all the way back in Eden, through to the very purest, most all-encompassing love he's been able to sense from him these last few years, after everything.
But demons can't sense love, Crowley has to remind him a bit tetchily, only vices! Things that lead to sin and degradation and unhappiness! So it's not actually the same at all!
And then he watches Aziraphale make a pretty perfect Shocked Pikachu Face, not that the angel would understand the reference if he told him.
But Aziraphale starts to smile after a moment, even if his eyes are shining with tears at the same time, and the angel breathes that it's not a vice to wish to be close to someone whom you love, and whom you know loves you in return.
The penny drops.
Aziraphale never stopped wanting him -- he just also started loving Crowley at some point.
#aziracrow#good omens#good omens fanfiction#ineffable husbands#this has surely been done before#not actually my usual headcanon but I had this thought#about them both thinking the other wasn't interested in sex even once they're together in most other ways#aziraphale bc crowley hasn't made a move and crowley bc he doesn't sense (sinful) lust from az anymore#...this is such a weird concept for me as an atheist. but this is the sandbox I have decided to make a home in lol#anyway#they have one braincell between them#but every now and then they might actually resolve some of their idiot issues#idk if I'll ever have the energy to actually write this into a real scene with like ~dialogue~#so have this little bit of ficcish writing anyway#my writing#my fics#fanfiction#short fiction#queer fiction#this needs more of an ending :P
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Davion you fucking faggot ....
#just blahs#i love him a lot#but also . you fucking faggot .......#anyways i think way too autisticly to write in davions pov this is so hard#googles what do peoples thoughts sound like#I fear i really cannot write from davions pov and we'll just see if athos is easier for me#so idk if this bit will be in the actual fic if i decide to write it from athos' pov but i think its fun#duelist and the beast#dathos
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i have all these draft documents of half finished fics full of lines i love but that are so fundamentally flawed i can't figure out how to finish them and can't kill my darlings mercilessly enough to get past the roadblocks so i just reread them over and over and think damn this is kinda fire. wish it was anywhere near shareable.
#UGHHHHH 10k allydia fic full of dead end plotlines that lives in my google drive you will always be famous to me and me alone#allison is resurrected and i have this short bit about the five stages of grief vs the five stages of decomposition but idk if i can keep i#bc it works better if allison was dead longer. but i LIKE those lines............#i have like the barest of bones for like 6 different parts of the tw hunger games au fics......#scott one is at 4500k but i decided a while ago i need to change one of the main plot points and it's killing me bc that's like 90% of it#but i like the writing and it's like three scenes from completion!! but i can't bring myself to be happy with where i brought the plot 😔#SICK AND TWISTED!!!!!!!!!!#the tua fic that is my white whale..... reverse robins plot points plan and like four different false start documents......#the robins ghost au i never figured out a plot for....... the tommy dies instead of barb au........ THE JASON CARVER TIMELOOP STORY.......#i really like the opening i wrote for the jason time loop but that's all i wrote bc i realized i'd have to figure out a plot and rewatch s4#and like. :/ idk if i'm willing to do all that. for jason carver?? well.#i have this criminal minds fic where reid gets the flu bc he refuses to get vaccinated bc he's terrified of needles after georgia#and jj shows up to check on him bc she's also dealing w the georgia anniversary so she's desperate for proof of life#and it's like 80% done but i stopped super caring about cm a few years ago and now every time i remember it i'm like :/#i could spruce that up and post it if i really wanted to! it's not bad at all! but will i ever do that.........#OH MY GOD the like 4k i wrote from the POV of this girl stalking reid?? like i wanted to do a casefic from the unsub's perspective#i forgot about that one i was really invested in it for a while actually did a lot of research and really tried to make her sympathetic#shoutout to the random extra from that episode w jason alexander who i decided was gonna be Gwen The Stalker <3#throwback to my criminal minds era that was wild#anyways truly it is the allydia one the twthg xovers the reverse robins and the tua longfic that haunt me constantly#i always cycle between thinking about one of them on and off
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anyway i’ve discovered that downloading fics from ao3 as epubs and reading them that way is awesome
#i was rereading a fav multi chapter and lost connection for a bit so i decided to dl it#just as a pdf at first but i got Curious#idk how fics with actual styling would look like in this format tho#but it is delightful. there are page numbers. u can change the fonts and background colors with a click
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I absolutely ate up your latest top gun fics!!!! Your hangman pov was perfect!!! I seriously can’t read anything else because I’m so obsessed with your writing style and characterisation. are you still writing the college au👀??? Or if not, what are you working on??
the college au is still in its planning stages (everyone PRAY it makes it out…) but i started working on a silly canonverse halloween fic in the meantime :D i love them sooooo bad.
#i know i wrote a similar concept into my slow burn fic but IDC!#this is DIFFERENT 🙄 plus i’m in a fall mood now so i figure why not devote an entire fic to it#i cant decide if i should sit on it until its Actually halloween once i finish it or post it right after like usual#there’s a longer fic i want to start working on after so i might wait a bit 😭 idk we will see#ty for the kind words u guys r too sweet to me <3
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kinda wanna write the whole shigadabi 'getting together' scene for Light at the End of the Night and just post it in the series as an 'extra' cus idk... seems fun?
would anyone wanna see it tho?
#like ive had it in my brain really since i started writing the fic#shigaraki is drinking... outside cus he doesnt want kurogiri getting on him for drinking too much#and dabi just like saunters out to smoke some weed#steals the last of shigaraki's whiskey to annoy him#...but shigaraki is like gay about dabi not being scared of him#and also just realizes hes gay for dabi in general#so naturally he grabs dabi and kisses him#and dabi is like... kinda confused but rolls with it#cus he's also gay as hell#and they make out a bit#i have absolutely no fucking idea how dabihawks actually started in this fic tho#just assuming hawks like. idk. decides to seduce dabi to gain trust?#or maybe the other way around?#idfk they end up fucking and then Hanako happens lmao
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I made a Goro Akechi playlist!!! If anyone's interested, you can check it out here.
#i read a very angsty fic and wanted to listen to some music after that made me think of akechi#so i decided to make my own playlist#i used to never think about character playlists but idk what has come to me#this is the 3rd playlist inspired by fiction that i made this year lmao#i don't even know that many songs so making these is actually fun!!! it gets me thinking and helps me discover new songs#anyways#i hope someone else finds these song fitting for him#because goro akechi owns my heart and i will be very upset if it ends up i don't know and understand him at all ;(#also i ship akeshu/shuake which might be evident in some of the song choices#oh well#persona 5#goro akechi#akechi goro#playlist#p5#p5r#persona 5 royal#p5 playlist#Spotify#btw the genres might be a bit all over the place but idk
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frankie if yr curious
#clothes not pictured bc its actually sooo stressful...#i had her sort of a jock bc i think thats cute but did you guys know its so hard to make a jock outfit look alt or goth or punk in any way.#also in my currently hypothetical band (its stressful... i wanted to have the original ghouls all in one band but. well ok end parenthesis#this is a whole seperate thought. so rpetend this wasnt ever in parenthesis ok. ik i want clawdeen to be bass ghoulia to be kehboard and#drankie 2 be drums. those all make sense for me#and then ive just got voice lead guitar and rhythm guitar. and well personally j dont see draculaura cleo Or lagoona playing guitar lol.#but also cleos umm kusic class she had a harp Which is strings... so thats something#but also idk if cleo would want to be In a band with other ppl since shes sort of. yk. famously#soo yeah im having trouble deciding. im currently trying to figure out the friend groups and im gonna maybe judt do friendgroup bands#instead. bc rn i kinda feel like that kpop tweet where its like they always go out of their way to include every member in fics Why hoseok#the bus driver all of a sudden...#thats me rn. i think mahbe theyll just be in different bands Lol. bc that makes more sense#also idk if its clear at all. and well also i switch between all th time. her hair doesnt make a ton of sense but its basically half up#half down. and depending on how im feeling its either judt a rly high short ponytail the sticky up bit#OR its a claw bun with the hair sticking up. and thats the sticky uppy bit. thats how my hair is 4 worm#FOR WORM?#sry. bt yeah so idk..
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I have been writing the Eddie Munson Warm Bodies au!
The first chapter may be slightly longer, but that’s because I want to have Eddie and reader at least meet in the first, and there’s a lot of world building that has to come before that. Idk, we’ll see how it goes! I’m currently 4k in of the very first draft, so it’s definitely being written haha
I’m really excited actually, to show and talk about some of the decisions I’ve made! There’s a couple of things I’m excited to discuss, even though they may be like smaller details haha ☺️
#I hope people actually want this (and also like it hahaha) because it’s nice to be invested in writing again!#also I did hours of research yesterday on like tiny little details that will pop up occasionally in other chapters#but I feel very accomplished in researching them even though these details may not actually matter#(and I hate research in academia it’s my least fav thing FR but when it comes to fics I’m out there)#fr though I’m liking writing it so far and I haven’t even gotten to the bits I’m really excited about!!!!#like lovelorn zombie Eddie ugh ahh 😭❤️#I think it’d maybe be better structure wise to have the first chapter end where it is currently#buuuuut then Eddie and reader will not have met yet and it’d just be a chapter of world building only#so I thought making it just a long choater might be best!#I say that my future chapter may also be long I have no idea bwahah#chapters*#sorry to rant a little but I thought maybe ppl would like to know I have decided to write it? idk aha I’m excited for it though#have a nice day y’all who are still reading 😂😊💕#eddie munson#zombie!eddie munson#stranger things
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get you alone | ljn ( m )
ideally, jeno should have his hands full with teaching. (un)fortunately, he only seems to have his head full of you.
pairing: tutor!jeno x reader verse: college au rating: r ( minors, do not interact! ) warnings & tags: jeno is a college algebra math tutor & reader is failing, written in lapslock, not beta’d in any shape or form so please excuse mistakes, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, folks), piv, oral (f!receiving), use of pet names (kitten, angel, sweetheart), praise, reader calls jeno ‘sunbae’ until she doesn’t, size kink i guess if u squint! word count: 8.5k
a/n : actually this was written for a different fandom but i’ve decided to make it a jeno fic bc idk why not! first time writing in a different perspective so it’s a bit odd for me & i can't say i fw with this style nor am i particularly proud of this fic but she is ... sumn! also i fear i have a thing for the math tutor trope but that’s neither here nor there AHA enjoy !!
if you liked it, please consider reblogging to support (especially because this may get flagged for mature content)!
there wasn’t anything special about your case; at least, that’s what jeno had thought when he picked up your request before he met you. before he met you, you were just another student trying to demystify the painfully enigmatic art of getting through college algebra. before he met you, he had already tagged this case as another charity stint — a good way to get brownie points with the dean’s office and the mathematics and natural sciences department. in fact, thinking of all his tutoring cases as community service made them somewhat palatable, if not a little forgettable. he was quite sure, at the time, that you’d be in and out — both of the tutoring center and his memory. such was the case with most of his other tutees, anyway.
he hadn’t expected you to be… well, you — a pretty little thing, with your sweet smile and your wide doe eyes. on the first day, you’d stood out; you’d arrived at the tutoring center’s lobby in a short dress, knit cardigan, and coquettish makeup, as if every fiber of your being were bidding the spring a solid farewell. multiple heads had turned, including his, as you came up to the front desk and asked for one lee jeno for college algebra. you were eager for summer, jeno had learned as you broke the ice little by little, in part because you looked forward to visiting okinawa with your family, but also because you were eager to get your first semester out of the way. that much, you had in common with most of his other students — almost all of the ones seeking help in college algebra only took it as a depressing core requirement of whatever degree they were doing. you, specifically, were focusing on fashion design; that very vividly explained your attention to your looks. this mathematics class was a thorn in your side, a mandatory thing that was simply supposed to get you through later business-oriented classes in your degree program. for jeno, however, college algebra had become the perfect excuse from the moment he’d laid eyes on you.
the more time he spends with you, the more he thinks you’re exactly his taste. it starts off with little things he finds attractive, things he picks up while he’s watching you fill out the practice sheets he’s prepared for you on quadratic equations or while trying to get you to understand logarithms — your neat, tiny handwriting, almost like print; your habit of boxing your final answers in firm strokes, even if they’re hopelessly wrong; your colored tabs, cascading down the page side of your textbook. but as the weeks wear on, he sees all the little things in between — the way your long eyelashes quiver when you stop and close your eyes as you think for the answer, the upturn of your plush lips when you have the same answer on the practice sheet as he does, the deepening of your artificial blush with a natural hue when you realize you don’t know the answers to his gentle questions. he notices that you refuse to wear anything longer than a knee-length skirt despite the still-strong winds, notices that your tiny palms are always smooth and pink, that your hair always smells of coconut milk. these are things he can’t help but jot down in his memory — that was exactly what you were, after all: memorable.
and the more he remembers about you, the more jeno wants you. yet he’s never made a move, never given so much as a hint of his interest, not only because there are prying eyes all around the building but also because you have never so much as shown a smidge of desire back. in fact, he has to wonder if you’ve ever thought of him in a different capacity — not as a tutor, but as a man. if you have, you’ve never made that obvious; you always talk to him respectfully, the little wall you’ve erected between the both of you remaining steady, and you never let your eyes linger on his face for longer than it takes for him to explain what you don’t know. jeno has had his fair share of female students, and in all of them, he’s seen the same kind of hunger — to few, he’s catered to their whims, if only to pass the time, if only for his own benefit. but you, with your ribbons in your hair and your sweet, sweet mouth, have never once shown that same kind of desire.
he doesn’t know if it frustrates him, but he does know one thing — it makes him want you all the more.
he wants you even now, as you sit across from him, dolled up as usual. even now, as your eyes take on a glassy sheen of defeat, your cheeks puffing out in the way that tells him you’re admonishing yourself once again, he craves you — maddeningly so. and he realizes that it doesn’t really matter if you're not the one to fall first, as long as he can still have you.
“time out,” you beg, your fingers meeting the palm of your hand to signal a break. “my brain feels like it’s going to explode.”
“you just had a break ten minutes ago,” jeno reminds you, though there’s a lighthearted amusement to his voice that makes you smile sheepishly. “at this rate, you’ll be on more breaks than you’ll be taking the time to actually learn.”
“i’m trying,” you groan, your fingers curling against your forehead as you bump your head against your fist. “i just don’t think i’m cut out for this polynomial whatever — trial and error bullshit.”
“you’ll hate me for saying this — but you’ll never know unless you keep trying.”
“funny.” your sigh rustles the papers in front of you gently. “how do you do it, sunbae?”
“hm?”
“you’re not only good at this stuff, but you’re so good you’re able to take the time to teach people like me.”
“strengths and weaknesses — it’s the natural way of the world.” jeno smiles gently at you, and he notes how his chest feels tighter when you return the sentiment shyly. “i could never do what you’re doing in your own degree, try as i might. anyway, you’ll get there. i won’t let you become my first ever failed project, you know.”
“i wouldn’t want to let you down either, sunbae, but—” the back end of your pencil taps lightly against the surface of the table. “it just feels hopeless. i can’t focus on anything. it’s so… so abstract, and everyone here is talking all at once, and i don’t even know what i’m ever going to get out of this class in the long run.”
even when you’re dejected, you look pretty; your bottom lip juts out naturally when you whine like this, and for a moment, jeno can’t say anything in response. he’s too busy wondering what your mouth would feel like on his — on him. when he snaps himself out of his brief reverie, he notices you’re looking around at everyone else — and he has to agree that with the noise level in this whole building, it isn’t the most conducive site for learning, especially when the learner is already so averse to the subject matter.
“i can’t help much in the way of it being too abstract,” he says kindly. “but it’s not a requirement for us to have our sessions here. i know it can be quite distracting, all these voices flying around, so why don’t you look for a place that better suits you, and we can start meeting there instead? the more comfortable you are in your environment, the better you’ll be able to absorb the material, i’m sure.”
“you think?” your pencil comes to a slow halt as you refocus on him, a thoughtful light glimmering behind your gaze. “yeah — yeah, i actually wouldn’t mind that. then, i’ll look for a different place for us to meet, and we can start there next week. how does that sound?”
“whatever suits you suits me,” he responds easily.
he lowers his gaze immediately after you flash him a blinding grin; there are far too many people here, as you both very well know, and if he keeps looking at you and your pretty little expressions any longer, he might just give them something to actually look at.
it had been your idea, not his, so why did jeno feel like he’d dragged you into a compromising situation?
you’d texted him over the weekend that your search for a new venue had been absolutely fruitless; every cafe and study space you’d been to was either too expensive or equally as packed with people, if not both. jeno had seen the preview to your message, but he hadn’t been prepared for what it read out in full when he’d actually opened it.
sunbae, would it be too difficult to just meet at my apartment? i attached a map, so let me know!
it wouldn’t be too difficult; logistics-wise, it was walking distance from campus and almost directly across the train station he takes home. it also definitely promised an environment you were comfortable in, and you wouldn’t have to worry about excess noise from any other tutoring groups. no, the difficulty really only lied in himself — you two, all alone, would certainly mean his mind would be up to no good for the two hours every monday, wednesday, and thursday you would be together.
but for your sake, he’d try to rein it in, with the operative word being try.
your place is as neat and as pretty as you are; he doesn’t know if you’ve cleaned up for him, or if you’re naturally this organized, but he likes it all the same. it smells of toasted marshmallow and expensive perfume, and all your furniture matches. jeno supposes he likes that in a woman — someone able to care for herself, someone who cares about herself. and you’re always just as neat and pretty to match, with your hair always styled sweetly, your makeup always enhancing your features.
the problem is that now that he’s in here, where you live, and where you spend most of your time, jeno’s mind seems to wander too much towards thoughts about what you do in private. he rejects studying on the couch, not just because it’s bad for posture and concentration but also because he can’t help but imagine you pressed into the cushions by his hand. he suggests the small dining table you have, but on the second meeting at your place, he starts thinking about what you might look like seated on the table, your ass hanging over the edge and his face buried between your thighs. whenever you look up to ask him something, he drinks in your lovely, made-up face again, and starts wondering what your makeup would look like ruined before he interrupts that trainwreck of a thought with the answer to your question.
by the end of the week, jeno’s defenses are all but shot, and he realizes that this situation might be optimal for you, but it definitely isn’t doing him and his now constantly straining cock any great favors.
he supposes that your performance has somewhat improved; you’re less likely to trail off when you’re thinking and can actually do practice sets for a lot longer without all the noise and hubbub around you. your only real hindrance is yourself and your frustration; you have a habit of giving into your carelessness that sends you spiraling into despair, and it doesn’t help that when you press your cheek against the surface of your dining table and whine, the comfort jeno offers is noticeably delayed because he’s too busy thinking about his cock between your lips.
“my dad’s going to kill me if i fail this midterm,” you grumble, stabbing the practice sheet with your pencil; it skids sideways, and jeno robotically fixes it back into proper alignment for you, careful not to brush against the arm that’s folded inwards, supporting your chin. “he only agreed to let me take this degree because of the business aspect of it. as if i’ll need to know about—” you check the header of the worksheet. “domain and range when i’m doing actual design work.”
“you’ll never know what might be useful later on in life. i definitely thought this was nonsense back in high school — and then i got this job.”
“and now you’re rolling in dough?” you smile slightly. jeno chuckles.
“i’m a long way away from having myself a scrooge mcduck golden pool, but i make enough to get by very comfortably, thanks to this.”
“thanks to me, you mean.”
“you’re not my only student,” he snorts, pinching your elbow; you cry out exaggeratedly. “focus up. the hour’s almost over, and you should have finished with this much earlier.”
“can you leave it as homework?”
“not a chance.”
you blow out a sharp puff of air. “my mom used to do this thing where she’d give me rewards if i did well with my homework. i wish i’d still get something out of this.”
“what kind of rewards did she give you?”
“chocolates — candy, or sometimes we’d go out for milk tea together, if i did a particularly good job.”
“this is math tutoring, not a trip to the dentist,” jeno says, amused.
“a trip to the dentist would be more enjoyable,” you mutter under your breath, picking up your pencil and doodling an angry face next to the number you’re only halfway through solving. “this totally blows.”
“try to finish this before the hour’s up, and i’ll see if i can get you something nice. out of my own paycheck,” he stresses, prodding at your cheek to shift your attention back to the paper. he doesn’t miss the fact that your eyes light up, childish as the promise is.
he doesn’t know if that’s really what motivates you, but you do manage to finish the worksheet with a few minutes to spare before the clock hits seven, and that earns you some light, solo applause. it isn’t much by way of true praise, but you flush with pride all the same. jeno packs his things in silence as you get yourself a glass of water, and you see him to the door. only there does he notice your eager eyes, your expectant smile.
“what’s going through that pretty little head of yours?”
“are you really going to give me a reward? i did great today, you know,” you respond bluntly.
“you were serious about that?” he laughs.
“absolutely. i earned it.” you raise a slim finger, wagging it in his face. he trails it with his gaze, no shortage of amusement in his eyes. “next monday, i want something sweet.”
jeno takes in the sight of you, keeping your door open with your hip; he wonders if you know what you’re doing to him, what you’re asking of him — if you even know there’s nothing that could possibly be sweeter than you at this very moment. he drinks in the sight of your feigned haughty expression on your pretty features, the unnervingly low dip of your tank top, the tempting hemline of your shorts, and feels like you must be aware of what he’s going to do next.
“if it’s something sweet you want, you don’t have to wait until next week.”
he does it before he can think it through — surely, there’s nothing too harmful about a quick kiss? he angles your chin upward with his thumb and forefinger before you can even react to his words, and he tastes you like that for the first time. you’re just as soft and as sweet as he’d imagined, if not more so.
when jeno pulls away, you step back; there’s shock written all over your face, your mouth still hanging open slightly. your voice is gentle, shaky when you start speaking.
“sunbae, wha—”
“see you next week. rest up over the weekend, or there’ll be consequences.”
he finds it easy to joke with you now, even after what he’s done — finds it easy to wave goodbye with nonchalance as he walks to the elevator, now that he’s gotten one thing out of his system. the look on your face, the growing blush across the bridge of your nose and your temples is indication enough for jeno to feel confident — if you hadn’t thought about him that way before, you were sure to spend the next few days doing exactly that.
it’s exactly a week before your midterm exam, and jeno notices you’re less than focused.
he’d let you stew over the weekend, not expecting much by way of communication; indeed, his phone hadn’t once been jostled by your texts. he’d taken that silence to assume that you’d been wrapped up in thoughts of the kiss he’d left you with, and you did not disappoint on that front; the next monday saw you fidgety, flushed, and constantly faltering in your words. you asked less questions, which normally indicated a problem, but today, he’d let it slide; you definitely had a little too much on that pretty little brain of yours.
he notices you’re still dolled up — your eyelids are shimmery, and your lips are glossy; you’re wearing a tennis skirt that hits all the right buttons for him, too. it’s true that you’re always pretty well-dressed and put together, but today somehow feels different. if before, jeno had always seen you dressed up simply to look good, today it feels a little more like you’re dressed up to look good for him. he knows it’s a little bit egotistical to assume as much, but he also doesn’t miss the side glances you throw at him when you think he’s not looking at you answering your textbook or the way your cheeks glow when you make the slightest bit of eye contact.
still, you try to focus as much as you can; it’s adorable, in fact, to see all your valiant efforts to appear unperturbed. he figures he’ll play along for as long as you will — what matters to him, after all, is that you’re in the game to begin with. you complain less today, focus on your worksheets, and jeno even manages to witness the sight of your forehead creasing up as you concentrate on a particularly difficult item. you’re adorable, in the kind of way that makes him want to pin you down and have his way with you.
you finish your work without a fuss today; you only actually asked for his help twice, which was a feat in and of itself. and again, when the session is over, you walk him to the door.
this time, when you linger, he waits; you’re clearly not good at hiding your true intentions, as it’s become clear you have something you want to say. as you try to piece your thoughts together, jeno reaches into his backpack’s front pocket and extracts today’s gift — an actual chocolate bar, albeit a rather run of the mill one.
“what’s this?” you ask, your thought process clearly derailed as confusion takes over your features.
“your reward. for a good job last week and today — you said you wanted one, didn’t you?”
“but i thought—” you stop yourself, your mouth opening and closing, suddenly wordless. jeno grins.
“not good enough? i picked that up from a convenience store on my way here, so it definitely isn’t anything special, but i thought it would at least be a good motivator.”
you’re turning red, and there’s turmoil in your eyes — he enjoys this, he realizes, the way he flusters you. if he had known this would be the result, he would have made a move much sooner. you shift your weight from one foot to the other, back and forth, obviously weighing out your options too. finally, you say, “alright.”
“you seem disappointed.”
“i’m not.”
“i’ll get you a better brand next time, if you really don’t like it.”
“it’s not that.”
“so what is it?” he doesn’t expect you to say it, and you don’t defy expectations; your bottom lip just quivers, and jeno chuckles low under his breath, stepping forward just past your doorway, just a little bit closer to you. “don’t tell me you wanted something completely different?”
you don’t say so, but he knows; he can tell by the way you tilt your head back, the way your lips part slightly, the gloss still trailing along the seam. he can tell by the way your torso arches just a little bit closer, almost like an accident. he can tell by the way your eyes bore into his, almost pleading.
“what you did last week…” you start, but your voice trails off into nothing soon after. he chuckles again.
“ah, that. i might have gotten ahead of myself.”
“was that all?” you press.
“and what would you do, if it wasn’t?”
“well — do you always like to play games?”
“i have a penchant for playing with my food before i eat it, if that answers your question.” he smiles down at your still-reddening face. “i was giving you a reward, as you wanted. i came up short on options then and there. you’ll let it slide this once, won’t you?”
“you did that just because i did well last week?”
“of course.”
“well, i did well today, too.”
“you did, and that’s why you have this.” he gestures to the chocolate bar in your hand.
“i don’t want this.” your voice is stubborn now, heated and frustrated, and you stuff the chocolate back into his hand. you must not like having to ask for something so blatantly — it’s too bad jeno wants to hear it in those exact words.
“tell me what you really want, then.”
you’re still unable to find the words, but your hands do the talking for you; they press into his shoulders and give you leverage to tiptoe until you’re just close enough to his lips. but you don’t close that gap, your mouth quivering only inches away from his, and oh, jeno wants to toy with you, but you’re just too irresistible this close to him. his warm palms press against your jaw, keeping your face steady as he closes the gap, and this time, he doesn’t just get a brief taste of you — jeno claims your lips with the thirst of a man who’s stumbled upon an oasis in the desert.
you must have thought about this moment long and hard over the weekend, because the nonchalant side of you that’s turned a blind eye to him is completely gone; he drinks in your soft noises and short, breathless gasps — all signs of your eagerness — until he’s drunk on the taste of you. the deeper the kiss gets, the less you can keep up, but you try, and jeno always likes rewarding your efforts, his wide tongue taut and flush against your tiny one in the sweet, warm cavern of your mouth. he licks every inch of it, leaves the mild nicotine taste of himself there, before he pulls away slowly. your eyes are still closed when he creates distance, fluttering open in a happy haze a few seconds later.
“good enough for you?” he murmurs, tucking a soft lock of hair behind your ear. you hum in assent through your dazed smile, and jeno knows he won’t be the only one looking forward to this coming wednesday.
you’d done really well today.
jeno’s proud of you — prouder than he’s been of most of his students in his career here at the university, actually. you’d finally answered a worksheet almost perfectly, save for a couple of numbers where you’d forgotten to round up, and those things are absolutely negligible at this point (by his books, anyway). you’ve been on your best behavior yet, avoiding all forms of complaint, and he knows fully well why, but he won’t criticize you for your hard work all the same, no matter the motivation behind it.
in fact, you’ve done so good that he doesn’t wait until he’s about to leave to give you your sweet reward — which is why, twenty minutes before he’s meant to go, he’s got you on your couch, your legs spread, each one hooked over his shoulders.
truth be told, you’d been good way before the lesson had started; you’d answered the door in a crop top and the tiniest pair of shorts you’ve dared to wear yet — all clothes that you couldn’t yet wear outside yet, given the weather. selfishly, jeno is thankful for this fact, and if he had to list down other things he’s thankful for, just off the top of his head, it’s that you no longer meet in the tutoring center and that your apartment’s walls seem thick and well-reinforced.
“sunbae, don’t tease me.” your silly little whining voice makes its first appearance of the day, but all jeno does is smile — it’s an almost wicked expression, set firmly between your thighs. “you said i did really well today. don’t tell me you’re backing out on rewarding me?”
“not at all, sweetheart,” he hums, pressing a small kiss to your inner thigh. he likes seeing you shiver at the contact, likes the way you’re chewing on your lip in what appears to be slight agitation. “just thinking of how much of a reward you deserve.”
in all honesty, jeno would like to take every bit of you now; you’re already so ready for him, anyway. he can smell the faint perfume of your arousal, can see the way you’re anticipating the most from him, and a part of him doesn’t want to deny you of that. the larger part of him has dreamed of burying his cock into you, anyway, and why wouldn’t he do that? but something also tells him to wait — or, rather, to make you wait, to make you want him just a little more.
and so, he decides.
his mouth finds your skin again, pressing kisses up your thigh; they get wetter, hotter as his mouth moves up, until his nose and lips are buried against your clothed core. you squirm in response, but his grip on your thighs keeps you relatively steady, even as his tongue presses against thin fabric. the wet muscle pushes sharp against your tiny entrance, the tip meeting slight resistance against your shorts and panties, but he finds a way, burying half his tongue in alongside damp cloth.
you’re already wet like this, and so needy that it might be possible for jeno to get you off just like this, still clothed, but the hunger in him spikes once you call out to him.
“sunbae, please…”
with a groan, his fingers yank the fabric aside, exposing your pussy to the warmth of his breathing. it’s as pink, as pretty, as tiny as the rest of you, as fuckable as he’d imagined it would be, and he wastes no time in pressing his tongue flat against your folds, dragging it up in a wide, messy stripe; the muscle only tenses when it bumps against your clit, his tongue flicking upwards to tease it.
you’re so reactive, even at the slightest things — you whimper, you squeeze your eyes shut, you squirm. you’re begging to be fucked, and jeno’s cock is strained tight against his jeans, but your taste is so addicting that he can’t help but dive back in. his tongue eases between your folds now, spreading them apart until they’re lewd and sticky with his saliva, and the nub of your clit has grown so pronounced now — so pert and lovely that he can’t help but purse his lips around it and suck with excess force.
“sunbae — f—fuck,” you mewl; you almost sound tearful. “f—feels so good…”
jeno wants to tell you how fucking good you taste, how beautiful the sounds you’re making are, but his mouth is too busy; his teeth rake down your cunt lightly, earning him a jerk of your hips, and he has to place pressure down on your thighs again to make sure you’re still enough for him to slip his tongue into your cunt.
he can tell even just by that how tight you’d be around him; your walls are warm around his tongue, and there’s a pressure against the muscle that tells him how good it’d feel for his cock to take its place. as if to simulate his desires, he presses his tongue deeper in, fucks you shallowly with its wetness until your whimpers become little sobs, broken and choked back. his thumb drags across your slit then settles against your clit, and he can feel the thrum of your pulse against the pad of his finger, beckoning him. he complies, easily, thumb tracing circles around the nub that start off slow, only for him to ramp up the pace alongside his tongue.
you’re easily at fault for that; the way you whine for him, call him sunbae, tell him how good it feels over and over — why wouldn’t he want more of you?
he’s not sure which of you really earns the sweet reward today; you cum on his tongue, your cunt trembling against his mouth and your fingers threaded into his hair, but he’s the one who comes out licking his lips like he’s had the best treat of his damn life.
come the middle of next week, jeno finds himself face to face with a test paper — one already clearly marked, with a number circled on the top-right corner. ninety. a stellar grade for anyone, and especially for you.
you know it, and you look absolutely triumphant; you’re practically shining as you perch on your little dining table, your perfectly manicured finger jabbing at the score in emphasis.
“flying colors, wouldn’t you say?”
“color me impressed,” jeno replies smoothly, a genuine smile of pride tugging at his lips; he turns the page over, scanning your responses. you still draw your parabolas a little on the small side, making them a bit difficult to discern, and you’ve still got the habit of not rounding your answers up, but this is tremendous work, and he’ll be the first to praise you for it. “your dad must be filled to the brim with joy now, right?”
“i haven’t told him yet. you were the first.”
“well, i’m proud of you, sweetheart.”
“proud enough to give me a reward?”
he looks down at you in feigned thoughtfulness. here you sit, back in your little tennis skirt, looking up at him with hopeful eyes under those long, curled lashes. for someone who spent the first half of this semester acting ostensibly nonchalant, you’d very easily shown your true colors soon after — not that he really minds. in fact, he’s taken a decided kind of liking to how eager and willing you’ve come to be.
“we’ve only just started our session, though,” he hums out, an idle thumb grazing his chin as he watches your expression turn from bright to cloudy, the beginnings of strategy darkening your gaze. it’s not like he wants to say no; he has no real intention to. but seeing you squirm in want makes him feel good about his decision to hold out a little longer — never mind the ache in his cock even then. “don’t we usually leave the rewards for a later time?”
“i was thinking — since it’s the start of a new lesson —”
“we wouldn’t want you falling behind from the start, would we?”
“i promise i won’t,” you pout. “i promise i’ll put in my best effort next time.”
“next time? sweetheart, don’t tell me you’re thinking to get off scot-free today…” jeno trails off, his hand falling to the nearest surface it can reach — which, logic seems to dictate, is your soft, milky thigh. he feels you tense under his palm, and he bites back a smile, keeping his expression level. “i just don’t know.”
your small hands grip at the front of his shirt, and he hears you, for the first time, doing something he’s always wanted to hear you do.
“please, sunbae?”
how could he say no to you? he hadn’t really planned on it, had only wanted to see you do this, but it’s still too much and beyond his expectation — your misty gaze, your quivering lip. it’s almost laughable that you don’t think he’d notice the way you shift yourself so that his hand, still warm against your thigh, slides up your skin, the hem of your skirt bunched up in the junction between his thumb and forefinger.
jeno chuckles — isn’t this exactly where and how he’s always wanted you? “how could you ask me like that and expect me to refuse, angel? in that case, i have no real choice but to dedicate all our time today to your reward.”
your breathing hitches — in anticipation, in desire, in excitement — as his hand continues its trail upward, deliberately now, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties. his head dips down, rests into the crook of your neck, and he inhales the thick, sweet scent of your perfume, your shampoo, of you and all that he’ll take from you.
“just remember, you asked for this,” he murmurs against your skin. “so i’m going to take every bit of you until there’s nothing left for anyone else.”
you’re so willing, so ready even before he can get his full bearings; your hips are rising slightly off the table, and jeno feels like it’s you that’s telling him to move faster. he tugs down your panties, letting gravity take its course until they’re a tiny puddle of fabric on the floor, and he slots himself between your legs. like this, you have no choice but to spread, and you do so without hesitation, your knees locking against his sides as he pulls you in for a tight, hungry kiss. there’s that taste of you he loves, that clean, sweet buzz that draws him in, and his hands are bruisingly tight on your waist as he reclaims your lips.
you already look dazed when he pulls away, which is always cute, but a little unfair — jeno wants you to be aware still when he takes you, and damn, if he doesn’t want to take you right fucking now. he kisses you again, harder and more demanding, as if willing your attention back to him, while his hands explore you — run up your thighs, fingers brushing against the plush curve of your ass. it’s not enough, not by a long shot, and he’s pushing the waistline of your skirt up your stomach with his hands, letting his warmth transfer onto your skin; he chuckles as your stomach sucks inward at his touch, just as you let out a gasp against his lips.
and he wants desperately to hear that noise again; in fact, he wants to know what you sound like in every capacity. his mouth works down your neck, pleased to find that suckling wet and languid on a spot just above your collarbone has you writhing and whimpering. are you sensitive or touch-starved? whatever the reason, he wants to draw all of that out of you, his hands drawing back down to hook under your thighs. jeno drags you to the edge of the table, until your bare cunt is flush against the front of his jeans, and he lets you feel him — a brief tease of what’s to come.
“i’m s—so wet already,” you whisper, as if he doesn’t know — as if you know it’s exactly what he wants to hear anyway. “sunbae, please, i need you.”
“not that,” he murmurs, his teeth grazing your collarbone as he speaks. “not sunbae. jeno. call me jeno, angel.”
“jeno,” you exhale shakily, and it’s music to his ears — as if the last thing holding him back from you had shattered.
“that’s it — what a good girl,” he purrs, his hips rocking forward against your pussy before they retract, leaving just enough space for his hand to slip between. slender fingers trail down your folds, sticky and slick. “you are all wet for me, aren’t you? ready to take me deep inside?”
even the way you nod, a tiny movement of assent, drives him wild, yet a part of him still wants to test the limit of your patience, his middle finger stretching to circle your entrance.
“wouldn’t want to shock your tiny little pussy, though, would i? will you let me stretch you out first, kitten?”
“yes,” you mewl, sounding almost tearful. “anything— anything, please.”
jeno drinks in the long, drawn-out keen you set free when his digit sinks into you; he’s already felt your walls against his tongue, but a small part of him is still surprised at just how tight you are. that same part nags that he might not fit easily into you, but whatever that voice is is easily drowned out by a more assertive promise — he’ll make it fit.
“can’t tell you how much i’ve wanted to feel your pretty little hole around my cock,” he presses on, his finger pushing deeper in; he feels you tense a delicious kind of tightness, as if it’s almost too much for you. is it? “ever since that first day you came into the tutoring center, dressed up all cute — did you do that on purpose, sweetheart?”
“yes,” you admit, breathless; the syllable is lengthened into a weak moan as jeno pumps his finger into you, slow, deep strokes that tease your tacky walls open. “wanted — wanted to make a good impression…”
“and you did, didn’t you? kept looking so sweet for me, so pretty every single time — got me thinking about all the ways i wanted to have you. got me so fucking hard every time we’d meet — is that what you wanted?”
jeno doesn’t give you much room to respond, but he can make his own answers to appease himself anyway; he reclaims your lips, already eager for another taste of you, and you comply with the same amount of desire, your soft whimpers melting against his teeth. in the space of pseudo silence, wet, messy noises, he manages to tease another digit into you, and you cry out against his lips as it pushes in, joining the first in how deep it reaches. he absorbs that too, takes in every minute sound you make, relishes the way you pulse around his fingers. even without the noises, he can tell your pleasure’s heightening, with the way you clench around him, your hips rocking pitifully as you’re eager to rut against his palm.
“look at you now.” he’s selfish, but he doesn’t care — he wants to ruin you, and if the telltale squelch of your cunt as he fucks his fingers into it isn’t indication enough, then the way your mouth hangs open as he pulls away, letting his name fall freely from your lips, definitely is. “legs spread, all desperate to feel good for me. what a needy little kitten you are. this good enough for you, angel?”
you shake your head, only to squeal as he pulls you closer, his fingers shoving deeper into you; your hips are re-angled, allowing him to brush the pads of his digits against the rough, sweet spot, and he feels triumph bloom in his chest as you throw your head back, teary eyes squeezed shut.
“no, no, no,” you babble, and he can see the bob of your throat as you swallow hard, clutching at sense to make words. “want — need your cock, want to cum on your cock so badly, jeno — want you to fuck me, stretch me open, please —”
“greedy, aren’t you?” he murmurs, leaning in to nip at the spot he’d left reddened above your collarbone. “go on then — show me how much you want it. show me what a good girl you are, and cum on my fingers.”
“but—”
“come on, angel,” he urges above the squelching noises, increasing surely in volume. his fingers meet resistance when they spread apart inside you, but all it does is create a delicious friction that has you squirming in his hold. “don’t hold back. let me see you fall apart.”
and you do, so prettily, your eyes rolling back and your voice unrestrained. jeno’s fingers ride you through your orgasm, pumping deep and steady despite how slick you’ve gotten, your juices coating his hand and wrist. he watches the flush rise to your neck, stopping at your cheeks, watches the heaving of your chest, the shine of your skin from a thin sheen of sweat, and he doesn’t want to let you come down from this high, but his cock is aching — practically bursting from his jeans — and all he can do is make the silent vow that the next time you look like this, he’ll be balls deep in you.
“that’s my girl,” he coos gently, watching the tension slip from your shoulders; his free hand is at the small of your back quickly, easing you down as your torso falls back, and you’re laying on the table. “pretty little thing, aren’t you? cumming so sweetly for me.”
“jeno,” you groan out weakly, your tiny hand clasping around his wrist. “cock — i want your cock, please—”
“can’t wait?” he’s indecent for sounding amused, but even that does nothing to stay his arousal; how eager you are simply makes him want you all the more. “okay, angel — since you asked so nicely.”
a slight twinge of disappointment runs through him as he pulls his fingers out, but it’s quickly buried by the feeling he gets once he gives you a clear sweep of a once-over; how slutty you look, still half-dressed but already half-ruined, your thighs shaking in an effort to keep them open for him, the remnants of your last climax still leaking out of your hole. the sight of you has him so distracted that unbuttoning and unzipping his pants feels like a fever dream of an act; he barely notices what he’s doing until he’s already bare in front of you, and alertness has crawled halfway back into your consciousness as you push yourself up on your elbows to look at him.
“it’s so—” you have the decency to blush, though there’s a pleased look on your face that tells him you’re not really embarrassed. “i didn’t think you’d be this big.”
“does that worry you?”
“i’ve never had anyone… this big.” pride blooms in his chest — good, he thinks, because if he can’t be as memorable as your first, then he’ll take being the most in something as a prize. “i don’t think — will it fit?”
“does it matter?” he chuckles, and your blush deepens. “no matter what — you’ll take all of me in, won’t you?”
you chew on your bottom lip, as if considering your options, but to jeno, there’s really only one choice — the correct one, and you make it when you nod your head.
“it’ll feel good, though, you know,” he muses. his hand wrapped around his base, he lines himself up with you, the tip grazing against your folds. “even better than just now.”
with just a little more pressure, he has his shaft flush against you; his girth sits against your slit, the tip pressed against your clit, and he starts to rock his hips — into his fist, against your cunt. your hips quiver, and a shiver runs through you as your pleasure spikes again, but he can tell it isn’t enough. your bottom lip is back between your teeth, and your eyes are flitting between his face and his cock. jeno reaches out, eases your lip out from between your teeth, strokes it gently, almost tenderly.
“say it,” he commands in a soft, silky voice.
“fuck me, jeno,” you breathe out, barely missing a beat. “fuck me, fuck my pussy, please.”
and if you ask that desperately, he’ll waste no time; he draws his hips back, dragging his cock down until he’s aligned with your entrance. his eyes are trained on your face, even when he pushes in, so that he can take in your expression — the widening of your eyes as his tip breaches the first wave of resistance, the way your mouth falls agape as his fingers dig hard into your flesh. he’s never seen a prettier sight in his life.
“stretched you out already, but you’re still so fucking tight,” his voice is a soft, melodious croon, a stark contrast to the way he’s forcing past your tightness. “tight and wet, like a good girl.”
“so big,” you whimper, your fingers stretched far enough to tickle the front of his shirt. “can’t — can’t take it.”
“of course you can, angel.” jeno doesn’t give you the time to brace yourself fully before he’s rocking his hips in a little more sharply, his cock now halfway into you. your fingers curl into a little fist, immediately flying back to block the noise from your mouth. “ah ah. don’t get shy on me now; you’ve been so noisy for me all this time.”
but he doesn’t really mind the way you clap your palm over your mouth to muffle your high-pitched squeal as he thrusts in fully, the adjustment period after the last movement close to nothing; he’s too busy focusing on how good you feel around him, how warm and wet your insides are. this is heaven, easily, and jeno wants to stay here for as long as he can.
“god, you’re fucking tight,” he repeats, an appreciatory gaze running over where you’re joined. his thumb stretches over your folds, rubbing them — something of an apology, perhaps, although all it does is stimulate you more, and you shiver at the extra contact. “how deep is it, baby?”
“can feel you here,” you mumble out, your small hand pressing just above your pelvis. he feels the tightness multiply as you place pressure, even just for a moment. “your cock’s so much deeper than anyone else.”
your hand falls away, limp, as he draws his hips back; you inhale, long and deep, before letting it out as a broken moan when he pushes back in. it drives him crazy, to start off this slow, when all he wants is to find a pace that has you sobbing, but the resistance of your pussy against his length isn’t easy to ignore. jeno works you open, his jaw set and his grip tight against your frame, and it isn’t long before he’s picking up speed, the slap of his flesh against yours fueling him exponentially, mingling with your cries, steadily increasing in volume.
“that’s it. let everyone hear you,” he eggs on, his thumb now circling tight around your clit; your legs are quivering, threatening to close, but he keeps you steady, one arm wrapped around your thigh. his thrusts grow rougher, more deliberate, and when he looks up from where you’re joined back to your face, he sees your expression as a mixture of incredulity and ecstasy. a thin line of drool hangs from the corner of your mouth, your pretty pink lip gloss smeared, and fuck if he doesn’t want to make sure you look like this every single time he comes over. “let them know who’s fucking you good, angel.”
“j— jeno!” your voice hitches, lilts up as he presses in at a different, deeper angle, and he almost cums right then and there from the way your walls pulse around him. “your cock feels so good, fucking me just right— more, god, more—”
he complies without hesitation, gathering both your thighs and pushing them closer to your chest; you look even lewder like this, folded in half with your sopping cunt presented to him like it’s all his to take, and it is, isn’t it? there’s an increase in the intensity, the vigor in which he pumps his cock into you, and he knows he’s brushing repeatedly against your spot by the way you’re blubbering his name out in a way that suggests you sincerely think no one else in this building can hear you.
“that’s my girl,” he hums approvingly, though there’s a thickness in his voice that has him sounding a little more strained. “such a good girl, with your cunt all nice and sloppy for me. do you like it when i go this deep? does it feel good when i fuck you where no one else can?”
“yes!” you sob out, your hands crumpling the end of your skirt up into tight fists. “jeno, i— cum, i need to cum again, please—”
“i’ve got you, kitten,” his tone is reassuring, a stark contrast to the rigor of his hips. “don’t have to hang on for me, you know; always love seeing you fall apart.”
“m’close, so close —”
“let go, then,” he urges, his blunt nails digging into your flesh. “let me feel that sweet cunt cum on my cock.”
you comply without hesitation, though if you’d done it willingly, he can’t really tell; he has to pin your hips down to stop you from bucking up and causing him to slip out, and you writhe against him as you sob in ecstasy, your walls fluttering before they clench. stray tears leak from your eyes, squeezed shut, and jeno wants nothing more than to eat you up like this — broken, fucked out.
you’re not even fully down from your high when he feels it — that sudden wrenching in his gut that tells him he’s about to follow suit. with a low groan, he peels your thighs apart again, lets you watch him as he bullies straight into your leaking hole. your voice is a staccato, punctuating every deep, sharp thrust into you, and it’s exactly to that melody that he wants to get off.
“tell me where you want it, angel.” he doesn’t trust his voice, sharp and short as it is now. “should i mark your pretty face? your stomach?”
“want it against my pussy,” you whisper out, and jeno almost loses his mind as he watches you spread your folds apart with your forefinger and middle finger, inviting him. “make a mess of it, sunbae.”
he’s barely able to pull out before he’s spilling against you; he ruts against your slit, coating your folds and the insides of your thighs in thick, creamy white. you hold your legs apart for as long as you can until they start to tremble, and he catches them and gently eases them down.
when you sit up to kiss him, you’re still demanding; he feels your hips rock closer, your sticky cunt pressing against the underside of his cock.
“not enough,” you murmur against his lips, and jeno chuckles as you bind your hands around his neck.
“don’t worry, kitten,” he hums back. “we’ve got all afternoon.”
#jeno x reader#jeno x you#jeno scenario#jeno scenarios#jeno imagines#jeno drabbles#jeno imagine#jeno drabble#jeno smut#nct x reader#nct dream x reader#nct dream x you#nct x you#nct drabbles#nct dream drabbles#nct dream imagines#nct imagines#nct scenarios#nct dream scenarios#nct smut
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eternal sunshine | charles leclerc
summary: you and charles decide to fake date to get back at your exes
fc: ariana grande
a/n: a bit late (mostly because i didn’t had any time nor inspiration) but finally here it is, a fic about THE 2024 monaco grand prix winner
—
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f1.wags charles leclerc posted a statement earlier today confirming the end of his relationship with his girlfriend
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username NOOOOOO
username pls say sike pls say sike
username definitely not the way i wanted to start the weekend like
username so love is dead guys good to know 💔
username they were the it couple 😢
username im going to pretend i didn’t see this
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ynupdates it’s confirmed that y/n y/l/n and her boyfriend have broken up after fours years of dating
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username WHAT
username omg nooo😭
username why is everyone breaking up!!!
username i don’t believe in love anymore
username her best friend liked the post so it’s really really true i’m gonna cry 😭
username yeah also the sun posted an article saying that a close source to the couple confirmed it
liked by f1.wags, ynupdates and others
deuxmoi actor jacob elordi and actress charlotte berzatto have been spotted recently on different occasions going out on dates
tagged jacobelordi, charlotteberzatto
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username excuse me what?
username and who’s this charlotte girl? 🤨
username she’s an european actress
username charles leclerc’s ex girlfriend
username wait wasn’t he dating y/n y/l/n like two weeks ago? i’m confused
username girl they broke up where you’ve been 😭
username yeah but they broke up like five minutes ago this seems…
username i did not expect that
username not them breaking up with their partners to get together 😭
liked by carmenmmundt, charles_leclerc and others
yourusername new things coming soon who’s happy🫧💐
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username OMG WE’RE GETTING A NEW ALBUM
username you actually just cured my depression with this post
username mother has that post breakup glow
username we love to see it
lilymhe gorgeous! 💕
yourusername lilyyy💘
username the flowers???
username who send them!!!
username jacob elordi count your days
username charles in the likes?? 😭
username they’re friends chill
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charles_leclerc happy times 😁
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username pookie came back! 🫶🏽
username now what is charles doing in a music studio 🤨🤨
username he’s so hot just ughhh
username is that… y/n’s dog… ???
username nah
username now that you mention it i think it could be but idk 😭
username he’s so boyfriend coded
username y/n in the likes 👀👀👀👀
username this just keeps getting messier and messier😭
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ynupdates y/n has been seen recently on multiple dates with formula 1 driver charles leclerc
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username ma’am???
username well this took a turn
username are they actually dating or…
username i meaaan look at that third and last pic and ask again
username the lore on this four people is just endless fr 😭
username they’re so real for swapping partners just like that
username literally blink and you miss it
liked by charles_leclerc, lewishamilton and others
yourusername my new single ‘don’t wanna break up again’ is out now for all of you💘 i also sing it for the first time ever on snl tonight if you’re interested in that🫶🏽
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username YES NEW MUSIC FROM MOTHER
username this song ATE
username the queen is back i used to pray for times like this😭
lilymhe such a gooood song💓 (liked by yourusername)
username so you’re telling me THAT man used to turn up the volume of the tv to not hear her cry??? yeah he’s DONE
username i literally heard that and had to pause for a second because what???
username also her calling their relationship of four years a “situationship” 😭😭
username she’s so unserious i love her
charles_leclerc on repeat 24/7 ❤️🩹
yourusername 🤍🤍🤍
francisca.cgomes completely obsessed!💖 (liked by yourusername)
liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc and others
scuderiaferrari such a pleasure to have yourusername on the garage this weekend! 🫧
tagged yourusername, charles_leclerc
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username she looks stunning 🤩
username the pic with charles omg they’re so cute🥰🥰
username y/n in the paddock every race week please and thank you
yourusername tysm! forza ferrari❤️
username babes what other words in italian did charles taught you? i need to know
username dare i say new ferrari it couple?
username the fact that they haven’t confirmed anything 😭
username i mean you don’t really have to be a genius just a bit of common sense
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charles_leclerc keep the podiums coming🏆🐎
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username il predestinato does it again 😮💨😮💨
username let’s go charles 💪🏽
username yesss charles show y/n what you can do‼️
carlossainz55 nice race!👊🏽
username very well deserved podium, such a nice race charles❤️❤️
username the fact that he was looking for y/n the whole time he was on the podium 😭
username I KNEW I WASNT THE ONLY ONE WHO NOTICED
username no cause bro was looking everyone and once he clocked her the biggest smile on his face
yourusername congratulations! ❤️🩹
charles_leclerc ❤️
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f1.wags if there was doubt before there definitely isn’t anymore! charles leclerc and singer y/n y/l/n were spotted kissing at the after party of this weekend’s grand prix and leaving together
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username THAT SHOULD BE MEEEE
username don’t know if i wanna be charles or y/n to be honest
username joris and arthur liking this 😭😭
username i love that they’re together they just fit
username agree, a bit unexpected since their exes are also dating each other but still, they’re very cute💕
username okay i wasn’t a fan of y/n but i’m definitely gonna start listening to her now
username does this mean we’re getting happy songs from y/n about charles?
username omg girl I HOPE
liked by charles_leclerc, lilymhe and others
yourusername eternal sunshine (the song) is out right now with the very special appearance of charles_leclerc in the music video (❤️) and eternal sunshine (the album) is out next friday! 💕
tagged charles_leclerc
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username i’m so so proud of y/n this song is perfect! can’t wait for the album 🤍
username this is the first time she’s featured a boyfriend in a music video and i’m so down for it🥰
username they’re look cute together!
username them on the bts of the video 💞💞💞
lilymhe you’re perfect and this song is everything🤍
yourusername love love love you lils 💘
username who would’ve thought mr charles leclerc can ACT!
username “hope you feel alright when you’re in her” i gasped
username no because that took me by surprise
username okay but we got “i got a good boy and he’s on my side” so it brought me back hope
charles_leclerc so proud of you, mon coeur❤️
yourusername i love you charlie❤️
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charles_leclerc so so so proud of you my love❤️ this is the most amazing project ever and the fact that i was able to participate in any way brings me so much joy. you’re a musical genius and an incredible human being🤍 stream eternal sunshine☀️
tagged yourusername
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username if you look closely you can see me in the background crying
username this is- they’re so- i’m- 😭
username no but they’re so perfect for each other i could cry
pierregasly who would’ve thought you could act 🤣
carlossainz55 new skill for the cv 😂
username “a musical genius and an incredible human being” charles leclerc why don’t you just rip my heart out yourself
username she looks so pretty in the mv and they’re so good together💞 i’m so happy for them
username no longer a child of divorce THESE are my real parents🫶🏽
yourusername i love you and i’m very very proud of you too❤️🩹
charles_leclerc mon amour you’re everything 🤍
#charles leclerc#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc one shot#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc fluff#f1 x reader#f1#formula one#formula one x reader#charles leclerc x y/n#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc fanfic#ariana grande#cl16#smau#charles leclerc smau#f1 smau#formula 1 smau#social media au#ferrari smau
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chemical override
Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader
a/n: i caved and did an actual Ewan fic! Given that the lad is more of a public persona nowadays, I reckon it's fine (?) This is pure self-indulgence for all my Ewan loves. May have a continuation but idk for now, enjoy!!
series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist
The reader and Ewan are paired for press interviews. Despite barely having any scenes together and only knowing each other in passing on set, the chemistry they share cannot be denied...
Your first round of press takes place in a primped up hotel suite in Paris, thanks to the team at HBO.
You are an up and coming actress, much like some of your costars in the show, but the pressure is heavier on you because you were entering in season two, whereas everyone was already well-acquainted with one another.
Your few scenes were mostly with Jace and Baela, so you grew close to Harry and Bethany.
However, the media team decided to pair you up with Ewan for the day. A little fun initiative was set by the team that a character from the Blacks would be do press with a counterpart from the Greens - hence, yourself and Ewan.
You're nervous as you walk down the hallway, unable to fully pay attention to the instructions your lovely assistant gives you.
She tells you about the different interviewers for the day, bloggers and magazine writers from all over the world. She reminds you that each one will only be for a maximum of 5 minutes, so it shouldn't be too complicated. She smiles and eagerly says, "Take a deep breath, you got this!", as you reach the suite doors.
But in your mind, all you can recall is your first interaction with Ewan, almost a year ago right after the table read. You had nervously blurted out to him that Aemond is your favourite character, after he just asked, "How are you?". He laughed, said thank you, before he was pulled away in conversation by Tom.
You pray to the fictional Westerosi gods that things will fare better today. That you won't get all tongue-tied when those steel blue eyes land on you.
Upon entering the room, the team is quick to fuss over you. Sometimes you forget that you're actually an actress now. A celebrity, some might say. It all feels surreal and you have a inkling it won't ever stop being this way.
Ewan is already seated in front of the camera, and he stands to give you a hug as you finally walk over.
"Hey there, how are you?" he smiles widely, smelling like cigarettes and something muskier as he wraps his arms around you.
Unroll your tongue. Rework your brain. Calm down.
"Hey, Ewan!" you respond. "I'm doing great, happy to see you again."
"Well, I only wish we could have had more time together on set." Ever the gentleman, he gestures for you to take your seat before he does the same. "But next season perhaps? Who knows?"
"Oh, sure." You settle in, pleased by the fact that your chairs are only about a foot apart. "We can both look forward to my character giving Aemond the arse kicking he deserves."
He laughs, eyes glinting with mischief. "Come on now, I was thinking our characters are actually quite compatible, no?"
"Well, I sure wouldn't want to step on Alys' shoes. She'd probably curse my character all the way to Yi Ti."
"Hmm," he hums, biting his lip. You can't help but hear Aemond when he does that. "I say you can always count on Aemond and Vhagar to come to the rescue of a beautiful maiden such as yourself."
Well, you'll be damned. Ewan, while still an introvert of his own sort, is as charming as can be. If he's turning it on to get himself hyped for the press, it's working.
It's definitely working on you, to say the least.
The media manager gives the signal for the first interview to begin, and a reporter walks in, all ready with prepared script in hand.
"Here we go," you mutter, facing forward.
"Good luck," Ewan replies.
You both shake the reporter's hand, and he introduces himself as Jared.
"So guys," Jared begins. "Why don't we start with you telling me a little bit about what we can expect from your characters this season?"
The question is easy, and it doesn't take long for you and Ewan to think it through. Jared asks a few more basic questions, before drawing the attention more to you.
"When you watched season one, did you have a favourite character?" he asks you.
You smile, "Oh, I mean, I have to say - and Ewan already knows this, by the way - that Aemond was my favourite character."
"Was?" Ewan says, feigning shock. "Unacceptable."
"Was... Is... " you shrug, rolling your eyes playfully, earning a laugh from Jared. "I think I might be more a Daemon girl now."
"Oh!" Jared exclaims happily. "Does Matt know about this?"
"I'll be sure to tell him - "
Ewan interjects, shaking his head at you, "There's no need to tell him, because I'll convert her back to Team Aemond in no time, trust me."
"Daemon is awesome, though," you say to him, smiling.
"Sure." Ewan makes a face like that fact doesn't matter. Wasn't he the one who said that Daemon would be the character he would most like to play if not Aemond?
"And Caraxes is my favourite dragon." You share a look with Jared, hoping he would agree.
"Yes!" Jared says. "Caraxes is the best dragon in the show, in my opinion."
"Ah, you're both wrong," Ewan says. "My Vhagar is the oldest and baddest dragon in all of the land."
"My Vhagar, he says," you joke. "Seems like someone still hasn't shed Aemond for this press tour."
"And I never will, darling." His gaze is intense when he turns to you, and you clear your throat to fight the warmth rushing to your cheeks.
"Alright, they're giving me the wrap-up," Jared thankfully breaks the tension. "It was a pleasure talking to you guys, congratulations on the new season!"
One interview down, and your nerves have already considerably subsided. Ewan tapping your arm to start up a conversation once more surely helps in distracting you.
In the best damn way possible.
"How do you think we did? That wasn't too bad, was it?"
"I think we did quite well," you casually offer a high five, but your heart skips a beat when Ewan interlaces your suspended hands for just a moment.
"I'm glad they paired me with you," Ewan says, after releasing your hand. You hold on to the armrests to keep your fingers from twitching.
"I am, too," you admit. "I am a fan of you, after all, but I think you already know that."
He blushes, "Well, that's not a bad thing. I think you're a fantastic actress. I must have seen your first film a good ten times."
"You mean my first and only film," you add humbly. "But thank you."
"Only film for now," he affirms. "No doubt this is only the beginning for you, darling. With your talent and your charisma, I'm sure you have potential scripts piled up already."
"I could say the same for you! Have you seen what your fans say about you online? You're the internet's new boyfriend, Ewan Mitchell."
The media manager announces the next interview, but Ewan follows up with a response for you under his breath, "I have seen some things. But when I have a girlfriend, I'll make sure she won't have to share me at all."
Oh, so apparently he is single. But wait - why is he telling you this?
You don't get to mull over that thought. For the time being, the next interview starts and you make sure you do a good job at what you're paid to do - promoting the series.
Not daydreaming about getting with a costar, for heaven's sake. Stay professional.
▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎
You feel lightheaded after finishing the seventh - or had it been the eighth? - interview.
Your assistant delivers a coffee to you during the twenty-minute break. Ewan had stepped out to the balcony to have a smoke, leaving you alone with your thoughts.
He certainly is everything you expected him to be, and so much more. Insightful, cheeky, dedicated. An artist, through and through. He was in the business for all the right reasons, passion and respect for the craft.
If he had any flaws, you weren't privy to them yet. If there are any reasons for you not to be attracted to him, you didn't know what those were yet.
And with every flirtatious remark and pointed smile, you can't deny the hope blooming in you.
"Hey," he reappears, pulling you out of your musings. "I hope you don't mind that I smell of smoke."
No, you didn't, not when it's him.
"Don't worry about it," you reassure him. You tilt your head forward to take a sip of your coffee, but a lock of your hair falls in front of your face. Annoyed, you think to reach for it, but Ewan beats you to it, tucking it back in place.
"There you go, darling," he croons, gesturing for you to proceed in drinking.
"Th-thanks." His eyes don't leave yours as you take a slow sip.
"So," you say, desperate to break the silence, "which interview did you enjoy the most so far?"
"How can I possibly choose? I mean, I really liked the one with ComicSociety, the guy that said our characters have a lot of chemistry and should get together next season. He's right, I already told you!"
"Ohhh, sure, that will go down really well with the Blacks and Greens."
He smirks, "I don't see why not?"
"For one, Aemond is ensnared by Alys, and my character will never give up fighting for Rhaenyra. I just don't see it happening, Ewan."
"Right," he mutters thoughtfully, "there is still Alys in the picture."
"Still in the picture? With the amount of steamy scenes you two have lined up for season three, I'd say she will be Aemond's entire picture in and of herself."
"Hmm," he glances at you once, then looks down. Dare you think it, does he look disappointed?
"But hey," you add lightly, "maybe we can talk to Ryan and he can flip the entire script just for our characters."
"Yeah," his cheeky smile resurfaces, "maybe you can take Alys' place."
Take the place of Alys? Of Alys. Is he insinuating...
"Next round of interviews, guys!" The media manager announces to the room.
"Here we go again, darling," Ewan squeezes your hand once, before putting on his professional face once more.
▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎
By the end of it all, not even caffeine can perk you up. You were exhausted, you and Ewan having finished four full hours of press.
Your assistant comes to your aid, ready to direct you back to your own hotel room.
"This has been such a pleasure, Ewan, really." You stand, this time initiating the hug.
He squeezes you gently, humming in your ear. When you pull apart, he says, "I honestly wouldn't mind trudging through hours and hours of press with you."
That's sweet of him. You're too tired to mask the warmth that rises to your cheeks. "And I feel the same. Today couldn't have gone any better."
"Truly, and listen, maybe we could - "
"Ewan!" The manager approaches. "I'm so sorry to rush with this, but we need to film just a quick soundbite with you for Aemond. Just two to three questions for the Max Tiktok account?"
"Oh, okay - " Ewan is reluctant to turn away from you.
"Perfect! If you could just stand there by the windows please..." The manager already has him by the arm, directing where he has to go.
"We have to go," your assistant says. "Still have to prep for tomorrow."
"I'll see you soon, Ewan!" you call out to him. "Thanks again."
He gives a half-hearted wave, dejected as he watches you walk out of the room.
"That wasn't too bad," you share with your assistant as you enter the elevators. "Not bad at all, actually."
"Oh, you did so well," she compliments. "It definitely helps with the press that you and Mr. Mitchell have such insane natural chemistry."
▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎
In the calm of your hotel room, you get ready for bed.
Just when you're about to finish with your nightly routine, your phone rings from your bedside table. You're quick to rush over, thinking it could be your assistant or your manager, with an urgent update about work.
But no - it's an unknown number. A UK number, as it appears.
Confused, you click answer anyway, putting it to your ear with a tentative, "Hello, who is this?"
"Hi, darling."
"Ewan?"
"Yeah, uhm, I hope I didn't disturb you - "
"Not at all," your answer comes out in a rushed breath.
"I also hope you don't mind that I got my assistant to ask your assistant to give me your number? It's what I wanted to ask you before you left today."
"Oh." You feel fully awake now, by some miracle, butterflies finding home in your stomach. "I don't mind. I... I should have given you my number, anyway. I have most of the cast's, in case I need to get a hold of you guys."
"Hmm, right," he says from the other end. You hear him calmly breathing, the sound strangely comforting, and wonder if he can hear the same from you.
He says, "I just wanted to keep hearing your voice. Didn't get enough of it today," and your heart just about stops.
"Oh. Okay," is all you are able to respond with.
"What are you doing?"
"Just... just getting ready for bed." Phone pressed to your ear, you shuffle around the room, putting some things back in place.
He says nothing for a few seconds, but you still hear his breathing, and some shuffling in the background. It occurs to you that he might just be as nervous as you are now.
Maybe.
"Listen," he finally says, "do you want to hear my pitch to Ryan about why our characters should get together next season?"
A genuine laugh escapes you. He sure is persistent. Playful, sure, but you're definitely willing to play along.
"Let's hear it."
"First," he says, "you have to renounce Daemon as your favourite character - "
"Not a chance."
" - and swear your love for Aemond."
"Keep dreaming."
He laughs, and you can only picture the corners of his eyes crinkling.
"Aww darling," he teases, "don't you love me?"
💌 part two - part three
The OGs will know that the final line is a nod to my first ever Aemond fic! 🖤
Did this slightly delay my series works? Yes, yes it did. Do I regret it? For Ewan frickin Mitchell, I would never ~
#ewan mitchell x reader#ewan mitchell imagine#ewan mitchell#aemond targaryen#hotd#house of the dragon#chemical override#aemond targaryen x reader
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wave | lee donghyuck
pairing: lee donghyuck x fem reader genre: college au, academics rivals to lovers, kinda fake dating, forced to work together on a project, smut, fluff, humor (idk), music major!haechan, music major!mc | not really requested but thank you 💌 anon for the inspo summary: your indifference toward Lee Donghyuck, also known as Haechan, becomes rivalry when he decides to sabotage you. The battle turns into a war, the war turns into a plan, and the plan, well, the plan fails miserably... or succeeds wonderfully. After all, it’s all about points of view. Or, Haechan thinks he found a way to distract you and be better than you, but doesn’t think it thoroughly and screws it up. warnings: smut, mentioned weed consumption, alcohol use, fingering, oral (receiving), unprotected sex, public sex, jealous sex, bickering, teasing, etc | inclusivity notes: reader wears different hairstyles (no mention of texture, type and color), no mention of body type (but haechan lifts her a few times), no mention of skin color, no use of y/n wc: 22.4k (out of 42k)
a/n: finally i’m back! i started this fic more than a year ago so seeing it finally come to life means everything to me. i had so much fun writing it, so i hope you’ll love it too. please, let me know with comments, reblogs (that also help reach more people), or anon. i love knowing what you think. enjoy! also if there are formatting mistakes please let me know cause i’ve been having problems posting this and i copied it without editing it once again.
masterpost (with visuals and playlist) (i can’t post the link or else the post doesn’t show up in the tags, but you can find it on my profile)
Being number one in your academy isn’t a want, but a need.
You didn’t spend your entire life crafting your skills and splitting yourself between the books and the training room for all of that to be swept under the rug when you finally made it to your dream university; Neo Arts Academy.
Surely, with the prizes promised to those on top, you aren’t the only one with that racing passion to drive you through each day. Tons of people try their best, and even put their health at risk to reach the biggest success, but you manage to focus on yourself and keep your life in a pretty healthy balance.
You managed to focus on you… until something, well, somebody, started to come into your way.
Lee Donghyuck, also known as Haechan, his stage name —if he ever made it big in the industry he wanted to be already known.
You never paid him much attention. Honestly, you never paid attention to anybody, your only goal was to take care of your small garden and top everybody else, but when his competitiveness got the best of him, you just couldn’t push him in the back of your mind.
Apparently, his goals are the same as yours, and that isn’t a nice thing considering how competitive your world is. You first truly glanced at him during a songwriting lesson, when he huffed a bit too loudly behind you while he announced to his friend, probably named Mark, that he sucked at writing songs. However, you only chuckled mindlessly that time and went on with your day.
That was your first year there and everything went fine. Then the second year arrived and you applied for your minor degree in dance and that was when Donghyuck’s presence started to be louder. You had nothing against him, but you quickly learned he couldn’t stand you for some reason. Rumours were quick at flying around, being passed from mouth to ear and you knew them.
You simply couldn’t care.
Yet.
Haechan doesn’t hate you. He could never do that. After all, he doesn’t even know you. But he does know something about you. He knows your name, and how it is always on top of his in any ranking. He knows you will always win the contests he wants to win so badly. He knows you are good at theory and practice. He knows he just can’t win with you.
He also knows nothing can touch you. Not because you are unreachable and believe you’re superior to others. Actually, you are very modest about all your academic success, but you always walk straight on your road with the goal perfectly in the line of view.
Haechan doesn’t hate you. Though, lately, he has a strange feeling in his body every time he sits at his desk to study and his only motivation is to surpass you. Nothing different than the first months there, he got pretty soon you were going to be a tough but nice competitor, but fuck he never imagined you would be so hard to beat. Now that after a year he never won or got the top grade and always came second after you, you aren’t motivating him, you are driving him insane.
He doesn’t have many distractions, but he has friends, some hobbies outside of university, and even a part-time job. But you? Is there something that is distracting you? Is there anything that could distract you? He has no idea, not now that he is watching you walk into the room, ready for the classical ballet history class —yes, of course out of all the minors, you had to choose his— and sit a few rows in front of him, all alone as always, taking out your lilac book note and your pen.
Haechan has no idea, but he is going to find out something that can easily distract you and push out of your path.
You know people think of university as a moment to socialise, but being on your own has never been a problem for you. You have contacts with some of your hometown friends, and most importantly, you don’t mind doing things alone; you can go to the cinema when you want, you can pick whatever restaurant you like, you can take a walk, or stay at home.
You’ve always been comfortable in your bubble, and you’d like to keep it that way, but life has strange plans.
“Damn, always on a rush.” You recognize Haechan’s voice, but you don’t bother turning around because you’re sure he’s not addressing you. You think it’s weird he’s sitting next to you, but you blink the surprise away and grab your tablet from your bag. “Whoever put music theory at 8:30 in the morning on a Monday needs to go to jail.”
You chuckle at his comment, subtly rolling your eyes before opening the note app to go where you left it in the previous lesson.
“You write a lot.” This time you’re quite sure he’s talking to you, so your neck turns to look at him and you find him closer than you’d like him to be.
“I annotate, it’s just the essentials.”
He scans the notes quickly before scoffing. “The essentials? I don’t write as half as that.”
“Well, I think this is essential, but we all work differently,” while you’re answering him, you don’t even notice that his friend is not beside him, and you get lost in him for a second, mostly in the scent that’s filling your nostrils now that his brown jacket is so close to you.
“The professor talks too fast, how the fu— how do you get everything?” He stops himself from cursing and backs away, finally making you breathe some air that is not filled with his intoxicating perfume.
“I rewrite phrases. And, to be sure, I record the lessons, so I can re-listen to them in case something doesn’t make sense when I study them. And then I also re-write the not—”
“You record the lessons?” He almost snarls with his eyes bulging out of his skull as he, once again, stands too close to you.
“Is it illegal?” Your head tilts to the side as genuine curiosity blooms on your face.
“No, it’s… it’s…” he sighs, throwing his head back and cursing something under his breath in a tight dialect you don’t recognize. “I never thought about it.”
“Oh, well, it helps me a lot. Sometimes when I’m too tired to read I just play the lessons and memorize stuff while I do other things,” you smile, moving your hair to one side of your neck before grabbing the pen when the professor walks in. “You should try.”
“Oh, you can be sure I will.”
Haechan can’t be so stupid. He can’t believe he can be so stupid. Why didn’t he ever, ever, think about that? That’s a smart idea, better than crying and cursing when he tries to understand what he wrote down on paper when he revisits the notes, or asking Mark if he wrote some phrases he had marked down with several question marks or dots to fill —dots that he never fills.
But he’s still sure he can’t be a terrible student, he had always been on top of his classes, always aced them and his study method worked… but what if yours worked better? Given the results of the past year, and the start of this one, the answer is clear: yours do work better.
But he doesn’t think that it’s the only reason you are beating him in everything. What if you have other tricks?
Haechan is going to find out.
You always believed your only competition was yourself. You never liked to engage with other people and fight them or fear them. But Haechan had given you no choice.
It was an open threat at you when he purposefully told you a different day to turn in an assignment when you were sick, you had no choice but to fight back.
That was when Haechan truly became your rival. He had always been, you two were always at the top, fighting for the first place and the big prizes, but now it was a matter of pride.
Haechan had officially made it on top of your blacklist, at least he could arrive number one in something, not like there was a big competition to be in there, in fact, you didn’t even have one before he pushed your last nerve.
Fucking it up with you wasn’t Haechan’s plan, he wanted to befriend you and trick you into giving him some magic tricks, but things went… wrong. With Mark by his side, it was impossible to sit next to you. During songwriting you got up and sat on another seat in the middle of the lesson with the excuse of ‘not seeing from afar’, and he couldn’t approach you in any other circumstances. So, when you got sick for three days, he thought he could, for once, steal your spotlight.
He wasn’t sure you were sick, but he was sure enough you weren’t going to miss lessons days to study or work on projects; you never needed extra time, unfortunately, he knew it well. So the only thing that could lock you in your place was an illness of some kind. He did feel bad when you came back four days later and asked him if you missed something, he could see you still weren’t at your best, and he could’ve tried his luck by telling you the truth, hoping that the precarious state you were in was going to make you come up with a terrible essay on an instrument of the 18th century, but his eagerness got the best of him, and he lied.
So he had officially screwed his plan of getting closer to you.
“You are an asshole,” you scream, slamming the books in front of him on the table in the garden, not caring about his friends staring at you in shock. “And don’t look at me with that face of ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’ because you know what I’m referring to.”
“I don’t, though…” he whispers, trying to keep a distance between you because you look scary —half bent on the table, furrowed forehead, pointing finger— and he thinks you are very motivated to reach over his neckline and strangle him.
You roll your eyes, groaning in annoyance. “You told me Professor Kim left an essay for Monday, I thought I could use the weekend to do an amazing job and he called me to his office because I was three days late.”
Haechan gulps, and the table goes silent, you feel his friends’ gazes on you but they are the last thing in your mind.
“Mind to explain?”
“I… I didn’t do it on purpose?”
“You have to ask me if you are an asshole because your mother didn’t put a brain in your skull?”
“Hey, take it back!” He warns with a pointing finger, glaring at you.
“No,” you retort, crossing your arms on your chest and standing up straight. “You sabotaged me.”
“You are making things up. Maybe you should be in the creative writing major,” Haechan taunts, a shit-eating grin on his face.
You gasp offended, clenching your fists to avoid wrapping your hands around his neck. “You — you — ugh,” you huff. “This paper was graded! And you knew it, it’s part of the mid-course work he adds to our final grade. Why would you do that to me?”
“You think I did that on purpose?”
“When did you turn it in?” You ask and when his eyes widen you scream at his face. “See! You turned it on time. I fucking hate you!”
“I didn’t answer,” he tries to defend, a challenging edge in his voice, getting to your nerves more than the look on his face.
“First of all, I can see it in your face. You’re trying to look surprised and even scared, but you’re having the time of your life because, guess what, you can’t surpass me if you don’t play your stupid games.”
He snorts offended, gulping before leaning closer. “You think I can’t beat you?”
“It’s not what I think, it’s what the rankings say, it’s what our professors say, and it’s what all the external opportunities I’ve got say. But if you want to try to prove facts wrong, bring it on,” you shrug, grabbing your things and taking a step back. “No more dirty games from now on, Lee Donghyuck. Trust me, you don’t want me to start playing them too, you might not even see the top three if I do.”
The months to come are fire. You should keep minding your business but as soon as he opens his mouth in class you can’t press your lips together and fake it. You try, every time, but you fail.
“I just mean that the melody is what attracts people,” he argues during a discussion in the songwriting class.
You huff, shaking your head. “People care about the lyrics more.”
He scoffs loudly and the professor glares at him for the reaction but he still goes on. “People won’t listen to a song if the production sucks.”
You turn around, eyebrows pressed in a furrow. “And they won’t listen to a song if the lyrics are dumb, or tell a bad message.”
“Really? Catchy pop music is a thing even if you want so badly to maintain the purity of the art of music with only lyrical depth.”
“I love catchy pop songs, but there’s something objective in music and something subjective, if you paid attention to any of our classes you should know, right?”
The class holds back a laugh and the professor coughs, making you utter an apologize, more addressed to her than your enemy.
“Oh, trust me, I paid attention to class,” he retorts, mockingly smiling at you. “And we’re not talking about the quality but the appeal. People remember the rhythm of the song or the tune more than they remember the words.”
“And words can hold so much meaning for someone they will stick to them forever. Also, lyrics can have different interpretations and if you’re a good writer you can make one song fit for more occasions.”
“That’s dumb,” he says, looking at you up and down after scoffing. “Notes can transfer different emotions, what you said just doesn’t make sense, please.”
“Can we tone it down?” Professor Park warns, glaring at the both of you.
You nod and mutter another apology before speaking up again, “I believe that a good melody can easily attract people at first listen, but if we talk about the long run, a memorable song also needs good lyrics. And Mariah Carey herself said how being a songwriter makes your career last more, so I think it’s telling coming from one of the best voices ever.”
“I think you both make a great point,” the professor cuts the conversation off before you can jump at each other’s throat again. “It would be interesting to make a deeper analysis and maybe break down songs and compare data over time. If it was possible to keep the decorum…” she whispers the last word and you want to disappear because you hate the scene you gave. “But we need to move on with our lesson, so, as I was saying…”
Out of all the heated discussions you had in class, the one about the importance of production and lyrics, led to your worst nightmare, working on a project with him. Professor Park was so nice to pair you together because she wanted to see how your different points of view would’ve worked in the song you had to write and produce and even if you smiled and said, ‘it will be really motivating,’ to avoid yelling at her face, now you want to die.
You’re sure the first two knocks on the door don’t even reach the other side; your hits are too weak and the small apartment in that complex is too loud for anyone to hear. Is this the environment you have to work in today?
You roll your eyes and knock again, this time making sure it’s impossible for them not to hear you. You wait there only for a few seconds and then the door opens, revealing a boy your age you can’t remember.
“Oh, hi,” he cheers, big toothy smile beaming at you. “You must be here for Hyuck, right?”
You hum, nodding and murmuring, “Yes, I have to work on a project with Haechan.”
“Come in.”
You step inside the house and look around briefly before your eyes fall on the table in the small living room; there are books everywhere, headphones on the ground, boxes of food and empty water bottles, and most importantly talks too loud for four boys that were supposedly studying.
“Mark, can you lower the music?”
“Music is what I’m studying, I can’t,” the man you know well replies. “Why don’t you keep your pencil close to you? Jesus, there’s graphite everywhere.”
“You’re so annoying, I can’t go in my room, Jeno still didn’t take down the light boxes,” the brown-haired replies, sending a death glare to the boy at his side who quickly replies to his defence.
“Hey, I finished shooting half an hour ago and now I have an essay to write, leave me alone.”
“They’re entertaining, aren’t they?” Haechan’s voice brings you out of the haze of his bickering friends, their conversation fades in the background while your anger level rises just seeing his face when you turn around.
“Surely more entertaining than you,” you retort before taking a step forward, pretending to know where to go in that house.
Haechan rolls his eyes, thanking his friend who opened the door —Jaemin— and coming next to you. “You don’t know where my room is yet, so if you’d like to follow me.”
You trail behind him, waving at the men around the table but it’s clear that none of them even noticed your presence. Luckily for you, Donghyuck’s room is at the end of the corridor and the mess that goes down in the other room is not hearable enough to make your day a living hell.
“So, do you have anything in mind?” He asks after you sit at one of the chairs at his desk.
You shake your head, fixing your skirt and pulling out some things you might need from your bag. “Wanted to hear from you first. Since the melody is so crucial, we should start from that,” you mock in a fake-sweet tone, and you feel his glare on your skin.
“You truly are a pain in the ass, you know?” He scoffs, moving his hair out of his face, gaze fixed on you.
“And for what? Because I agreed with your theory?”
“If you have a melody in mind it’s easier to make the words flow.”
“If the melody has nothing to do with the idea, you only have some notes and not a song.”
Now that there aren’t rows of chairs dividing you, the heated argument has led you face to face, literally. And you feel your heart pound in your chest from the anger and, also because it’s weird to be this close to a stranger you can’t stand.
“Okay, Miss Taylor Swift, why don’t you enlighten me and show me what you got?”
You glare at him but he’s unfazed, holding the eye contact proudly. “My lyrics will be better than your production.”
“And are those lyrics in the room with us?”
“God,” you groan, throwing your hands in the air and your head back. “You drive me insane.”
“And you are pretentious and still never prove all the things that that little, bratty, annoying mouth of yours says.”
Deep creases show on your forehead, and you have to turn around because if you see his face for a second more you will slap him. But you want this project done, you have four weeks to turn it in, but you want this torture to be over as soon as possible, so you know you have to put the pettiness aside.
“If we want a great result and good grades, we need good lyrics and a good melody,” you say, calmly facing him again, slowly watching as his face softens. “My words and your production. I don’t care what comes to us first, if you think it can be useful, we could even brainstorm some tunes and catchphrases and then build it around it.”
“Now you’re making some sense,” he exclaims, smiling widely before patting the top of your head. “So that head is not empty.”
“Oh, seriously? I’m trying to have a truce, and you fuck it all up again?”
“No, sorry, I just think you’re really smart when it comes to college but a bit annoying when it comes to life.”
“You’re just mad you can’t beat me.”
“I can,” he retorts smugly.
“Then why don’t you do it?” You tease, cocking your head to the side.
Haechan scoffs, lips twitching in a quick smirk before he wets them. “I didn’t yet, but are you so sure I won’t?” He whispers, breath colliding with your lips and nose brushing yours, your brain doesn’t even register his hands on your legs right away, only when his fingers caress your bare skin right above the hem you wake up from the haze of having him so close.
“Time will — time will prove us,” you say, turning to the desk and scratching your neck. “Time will tell us, not prove us.”
Haechan snickers, moving closer to see on your tablet where you opened the notes, and smiles smugly. He thinks he found a way to distract you.
The project isn’t done in the first week, and to put a cherry on top, Professor Park decides to make it the big project for the end of the class, adding a cover for the single, a plan to sponsor it, and, if someone feels brave enough, even to record it. Even if you wanted to, a thing this big, and now with so much weight on the final grade, can’t be done in one week.
Yet, you think you’ll have to deal with Haechan only on your weekly meet-ups for that project and during lessons, you never imagined you would have to deal with him even during your library study on Wednesday.
“Why are you studying in the middle of the week?”
“You know, if I had to replicate a sound every time we start a conversation it would be ‘and now, I just want to sit back and relax and enjoy my evening, when all of a sudden I hear this agitating grating voice,’ and that is the sound that plays in my mind, actually.”
“Grating? Really?”
“Well, it’s the quote but it fits,” you reply sternly, bringing your attention back to the book. “Also, the question is not, why am I studying, but why aren’t you? How will you beat me if you don’t?” You wink, laughing under your breath. You don’t even need to see his reaction; you know his jaw tenses and his nostrils flare for a brief second every time you tease him.
You hear the chair in front of you scratch on the floor, and deeply hope he’s not sitting on it. But Haechan is sitting on it, staring at you as if he could steal the information from your brain and pass it to his.
“I am studying.”
“No, you’re not,” you reply, eyes widening when he rips a page from your notebook and a pen from your case. “So, what have you learned since now?”
You fight the urge to roll your eyes to the sky and instead run a hand on your face while sighing deeply. There’s just no way to get rid of him, right?
“You don’t even know what I’m studying.”
“Sound design,” he replies promptly, and you look down to see if he could’ve gotten a grasp from your books but there’s a paper on it and there’s not much written on it. Haechan smiles and moves to the chair next to you. “It’s because I started it too, there are too many notions, it would be a suicide to wait for the finals.”
“Oh, so you do something else other than think about me,” you tease, nudging him with your leg.
“Hey! I don’t think about you,” he replies firmly, frowning.
“Sure,” you huff, waving him off. “So, what do you know?”
“Well, all the basis we learnt last year, so the definition of sound, the path it follows, how it’s perceived based on the medium and how fast it travels through them, slowest through gases, faster through liquids, and fastest through solids, and that temperature effects it as well.”
You smile, content with the reply but you want to test him more. “What about the five characteristics of sound?”
“You think that’s a difficult one?” He asks, almost disappointed at the easiness of your question.
“Well, if you want to impress me so bad, I could ask you to list all the types of compressors?”
“You already know that?” He questions, quirking a brow, trying to think why he doesn’t remember them. “Wait, we didn’t do that in class.”
You laugh. “See, you’re witty. No, we haven’t done that yet, but since you love producing so much, I thought you knew it as personal knowledge.”
“Why do you talk as if you don’t want to do the same job as mine?” There’s a bit of annoyance in his tone, but there’s genuine curiosity in his eyes.
You shrug, pressing your lips together before diverting your gaze.
Haechan gasps. “Don’t tell me you don’t know what you want to do, yet, because I won’t believe it.”
“It’s not that I don’t know,” you reply, a low huff leaving your lips. “I’d like to try different things out, being a PR manager sounds interesting too. And I’m also pretty good at dancing, so that could be a career path.”
“It’s a shame we didn’t start practical courses, I would love to see you dance.”
“Yeah, sure, so you can mock me some more,” you groan.
He shakes his head. “No, you wouldn’t enroll in a program if you weren’t absolutely perfect at it, so I can’t come at your skills.”
“You’re so kind, I think I might love you,” you mock, moving closer to him and pouting before pushing him away with a light push on his chest and focusing on your papers again.
“And by the way, I know the characteristics of sound,” he says, right next to your face.
You smile and think to yourself that this might be fun. “Good, go on and tell me.”
You don’t get why Haechan’s roommate bicker so much. Not that you could lecture them when, as soon as you walk inside his room, your talks won’t be much different than theirs (worse, probably). But you think you and Haechan, at least, have a reason to fight so much. His roommates are… weird. They are close. They all are, in an annoying way almost, always moving in packs and breaking their back to meet up even if their institutes are scattered around in the Academy. Yet, they get heated pretty easily when they sit in the living room, and you can only blame it on stress as you chuckle, standing against the countertop with a glass of water in hand.
“Donghyuck left you all alone?” Jeno enters the kitchen, distracting you from Renjun screaming at his painting and Mark cursing while he tries to come up with a melody for a small assignment you decided to not worry about —you have Haechan to worry about now.
“Yep, told me to be here at 2 pm just to be in the shower instead,” you reply with a tight smile on your face that makes him laugh and scroll the black hair out of his face.
“My fault,” he explains while pouring himself a glass. “I convinced him to stay at the basketball field when we finished and he couldn’t meet up with you smelling like rotten leftovers forgotten under the august sun.”
“Creative writing?” You ask after you chuckle at his description.
“Nope, photography, Renjun’s worst nightmare.”
You laugh. “It’s because you leave all those big things around his room, right?”
“Our room,” he says, empathising on the first word.
“Okay, communism king, your room but I don’t think your comrade is happy about it.”
Jeno laughs, and hums before gulping down a sip of water. “I’m not rich yet to afford a studio so he’ll have to deal with his bestie working, sweating, and crying his way to the top.”
“You could’ve been a nepo baby and have everything handed to you.”
“Sucks not to be one. I wouldn’t even bother being in Uni, just leaving my best life with my camera and daddy’s money.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Haechan says entering the kitchen, hair still damp and casual housewear on.
“None of your business,” you reply, placing the glass in the sink and walking to the door. “Come on, we have a song to create. It could be our first Billboard number one.”
Haechan sighs, snatching the bottle of water from Jeno’s hand, briefly confused at his grinning face, and then follows you quickly.
“Are you trying to hit on my friends?” He asks, closing the door behind.
“Would you mind?”
“Yes, I’d hate having to deal with you in our group hangouts.”
“You already deal with me. More than you should since you always come to me even when we could not be together,” you say, tilting your head to the side, and sitting on your assigned chair. “Are you perhaps jealous? Do you want me all to yourself?”
“Nah, you can go and fuck all of them right no—”
“Okay,” you don’t even let him finish and you’re at the door, but he springs after you and stops you.
“What are you doing? I was kidding!”
“Why? Since when you can tell me what to do?”
Haechan groans and drags you back to your place, but he doesn’t sit just yet, he’s bent over to be close to you. “I need you here with me to work on this goddam song, and then you can go and have a gangbang in the living room, I don’t care.”
“You’d be mad you won’t be part of it,” you joke, having the time of your life watching his pissed-off expression as he stomps loudly back at his place. “Accept that you will never win with me, and maybe you won’t be so triggered every time we talk.”
“Shit, it’s late,” you murmur, lifting your head from the lyrics you’re trying to write down. Now you got the theme —it’s a love song that you hope won’t turn lame— and even a faint idea of a tune, and while Haechan tried to get inspired by other songs and tried instruments he wants to add to the track, you worked on the words.
“Don’t you think we’re trying too hard?” He whispers, placing the guitar on his bed before standing up and stretching.
“What do you mean?” You ask, lifting your neck so you can look at him after you turn around on the rotating chair.
“Music should come to you, it should be… spontaneous.”
You’d want to roll your eyes, mostly for the spontaneous part, but he’s right. Most artists don’t think about the songs they make, the song comes to their mind when they’re not thinking about it.
“Yes, but do you think we’re doing such a shitty job with this?”
He shakes his head, walking closer to you. “Not totally, I just think that if we want to be on top, we have to work around it differently.”
You gulp when he hovers over you and grips the side of the chair tightly. “Like?”
“We should… relax. Take our mind off of it and just wait for it to come,” he glances at the desk, studying the crumpled tries you gave up on and the only three phrases you were happy with written on the tablet. “We should get inspired,” he whispers, and you’re once again so focused on his face that you don’t feel his hand on your thigh, under the long black skirt you’re wearing, it surely must��ve been on you for a while if the fabric was already crumpled up and his fingers teased the hem of your panties between your hips and stomach.
“Is — is this how you inspire people?” You ask, glancing down with a rising chest but for some reason not pulling away.
“Don’t know, I’ve never done it before,” he chuckles, slowly moving closer to your core, observing the small signs of your body. “Should we see if it works?”
You hate him. You should be working on that lyric for the last half hour you have left. You hate him. He’s making it impossible for you to stick to your ‘minding my business’ plan that had worked through all your school years. You hate him, you do, and yet you nod, humming a feeble ‘yes,’ in response.
“Good,” rolls out of his lips, and it sounds so different from his usual tone, you can’t help but feel hot.
Your nails sink in the chair when his fingers slip right against your clit after he had your consent and starts teasing it.
“So, it’s a love song…” he says, and you frown, heart pumping louder as for a second you think he led you on and you looked like a pathetic horny loser, but his hand is still playing with your pussy and his face is still close to yours. “Chose that because you have somebody in mind?”
“We literally picked it for a reason last week, you —”
“God,” he shushes you up, pushing the panties to the side and teasing your entrance, it’s already damp, but not enough how he wants it. “Can you stop being so rational for once? I know why we picked it; remember I’m trying to inspire you.”
“Wait, you really think some fingering can inspire me to write a love so—” your words shut down when he places a hand on your mouth, eyes widening but pussy leaking an embarrassing amount of cum.
He quirks a brow in surprise and, shortly after, a smug smirk curls his lips. “Oh, so you’re into that?”
You can’t reply, but even if you could’ve, you’re not sure you would’ve said anything.
“So, anybody in mind?”
You shake your head. Your love life has been anything but exciting, and after a few tries, you were sure it wasn’t what you needed to focus on, especially because nobody sparked your interest. Nobody was worth moving your focus from your studies.
“Great, so I guess that’ll have to be me.”
“What?” You mutter muffled, closing your legs and moving on the chair.
Haechan rolls his eyes in his skull, keeping you in place. “Oh, come on, you can fake it for a few minutes. Don’t act disgusted, I’m knuckle-deep inside you,” he says.
“Not yet.”
“I’m knuckle-deep inside you,” he retorts after he pushes into you with two fingers, staring right into your eyes.
You bite back a moan and a curse under your breath. “Fine, but I don’t want to think,” you say. “Just, prove it to me. If you’re good, I’ll be inspired and I’ll come up with the lyrics, if you suck, we’ll go back to our original method.”
Haechan hates that he constantly has to prove things to you, and he hates even more that he does it, almost as if he’s your dog and he has to follow your orders while you keep him on a leash. But if this will work to come up with a great song, and in his outer-songwriting-course-plan to distract you, he won’t complain.
Honestly, he couldn’t complain even if it only meant to finger you. He might want to fight you every time he sees your face but, damn, what a face.
“Shit,” you moan. You don’t want to give him too much satisfaction, but he knows what he’s doing and it’s been way too long since someone touched you like that. Damn, even since you touched yourself like that. Maybe the whole ‘staring at your goals’ was taking some funny things away from you.
“Do you want to turn the song into a Hozier song?”
You huff, you just asked him one thing and his mouth is running again doing the opposite. “You wish you were this good to inspire a Hozier type of song.”
“Really?” He taunts, pressing his thumb on your clit, starting to tease the throbbing nub in circles.
“Yes,” your voice trembles, but your face shows confidence.
Haechan snickers, quickening the pace of his fingers, watching you fight against yourself to not show how much you’re loving it. “One second of this mouth on your pussy and I’d make you change your mind,” he whispers right against your ears, hot breath fanning your skin. “It’s a shame you don’t deserve it.”
You groan, head rolling back in disappointment, and that makes him laugh.
“You have to think twice before running that mouth, babe. Especially with me.”
“Never,” you talk back, opening your eyes and regretting as soon as they meet his. His gaze is too intense, and your brain is too far gone to keep it up.
Haechan only grins, enjoying your wrecked face and the sounds your pussy is making as his fingers keep working on you. You might try to deny him, but your body is speaking to him, and deeply so are you. It’s in your eyes, and your lips trembling, and in the beautiful moans that are rolling out of your tongue.
“Are you close, brat?”
You don’t have it in you to complain, or retort, the orgasm is right around the corner and you fear he would ruin the experience if you said something out of line.
“Answer me,” he orders, lightly slapping your thigh.
“Yes,” you breathe out, biting your lower lip to prevent the whole house from hearing you.
“Good,” he replies, smiling proudly and starting to move faster in and out of you, hitting your sweet spot every time he reaches the base, and torturing your clit with his thumb. And when it’s too much for you, you come. Body trembling against the chair, and legs pushing up as the shocks of pleasure run through you.
“Acid when you talk but sweet to taste,” he hums after pulling out his fingers from his mouth and you only glare at him as you quickly try to get yourself together again.
“It’s late,” he says, staring at the clock. “Go home and let me know if this was useful somehow. And not by replaying it in your mind at night wishing I was there with you.” He winks and you slap his shoulder hard. “What the hell!”
“I won’t come up with anything on purpose, and I swear if you keep being so annoying, I’ll be terrible at this.”
“You would never, this makes up like 80% of our final grade.” He challenges you with a glare.
“If I go down, you go down with me,” you retort, face to face, fiercely looking into his eyes.
“It’s not smart of you.”
“It doesn’t have to be,” you smile sweetly before it drops from your face. “It’s a threat.”
It’s not like you’re trying to avoid him after what happened, but that’s exactly what’s going on. You don’t regret the act per se, you just can’t believe it was so easy for you to agree to do that with him. And you know he will use it against you for eternity.
A very dumb move from your side to give him the possibility to tease you even more and about something you couldn’t defend yourself from.
But if you try your best to change corridors when you see him from afar, walk quickly back to your dorm room, and sit on the opposite side in class (you fail at keeping your mouth quiet, but you need to discuss with him during lessons), it seems like he’s doing everything he can to be on your path.
“I’m starting to believe you’re a stalker,” you huff, clearly scaring him when you stop abruptly in the middle of the library and make him stop in his tracks.
“I’m not.”
You raise a brow, staring at him until he huffs and throws his hands up in the air. “Fine, fine, I was following you but only because I wanted to know what you will study.”
“Why do you care so much about what I study?”
“So I know how to beat you?”
“Isn’t it more exciting if you beat me only using your brain by putting some knowledge in it without seeing my cards?” You say, pushing a finger on his chest and making him walk backwards until his back hits the bookshelf behind him.
“I think sneaky games are funnier, though,” he whispers, hand moving to rest on your side. “Especially with you.”
You scoff, rolling your eyes, and taking a step back, freeing yourself from his hold. “The games you’re playing are not sneaky. Why are you always in my business?”
He shrugs. “Why not? So, what are we studying today?”
“We are not studying together.”
“Why? Isn’t it funny? The same study method, same hours, but one of us will be better than the other. That’s a truly equal comparison.”
You run a hand on your face and keep walking to find what you need. “If you didn’t distract me every two seconds, I would’ve already been like five pages into my studying session.”
“Oh, please, you are wondering around the library anyway. I’m just keeping you company.” His body follows yours like a shadow, his heat radiating so close to your skin that you think you might go insane.
“I don’t want your company,” you say, moving your eyes swiftly over the books in front of you as you try to find what you are looking for in the sociology section. When you finally find it, reminding yourself you have to buy it so you can annotate directly on yours, you walk back to your table, but Haechan is still beside you like a puppy on a string. “Can’t you just leave me alone?”
“I could, and I’d want to, but I can’t,” he says, sitting at your side, smiling widely when you glare at him.
“This is a useless lesson for you,” you try to dismiss him.
“Is it? Because we have the same ones.”
“Jesus, okay, fine,” you give up, throwing your head back and raising your voice enough to make some heads turn in your direction. His biggest talent is to exasperate you. “But we give ourselves a timing, and then when we’re done, we’ll have to answer five questions.”
“And who answers to them all?” He asks, there’s a taunting edge in his voice, and a grin on his face.
“Is the best,” you reply as if it’s obvious.
“Yeah, but there should be a prize.”
“Being better than you is the prize.”
Haechan scoffs, and he hates to admit in his mind that he finds your snarky remarks so fucking hot, if you weren’t in a public library and if his job on earth wasn’t to detest you, he would’ve already had you bent on the table.
“I love how you’re always so sure of being better than me.”
You snicker and send him a flying kiss. “Honey, I am better than you.”
“Wait, I just left out a detail!” You almost scream when you compare your answers for the nth time because you can’t believe he has done slightly better than you.
“That detail is important,” Haechan replies unfazed by your indignation.
“No, it’s not. We would have the same score if this was graded,” you insist, feeling more angered than you should. It’s nothing serious, it shouldn’t be serious, but with him, there’s your pride on the line.
“But this is between me and you, so I win. Also, my phrasing in the second answer is better than yours.”
“Shut up, it’s not.”
“It is, and you just have to admit you lost,” he insists, leaning over, staring at you with a challenging raised brow.
You swallow, eyebrows furrowing, and then you sigh. “Your advantage is minimal. And you only won a battle, because I’m winning a war.”
“Fine, Napoleon, I still won and you’re coming to my place even Saturday so we can do this some more.”
“Hey, Napoleon sucked! He lost the most important battles, the only ones he should’ve won.”
“That’s why I called you that,” he winks, clicking his tongue mockingly.
“Oh, you think you will win the war? You’re wrong, honey, Waterloo is yours.”
Haechan laughs, standing up after putting his things in his bag. “I’m waiting for you on Saturday…” he says and before you can complain he starts singing, “Waterloo, I was defeated, you won the war…”
“Oh, shut up!” You say, hitting his arm as you push him away, but he giggles and walks away continuing with the tune.
“Waterloo, promise to love you forevermore. Waterloo, couldn’t escape if I wanted to…”
And you think that if only he didn’t try to sabotage your final grades in Music History, you might even find him funny.
Haechan hates you.
If he was sure he didn’t before, he is sure that he does now.
He can’t wrap his head around the fact that you, Miss zero social skills, and negative 100 friends, can be so good at debating. On every fucking topic. You’re well-spoken, witty, smart, somehow it looks like you know everything about everything. And even when you don’t know (and you always specify it — which he shouldn’t find so hot, but he does) you always come up with perfectly thought theories and analyses coming from the small knowledge you have on the topic. The thing he also hates is that you never sound like you’re showing off your skills, it’s just really nice to listen to you and —when he’s not the one intervening against you— you’re the sweetest person ever and everybody in every class absolutely adores you.
He wonders if you’re a robot. Maybe you’re some sort of artificial intelligence sent there to conduct studies on humans’ stupidity, and he was unlucky enough to start a fight with you. You just don’t seem real. And he’d love to dig deeper but he doubts he will find anything relevant.
You might be smart, but you also look incredibly boring. He tried to find out if you had interests, or anything that could distract you, but his research led nowhere. The biggest problem is that he hates you, but not to the point that he wants to get you suspended from University, so he has to find another way to make you slip.
Apparently, you’re playing the same game, but even at this, you are thinking faster and smarter.
“Where the fuck are all my anthropology notes?” Haechan mutters as he looks through his library, moving books and notebooks around, thinking he has gone insane. “Mark!” He screams, rushing to the desk to search again but he knows where he left everything; on the second shelf of the small library in his room, on top of the music theory book that hasn’t moved since a week.
“Yes?” His housemate peaks from the door only with his head.
“Did you mistake our notes?”
“What notes?” Mark furrows, backing away from his friend who looks out of his mind.
“The anthropology notes,” he says, voice full of annoyance because, why does Mark never know anything? He’s in the same course and, yet, he’s always somewhere else with his head.
“Man, I don’t even take notes during that lesson.”
“What do you mean you don’t? Ugh, never mind,” Haechan groans, rolling his eyes because he can’t believe he can’t count on anybody. “Have you seen them somewhere?”
“Nope,” Mark replies, entering the room. “I mean, I don’t know what they look like.”
“You know right we have a test tomorrow? The winter break is close, and some courses have it. You are studying, right?”
“Yeah, just not every…thing…”
Haechan rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “Why don’t you like it? I mean, I know it’s not really music related but it teaches you so much about other cultures and there’s a whole part about how music is different from culture to culture.”
“Next semester, we didn’t get there, yet. It’s a bunch of complicated terminology and theories I just don’t get,” Mark defends. He never understood why Haechan loved studying so much. He is only there for the music, and a few other theoretical lessons, but some courses don’t make any sense to him.
“So you plan on being terrible tomorrow?”
“I just want a decent result; I don’t strive for perfection like you and your girlie.”
Haechan almost chokes on his saliva. “My girlie? Who’s my girlie?”
“That girl in class you always get into heated arguments with, and then she comes here and I’m pretty sure you make out when no one’s watching,” Mark says so calmly it infuriates Haechan more than if he was teasing him.
“Shut the hell up! She’s my mortal enemy and while you have been paired with Yangyang for the song project, Professor Park thought it was nice putting her and me together.”
“Yeah, you can still make out with your mortal enemy,” he snorts, hitting his friend with a playful elbow hit.
“Mark, shut up and leave, I have to study,” he tries to cut short, pushing his friend out of the room.
“With what notes?”
“I don’t know. I left them on the shelf, and nobody entered my room since Saturday when she — Oh, my God.”
When your name resonates in the empty classroom after you’ve taken the anthropology test, your blood freezes for a second.
“Haechannie,” you cheer cheekily, turning around and pushing your tote bag far up your shoulders.
“Don’t,” he warns, lifting a finger to stop you from starting anything. “I have to talk to you.”
“Sure, the test was easy, right? You might have beaten me this time,” you say but you have to hold back a laugh when you scan his furious, pissed-off expression.
“Yeah, if you studied, it was,” he retorts venously.
“And you surely studied,” you say, faking innocence.
“You can study when you have something to study on,” he says through gritted teeth.
“Yes, and you do,” you still play dumb, but when he calls your surname, you know he’s not joking anymore. “Yes?”
“Do you, perhaps, know where the fuck my notes are?”
You look around, shrugging. “Where are your notes, Donghyuck?”
“I don’t know, I’m asking you for a reason,” he retorts, plastering a fake smile that doesn’t reflect in the darkness of his pupils.
“They might’ve mixed up with my stuff when you invited me over Saturday?” You sing-song, tilting your head to the side and shrugging.
“Might’ve,” he repeats, a hint of bitterness in his tone. “It was just a coincidence.”
You shrug again, pushing your lower lip in a pout. “Sometimes… things happen.”
“And if it wasn’t on purpose, why couldn’t you just text me?”
“Because I didn’t notice,” you reply innocently, batting your lashes, knowing it will get on his nerves even more.
He groans, closing his eyes to calm himself down before he speaks again, “then how do you know?”
“Don’t know, just making assumptions,” you say. “It turns out I’m really good at it.”
“I swear, I — I want to… I want to —”
“To what? Choke me because I got my revenge? Oh, it turns out it’s really not that funny when someone plays with you?” You mock, and in doing so you get closer to him.
“Goddamn,” he groans before your back meets the hard wall of the room and his lips meet yours in a heated kiss, his hands on your body and yours limp at your side as you’re too shocked to react. “I want to — I want to kill you, actually.”
You smirk, chuckling straight at his face. “Filled the space with the wrong letter, ‘cause you’re kissing me.”
“Maybe my kiss is lethal, maybe there’s poison on my lips.”
“Oh, you’re so romantic you’d die for me?” You coo, placing a hand on your heart.
Haechan groans, throwing his head back. “Why are you always so, so, so, God,” he curses, running his fingers in his hair. “I want my notes back, now.”
“I don’t have them,” you say, grinning because he looks wrecked. You know it wasn’t very morally mature for you, but it was only fair. Also, you know he doesn’t arrive last minute with anything, he had already studied everything and you’re sure he had answered everything on that paper, he just couldn’t revisit.
“My notes back when you pass by for the project or it’s war.”
“It’s already war,” you retort when he walks past you to leave.
Haechan turns around, locking his gaze with yours. “Oh, honey, it can get so much worse than this.”
You felt like testing your luck when his notes weren’t back on his desk, but you had no idea it could get worse than that, until it got.
When he deleted an essay from your computer and you had to remake and finish the work of five days in five hours, so you cancelled a project he was working on for another assignment you had. And then he erased the recording of a course from your phone, so you ripped his notebook in front of his eyes (and his roommates too). The list of petty things is long, and you’re not really proud (you’re sure not even Haechan is) of what you did, especially when things started becoming personal. You two want to destroy each other, but you are honestly just killing yourselves in the meantime.
Your book slams closed so hard that you almost zip your hands in it, and by protecting your fingers you lose track of where you’ve been. “Get lost,” you whisper bitterly as soon as you recognize the hand that did that.
“No thanks,” he replies, sitting next to you.
“I’m trying to read a book in the quiet of the library, so can you leave me alone?”
“It’s a public space, I can sit wherever I want,” he replies, leaning back into the chair, and widening his legs under the table. You know ‘cause you feel his knee push against yours and you have to retract your leg to avoid the contact.
You glare at him, breathing deeply through your nose because you can’t make a scene here. You two almost got kicked out of a class two days ago, and that was humiliating enough. So, you think that ignoring him is the best thing you can do.
“Wow, so you have a bit of self-control and don’t talk back. Never thought I’d see that day,” he replies sarcastically to your silence with an amused grin that curls his lips.
You hold back a scream and huff loudly, “I truly need you to get fucked right now.”
“Nevermind,” he jokes, pulling a tight forced smile and you close the book again, now too annoyed to even focus on the words on the paper. “I came here in peace, by the way.”
“Yeah, your peace is war in my country,” you reply bitterly, trying to shift away but those damn chairs make the loudest sounds at the smallest movements.
“That’s because you’re full of prejudices.”
You inhale deeply, rubbing your temple to soothe the headache you know is about to arrive. “Haechan, tell me what you want and then leave me alone.”
He smiles, happy you are finally willing to listen, before he clears his throat. “Okay so, I have to say that some of this is funny. I mean, only the debates and these random talks, but I’m not the biggest fan of all the other stuff we’re doing, so why don’t we bring it back?”
“Bring it back? As in?” You question, raising a brow in confusion.
“I liked it better when we would just compete without tearing ourselves down. If you cancel, ruin, or save one of my projects with the word boobs in it before sending it to the professor another time, I will go insane.”
You hold back a chuckle. You have to admit it was your lowest move, but it was quite funny when Professor Choi had a whole talk in class about being careful before sending out finished projects and exposed him in front of the class.
“No, it wasn’t funny,” he mutters sternly, watching you fight with all the muscles of your face to don’t break into a laugh.
“No, sorry, it was,” you defend, voice trembling, threatening a chuckle to come out. “Like Iloveboobsdemo1 is the best thing I’ve ever come up with. That could be the title of our song.”
“If you want to get expelled from all the academies in the world that would be a perfect idea,” he says, trying to be serious because seriously it wasn’t funny, but when you stare into each other’s eyes for too long none of you two can hold back the laughter anymore. “Okay, fine. It was funny, but I don’t want that to happen again.”
“So? Do you give up?” You taunt, tilting your head after placing it on your palms.
“I’m not giving up, we are changing strategies of our combat.”
“Oh, okay. You will lose anyway in the end, so if this can be more beneficial for me in the meantime, it’s fine.”
He sighs, rubbing his temples, and you chuckle. “Don’t laugh,” he whispers distraught. “I… could you sometimes at least pretend to give me some kind of chance of winning with you and not feeling like you’ll always have the last laugh?”
“I just replied.”
“No, a reply would’ve been ‘Yes, Haechan, don’t worry, we can change it.”
“Too wordy,” you comment, waving him off with a movement of hand.
“You said like ten words more,” he replies, voice breaking in his throat in a whine, but you decide to act as if you don’t notice.
“It still flowed better. See, that’s why the lyrics are in my hands. You’re really not good with words.”
“You keep doing that,” he groans, slamming a hand on the table, attracting some curious eyes on you before you glare them away. “But it’s fine, okay, so… no more dirty games? No more sabotaging?”
“Yes, no more. Well, not like this, but we can still play a bit, right?” You ask, retracting your hand right when you’re about to hold his to seal the deal.
“Yes, but nothing weird, or you know what I mean.”
You hum, reaching out again and shaking his hand. “It’s a deal, then?”
“It’s a deal.”
The deal somehow turns into Haechan always being next to you. He’s like a shadow, sitting next to you in class, studying with you in the library, and so on. You don’t mind him when he minds his business, but he rarely does. Especially during lessons when you need to focus on what the professors are saying.
You roll your eyes when Haechan sneaks a paper next to your notebook and you read ‘how would a dog wear pants’ with two badly drawn different options on it.
“Does it look like the right moment?” You whisper under your breath, side-eyeing him, and trying to keep your focus on the lesson. You see him nod and decide to mark the second option, thinking that he’d be happy with it, but he has the urge to hear a whole dissertation on something that will never happen, right now.
“Why?” He asks as if you’re not in the middle of a lecture.
“Not now.”
“But this lesson is boring,” he whines, poking your side with his elbow.
You huff, covering it with a cough when you realize it is too loud, and then take a sip from your bottle of water.
“You didn’t answer,” Haechan insists, this time poking your arm with the cap of the pencil.
“I picked one,” you mutter, pointing at the paper with your head.
“Elaborate and change my mind.”
“You think it’s the first one?” You say in disbelief, the utter shock causing the tone of your voice to be louder than you expected.
“Any problems there?” The Professor asks, and you feel your blood freeze.
“Mh, no, nothing, my pen has no more ink, I was asking for another one,” you lie, thanking God you two are sitting far in the back of the class and the Professor can’t hear and can’t see that your pen isn’t dead at all. So, with a suspicious nod, the middle-aged man goes on with the lecture while Haechan giggles beside you.
You glare at him, and he shrugs raising his hands. “If you kept quiet, it wouldn’t have happened.”
“If you let me concentrate on the lesson instead of asking dumb questions, it wouldn’t have happened,” you retort, and he laughs under his breath again, but doesn’t ask more questions. He still ruins your notes with ugly flowers and other drabbles and you let him be because at least he’s being silent and paying attention.
“So, you really are giving up,” you say when the bell rings and the class starts emptying.
“What makes you think that?” He asks, putting his things in his bag, just like you.
“You didn’t write anything down.”
Haechan shrugs. “Why would I? I have your notes.”
“No, you don’t,” you say but before you can realize he rips the notebook from your hands and snaps a picture of the two pages you wrote. “Hey! That’s not fair. That’s my work.”
“Your amazing summarizing skills and my artistic skills. I don’t gift beautiful sunflowers to just anybody.”
“Beautiful sunflowers?” You snicker, starting to walk down the stairs, pushing the notebook into your bag as Haechan follows at your side. “If Renjun saw them he would have a heart attack.”
“Can’t compare Vang Gogh to Picasso.”
“Keep Picasso out of your mouth,” you say threateningly.
“Still, aren’t you happy you will think of me while studying?” He bats his lashes, and you hold back an entertained grin.
“Can’t wait to go through the absolute most painful ulcers every time I glance down on those things.”
He gasps offended, bringing a hand on his chest. “See, this is what happens when you spend all your days on socials and your brain doesn’t know how to appreciate real art anymore.”
“You are so annoying, and distracting. Next time if you sit next to me, I’ll push you off the chair,” you warn, and only when a colder blow of wind hits you, you realize you’re walking back to your places together.
“Right!” He says and you think it’s the good time he leaves you alone, but no, he’s not done. “You didn’t explain why the dog would wear it only on its hind legs.”
“Is it really that serious? Why do you want to know so badly?”
“It’s funny. I’m sick and tired of hearing you only discuss music, sociology, and the media and other stuff.”
You sigh. But you still have a bit to walk, so you might as well have to deal with him and his hypothesis about dogs. “Because pants have to cover your lower body, so legs, and ass and everything else. If you wear them like the first option, half of the ass is out. And also, the back limbs correspond to our legs, we’re divided in half horizontally, not vertically.”
He doesn’t reply right away, processing your answer. And you think you broke him.
“Oh!” You exclaim. “Zootopia, animals wear clothes like the second picture.”
“Really? You had a whole statement that made perfect sense and then you added a cartoon to your thesis?”
“But it still makes sense,” you argue back. “And, most importantly, I made you agree with me,” you wink before stopping when you reach your complex.
“Fine, fine, you’re right,” he gives up before looking behind you. “You live here?”
You nod, searching for the keys in the tote bag, and you think it’s time to stop pretending that’s Mary Poppins’ bag and throw away some useless stuff.
“I thought there were only rooms here,” he states, looking at the big complex a few meters away from the university.
“There are common dormitories, and then there are some one-room flats. I got one with a scholarship when I graduated. It’s less expensive than an apartment and I get a small place all to myself.”
“Oh,” he whispers. He doesn’t know why he thought you had roommates. “So, you’re alone, alone?”
“No, you can’t come in,” you say.
“I didn’t ask that,” he frowns, offended you would even imply that. “I thought you… well, oh, never mind.”
“Yes, I’m alone, so I can do whatever the hell I want. If I want to cook, I cook. If I want to stay up all night to study, I do that. If I want to dry the clothes in the middle of the living room, that is also the bedroom and the kitchen, I do that.”
“Is it really that small?”
“It’s decent, I guess. It’s spacious enough to live in it comfortably but not big to the point I have to waste days cleaning it.”
“Maybe we could study there, no loud roommates screaming in the living room.”
“I like the mess of your place, and I’ll be there Friday.”
Haechan rolls his eyes. “Come on, I hate the library. Can’t we for once study at your place?”
“I never invited you to my studying sessions,” you groan.
“But you love it.”
“No.”
“Yes, you have an orgasm every time you know something better than me.”
“Please, shut up,” you wave him off, starting to walk away.
“I don’t care, I’ll be here tomorrow,” he screams when you’re too far, clearly running away from him.
“And I’ll be at the library!”
You never go to the library, to be honest, you were just unlucky enough that the washing machine thought it was the right moment to leak all over the floor and Haechan found you at home with your coat on the couch, the tote bag next to the door and your jeans half soaked as you tried to fix the mess on the pavement.
From that moment, your meet-ups become more and more periodic, whether it’s at your place, his or at the library. You hate to admit it, but the competition drives you forward, and you love seeing his face every time you defeat him somehow.
“Are you busy this Saturday?” He asks while he strums with the guitar to come up with a chord progression for your song.
“Yeah, why?” You reply, poking the cap of the pen to your cheeks, drifting your eyes on him.
“Want to go out with me?”
“What? Saturday is my day to study and do my things like I want to,” you say. It was the only day, along with Sunday, you had to fix all your notes without being wrecked from the lessons of the day, or listen to lessons while cleaning the house, and so on. You tried to squeeze everything there so Sunday could be your free day and you could dedicate it to your hobbies and to write for the magazine you worked for, nothing too serious, just some money to add to the survival costs that your parents would send you, and the monthly entrance you had when you would get called to help a dance studio downtown.
“Great, we’re going out tomorrow.”
You huff, slumping back on the chair. “No, we’re not. I’m busy.”
“You can take one afternoon for me,” he replies, placing the instrument next to him. “Come on, it will be fun.”
“Where would you even take me?”
Haechan smirks. “It’s a surprise.”
When Saturday afternoon arrives, you don’t know how to feel. You spent the whole night trying to find a positive thing about it, and the good thing is that for once you are leaving the house to do something funny —you hoped so— not all by yourself. The bad thing is that the person you are going to do this thing with is Haechan.
You try not to worry about it too much, he’s not that bad when he wants to, and he’s funnier than you’d like to admit, so maybe taking a small break from the obsessive studying and tidying, will do you some good.
When you hear the knocks on the door, you grab your coat and your bag and head to open it.
“Hi,” he says. “Anything to fix before we leave?”
“Don’t say that, they will hear you and break all together.”
Haechan laughs, briefly looking at your body, mostly covered because it’s still cold outside and you have way too many layers on you. “Toy Story for home appliances?”
“Yeah, that would be my life,” you reply, closing the door behind you and walking outside of the complex. “So, where are you taking me?”
“I told you, it’s a surprise,” he says. “Don’t expect anything big, I just don’t want to hear you nag about it.”
“Hey, I appreciate almost everything.”
“Yeah, it’s the almost that worries me,” he says. “Hop in the car.”
“You have a car?”
“Yeah, it’s right in front of your eyes,” he answers, gesturing to the space next to you.
You turn around, holding back a laugh when you see the old blue car, it’s surely a Hyundai, you have no idea about the model, but you know for sure it’s falling apart. “This is the car?”
“Yes, I’m sorry I’m poor.”
“It will get us killed,” you say opening the door, letting out a breath of relief when the handle doesn’t stay in your hold.
Haechan rolls his eyes and sits in. “Can you don’t be overdramatic for one second?”
“I’m stating facts. Are the airbags still working? Is the oil level high enough? The battery? And the water for —” Your eyes widen when his lips crash on yours. At first, it’s a harsh attempt to shut you up, but then his lips shily go for more, moving along yours with a small flame of need.
“I won’t kill you, but please shut up,” he begs when he pulls away, sooner than you want to, later than he should’ve.
You gulp, trying to shake the dizziness and the way his kiss made you feel lightweight. You might occasionally still want to wrap your hand around his neck but he’s quite good at being a charmer.
“I’m giving you the privilege to pick the music,” he says once you’re on the open road, the lights of the city shine against the windows and the other cars pass beside you.
“Yeah, can I connect my Spotify to the car? Oh, wait, this model from the future directly brings the singers into your backseats so you can have a live concert,” you joke after seeing the car radio.
“Wanted to take the metro?”
You laugh. “No, I’m just… why did you say that as if I could connect the aux or the Bluetooth? It was funny.”
“Fine, you’re forgiven,” he says. “Just play it through your phone.”
You hum, already deep into the scrolling of your music catalogue. “Can I put my driving playlist?”
“You have a car?”
“No, I have a driving playlist.”
“Why would you have a driving playlist if you don’t have a car?”
“Because right now it comes useful,” you wink, pressing play without waiting for his answer.
Haechan smiles, quickly glancing at you before his attention is fully on the road. “Baekhyun?” He asks with surprise when the second song starts. “You listen to Baekhyun?”
“Everybody should listen to him,” you reply, already getting defensive because his next words could be the last straw of your ‘relationship.’
“Oh God,” he whispers.
“If you tell me you’re a hater I’m jumping out of the running car and changing the trajectory of your life forever,” you warn, turning to the side to have a better view of him.
“Me? A Baekhyun hater? He’s my father! I just can’t believe you have some sort of sense and taste.”
You slap his shoulder, making the both of you break into a light-hearted laugh.
“You scared me for a second,” you say, placing your hand on your beating heart.
“Sorry. So, it turns out we have one thing in common,” he jokes, creases creating at the corner of his eyes as his features soften and a genuine smile blooms on his face.
You shrug. “I mean, we have many things in common, actually. That’s why we get along so badly. Maybe it’s true, opposite attracts and that’s why we don’t attract.”
“I think we do attract… proved it a few times.”
“Once,” you reply immediately.
“Twice, with the kiss…”
“You did that to shut me up.”
“I don’t shut up just…” anybody… “I felt like kissing you.”
You smirk, loving watching him struggle. “Nothing wrong to admit you find me attractive,” you tease.
“Unfortunately, your mouth ruins everything.”
“My mouth is the thing that attracts you the most about me, or else you wouldn’t keep lingering around me like bees on honey.”
“Bees make honey, they’re not attracted to it. Bears are.”
“Yeah, you look like a bear, you know?”
He glares at you, and you laugh. “Bears are cute.”
“And attracted to honey.”
“And do I look like honey?” You ask teasingly. “Wait! You always call me honey!”
“It’s a mockery honey, not a sweet honey. You’re not my honey.”
You think about it. “You’re not my honey… could be a line of our song.”
“No academy talking today. It’s forbidden. You have to forget about uni.”
“Fine, I’ll forget about it just for today.”
The dates with Haechan, you can call them dates, right? Well, anyway, whatever they are, they become more common. At first, you tried to reject his weird, most of the time, last minute, proposal, because they would throw in the air all of your plans, but after a while, you somehow still found a way to go back on track without screwing up your academic goals.
“Why don’t you stay?” Haechan asks. It’s another Friday afternoon, and you two met up to go on with the song’s project. Much to your dismay, you have to admit you are the one who’s holding you two back. It’s like words can’t come out of you, not like you want to, at least. But Haechan’s not mad at you. Actually, you like the atmosphere around you when you lock in his room for those sessions. One time, he even made you try edibles to see if you could come up with something, but you ended up making out on the floor instead, so you stopped going for that path.
“I don’t know,” you say, huffing when you glance at the words in front of you and remind yourself that they don’t make sense. “I was thinking of going home and maybe listening to your tracks and…”
“Come up with something?” He drags the chair closer to you and steals your papers to read them. “It’s not as bad as you made it to be.”
“Yeah, it’s a good song, but it’s basic. And I feel like it’s a bit… cliché.”
“You do know that everything has already been written?” He jokes, but it’s not a teasing remark, it’s the truth, and he’s genuinely trying to lift your spirit.
“I know, but it’s not my style, this is not how I usually write, I —”
“You write?” He stops you and only then you realize what you said. “Like, you have written songs before?”
You nod, shame pervading you when he stares at you with an expression you can’t comprehend. “Are you going to make fun of me?”
“No, I just thought you preferred lyrics over production, but I had no idea you were a lyricist.”
“Now, lyricist… I try, sometimes…”
Haechan smirks, poking your tummy making you cover it with your arms. “So there is something you’re insecure about.”
“Oh, I knew you were going to have a ball about this,” you groan, rolling your head back.
“No, hey, it’s just… I’ve never seen you like this about something you do. You are confident, usually,” he explains with no hint of mockery in his voice.
You sigh, looking at your feet tapping the ground and then look back at him. “It’s just… very personal,” you confess. “I think it’s clear I don’t have lots of friends. I used to, back at home, but here I’m alone. But even back then I’ve always felt like there was something I couldn’t completely let out. That’s why I love dancing, I can express myself in a different way, but I found out it still wasn’t enough and when I started playing the piano again I… started writing. It started almost as a joke, and it was a cheesy break-up song when my ex cheated on me, like the cheap version of drivers license,” you joke and he laughs with you.
“But it was still better than this, I guess?”
You hum, shaking your head. “Nah, my first song was a mess, but then it was like I just couldn’t stop writing, so my songs became my diary. Every time something happens, I write about it.”
He hums, moving the chair closer until your legs intertwine. “So, to write a love song you would need to fall in love?”
You’re taken aback by his question, and don’t reply right away. “No, I just need to be inspired. I’ll watch some movies, and it will come to me.”
His face twists in mild disgust as he shakes his head. “Movies are fake, it’s better to live things on your skin.”
“I don’t have time to date, and I can’t just find someone that easily,” you say laughing. “But don’t worry, I won’t make us fail. I’ll try to edit this and make it work if I really can’t come up with anything else.”
Haechan is not convinced, it’s clear in his face and the way his leg is bouncing nervously, but he doesn’t get back on the conversation. “Are you staying?”
“I have some notes to edit and —”
“You have tomorrow,” he cuts you off. “Come on, I have to do it too.”
You groan, hating the way you can’t say no to his big eyes staring at you. “Fine, but not too much.”
It’s useless to say that none of you get those notes written better.
“God, are you fucking Professor Kim?” Haechan growls, grabbing your wrist and stopping you in the college corridors right out of Music History class, the last lesson of Tuesday.
“What?” You babble out, surprised by his angry tone and his speculation.
“No cause you’re his favourite and it’s driving me insane,” he utters under his breath, glaring at you.
“I’m his favourite?” You tease, tilting your head to the side, loving the fire that turned on between you two. It had been three calm months, the bickerings were too intellectual and you missed this.
“Yeah, I gave him the exact same answer and he found the tiniest thing to say I wasn’t right, just so he could hear yours instead and praise you.”
“Oh, poor baby boy, Professor Kim didn’t give you head pats and now you’re mad?” You pout, patting his head in a mockery gesture.
Haechan groans, throwing his head back, and pushing you into the nearest empty class, closing the door behind.
“Haechan, what are y—”
“Shh,” he says, shushing you with a stern gaze and a squeeze of your wrist. “You passed by his office the other day, didn’t you? Needed extracurricular help ‘cause you didn’t understand something,” he mocks with a high-pitched voice. “Taught you how to play his flute in a historically accurate way?”
You’d love to laugh at his terrible blowjob-music reference but when his gaze darkens, you only chuckle, and that’s enough to drive him mad.
“God, for you is just a game, isn’t it?”
“You really think I fucked Professor Kim?”
“No, but I’m pretty sure he fantasizes about having you bent over his desk and, fuck, it drives me mad.”
“You wish he fantasized about having you bent on his desk?” You joke, smirking.
He groans. “No, I hate the way he looks at you, and talks to you, the last thing he had to do today was to call you a good girl in front of the whole class.”
Your lips curl in an amused grin, but your heart —and something else— flutter at the way he says ‘good girl,’ you try not to show it and go on with your teasing. “Not my fault I’m good, and I’m interested in his subject.”
“Your fault you lick his boots,” he groans, pushing you flat against the door, standing so close to your nose. “I know you’re smart and you don’t need to ride a dick to be first in class but…” he stops, inhaling your scent, and leaning against your forehead.
You lift his head with two fingers under his chin, and lean in, whispering, “you still want to see me bent over a desk, and you want to be the one railing me, isn’t it?”
He doesn’t reply, not verbally at least. The only answer is a guttural moan and two arms lifting you, making your legs wrap around his waist as he kisses you roughly.
“Hyuck,” you moan into the kiss when he starts walking toward the desk, sitting you on the edge.
“Yeah?”
“We can’t — we — this is, we can get expelled…”
He snickers. “Be quiet and nobody will even hear us.”
“What if they lock us inside?”
“Shut up,” he groans again, kissing you another time as his bag drops on the floor. “You drive me so fucking mad, you have no idea.”
You snicker under your breath, but your heart loses a beat when his hands roam on your thighs, moving closer and closer to your heat. “Wait,” you whisper.
“Wait, what?” He hums, cupping your chin and lowering your head, staring straight into your eyes. Haechan scoffs when your thighs squeeze against each other and he can see you gulping. “Don’t act like you don’t want this,” he whispers, leaning closer to your lips, making you believe he’ll kiss you, but you only get a taste of his thumb rubbing over your full lips, “don’t act like you don’t want me.”
“Haechan!” You scream when he rips off your tights, the tear of the fabric resonating in the room as you look down in shock. “I’m gonna kill you,” you groan but he’s not bothered in the slightest.
“They were getting in the way, and I get rid of everything that gets in my way,” he says with a smirk.
You laugh mockingly. “Then why am I still here?”
His brows furrow and a small pout forms on his face but he shrugs it off. “I’m taking care of you, I told you,” he groans, kissing you harshly. “You’re not winning the war.”
“Oh, and your military strategy is to fuck me?”
“Yeah, until you forget everything.”
You huff loudly when he finishes ripping the tights from your legs, the only pieces left the ones trapped in your shoes, and you’re glad the skirt is long enough to don’t make you freeze on the way back home.
“So much better,” he says proudly, staring at his work of art, letting his hands wander on your now bare skin. “And, now, let’s find out if there’s a way to shut you up.”
You look at him in anticipation, waiting for his next move as if your life depends on it. And you hate to be so eager, you hate you fantasized on it more than you should’ve, but you want to know what his lips feel like. And it’s almost as if Haechan hears your secret thoughts.
“What do you want, sweetheart?” He taunts, kneading his fingers on your flesh.
“Nothing,” you mutter, trying to sound more confident than what you are.
Haechan laughs at you, shaking his head as he slowly gets on his knees, looking up at you. “You are always so fucking proud and annoying.” His hands rest on your knees before he pushes them far apart, forcing you in place as you uselessly try to close your legs. He tsk, shaking his head. “Don’t act ashamed, I’ve already felt you, and tasted you.”
You don’t reply. It’s hard to keep eye contact but this is bigger than sex, this is a game between you two and, he might not beat you in class, but he’s beating you right now.
His laugh brings you back to earth and you hate the smug smirk that’s sitting on his face. “So you do get quiet, thought I needed to give you a taste of my mouth to shut you up.”
You open your mouth to retort but the stern glare that flashes on his face is enough to put you back in your place.
“Good girl,” he says and your body trembles before you can even try to hide it. “Should I get a better taste of you?” He stares at you, waiting for an answer that doesn’t come, not like he wants to at least. “Use your words, babe. You know how to run that mouth when you want to, so, beg for it.”
“Fuck, no,” you retort, trying to move away but his hold on you doesn’t give any signs of loosening up.
“Okay, then,” he says, slowly standing up, and grabbing his bag. “See you around.”
“What?” You squeal, grabbing his wrist. “What are you doing?”
“Leaving,” he replies, shrugging.
“That’s not fair,” you reply, and he snickers.
“What? Are you wet? Do you want me?”
You don’t expect that reply and struggle to find the words, even more now that he’s standing between your open legs, keeping them apart, and his eyes are staring down at you, pinning you down in place. “I don’t want you,” you lie, swallowing the gulp in your throat when his right hand sits on your waist. “I just… I want to fuck.”
“Oh, do you? Well, there are plenty of people here, I’m sure many of them would want you. You know, even if you don’t pay attention to anybody, people look at you,” he whispers, caressing your jaw with his other hand. “First on the list is Professor Kim. Don’t you want to feel the thrill? Come on, go to his office now, so I can have something to hold against you forever.”
You chuckle. “Yeah? Want to blackmail me so I can do all the essays for you? Maybe you’ll get the best grades like this,” you tease, pulling him closer by the collar of his shirt and making him groan.
He licks his lips, staring at yours, and you smirk. “I don’t need you to be first, and you know it.”
“Do I?” you tease. “Want to be first at something?”
“Don’t,” Haechan warns, eyes darkening even more while the tent in his tight pants becomes even more evident.
“What? You can be the first one who fucks me on a desk if you quit playing hard to get.”
“I’m not playing hard to get,” he replies, leaning even closer, your bodies are pressed together and you can feel his hard dick press against you. “I won’t be the one begging, especially to eat you out,” he groans, cupping your chin unexpectedly. “Don’t act as if you didn’t think of this before. I’ve seen the way you get lost in my fingers when we study together. You see me twirl a pen in my hand and you wish I was inside you, don’t you? And when we argue? There’s always a small fragment where you lose focus and stare at my lips. Where do you want them, honey?”
Your brows furrow but your entire body reacts differently, a small shake, while wetness pools down your panties, soaking them even more, and your eyes close because you can’t bear his smug glare.
“I said,” he urges, giving a quick squeeze to your chin, “where do you want my lips?”
“On — on me,” you breathe out, voice muffled by the firm hold on your face.
His lips twitch as he leans closer and kisses your cheek. “Here,” he says, holding back a laugh when your eyes widen. “That was where you wanted them, right?”
“Oh, fuck off, you know what I meant,” you huff.
“No, I’m the dumb one, remember? You are smarter than me, you know everything. I’m always a step behind, I need you to guide me step by step,” he mocks in a condescending tone, pouting.
You take a deep breath. “I hate you.”
“Oh, I know,” he laughs. “But if you use just three magic words I’m sure you’re going to love me for a while.”
You don’t want to give up but you’re on fire, and you fear that the more time passes by the more someone could find you out.
“I’ll ask nicely one last time,” he whispers against your lips. “Then I’ll ask you to do something for me and you’ll lose my lips for the second time. Where do you want them?”
“On my pussy,” you whisper, not meeting his eyes.
“Fucking finally,” he laughs. “Was it so hard Miss big brain?”
“Stop mocking me!”
“Mocking you?” He asks, getting on his knees again before grabbing your panties to pull them down. “I might hate you but it would be dumb to not recognize your qualities, right?”
You don’t reply, you have other things to worry about. For example, your mortal enemies kneeled between your legs in an empty class of your Academy, staring into your soul, ready to eat you out.
“So, since you’re so good with words, here we go again. Beg.” Haechan craves putting his lips on you just as you do, but this is the only moment he can have some power over you. And after the humiliation of today’s class, he has to make you pay for it a bit. Or maybe he just wants to hear that even if you’d choke him and slap him, you still want him.
“Please, Donghyuck, please,” you plead, looking into his eyes.
He’d love to hear you beg for him more, but the way your cunt is dripping on the desk is already enough to tell him how much you want him, and for now, it’s enough.
When his lips come in contact with your skin your legs immediately hook around his shoulders and you can feel the chuckle on your wet folds.
“Eager, honey?”
“Just, please, eat me out already,” you barely have time to finish that he stops playing around and starts moving his mouth on you. Your head falls behind while your thighs squeeze tighter around his face. Your hands clench on the edge of the desk as you try to keep your balance, but it gets harder with every lick of his tongue.
“Keep quiet, the door is closed not locked,” he reminds you, pulling away from you just to pick up again.
You try to don’t be too loud, but he’s better than you expected and maybe this was the wrong time to try this out. You should’ve simply begged him to fuck you, but now that you’re in the middle of this, the last thing you want is to stop him.
One of your hands is brave enough to let go of the hold on the desk and reach his hair to push him closer to your body, surprising him.
Haechan always thought you were much more shy than this, honestly, he didn’t even hope much for this to happen. But you surprise him, not only you let him have you in a random class at your university but you are also pushing him closer.
“You are eager,” he muffles against you, he can’t pull away when you’re pressing him down with so much force, but the way you’re acting is setting him on fire. He loves hearing you moan and whimper, not a word coming out of your pretty lips to confront him, just bliss on your face and voice. And that pushes him to give you even more, putting his entire self into eating you out until he almost drags screams out of you, making both of you forget where you are.
You’re not sure how many minutes pass by but when the orgasm rushes in your body you feel it’s too close. You’d probably force him down for another round if you were in any other place but you don’t feel brave enough.
“So? Disappointed?” He asks, cleaning his chin as he stands up, reaching you again. “Don’t lie, you’re still dripping down the desk, you’re even more turned on than last time.”
“I’m not,” you lie. You know you are, and Haechan knows it too.
“What is it? The thrill of being caught? My skills? Just me, or something else?”
You don’t know why you reply with what you reply, but you do. “Maybe someone else,” you tease, not even sure he’ll take the bait, but he’s too caught up in you to see the games you’re playing.
“Yeah? And who’s that?”
“See, I always believed you were perspicacious and could catch details, I can’t believe you didn’t get it. You’re so sure Professor Kim wants to fuck me, ever thought I want him too?” You bat your lashes and Haechan tries to silence a groan, but you feel his fists clench at your sides.
“Don’t play with me, I’m not falling for this.”
You shrug. “Fine, I’ll still think about him while you fuck m—” he shuts you up with a rough kiss, pushing you down the desk with a quick movement that makes your heart jump to your throat.
“He’s not even that hot,” he groans, turning you around before bending you on the desk, and pulling your skirt up around your waist. “And he’s not even that old, there’s not even the charm of the dilf.”
“He’s smart,” you talk back, not sure how much you can pull your luck.
Haechan scoffs, slapping your ass. “Not smarter than me.”
“You’re not the professor so…”
“A degree means nothing,” he says, his chest pressing against your back. “What’s that you like so much about him?”
You chuckle. You’re not sure if he’s playing into your game or is just so easy to fool, but either way, you decide to keep going. “Everything. Don’t you see him?”
Haechan groans. Out of all the people, out of all the professors, he has a very personal beef with him that started at the start of the year and the way you just praise him so much —even outside of this specific situation where he got you’re messing up with him— drives him insane.
“Because he’s the best at everything? Isn’t he?”
You nod, expecting him to talk back but the only answer you get is the sharp sound of his belt being pulled away from his pants and smacked against your ass. “Fuck,” you curse, hating the way your body buzzes with pleasure at the impact.
Haechan chuckles. “I wonder what he would think of you if he saw you like this.”
“He wouldn’t think,” you say. “He’d act, fucking me like I deserve instead of wasting time like you.”
When his cock fills you up with no warning you almost scream but his hand is quicker at reaching your mouth.
“Yeah, would he fuck you better?”
You groan in his hand, but your brain goes blank with each thrust into you, pulling his hips back before he snaps them forward, so forcefully that you slide upward on the desk and he has to pull you down so that your hips don’t hit the wood.
“Answer me,” he urges, making a makeshift ponytail with your hair to force you up. “Would he?”
“I… I don’t know,” you cry out, feeling him deep inside of you, filling you perfectly.
“You just have to test me until I snap, don’t you?”
“He seems —fuck— fitter than you.”
Haechan snickers mockingly. “Yes? You want to be thrown around? Like you’re worth nothing? Do I have to do that to make you feel good?”
You shake your head, ass perking up, your feet on their tips as you try to keep balance.
“No? Is being fucked in a class enough for you? Does it satisfy your needs?” He hisses, eyes rolling back when he focuses them where your bodies meet, your cum dripping down his length and balls. He can’t believe how turned on you are. “Thought you were innocent but look at you.”
“Not my fault you don’t catch details,” you retort with a small bit of sanity —not really— you have in you.
“Details? Or maybe you’re just an actress. Making everyone believe you only think about grades and studies and here you are, drooling while I fuck you over a desk. Begging for my dick.”
You don’t even realize you are drooling down the desk and when you’re about to clean your chin, Haechan grabs your hands and pins them in place behind your back.
“No,” you whimper, falling flat with your chest pressing down the wooden table.
“Yes, honey,” he mocks. “I want to see you become a mess for me. Should I take a snap of you like this? Send it to Professor Kim so he can see he will never have you like this?” He whispers against your ear. “Think I don’t know it was all a play? Not only you don’t like him, but you wouldn’t risk your reputation for a terrible fuck when you have a brain like yours.”
Your pussy clenches. It’s the way his voice sounds like velvet, it’s how deep it’s hitting you, it’s in his words, and the way it turns you on that your number one rival, the one that despises you, still knows your value.
“Still, I’m pretty sure he wishes he could see you like this,” he adds, biting your earlobe. “A shame he can’t, right?”
“Y-yes,” you mumble in a pathetic wail.
“But maybe I could still keep it to myself,” his hips start moving with more force and you can’t hold back your moans as you clench around him. “Yeah? Want me to take a photo of you like this?”
You wish you could reply but words just don’t come out of your lips, brain emptying and eyes rolled back in your skull.
“Maybe another time,” he says, breath getting ragged as he keeps fucking into you with determination. “Don’t really want to pull away to take a pic of us.”
“There — there won’t be —fuck— another time,” you reply, forcing yourself to speak.
Haechan snickers. “The mess between your legs tells me otherwise,” he mocks, reaching in front of you to play with your clit, making you shake. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, you deserve good things, even a good fuck from me.”
“Too much,” you cry out, feeling your eyes getting wetter as the orgasm starts choking you.
“No, you just haven’t had a decent orgasm in ages,” he retorts.
“Shut up! You know —shit— you know nothing.”
“Honey, I can only imagine you playing with yourself, but your hands or toys don’t come close to me,” he says, so smugly you can feel the smirk on his face. And you can’t even retort because —as much as you hate it— he’s right.
“Come here,” he says, putting a hand over your shoulders to pull you closer to him. “Are you close?”
You nod, biting your lower lip until it bleeds because you’re sure the sound of your ass slamming against his hips is already a giveaway of what’s going on inside this room. You clench around him when he bites down your shoulder to muffle a louder groan as his hips start moving faster as he chases his climax.
You feel your legs give up as the second orgasm hits you and you hold against the desk again because you don’t know where else to hold on to. Haechan tries to keep his curses low, sticking his face in the crook of your neck and you feel you could come again just by his voice alone; his moans the pretties sounds you’ve ever heard.
“Oh god,” you breathe out when he gently lets go of your body and you can relax on the hard surface again, squirming in discomfort when he pulls out of you.
“I hope you didn’t tear my panties apart, too,” you say, rolling on your back, making him laugh.
“Don’t move, you’ll stain the skirt, it’s the only clean thing on the table,” he says, grabbing a napkin to prevent you from making even more of a mess.
“And who’s fault is that?” You ask, glaring at him.
“You should just thank me for the orgasm, better, two orgasms, I gave you.”
You huff, rolling your eyes, but still letting him clean you up, after all, the cum was his, so it’s his place to clean it. After you’re sure you won’t ruin the last untouched piece of clothes you have, you sit up, taking your —uncomfortably— wet panties to put them on.
“So…” he whispers as he cleans up the rest of the mess on the table and shoves your broken tights in his bag, “it was just for fun, right? You have no intentions with Mr…”
You break down laughing. “You’re so easy to fool. You seriously think I’ll ever let him see me like this?”
Haechan scoffs, finishing fixing his clothes before walking to the door. “It’s not about what you would do, is if you think of him.”
“I don’t,” you reply, following him even if you feel like your legs could give up any second. “I wonder if your jealousy was also a play,” you tease, nudging him as you two walk down the corridor to leave.
“It wasn’t jealousy, you would just have terrible taste if you truly liked him, and I have beef with him.”
You chuckle, deciding to believe him.
“Wait,” he says, stopping to search for something in his bag.
“I’ll go for the door, reach me,” you say, starting to head on, you’re not even sure you two could be there at that time. “Lee Donghyuck,” you curse when you try to push open the front door. “What did I say?”
He walks toward you nonchalantly and shrugs. “Yeah?”
“They locked us in!”
He smiles, shaking his head, and grabbing your hand. “Can you run?”
“What?” You blink a few times, trying to understand how his question fits the situation.
“After I fucked you like that, can you run?”
“Shush,” you scold, fearful someone might hear, you’re not sure who since you seem to be completely alone, but better safe than sorry. “And no, I don’t know, I… why would we run?”
“Do you trust me?” He asks, reaching out his hand for you to take.
“No,” you say resolutely.
“Good,” he smirks before he starts running into the corridors, giving you no chance but to follow him, cursing and damming every life decision that led you here, with cum threatening to leak out of you after you finished having sex in the class of your Academy and are now running to go God knows where, locked inside the institute.
“Hyuck!” You scream when he runs up the stairs and you swear you never felt so much adrenaline rush in your blood but when he looks back for a second and shows you his big bright smile with his hair falling in his face perfectly, you swear the world stops and all your worries are lifted from your shoulders. Maybe you trust him. Maybe you need to be this carefree sometimes.
Your heart jumps in your throat when he pushes open an emergency door and the mild breeze of March runs over you. You breathe in deeply, pushing into your lungs the air and the first early spring scent, letting the wind play with your hair and your clothes while your hand never lets go of his.
And then you both start laughing. Never looking back, and terribly looking forward, watching your steps as you run down the emergency stairs. You laugh, and you’re happy and you can’t believe your fingers are still intertwined with the ones of your mortal enemy.
When you reach the ground floor, hidden in the back of the palace where the sun doesn’t shine, there are still some tears spilling out of your eyes. You two pant, trying to catch your breath, and look at each other before you have to look away or else you will start laughing again.
You can’t believe you followed him blindly.
Your hands are still intertwined.
With each passing day, Haechan is convinced he has a perfect plan. It’s all part of the original plan, but if he gets you to try out romantic things, not only will he distract you from your perfect grades but he will also make you come up with a song that will give him a perfect score.
There are some small details that Haechan didn’t even consider. Detail number 1: where this could lead you two and your relationship. Detail number 2: that while distracting you, he will inevitably distract himself. But he doesn’t get it until it’s too late.
Haechan can’t remember when you started to dress up so much every time you hang out. You always dress well, or maybe he is biased for thinking that even the most basic white turtleneck shirt and cargo pants when you are too done with life to put up your skirts, dresses, or cutely styled other types of outfits, look amazing on you. Yet, during these last few dates, you started doing more, playing more with your hairstyles, trying different make-up, and always looking perfect in whatever clothes you put on your body.
Haechan hates you. Now more than ever because this was supposed to be your silly little race to the top of your second academic year and yet here he is, feeling his heart pound in his throat as you walk toward him. With your hair in a slicked-back ponytail, a freaking heart-shaped side part, your short red dress, while the white cardigan covers your arms and shields you from the light breeze, and your red short heels tap on the asphalt and bring his attention to the white socks that reach you right below your knees, while your hand clench around a heart-shaped bag.
He hates you because he wants you too badly and he’s terrified this is crossing the lines of bland and stupid physical attraction.
You smile, calling him Hyuck and he’d love to scream because he can’t be so smart and yet so dumb at the same time. But he tries to ignore it, and smiles back at you, addressing you with your surname so he can put some distance between you. You don’t even get mad anymore, it makes you smile tenderly as you lower your face to the ground and tangle your arm with his to walk to the car. Now he hopes that the old sardine can will make you two blow up, not to kill you, but to don’t make you accept a date from him anymore.
But that old car struggles but doesn’t crash, and drives you to the restaurant safely.
“This place is so pretty,” your voice rings in his ears, bringing him out of the thought he’s struggling with since you walked out of your apartment.
“Yeah, it’s musically themed, thought it was a good idea.”
“And the dishes also have song names? That’s the best thing I’ve ever seen,” your face lightens up when you scan the menu and in reflection, he does too.
What the fuck are you doing? He curses when he catches himself lost on you, too focused giggling like a child as you catch the references between the songs and the plates. You look like a cliché embodiment of love, and he thinks you’ve done it on purpose. It’s way past Valentine’s Day, but he feels that Cupid is flying right above you, ready to play him a dirty trick.
“So? You picked?” You ask, bringing him out of his thoughts, and he shakes his head, coughing while glueing his eyes on the menu.
“Nope, I’m a bit uncertain,” he says, pretending he wasn’t just too busy staring at you a few moments ago.
You laugh, humming. “Oh, I know.”
“What did you get?” He asks, meeting your eyes above the paper in his hand.
“I wanted to get the Summer 69’ appetizer first,” you reply and he smirks.
“Are you hinting at something?”
“Oh, shut up, you perv! It just looks tasty, there are different appetizers from different parts of the world and it’s a cold start.”
“Then we can take the big one so we can share?”
“Sure,” you reply, smiling at him. “Oh, and then ‘I wanna dance with somebody’ as the main dish.”
“Do you?” He winks.
“I’m not sending you signals, I’m just starving,” you reply, rolling your eyes, but he hears the low giggle that you try to hold back.
“Fine,” he smiles. “I’ll take ‘Maneater’ in your honour.”
“I’m a maneater? Oh, thanks, the best compliment ever actually,” you say playfully.
He smiles, stopping for a second after he hands you his menu. “You look beautiful tonight, by the way.” And when your mouth parts and no sound come out of it, he thinks he screwed it up. It’s not the first time he compliments you but well, the other times didn’t sound so serious.
But then your face breaks in a smile, and your eyes light up, shily diverting the gaze as you thank him before the waitress saves you both from the embarrassment that’s tangible in the air.
“Karaoke? Are you being extremely nice, borderline perfect, tonight so you can show me the biggest twist ever?” You gasp when the karaoke downtown enters your line of view. You’ve been walking for a while now since he couldn’t find a spot nearby, but he never mentioned where your next stop would be.
“I’m always nice to you when we go out on da— like this,” Haechan replies, opening the door of the place for you to get in first. “Also, since we’ll have to record the song soon, I think it’s time to test our vocal abilities.”
You giggle, waiting for him before you start walking to the desk to book a room.
“Karaoke is for fun, never to show off you’re like Celine Dion.”
Haechan chuckles, nodding in agreement while you reach the booth that the lady at the counter assigned you.
“Right, I’m more like Ailee, actually,” he jokes, closing the door behind you.
“Prove it to me, I always hear your mouth run to talk shit but never to sing melodies, so…”
“Should we go for a duet?” He asks, starting the TV to scroll down the songs listed.
“Nope,” you say, sitting on the couch. “A solo song first.”
“Fine,” he says, humming as the titles pass in front of your vision. “Mhh, what about Dean?”
“Love him, would love him more if he came back from the death and dropped another album of the year,” you say, sitting back to fully enjoy Haechan’s performance.
He chuckles at your comment. “This one was a painful reminder,” he says before clicking on “Instagram,” making the logo of the place appear before the countdown, signalling the beat was about to start.
You never thought you would find yourself so caught up in him but when he opens his mouth, you feel like you’re being taken to another world.
His voice sounds like honey, so raw yet so lovely. And as he keeps singing, you think that he would be wasted as a producer, a voice like his deserves to be heard by everyone. But when he finishes, you don’t show any of the emotions you felt.
“Your performance was very touching,” you say while standing up to grab your mic, “but I’m a performer, so I’ll go with Queen Britney.”
“Can’t wait to see your Superbowl worth it performance,” he snickers, sitting back against the small couch in the room as he watches you getting ready.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you start, winking at him and swinging your hips to follow the rhythm of the music.
Haechan would love to find it as funny as he does at the start, but when you start singing for real, and moving around in the small boot, he gulps, feeling the air around him starting to dim. And it only gets worse when you turn around and start to perform for him. Of course, you know the song by heart, you don’t need to read the words, and you don’t need them to change colour to know when each verse, chorus and bridge starts.
“Oops, I did it again, I played with your heart,” you wink, tilting your head to the side, still moving your body to the beat. He can’t tell, not right at the moment, but he thinks you’re replicating the choreography. That’s the last worry in his mind.
I played with your heart.
And Haechan thinks you really did that. This doesn’t feel like a game anymore, and not even like sex. He looks at you, even right now, that you’re sensually singing a Britney Spears song, and he can only fucking smile like an idiot.
“Wow,” you exhale when the song ends, fanning yourself with your hand, “it’s really hot in here.”
“It definitely is,” he whispers, drifting his gaze from you.
“So? How was I?” You ask, head tilted to the side, and a big, bright smile on your face.
“Good,” Haechan mutters, catching himself staring at you for too long again, shaking his head, the red blush on his face is humiliating. “You were good.”
“Yes,” you cheer, clapping your hands. “Should we duet, now?”
He hums, grabbing the remote again and searching ‘duets’ in the search bar. “Sad, sexy or silly?”
You roll your eyes. “Really?”
“What? I’m trying to understand the vibe we want to go with.”
“I’ll let you pick,” you say just to regret it when you see the song choice on the screen. “Seriously? Anything you can do?”
“What? It’s fitting for how relationship,” he says nonchalantly.
“That’s a crazy choice.”
“Worried you can’t actually do better than me?” He winks, passing you the mic as the song loads on the screen.
“You’ll see,” you challenge with a glare.
One minute into the song you regret having agreed to that, not remembering the last time you sang like this, but the look on his face when it’s time for you to hold a long note for 15 seconds is worth it. And it keeps going until the end, as you both surprise each other with all the skills that this song requires.
“Wow, you’re good,” you both say when the song ends and you break down laughing, a sound that grows bigger when the screen lights up to show a perfect score.
“Maybe we make a great couple together,” you say, laying back on the couch, tired from the singing.
Haechan turns to you, smirking and nodding. “I guess we do.”
You sit up, resting your chin on his arm. “Can you take another one?”
“Oh, don’t test me, baby.”
“So, ice cream is good for vocal cords?” You giggle as you walk to the side of the Han River with the ice cream in hand. It seemed like Haechan didn’t want to end the night anytime soon, but you don’t feel like complaining.
“Yeah,” he hums with conviction, licking another stripe of chocolate.
“On which book you’ve read this scientific fact?”
“The ice cream ghost came to me one night and whispered the secret to my ear,” he jokes, making you laugh.
“Uhm, yeah, I think that ghosts are much more reliable than old men in white coats in a lab,” you joke, but then you remember something you wanted to talk about since you’ve walked out of the karaoke. “Mhh, you know what I was thinking?”
Haechan shakes his head, waiting for you to talk.
“I think we’re going down the wrong path with our song,” you voice out. “Especially me. A warmer, darker, I dare to say more sensual vibe, fits us better.”
Haechan chuckles and you glare at him. “What?”
“Nothing,” he giggles, but he can’t lose against you so he goes on. “That’s the production, you know?”
You huff, rolling your eyes, and jumping on the handrail to sit. “I never said it wasn’t important.”
“Whatever,” he snickers. “So I have to scrap everything I’m working on?”
You shake your head, cleaning your hands after swallowing the last bite of the cone. “No, I was thinking about the second base you were working on, the one with the guitars and violins, remember?”
He hums, but he’s dangerously close to you, and you don’t understand why his hands wrap around your waist.
“I think we could use that and —” you gulp when he places his feet on the handrail under you and reaches your height, “and then I can change small things of my — my writing to fit more. What do you think?”
He smiles before it turns into his usual smirk. “I still think you’re worrying too much and you’re not letting it come to you,” he whispers, and the air of his breaths puffs on your lips before he erases the space between you and kisses you.
You feel your breath taken away as you feel like you’re falling behind in the river as the wind blows harder and your hands immediately leave the handrail to reach for him.
You’re not sure that wasn’t an attempted murder from him, but you can’t care when you feel your heart flutter and your legs give up as he deepens the kiss.
“Let it flow,” he whispers, kissing you again, whispering against your lips, “and the song will come at you.”
You know it’s not what he’s talking about, but you kiss him again, this time pushing him down so your feet are on the ground again. Your hands are holding tight on his sweatshirt as you pull him even closer and he does the same wrapping his arms around your frame tighter.
You find yourself in the same position in the living room of his apartment, struggling to make it to his bedroom without waking some of the others up. Not that you care much, it would be fair payback for all the chaos they make when you and Haechan are studying together.
The clothes fall on the floor as quickly as he’s on top of you on the bed.
“I hate that I have to ruin your pretty face,” he whispers, fingers deep inside your sopping wet cunt, pumping in and out painfully slowly as he stares at your face, a cute mix between ecstasy and annoyance because he’s giving you something but not enough. “The red eyeshadow looks really good on you, you know?”
You groan, rolling your head back. “It’s not time for compliments.”
“I’ve been complimenting you all night,” he says, teasing your clit with flicks of his thumb but without giving you much. “It is a shame you will look like a mess once I’m done with you.”
“We can’t be loud,” you say, hating that, for one reason or another, you two always have to keep quiet.
“Nah, Jeno has his headphones on playing games with Yangyang. Renjun has headphones on with music to don’t listen to Jeno. Mark’s not home and not even bombs wake Jaemin up.” The explanation is particularly non-sexy now that he has his fingers inside of you and it doesn’t make you relax much, but you hum nonetheless and beg him to keep going.
“Patience, honey. We’ve got all night,” he smirks.
“Yeah but —”
“Ah, ah,” he says, clicking his tongue and silencing you with a finger on your lips. “What did I tell you before? Let it flow.”
“It was different it was —ugh,” you mumble when he covers your mouth with his hand, eyes widening before they narrow to send him a deadly glare, but he only smirks. He has control now. He always does when he has you underneath him, he still has to fight with you a bit, but you both know this is the only time he can ever win against you. And tonight is special, he wants you to let go of the reins completely, he wants you brainless, because even if your brain is the sexiest thing of you —yeah, yeah, and the thing that is making his college years hell on earth— your brain is also the thing that makes you obsess over the smallest thing and doesn’t make you follow your heart so freely.
Yeah, tonight Donghyuck wants you free, but for the sake of the dirty talking later —and to fool himself he doesn’t care about you that much— he’s going to say he wants you dumb.
And he’s starting strong tonight, his beautiful, long fingers reaching deep inside you, hitting right against your sweet spot, causing so much cum to pool around them and drip down while your pussy clenches hard and your hips buck up to ride the pleasure with him. And you don’t have it in you to fight; it feels too good, especially when he starts rubbing your clit and whispers dirty talk about how well you’re taking him.
Your eyes flutter open, just in time to catch the proud smirk on his face as he stares at your body, you dare to say, in awe. It shouldn’t warm your heart, but it does. You don’t even care if he sees you like a prize he won, right now, because even if he does, you know he only fights hard to win the trophies he cares about. He wants you, he likes you, even. Between the hate and the tension, something about what attracts you two together makes this work. And it’s fine.
“Hyuck,” you breathe out, chest panting and toes curling as you feel the familiar knot in your stomach. But you don’t expect the next words that come out of your mouth. “Kiss me.” When you realize what you said, you anticipate him mocking you, your ears already hear the snicker you know, oh so well, but it never arrives. What arrives are his lips on yours as he leans down, pressing his chest against yours while his fingers keep working wonder inside you.
The kiss is passionate, but not rough like the ones you’re so used to sharing. There’s no anger in it, just need and greed, and chemistry. So much chemistry, your hands have to run in his hair and tug them, making him moan and his dick throb against your thigh.
“I want you so bad,” he slurs against your lips. “I will do some dumb shit one day for you.”
You don’t get what he means. You don’t even know what he could mean by that given the nature of your bond, but his words, mixed with the sultry tone of his voice, are enough to make you come. You barely register the orgasm, hitting you like a singular explosion of a firework, leaving you gasping, exploding as quickly as it came yet slowly running through your bones as the feeling tones down.
Haechan snickers softly. “You love it when I get in trouble for you, don’t you? Even when it’s just a promise.”
Your lips part to reply but he shuts you with a kiss. “No talking, not unless I tell you to. I know everything I need to know, your body tells me that,” he says, grinning like an idiot when he shows you his cum coated fingers, tapping them against your lips, silently ordering you to taste yourself. You would never do that, but tonight it’s like he’s commanding you like a puppet on a string, and you obey. Closing your lips around him and sucking hard.
He smirks, feeling his dick get even harder as he stares at your lips. “That’s what I do to you, pretty girl. And I’m not even started.”
Your pussy throbs in anticipation while he pulls his fingers out. You know he’s one to keep promise, and you can’t wait for what’s to come. But he’s taking too long, and you can feel his hard dick against your leg, so your hand creeps down to touch it.
“You’re not in command tonight, angel,” he says, grabbing your wrist to stop you from moving your hand on him.
“But I want you,” you whine, trying to win him with a pouty look on your face.
It doesn’t work as he pushes your hand over your head and leans in. “Patience, princess. Keep quiet, don’t be greedy and just trust me. Can you do that? Or is it too hard for you?” He groans against your ear, making your hips buck up.
“I — I can,” you whisper but he stops with a glare and your brain replays his words ‘quiet, no words from you tonight,’ and he means it. So you nod, breathing in deeply as you feel weak in the knees for the way he looks at you.
“Good girl,” he says, pushing up to stand between your legs, pushing them open.
When he slips inside you, you gasp, dragging your nails on his back. “Are you alright?”
You nod, forcing yourself to look into his eyes.
“Good, and now,” he whispers, kissing your lips, and dragging out of you, “I want you to give into me and completely turn your brain off. You have me, that’s all you need right now.”
When he starts moving in and out, your body succumbs to the pleasure. Your muscles relax as you let him take care of you. His lips trace over your sensitive skin, leaving kisses on your neck and chest. His hands run over your body, touching and squeezing every inch. And he reaches so deep inside of you that you feel you can barely breathe.
“Just like this,” Haechan whispers close to your ear, gently biting the skin on your jaw. “Don’t think about anything,” he groans, hitting you deep after pulling out of you completely. “Not a single worry in that pretty brain of yours.”
You rarely let him win, but you have to admit that the way he makes you feel, the way he can lift all the stress off your shoulders, is a talent. He knows what he’s doing, and the scary thing is that he knows how to get you. So easily wrapped around his fingers, crumbling into nothing at his tiniest touch.
You whimper loudly when his fingers press against your clit, seeing stars at the new stimulation.
“You can take it,” he groans. You’re about to talk but he traps your lips in a messy, wet kiss as he pulls you closer by your waist, hitting even deeper. “You’re a good girl, right? You can take it.”
You’re doubtful, but you do take it, over and over again. You lose track of time and stop counting your orgasms after the third. There’s no need for that. All you need is the pleasure Donghyuck gives you, fucking you until both of you can’t do it anymore.
There’s nothing left once it’s over, no strength to talk or clean up the mess, just the warmth of your bodies cuddled against each other.
“Good morning, I will kill Lee Je — what the hell,” Renjun exclaims, entering the kitchen, making you turn around as if you’ve been caught stealing, holding the mug full of coffee in your hands and giving him a shy smile. “What are you doing here?”
You gulp, pushing your hair out of your face before coming up with a lie. “We studied too late.”
Renjun steps further into the room, staring at you with a raised brow before he tilts his head and studies how you’re dressed. You’re wearing Donghyuck’s sweater and pants.
“Oh, now they call it studying? Last time I checked you’re not med students, didn’t know music had anatomy in the program,” he taunts, grinning at you as he comes to your side.
You choke on your saliva and don’t have time to come up with a reply because he strikes again.
“Oh, no, maybe you were exercising vocalization, it’s better when it’s done together, right?” He winks and you glare at him.
“It’s not what you think,” you lie, but honestly you feel so embarrassed about everything. You didn’t think anybody else would be up this early on a Sunday, but it’s clear you don’t know Renjun well. You could’ve left, but you didn’t want to. It was slowly starting to sink in that you didn’t like the solitude of your life anymore.
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anybody,” he says, sitting in front of you. “Come here, don’t stay up.”
You do as told, and smile when he offers you a pack of biscuits. “I would’ve cooked something usually, but Jeno kept me up all night.”
You chuckle. “It’s fine, normally I don’t even have breakfast.”
“You don’t?” He gasps, and you nod.
“Yeah, just coffee.”
He looks down at you, shaking his head in disappointment. “It’s not healthy.”
“I know, I know, I’ll try to eat more, okay? For you.” You reach out your hand and he takes it.
A fit of cough brings both of your gazes to the door and you see Haechan stand against the frame. “Once it’s Jeno, another time it’s Renjun. I bring you home to study and you flirt with my friends.”
“Drop the bullshit, Hyuck. He knows,” you say, rolling your eyes.
Haechan’s eyes widen, but he slowly fakes indifference. “Knows what? That you don’t have time for a relationship so you can’t date him?”
“That you two fuck,” Renjun answers instead, making him cough.
“That’s not true,” he defends. “I hate her,” he says, laughing, but when he meets your eyes and sees them sadden, he feels pain in his heart. “No, no, I don’t hate her, but we’re… you know our relationship, why would we fuck?”
“Who’s fucking?”
“Not you, Jeno. Not you for sure,” Renjun says, rolling his eyes.
“Hey! Why do you always gotta be so rude,” Jeno whines.
“I doubt he’s not getting laid,” you chuckle, and Jeno winks playfully.
“See, words of a wise woman,” he brags, walking to the fridge to grab something.
Renjun sighs loudly. “A woman that doesn’t know you.”
“Would you fuck him?” Haechan asks out of nowhere and you glare at him.
“I just said that he’s hot and smart, I don’t see how he can have a hard time finding somebody,”
“’Cause he’s annoying,” Renjun answers, but Haechan’s not listening.
“I didn’t ask that,” Donghyuck says instead, his attention is all on you as if there’s nobody else in the room.
“I don’t answer stupid questions,” you reply before sipping from your cup and drifting your gaze away.
“Wait, why are you here?” Jeno asks, only now realizing you’re not supposed to be at their place, not in the morning at least… wait… “Wait! Are you two fuck—”
“No,” Haechan answers sternly, glaring at him. “We’re studying. And it got late, so since we were closer to my place, I let her stay the night.”
“I thought you left yesterday saying you had a date, though,” Jeno says confused.
You chuckle under your breath before you feel Haechan’s hand wrap around your writs to pull you out of the room, not even giving you time to finish your coffee. “A studying date, and now drop it.”
When you reach his room, he groans loudly, walking to the closet to pick something to wear. You watch him move for a while, but then you can’t keep your thoughts inside your head anymore.
“Are you ashamed of me?” You ask and he turns around with wide eyes.
“What?”
“Am I something to be ashamed of? Do I don’t fit in the standard of the people you would usually fuck?”
He sighs, shaking his head. “No, I don’t want them to get invasive, they don’t let me live once they know something. And with you, it’s more embarrassing because of our history…”
You giggle, trying not to show the relief you’re feeling because, for a moment, you thought he was one of those types of men.
“Why can’t you ever make things easy for me?” He asks, annoyance in his voice. You have so much power over him, more than he likes to admit, and he feels like he can’t even be too mad at you about it.
“Sorry, it’s just, it’s funny having a history with you,” you explain. “My mortal enemy, always ready to steal my number ones, and my good grades.”
“You’re so annoying, you’re never sleeping over ever again.”
“Yeah, ‘cause I won’t let you fuck me ever again.”
“Liar,” he says. “And now move, I’ll drop you home.”
you can find part two on my account on the story masterlist or haechan’s masterlist (i can’t link it because if i do the post won’t appear in the tags)
general taglist: @froggyforhyuck, @wingsss45, @tddyhyck, @technologyculturedneo
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@hey-hey-heybitch, @nctrawberries, @n0hyuck, @haechoshi,
@girlwholoveslpreppyattire, @viciousdarlings, @hyuckmoon,
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