#they also put a sex scene wherever they could like...? why though??? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

leatherface-kisser · 9 months

Text

Bubba "Leatherface" Sawyer - NSFW Alphabet

Nobody requested this. Still, consider this my Christmas gift to other Bubba lovers out there! Obviously, Warning for NSFW content. Enjoy the read!🌻💋🌼

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex):

Aftercare is an integral part of sex for him, there is a before (foreplay), a during (the sex itself) and an after (aftercare). Basically, you have one huge cuddle bug in your arms. The snuggle session is MANDATORY. Bubba would immediately seek the warmth of your skin against his own. Do not even try to escape his hugs (and why would you?), you're trapped here until further notice. He needs comfort and reassurance after making love, especially if it was particularly intense, so cuddle that boy, kiss him all over, tell him he did a great job and that you're happy. He will be in heaven, mumbling about how much he loves you, how good you feel and how pretty you are. What happens after the mandatory cuddle session depends on his energy level. If he's exhausted, he will fall asleep like a rock. If not, a snack might be in order !

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s):

Bubba loves his faces (yes, they absolutely count, they're a part of him!). His masks greatly help him to communicate how he feels and the way he wants to be perceived in the moment. I feel like this would also be the case in bed! Sometimes he wants to feel pretty and be sensual, so he puts on a feminine, elegant face. Sometimes he wants to be rough, so he wears a more masculine, tougher looking face. He loves his many faces, he has one for each of his moods, it's everything he needs to better express himself.

When it comes to his partner, I feel like Bubba has a thing for legs, specifically thighs (come on, we've all seen that one scene in TCM 2). He loves to caress them, grab them, squeeze them, you name it. Other than that, he would probably be completely enthralled by his partner's face and hair (we've also seen the way he pets Sally's hair in the original movie). As we know, Bubba has a fixation on those things, so it's only logical to me that he would be overwhelmingly enamored with the face of the person he's in love with. Bubba is utterly fascinated when his S/O's face contorts with pleasure.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically... I’m a disgusting person):

Makes lots of it, so wherever he ends up finishing, there's gonna be some cleaning up to do. Whether it's inside or outside, he really wouldn't mind helping you clean up with his tongue if you ask him ;)

I feel like Bubba wouldn't really care where his cum ends up. He would simply do what feels good, and to him, that would be cumming while buried deep inside of you. It feels more intimate that way. If you ask him to finish outside though, he wouldn't complain. Your skin does look awfully pretty while smeared with his cum. Don't forget to remind him to pull out when he's close though, he does tend to forget in the heat of the moment!

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs):

Secretly really wants to wear pretty lingerie, but unfortunately never found any that could fit him so far. Bubba is really fascinated by delicate, feminine things, and sometimes he wants to feel pretty and delicate! He always wants to look his best after all, so some beautiful lingerie would really help him boost his confidence. So far though, no luck. He has secretly tried on a couple of things found in some victims' luggage, but they were too small :(

Other than that, considering where he lives and the time period, something else that could be considered a "dirty secret" of his is that he enjoys being pegged by you (or just being penetrated, depending what's between your legs). He, however, probably wouldn't even consider this a taboo, it wouldn't even cross his mind, due to his isolation. All he knows is that it feels really good, so surely there's nothing wrong with doing it right? He loves the feeling of you fucking him, he feels so full and his brain gets all foggy from pure ecstasy.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?):

This big boy is one (1) whole virgin with practically no experience whatsoever. He knows how to pleasure himself, he has seen farm animals reproduce, he feels sort of funny when he finds a dinner gest attractive and he might have thrown glances at a couple dirty magazines here and there, but it stops there. If you're inexperienced as well, you guys will learn together. You would both be clumsy, it will be a little awkward sometimes, but also very cute and fun! Learning about sex together would really strengthen the bond between you two, it's an extremely intimate moment to share, after all. You and him would eventually get the hang of it through time, trials and errors. The end result is that both of you end up knowing exactly what feels the best for each other. If you're more experienced than him during his first time, then prepare yourself because you're gonna have to teach him EVERYTHING. It's not a bad thing though, he's very cooperative and enthusiastic as long as what you're doing feels good. He likes to follow directions. Directions are safe, they're comforting, there's no pressure or uncertainty when he just does what he's told. Overall, at first, Bubba does not know what he's doing, but he's definitely very eager to learn! And the pleasure sex brings you both is one huge motivator for him to learn quickly!

F = Favourite position (This goes without saying. will probably include a visual):

Any position where he can see your face and easily touch you all over. He's very handsy, his hands are always wandering your body. Cowgirl would probably be one of his favorites. He gets to admire you the whole time, and his hands are free to explore your legs, your hips, your stomach, your chest, your face... I feel like he would also really like missionary, but this time it's because he gets to be really close your face and admire the way it flushes, the way it twists and the way your lips part when you moan. That way, he also gets to kiss you as much as he wants while making love to you. He also likes the fact he can bury his face in the crook of your neck when he's close, when you wrap your legs and your arms around him, he feels entirely enveloped by bliss, by you.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc):

It starts off playful, with definitely some bashful giggles and hushed laughter but the more riled up he gets, the more serious it becomes. Gentle yet eager little kisses turn into him hungrily shoving his tongue in your mouth. Hands that caressed your skin and playfully left goosebumps on their way soon desperately hold onto you for dear life, perhaps hard enough to leave some bruises. Bubba likes to be goofy with you, it's fun and harmless, and it's even more fun when it happens in the bedroom. Sometimes there's a funny movement, a funny noise, and he's quick to giggle at that sort of stuff if you follow along. However, when the pleasure builds up, he easily becomes lost in the whole thing and focuses his entire attention on chasing your mutual pleasure. Bubba is a surprisinly passionate lover.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc):

HAIRY man. He's not dirty by any means, but by lord is he hairy. From his chest down to his happy trail, to his fuzzy arms and legs (hairy butt too)... He also rocks an untamed bush between his legs which matches the dark curls on his head... So yes, the carpet does match the drapes in that sense. If you're not a fan of that... Well, good luck trying to make Bubba shave. He would do it if you asked him to, but it would take hours and everything would probably regrow in a day or two. And he'd feel so itchy too. Not worth it. Plus, why would you wanna shave this beautiful bear of a man? He's much cuddlier that way! Embrace the fuzz, Y/N.

I = Intimate (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect):

At first, Bubba is shy and a little unsure of what to do. He really wants to be intimate with his partner, but he's not sure what's appropriate or not and he's afraid he's going to be berated if he does something wrong. Plus, he does have lots of insecurities about himself, and especially his ability to make you happy. You can clearly see he really wants to be intimate, but he doesn't really know if he's allowed to express that. Thankfully, with lots of reassurance, praise and encouragement, he comes out of his shell and feels more secure showing how much he loves you. At this point, expect lots of kissing, hugging, hand holding and sweet loving gibberish from him. He's not suave by any means, but he's just so genuine in his efforts to express how in love he is with you. He's even cried a few times during particularly passionate lovemaking, the emotions of it all overwhelm him. A big sweetheart overall <3

J = Jacking Off (Masturbation headcanon):

Used to do it regularly before you both became a couple. He's been told he shouldn't do it before, but the urges often overcome the guilt. No one wants to do chores with an awkward boner that refuses to go away. He feels a little guilty about doing something he's not supposed to do, but not masturbating at all prevents him from properly focusing on his daily tasks. Plus, if no one finds out about it, he's not gonna be in trouble right? And it just feels too good not to do at least occasionally. When you two become sexually active, his masturbation habits almost completely stop since you're now there to take care of him. He still does it once in a while if you're really busy or away, but he thinks it's nowhere near as satisfying as when he has sex with you.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks):

Please praise this man! Tell him he's doing a good job, tell him he's beautiful, tell him he's sexy, tell him you love him! He will be in heaven. Bubba has one huge praise kink, I think we can all agree on that. Every time you call him a good boy he loses his damn mind, it definitely gets him going. Careful though, if you're not careful your praise might make him cum a little early. He can't help it, it completely riles him up. Also, if you start praising him while tugging on his hair, you're gonna send this man into oblivion with how good you're making him feel, he will moan so loudly. Unpopular opinion here, but I personally don't think Bubba would have a breeding kink. Don't get me wrong, he would find his pregnant S/O extremely sexy (if you can get pregnant that is), but during the moment, I just don't see him with this kind of kink. The idea of parenthood overwhelms and scares him. He's the youngest sibling after all, he has zero experience with children. If you want kids, Bubba will eventually really like the idea of being a parent with enough reassurance and guidance, but that doesn't mean he would have a breeding kink in my opinion.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do):

He prefers to do it in places where he feels safe and has no risk of being interrupted. He's certainly not opposed to quickies in more risqué places, like the kitchen or the living room, but if he had to chose, he would do it either in his bedroom where his overbearing family is less likely to bother him. It's also much more cozy and comfy in here, the bed's right there for you to comfortably cuddle during the afterglow. The old barn near the house is also a great option. This is where the generator is, and its noise can covers most of the lewd sounds coming from you both (most likely his mainly). Here, you guys can enjoy some literal rolls in the hay and be as loud as you wish.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going):

It's not very hard to turn Bubba on, not hard at all in fact. And it's even less difficult to get him going during the act. Wanna know the one trick that works every time? Simply call him a good boy. It's that simple. Maybe put your hands on his arms, his shoulders, his chest or his face, talk in a sweet voice and call him your good boy, he'll be one blushing flustered mess in an instant. Other than that, a lot of things about you can turn him on if his gaze (and mind) lingers on for too long : The sway of your hips, the sweat on your neck and collarbones, your eyes on him, your skin on his... Just... Everything about you is a potential turn on. You make him feel so hot and bothered, he doesn't know what to do with himself.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs):

Bubba would NOT like humiliation, at all. His self esteem is already so fragile, his heart will shatter if you start insulting him while he's being so vulnerable to you. He probably wouldn't really understand the concept of humiliation in the bedroom and think he genuinely did something wrong. Also, no pain. Period. Some light pain is more than okay to some degree when things get rougher of course, like biting, hair pulling and scratching. However, anything beyond that is a HUGE no and a massive turn off. On one side he would hate having to hurt you. You're not meat, and you didn't do anything wrong, you're not supposed to get hurt! On the other side, if you wanted to inflict pain on him, he would genuinely get scared. He would immediately associate the pain with Drayton's beatings and that would NOT be fun AT ALL for him. PLEASE don't hurt this poor man, you're going to traumatize him. I also have a feeling Bubba wouldn't really be into bondage. His mind heavily associates the concept of being tied up with victims and dinner guests. If you want to be tied up, or want to tie him up, he would probably feel pretty uncomfortable with the whole thing. It creates rather confusing and uncomfy images in his brain. After all, you're not meat, he's not meat either, and he doesn't want either of you to be treated like meat.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc):

Bubba has an oral fixation, and is eager to please, he could spend hours buried between your legs. He absolutely loves the taste of you, and he adores the feeling of your thighs squeezing the sides of his face even more. For starters, going down on you gets you all nice and ready for his thick cock, but he also just can't get enough of your taste on his tongue. What he first lacks in skill he makes up for with sheer, unstoppable enthusiasm. After his first taste, he can't get enough of it and will eagerly lick, suck, nibble and lap at you. Don't be afraid to tug on his hair, either his mask's or his own, he will love it. Oh and, do this man a favor and sit on his face. Please and thank you. He's able to cum just from that alone. If you're someone who has periods, don't think that will deter him from going down on you. For christ's sake the man is a literal cannibal. If anything this would only make you taste even better down there in his opinion.

When he's the one receiving oral, he can never last very long. It just feels too good. The sight of your lips around his length and your tongue caressing his most sensitive parts is too much for him to handle, he cums really fast each time. He will get overwhelmed, grab your head and start bucking into your mouth while his orgasm overtakes him. He might last longer with his eyes closed, but he'd much rather look at you going down on him. You look so beautiful like this and he can't believe someone is doing that to him.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc):

It entirely depends on his mood. Sometimes he's slow and sweet, other times you need to brace yourself because he fucks you like his life depends on it. On the days he wants to go slow, he takes his sweet time exploring your body, and lets you explore his. He spends some time just kissing you whilst holding you against him, savoring the blissful sensations while they last. Some days though, when he's all pent up, particularly horny or when he needs to let some frustrations loose, he will get rough with you. Bubba is possessive after all, you are his just as much as he's yours, and he wants you to know that. He leaves a trail of bite marks and hickeys from your neck to your chest and bruises your hips with his powerful hands, marking you.

Q = Quickies (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc):

Although he is more into proper sex, Bubba certainly wouldn't turn down an offer for a quickie. He's in the middle of a chore but can't focus because he's horny? Quickie. It's about to be time for dinner but you still have five minutes to spare? Quickie. He's been busy all day and you desperately miss him but don't want to interrupt him for too long? You name it, quickie. He still requires some snuggles after the fact, so you'll have one clingy giant glued to you for a little while even after a quickie.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc):

Bubba would be willing to try almost anything at least once once, he trusts you and wants to please you. He's also often intrigued by what you're offering to try, wondering how it's going to feel. The only exceptions are what I listed earlier, the humiliation and the pain. He would maybe heasitantly try bondage once if you ask him, not be into it and decide he doesn't want to do it again. Bubba would also try to minimize the risk of getting caught as much as possible. The idea of getting caught by his family (or worse, a victim) during such an intimate moment absolutely mortifies him.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last...):

He doesn't last long at the beginning but quickly recovers and is more than willing to go for several rounds of bliss. Eventually, with enough time and practice (and when he learns that delaying the orgasm can also be more fun and pleasurable), he lasts longer. Even if he happens to not last long enough for you to reach your own climax, he will happily help you get off another way instead, either using his hands, his mouth, or anything else that's available. Just gently ask him what you would like him to do and he will gladly comply.

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?):

Bubba has never owned any sex toys and has probably never seen one before. It wouldn't be surprising to me if he's never even heard of them before. Once he mentally recovers from learning about their existence ("Wait... There are toys meant for sex?? WHAT.") he would be very intrigued by them. Toys are fun, sex is fun, so the two combined sounds like a match made in heaven truly! Before anything happens though (and if you don't already own one), you need to somehow find a sex toy without his nosy family finding out (god help us if Nubbins gets his bony hands on it and incorporates it in his next art project... Cue Drayton shitting a brick at the sight). Once you've managed to secretly aquire one though, the fun can begin. Whatever kind of toy it is, Bubba would be eager to try it, both on you and himself. If the toy in question is a strap-on dildo, Bubba would actually start to drool the first time you wear it in front of him.

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease):

Poor boy doesn't really get the whole teasing thing, it feels like a punishment to him if anything, and he's not a fan. He's prone to get frustrated if you torture him long enough, he will eventually take matters into his own hands. He's also not really one to tease, at least not on his own accord. He would do it if you asked him to, but he probably wouldn't be able to tease you for very long. Watching you squirm and beg is sexy, but watching you cum is much sexier in his opinion.

V = Volume (How loud are they, what sounds they make):

Oh lord, Bubba is LOUD. He's a very vocal person just in general, even if his speech isn't proper words, and that doesn't stop in the bedroom (on the contrary). It's a non stop stream of unintelligible but clearly affectionate, loving gibberish. Bubba will constantly blabber about how pretty you look and how good you make him feel. And it's not just words, expect to hear lots of moaning, whining, whimpering, squealing, grunting and panting. The closer he gets, the louder he is, and the higher his pitch gets. He doesn't control his volume well, so when his family is home, you're either gonna have to get frisky in the barn where the noisy generator overpowers the sounds, or you're gonna have to find a way to muffle his moans if you don't wanna get in trouble.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice):

Bubba loves having his hair pulled. He doesn't really understand why, it's not something he would have ever imagined can feel good, but he just does. You guys probably discovered that completely by accident. Bonus points if you did during a completely non sexy scenario. Like, imagine you're roughhousing with him, Bubba is winning (unsurprisingly) so you decide to pull a mean trick to regain the upper hand. Mischievously, you slip a hand behind his head, right under his mask to then YANK on his hair... And Bubba lets out the loudest fucking moan whilst unexpectedly getting hard as a rock in record time, taking both you and himself by surprise. The room is dead silent, Bubba is mortified, and you are taking a mental note of this discovery for later use.

X = X-ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words):

I think most of this fandom agrees that Bubba is of average length, but very thick in girth. I absolutely agree with that. Bubba is thick, uncircumcised, and very very sensitive down there. Has a vein on the underside of his cock, which makes Bubba moan loudly when you run your tongue alongside it. A grower, not a shower. He's plenty enough to satisfy you.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?):

Bubba is one horny, horny boy. He's young, healthy (as healthy as one can be in this kind of household at least) and clearly has a lot of energy to spare. His sex drive is through the goddamn roof. He is very touch starved and pent up since he's had no experience with sex, let alone love as a whole since puberty hit. Whatever you give him, he will enthusiastically take it. He might be shy at first, but from the moment you've unleashed his desires, he almost always wants you. You might have not so accidentally created a sex monster, good luck.

Z = ZZZ (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards):

It depends on the time of the day. If you're fooling around in the morning or afternoon, Bubba will still have the energy to continue the day like normal (or go for another round). If it's in the evening after a long list of chores has been completed, Bubba can fall asleep minutes after finishing. He will make an effort to not pass out long enough to make sure you're satisfied too, but after that, he's out. He will grab you, hold you close to him, and you're not going anywhere. Make sure he doesn't fall asleep on his back, he snores. Loudly. And good luck trying to move him on his side by yourself, he's a heavy sleeper (both figuratively and literally). He will quickly drift off to sleep while lovingly petting your hair and mumbling praises to you.

#bubba sawyer #leatherface #bubba sawyer x reader #bubba sawyer imagines #bubba sawyer headcanons #leatherface headcanons #leatherface imagines #slasher headcanons #spicy chilly #texas chainsaw massacre

133 notes · View notes

toushindai · 5 months

Note

Hello it's me again~ I was thinking of one of your stories, in which Ganondorf tempted Rauru with the imagery of having him imprisoned and thus being able to do whatever he wanted with him. Ganondorf found his way out of his cell the first time he was imprisoned and put himself at Rauru's mercy in hopes of snatching the Secret Stone, which Rauru used as his justification for having his way with him, but what about if he had been able to contain Ganondorf and actually keep him imprisoned until he could have him put on trial? Would he take advantage of someone who is a prisoner without doubt, in the way Ganondorf painted that image for him? Does Rauru draw the red line between "I am keeping you here as a guest in this castle but I'm not letting you leave" and "you are my actual prisoner in an actual cell who very obviously does not have the free will to reject me as the king" when it comes to his justification of being involved with Ganondorf ? Does he just think that the laws he set for Hyrule don't apply to Ganondorf, prisoner or not, because he is evil and a warmonger and thus sees himself as free to do with him as he sees fit? Basically my question is that would he/did he ever entertain that fantasy once he actually put Ganondorf in a cell and how would he justify himself if he did.

Gonna stick this entire answer under the cut because wow this is going to be All About Noncon. If anyone who needs to Not See That hasn't done so already, it really might be best to just block the "and we were both kings 😳" tag, though I'll continue to tag for noncon when particularly appropriate.

So, I'm going to answer this in a few different permutations but I think--we'll see if this holds out as I keep typing--that all of them boil down to variations on no, that's not something Rauru would have acted on.

Especially not between the final sex scene of UAWTATR and its final scene/Ganondorf's escape; at that point, there are several glaring reasons why Rauru's not inclined that way. The fact that Ganondorf's just tried to kill him; the post-nut clarity horrible realization that what he's just done is past what he can justify to himself; the political considerations he is absorbed in. These are significant factors but also part of it is just that... the game is over. They're no longer pretending that it's anything other than pure animosity between them. (I mean, it is something other than pure animosity between them, by this point--at the very least there's a whole lot of desire there--but, for Ganondorf to have acted on his true intention puts an end to the need to relieve the tension between hating each other's guts and performing civility in public.) I think that at the end of the fic, something's cooled off significantly for Rauru because he's got this inarguable physical and legal control over Ganondorf. And because he's got a lot on his mind. Look, he's got a puppet chieftain to install and she doesn't even want to be his friend anymore. Bummer.

But let's say that Ganondorf doesn't hack out of his cell and into Rauru's chamber and instead stays docilely in his cell until he's ready to break out for good and cause havoc. (Well tbh that's what he thought he was doing in chapter three, but let's say he waited a few days for some reason.) Does Rauru arrange any trysts in this situation, in the meantime? Even then, I'm not sure does. Ganondorf's impression of Rauru's desire is a little off from accurate; the fantasy he describes in "Sheath" is

“Would you come to me in my cell or have me brought up to you like a concubine? [...]The cell, probably,” Ganondorf continues, spinning the image out for Rauru in spite of the way it makes his own skin crawl. “You’d want me chained to the wall, wouldn’t you, so you could use your magic on my shackles to put my limbs wherever you want them…”

and while that's close enough to accurate to give Rauru a +2 Horny/-2 Intelligent debuff, it's not the exact shape of what Rauru would prefer. It's got a little too much of Ganondorf's preferences in it, truthfully: too much physical force (magic counts) used to make it impossible to fight back. If anything, the concubine image is actually the more appealing to Rauru I'd say. But still not quite. Rauru is much more into the coercion. He's into putting Ganondorf into situations where he has to submit to Rauru because the fiction is that he's here to submit to Rauru--and because Rauru has caused him to behave in such a way, the fiction is temporarily made reality. So once this fiction is ended--once the public story is that Ganondorf has done something worth imprisoning him for--it's not quite scratching the same itch. Yes, Rauru has often thought of Ganondorf in chains, as he admits in that fic, but I don't think that's actually a sexual image for Rauru. That's a god my life would be so much easier if image. He has a lot of those.

Whether Ganondorf does not fall under standards for just treatment because of how evil he is is something I write Rauru struggling with a lot. His instinct is that Ganondorf is not protected by such standards. His instinct is that to subscribe to such standards in Ganondorf's case is to put himself and Hyrule at a disadvantage and probably in danger. But I think he's uncomfortable with that instinct as well, disturbed that he feels that way. He doesn't want to be that sort of king. It's never, for him, quite as simple as "he's evil therefore I can assault him with impunity"--I think not even in that moment in chapter three when Ganondorf is pushing really hard for him to admit just that. Even then, it's if I really do have this ugliness in me, I should vent it here instead of anywhere less deserving. And then he feels a deep horror at himself after (in the few seconds he gets for it before Ganondorf tries to strangle him). But it's still true that he did it. It's still true that he has this deeply potent fantasy of having the soft power to force Ganondorf into (sexual) compliance, and that he carried out that fantasy.

This answer is really jumbled, I'm sorry. tl;dr: for Rauru, it's all about "I'm not going to give you any choice to make but this one, but you still have to perform the act of choosing." And once he actually has Ganondorf literally captive, I think that flavor changes significantly enough that he wouldn't pursue it.

#noncon tw #rape tw #bloobluebloo #and we were both kings 😳#thanks for the ask!#hey. nintendo. I have a question. why did you give your king of light canonical issues with consent? why did you do that #repeated invitations yes but also #the second thing we see him do is perform nonconsensual magical surgery on the hero of the fucking game.#actually this is the last thing we see him do too. wack #bad and imperialist zonai get put in the goat wiggler

5 notes · View notes

popchoc · 1 year

Text

Bienvenidos a Edén - Season 2

Just like season 1, the second part of Bienvenidos a Edén was pretty fun overall, but also came with a set of flaws and plotholes. The biggest one, imo, the fact that they are so well organized, with their high tech and everything, yet they never bothered to put some cams and/or mics in the modules (to start with), conveniently giving our heroes the chance to plan their assaults whenever and wherever suited... besides having sex 24/7 & all over the place - but I’m not complaining about that (I’m only human).

They also all (but some - aaah, poor Ibón) survived by each other’s stupidity - not the most fancy plot armor, though I doubt they’d mind about that. I particularly didn’t get why Zoa and Bel waited that long to pull the switch (not knowing it didn’t work, of course) as they could and should have done it right away, or at least when they noticed the buggy. (Side note: I do love those buggies!)

But like I said, after season 1 I knew I wasn’t going to continue this for the story, even when a silly tale about a crazy cult is always entertaining. Like last year I enjoyed the majority of the characters, especially Bel, Zoa, Charly, Mayka (mostly), Eloy, Ibón, Orson and Saúl, who’re all likable enough to root for. I also have to admit that Astrid is doing a good job as the main villain.

Unfortunately Africa was very disappointing (after a good start in those first eps when she was trapped; after that it went down hill till the end) and Gabi was downright annoying. I mean, she was supposed to be a smart girl, able to track down Zoa all on her own in s1, and she learned about the truth right after her arrival, and she still got indoctrinated just like that, till the point of betraying her sister (and then cry about... puh-lease).

Will I be back for season 3 (when made)? Creo que si! If only for the beautiful scenery of Lanzarote! (Okay, and the hot make-out scenes.) (But mostly the scenery.) (lol)

#bienvenidos a edén #welcome to eden #bel x zoa #eloy x orson #charly x mayka #thoughts

18 notes · View notes

zalrb · 1 year

Text

the summer i turned pretty 2x02 review

"Put this on" and she doesn't put it on. So then what's the point. FOR THE CHIVALRY, ZAL. THE CHIVALRY.

Oh, is this the episode they have sex?

Why would Belly know where Conrad's dorm is though?

Jeremiah didn't take the coffee you offered him but why does that mean you have to throw out your coffee too?

Ah, one Black/dark-skinned guy.

He is literally the best actor on the show so far and he's only here to be Conrad's roommate.

Exposition time: "He fell into a depression and was looking at your picture!" like who says that? If anything it would've been like, Ohhhhh you're Belly and that's it. Belly would be like "What's that supposed to mean?" and then you can be like "Nothing, nothing, just you know, it really fucked Conrad up when you two broke up." Like just make the dialogue a LITTLE natural??

THE INFINITY NECKLACE. Honestly, who cares.

"I know even though he won't say it" we don't NEED a voiceover here, oh my god, Scorsese can't be the only one who uses voiceovers properly.

How is it possible to care even less about Belly's brother and her mother when I care so little about Belly and this ridiculous triangle.

I skipped through this conversation because it's painful af.

I always find it rude when people turn on music in other people's cars lmao.

"Cause I'm always here if you ever need to talk." *suddenly starts talking* if it was that easy then why do this whole thing anyway.

At least Taylor is good at keeping up with Belly's lies but Belly why wouldn't you text Taylor the lie you said to your mom? Amateur shit man.

If you guys know each other so well wouldn't he know that you could do something like change a tire? And I'm not saying he has to know everything about her but they don't seem to know anything about each other.

The details on this show are horrendous.

Also a spare can only take you so far, you would still need to go to a mechanic to change the tire.

Belly, you were my best friend! WAS SHE?

This is the flattest argument. They're not even talking over each other, everything is SO contained.

If you hate yourself for forgetting him then I need more emotion. And he is STRUGGLING for a tear.

And she manages a tear when he's like you weren't there, you left me but her face is so flat, that's why I keep saying crying is about more than tears, like both of you should be DEVASTATED. At the VERY LEAST I should be getting Bellarke from these or from her and Conrad (ha, which I also said when watching Shadow and Bone)

I know it's supposed to have been like a while since the two of them have spoken but it doesn't feel that way so their resolution happens SO quickly i'm like why even there be a "chasm" in the first place.

How are Bella and Jacob better than this?

Wait, how did they get their tire fixed?

Everyone is so bad at trying to act natural around each other.

"You always could read my mind" I MEAN COULD HE?

Just because you guys say it doesn't mean we SEE it.

Belly! omg Nicole! Everything sounds SO fake.

Why wouldn't you grab something from like a gas station on the way? You're just going to hope for Oreos? Also Conrad you had to drive four hours from Brown to wherever she lives you didn't pick up supplies on the way?

*gasp* hot cocoa! "amazing!" i mean,, is it?

again conrad/belly are supposed to be matt and julie on the couch

or they're supposed to be ryan and marissa by the pool

or jake and peyton just being themselves

and there's just such a coldness to them. and i know he's doing that whole focus on her because he's suddenly serious and intense and it's NOT PLATONIC but it doesn't work when you don't have chemistry and are only capable of one facial expression.

of course a taylor swift song is playing.

they're trying SO HARD to be happy, like jeyton has great chemistry but i remember that one scene when they're in savannah and hilarie just overacts

and that's what it is watching belly all the time while conrad is just standing around being jughead or jon looking at daenerys, i just i can't. i caaaaaaaan't.

and i've just seen too many play fights

and the love scene, the lighting is doing the work and so is desiree because that's the song they use in leo dicaprio's romeo + juliet and also it's a clear call back pjo's love scene

but as much as i have issues with pjo's narrative so much about this is earned because there are callbacks, like i know i don't know the whole context of this show and of this ship but it seems like the only thing is the necklace whereas joey calls back to the time when pacey is like i'm going to count to ten and then i'm going to start kissing you etc. and brings it up IN dialogue then she whispers before the kiss, "my love" and belly's just here being like "no i know, no i want to" your voice should be different, it shouldn't just be like a regular conversation, like neither of you have conviction in your voices

"what is she doing here?" are you torn are you mad or are you just saying the line, sir?

oh good, it's over.

9 notes · View notes

deasbanker · 2 months

Text

Watching Ghibli film as a sort of Japanese habit for the summertime, so I rent 5 minor movies!

26/7/2024

Every Japanese person should have an experience of watching Ghibli film on TV at least once in its lifetime. Nippon Television（日本テレビ）, or Channel 4 in Japan, has constantly aired Ghibli movies in their night program called Friday road SHOW for more than 25 years. Especially, it tends to broadcast some of them in summer. That's why people who have lived in Japan for so long associate the Studio Ghibli with summer with great ease. Then, I've rented some DVDs as our sort of tradition and I'm expecting that I will be able to make the most of the summertime through this pastime.

＊

"Only Yesterday（おもひでぽろぽろ）" directed by Isao Takahata（1991）

"Only Yesterday" follows a woman called Taeko across two different timelines; the director Takahata did well in expressing visually what is like exploring the gap between someone's past and present in mind by using color contrast as well as a rough background in the past sequence. Then, younger herself shows up around her like she follows and sticks to her everywhere she goes. This double-layered screen in animation can be reflective of a kind of universal phenomenon that memories will always be with you wherever you go.

I, actually, had watched this movie once on TV when I was young and since then, I've remembered the scene about menstruation experienced by girls in/at elementary school; because their experience was so close to mine, and also it used to be rare to see episodes about period in public at that time.

However, for this time, I found myself relating to and gravitating toward other aspects of this movie, which was mostly the present part, such as the procedure of dying with the safflower（Benibana）, life in the countryside, and her introspective attitude to the past. Since I'm now 25, my viewpoint should differ from that of younger myself. In fact, I have a pile of memories to look back at and experiences to recall compared to a child. That is an adult, I've got convinced myself.

Again, this was also about what woman in Japan experiences as a girl/woman（I don't want to separate people by sex or gender, but most of Taeko's experiences seemed to be attributed to her gender）, I assume. Even though her childhood was during the 1980s, or long before I was born and I spent my own childhood, there was no big difference between us. It means that the society has yet to change a lot in term of gender roles, which is sad, indeed.

"Ocean Waves（海��きこえる）" directed by Tomomi Mochizuki（1993）

This is a 60 minute-long film adaptation made by younger artists at the Ghibli Studio and originally aimed for broadcasting but a theater. Nevertheless, I have never seen this on TV since I was born, and now it is only available on DVD and Blu-ray. So, I suppose that it's little known despite the New Media Age.

The story is all about reminiscence, as is "Only Yesterday". A man looked back at his high school days with a transfer girl before the reunion. He tells us about a series of events in the past not only from his viewpoint calmly but also in an objective way; that's why the film managed to show the wonders of meeting and separation on the globe and one theory that love can't always be explained.

I think that "distance" is a theme of this movie. It can help us to put things in perspective, especially we are stuck in something. Growing up, his classmate said that bumping into old familiar faces in another world could lead her to feel so relieved and comfortable that she rejoiced to see even one who she used to dislike. That resonated with me a lot, and I like this scene. Things change, people change, and feelings change. When I was young, I didn't think of such as good, but now I understand to the core.

"My neighbors the Yamadas（ホーホケキョとなりの山田くん）" directed by Isao Takahata（1999）

The Yamadas seems a bit traditional but still be a familiar family structure in Japan, as far as I can see. So, I, in my mid-20s, could deeply relate to many scenes of everyday life in their family and remembered my childhood vividly. Yet, at the same time, I found it a bit stressful for me to see this father behave as the head of a family and embody "patriarchy", although I tried to keep in mind that the movie was released 25 years ago.

Having said that, I liked its character design and its atmosphere which a very delicate touch in illustration and cheerful music by Akiko Yano, who is one of my recent favorite musicians, create very much. As well as that, I appreciate the late Takahata's direction, which always depicts memory or the past well to the point where I'm tearing up; for instance, this stripped down paintings, I mean its faint touch can feel like reminiscence. How nostalgic it is!

＊

I've rented two more DVDs: "ジブリの本棚"（Hayao's large book list）, a documentary film, and "Studio Ghibli short film collection（from 1993 to 2016）".

The former is all about worldwide children books, especially from the series of Iwanami Children books（岩波少年文庫）curated by a publisher Iwanami, and what Hayao Miyazaki as a creator had been inspired by. Then, he introduced some of the books on his list in detail and told anecdotes about behind the scenes of some films he made or his apprentice days in relation to children books. I liked this documentary in that director Miyazaki talked a lot enjoying himself and looked more interested than I've ever watched.

As for the latter, it was mostly dedicated to TV commercials made by the Ghibli Studio, but there was also a piece of art above named "On Your Mark" directed by Hayao Miyazaki, which was originally made as a music video with a storyline for its song by the J-POP duo CHAGE and ASKA. The story is that an angel is helped to escape from the authorities by two male officers set in the near future. It has a cyberpunk vibe, but somewhere peaceful in nature seemed like an ideal destination in this short film, which Miyazaki should like. Yet, personally, I'm not a fan of those kinds of stories, besides the song and its character design. He tends to depict young women as vulnerable and being rescued by men in the end, although they surely appear to have opinions, be confident, and independent.

#japan #studio ghibli #ghibli films #summer #movies #anime #documentary #hayao miyazaki #isao takahata #short film #dvd #tv broadcast #childhood memories #my neighbors the yamadas #ocean waves #feminist film theory #feminism #akiko yano #only yesterday

1 note · View note

angeli-marco-writes · 4 years

Text

∘◦ ♪ ◦∘ Timothée Chalamet - Concerto ∘◦ ♪ ◦∘

A/N - I wrote and posted this almost a year ago on my Wattpad. My writing has evolved a lot since then, but I’m still proud of this piece, and hope you enjoy it. I do not know Tim, nor do I claim to in any way. This is a work of fiction and entirely my own.

Warnings - smut. Detailed (but protected and consensual) sex, slight BDSM, overstimulation. Cursing. Legal alcohol consumption and smoking. Also 10k words of sickening fluff though, even the smut is fluffy.

Summary - At a classical music concert, the last person you expect to meet is a young man as charming and suave as Timothée. And the last thing you expected is for him to invite you back to his flat. Turns out music really is food for the soul, and other things...

IT’S A FRIDAY EVENING IN NEW YORK CITY. The sun is setting behind the towering silhouettes of undulating buildings all across the city, the moon casting shadows all around au contraire to the luminescence of building lights, beaming all around as well as the street lamps, bringing colour and light to people’s faces in the dark.

You’re standing on the pavement outside Symphony Space Concert Hall on the Upper West Side, people watching. Nothing more or less conspicuous, just observing everyone flooding into the hall, though none of them seem to be under 50 years of age. After checking the time, you take your phone out of the pocket attached to your delicate silk jumpsuit you’re wearing for the night, the one reserved for classy parties and sophisticated concerts only (though very handy). You open the email holding your ticket for the evening, a Poulenc appreciation concert, and you show it to the bouncer who grants you entry to the auditorium.

The room looks incredible. Photos of Francis Poulenc, as well as some old parchment sheets of his music spread out delicately over the usually bare walls. The lights create a perfect ambience in the hall for what's sure to be an incredible evening. The red velvet seats are half full, dotted with people at least twice your age, except from one seat near the front where you can see merely a defined jaw and brown curls. On the stage stands two glossy black grand pianos, slotted beside one another with plush velvet stools and their lids propped up, allowing one to see the inner workings of such wonderful instruments. Behind the pianos are seats enough for an entire orchestra, creating a crescent moon shape. A couple of the seats already have instruments atop them, aching for their owners to play beautiful melodies with them. You make your way down to where your seat is, familiar with the layout of the auditorium. You’re on the right hand side of the centre stalls, third row back, but as you arrive, there’s a boy you saw earlier, not much older than yourself.

“Hi, do you mind if I squeeze past?” You ask him, watching his head jolt up from the programme to reveal a mop of beautiful dark brown curls framing his chiselled face, piercing green eyes with flecks of hazel when the light changed direction. You recognise him, an actor, you simply can’t place him.

His look of incredulity melts into a smile. “Sure.” He says, moving his legs so that you can squeeze past and take your reserved seat on his left. He turns to face you, smiling. He’s wearing a crisp navy suit with a pale blue shirt and a matching tie. He looks well presented, and by his nervous and lopsided smile, you guess that he’s rather nervous to be at the concert alone too. “Timothée.” He tells you, holding his hand out.

You return his gesture, smiling right back at him, and tell him your name. “You here alone?” You ask him, turning in your seat to get a better view. He nods.

“Thought I’d be the only under fifty here.” He laughs, “I’m 24 by the way, but I shan’t ask your name since you're a lady.” You can't help but laugh at this, just a little giggle at how sweet he is, but your interaction is cut short as the lights turn down in the auditorium but shine brighter on the stage, and a full orchestra enters the stage, accompanied by their instruments, two pianists and a conductor. Murmurs in the hall settle down to a faint hum while the musicians tune to the sound of the oboe, and then begin to play.

The music is mesmerising, starting with orchestral pieces with faint piano accompaniment, then just a nocturne for piano, split between the two lead pianists. You could listen to it all night, but an interval has to come. As the lights slowly turn back up, you see an infantile smile on Timothée’s face, as though he’s just watched the most excellent thing in the world.

“Come on,” you say to him, smiling sadly while you tap his knee, “let’s get a drink.”

He reluctantly stands up to follow you out of the auditorium and to the small bar area. You order two margarita’s without consulting him, but he seems grateful as you sit beside each other on a high table, people watching once again.

“What's your job then?” He asks you, making small talk.

“I’m a piano major at Juilliard, teaching piano on the side though.” You respond, and he seems really taken aback. His jaw falls a little slack while his eyes bulge a tad.

“Wow, you must be excellent!” You blush a little at his words, elegantly taking a sip from your drink while he eyes you carefully. You feel awkward under his gaze, though flattered nonetheless. He’s gorgeous, and he’s complimenting you and accepting drinks from you, what a night.

“What about you?” You inquire. He's an actor, you know that, but asking means that you may be able to get some more context and maybe it’ll click where you’ve seen him before. He clears his throat, and you can see some older people walking by who pull faces, judging the pair of you, but you brush them off.

“I’m an actor, mainly small films though.” He says, remaining vague. You don’t push much more, realising that he probably likes not being fawned all over for once, so you simply ask of the favourite names he’s had the honour of working alongside, which must be an uncommonly asked question because a light flickers behind his eyes.

“Selena Gomez, Steve Carell, Armie Hammer, Saoirse Ronan, Emma Watson, Robert Pattinson, Maia Mitchell…” He begins to list, but only when he mentions Maia does it click. You aren't huge into films, but you have seen him in a film with Maia Mitchell and Maika Monroe a few years ago.

“Hot summer nights, right? You were in that?” His cheeks turn a magnificent crimson and he bows his head as though embarrassed. He mumbles something along the lines of ‘not my best performance’, but you disagree. “I think you were wonderful, and did you mention Armie Hammer?” He nods again, seeming a little brighter. You take another sip from your drink, and he follows suit, watching your poised movements.

“Call Me By Your Name.” You nod in recognition, you remember watching the film when it first came out and loving the music from it.

“You’re excellent you know, at piano I mean, and the intimate scenes aren’t half bad either, you make them better.” You say with a teasing smirk on your painted lips, making Timothée’s eyes widen again. You chuckle and grasp his hand, dragging him into the auditorium for the second half.

The second half is a whole concerto, Poulenc’s Concerto For Two Pianos And Orchestra. Ten minutes in, Timothée’s hand finds your thigh and seems very comfortable, so comfortable in fact that you don't dare move it. As the concerto flows further on, his hand slides further up your clothed leg and squeezes your upper thigh a little You tense under his touch, infatuation and lust filling every cell and exiting through your pores, just waiting for more passion to fill your body and make you drunk on the feeling.

When finally the concert ends, both of you stand to applaud the musicians for a solid few minutes, and you could swear you see a tear leaving Timothée’s mysterious eyes and rolling down his heavenly made, painfully defined cheekbones. While you clap, you surreptitiously edge closer together, millimetre by millimetre until you’re hip to hip with elbows nudging. Your head comes up to his chin, making you feel a little small, but you’ll feel even smaller once your heels come off. Once the majority of the audience have filed out, you grasp his hand and pull him through the crowds where you stand on the corner of the pavement, only metres from the venue. You’re reluctant to loosen your grip on his slim hand, as he is with yours.

“Cigarette?” He offers, holding a half full box out to you. You half smile and shake your head in refusal.

“I don’t mind if you do though.” You say, meeting his gaze. “I love the taste of smoke when I kiss someone.” You add in a whisper, leaning up on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear. He goes rigid, making you smirk to yourself. This is going to be a good night.

He lights his cigarette and takes slow drag, only looking away to blow the smoke in an opposite direction to you. How respectful, you think, as your stomach fills with butterflies and bubbles with anticipation. He puts it out on top of a bin and throws it away without littering, and just that small and helpful gesture makes you crave his touch, having his fingers trace your sweaty skin and making your body tingle, your back arch with desire and pleasure.

“Wanna get a drink?” You ask, pointing to a nice bar across the road. You’re desperate to sleep with him, but not without pleasantries first. He, however, shakes his head and intricately entwines his fingers with yours.

“I’ll do you one better than a drink.” His smirk sets off a different kind of longing in you, forcing your body to follow him wherever he takes you.

As you walk, he starts conversation, but you’re so breathless from the desperation speed walking that your answers are brief. He asks you why you attended the concert, only to remember that you’re a music student and piano teacher; so in turn, you ask him the same question.

“When I was doing Call Me By Your Name, I had to learn the piano, and while I was learning classical pieces, I kind of just fell in love with classical piano music, I don’t know.”

His nervousness is sweet, making him appear far more humble than anyone of his stature would usually be.

You get to his building after a twenty minute dash in heels, and he pulls you flush against him while entering through the revolving doors, allowing you to lay your weight on him for a moment while you gather your breath. You feel his heartbeat thudding and racing against his ribs, reverberating against your own chest. You turn around to face him and place your hand on his chest.

“Breathe.” You say to him, allowing him to release a long held breathy chuckle. You leave the doors, both laughing, and fervently press the buttons to wait upon a lift. “So,” You then continue, breaking the silence where only your breaths were heard. “Favourite piano piece from the Call Me By Your Name soundtrack?”

“Hallelujah Junction!” You both answer at the same time, just as the lift doors open. You fall into the lift in a fit of giggles, clinging onto each other. You find yourself with your back pressed against the cold metal handle bar in the elevator with Timothée’s face inches away from your own. Your breath mingles together. As soon as he presses the button to his floor, he nudges his nose with your own.

“God, you're so beautiful.” he says seconds before his mouth is pressed hotly against your own, kissing you with an unrivalled passion. Your lips mould and move together like it’s second nature. His one hand holds your waist while both of yours grip his face, feeling a slight stubble.

The lift dings and he drags you out, unlocking his apartment door and leading you inside.

“Welcome to Casa del Timmy.” he says while hugging you from behind, allowing you to get a full view.

His apartment is stunning. Sleek, yet also vintage. Your eyes follow across the perimeter through a door to the left, where he has an office area containing a sleek white desk with a mac and a stack of papers and pens, next to it is a vintage white bookcase stacked as high as possible with novels of all shapes and sizes, and even an indie style rug underneath a colourful modern dining set..

The door next to the office is a kitchen, white countertops with wooden cupboards and a beautiful view of the city out of the window. To the right is a set of glass doors that open onto a small balcony where you can see the whole city, even Manhattan and Brooklyn depending which way you look and how the moon beams down. There’s a closed door right in front of you and through the entry hall and living room which you assume is his bedroom held behind a golden doorknob.

His living room, where you remain standing, holds an array of house plants with a couple of very comfortable looking plush sofas, his TV stand as well as his coffee table look like polished vintage items, refurbished from a flea market maybe, while his book shelf and rug are grand and modern. The best part of all though is a grand piano in an oak wood, matching the wood from his television table, and you become instantly entranced by the instrument that you don’t even notice the velvet stool or the perfectly organised cabinet of music, with a guitar propped up against it.

“Wow.” You breathe. Timothée grips you tighter, trailing kisses across your shoulder and up the side of your neck, inhaling every few seconds to treasure the scent of your perfume. Gardenia, rose champagne, grapefruit, davana; heavenly. You grip his hands with your own, holding them tightly where they’re settled on your tummy. You roll your head against his shoulder to give him better access to kiss you, but he stops abruptly and leads you to the piano stool. He opens the cabinet and pulls out a well loved piece of music.

“I know it’s for two pianos, but let's have some fun.” He says, grinning at you, an infectious smile that you can’t help but return. Hallelujah Junction, first movement. He puts the music out on the piano and takes a seat beside you, your thighs touching and hands overlapping as they begin to glide over the keys.

Playing this piece is second nature to you, allowing you to find your way easily, slipping your fingers between Timothée’s, and the white and black keys. You begin a harmonious melody spanning the whole of the piano, but after only a couple of pages, you realise that its not working as your notes cross over, making it very difficult to play on just one piano. You laugh together, but only for a moment before he is trailing his tongue up your neck, then your lips, and delving inside your mouth. You gasp, moaning into the passionate kiss that he’s giving you, and within seconds you find yourself straddling his lap on the piano stool. You trap his thighs between yours, moving and grinding your hips a little against his to receive more friction where you can feel how needy he is.

Within seconds, he has your legs wrapped around his waist and his teeth on your clavicle. The pleasure makes sounds escape your lips that you didn’t even realise were possible. You knot your ankles as he stands up with one hand around your waist and the other feeling his way around his apartment. After a few funny missteps and close calls of him dropping you while only walking the expanse of his living room, he pins you against his bedroom door, finding your lips again

He gently pokes at your dusty pink bottom lip with his tongue, slipping his tongue back into your mouth, exploring avidly and devouring every taste of you that he can muster. You do the same, but become too infatuated by his taste to put much more passion into it: gin, mint, bergamot and smoke. Smoke, sugar and sin, the most deadly combination of them all, and that's all you can smell on him, making you moan even louder. An erotic moan that makes Timothée twist open the handle to his bedroom door as quickly as is humanly possible.

He as good as throws you onto the bed, but undeniably, it turns you on a lot to see his dominant side this early on into the evening. He doesn't seem like the type to pin you down and boss you around, but as he shuts his bedroom door and delicately takes off his probably very expensive shoes, you can see a glint in his eye, almost as if he’s planning on doing unspeakably pleasurable things to you. Just the thought makes you wetter than before.

As he locks the door and shuts his shoes away, you take a quick look around the room. His bed is nice, comfortable and exquisitely large, like other things you hope. He has a nice colourful throw, vintage looking pillows to match his nightstand, holding only a pillbox, a glass of water, hand sanitiser, and a box of tissues. The simplicity makes you want to laugh, but you restrain yourself. He has a big dresser to match his bedside table with the drawers a little skewwhiff and clothes poking out. His wardrobe is fitted to the wall and by the looks of it, surprisingly neat too. That much cannot be said for his sofa though. A plush, light grey sofa sits on one side of his room just away from the window, and it's covered with clothes. At least he made the bed though, that's more than you can say for most 20-odd year old mans rooms that you’ve been into.

He sheds his blazer and crawls up to where he left you on the bed, needy and craving more. He looks down at you with desperation in his eyes, and you can’t help but to attack his lips, threading one hand in his beautiful dark curls while the other nimbly pulls open his tie and undoes his shirt. You shrug it off his shoulders and run your nails up and down his spine. You feel him shiver beneath his touch while your hands travel all over his body. His shoulders, his biceps, his toned stomach; he’s skinny, but has enough substance to him to be strong and sexy as hell.

“You’ll kill me if you stop.” He whispers, followed by a string of breathy curses. His eyes roll into the back of his head, giving you ample opportunity to grasp his shoulders and slip the pair of you over, pinning him beneath you. His eyes flit all over your face before kissing you again.

“You are so freaking beautiful.” He mumbles between kisses. He slips his hands up to find the zip of your jumpsuit which he slides down crazily fast, only breaking the kiss to shrug it off your shoulders. He just lies in awe, noticing that you don’t have a bra on beneath it. His tongue darts out from between his lips as he examines every undulation of your body, following the swell of your breasts right down to your hips. Your nerves return under his scrutiny, making you want to hide your face, but instead he holds your wrists behind you.

“You never have to cover up,” he says, nothing more or less than genuine love in his eyes, “not for me.”

Despite only meeting him hours ago, you know that you can trust him, so you ungracefully clamber off his lap and lie on your back to shimmy off your burden of a jumpsuit. He practically leaps at the opportunity to worship your body, before him in only your panties. He starts at your ankle, placing feather light kisses all the way from your ankle, up your leg, not minding the slight harshness of your legs, and only stops at your knee joint to switch his lips to his tongue, licking a straight line all the way up your inner thigh, stopping centimetres from where you need him the most. Not through any of this ritual does he break eye contact though. He skips over your panties and only pulls them down a little to trail kisses from your pelvic bone, up past your navel, through the valley of your breasts, and finally back to your lips. He makes you feel things that you could only dream of before meeting him.

“Timothée…” you breathe, hearing his breath hitch in his throat at the way your tongue curls around his name.

You reach between the two of you to his trousers. You undo the belt buckle with ease and push his trousers off his hips and down his thin legs, allowing him to kick them off at the bottom. He seems embarrassed, wearing Y-fronts that make more visible just how much he wants you.

“How about we strip together?” You offer, and Timothée reluctantly nods. He pushes himself off of you and stands up, giving you a hand to stand up as well. He still hasn’t taken his eyes off you since the moment you left the concert hall. “3, 2, 1…”

You both remove your underwear, pushing them down your legs and stepping out of them, only to step closer together so that your chests are flush against one another. He moves his hand up to cup your face, brushing your hair away from your face while tilting your chin up, capturing your lips in a lustful yet also sensual kiss.

He nudges you and your legs hit the bed, making you topple over and break the kiss from a giggle, but he doesn’t seem to mind and only laughs with you, moving your body further onto the mattress. He doesn't go to you again, he just lies beside you and dances his fingers absently down your pubic bone, ghosting circles around your clit.

“Jesus Christ.” You exclaim at the sudden feeling. Timothée kisses your jawline, but adds in between kisses, “Less of that, darling, I’m Jewish.”

You can’t help but laugh at him. You know he’s joking, just trying to mess with you, but as a punishment for laughing, he thrusts two fingers inside you with no warning, making you cry out in a mixture of both pain and overwhelming pleasure.

He pumps his fingers in and out of you, never going deeper than the second knuckle even when you cry out for more. Only when your moans turn to gasps for breath and you’re writhing beneath him does he delve in further and add his thumb to your clit, giving you a more intense orgasm than you’ve ever had before.

You immediately feel blood rushing back to your cheeks, colouring them from embarrassment, but Timothée doesn’t mind. He removes his hand from your core, and makes sure your eyes are fixated on his every movement as he licks his hand clean of all your cum. You’re so turned on that you even reach for his own hand, interlacing all your fingers except for his index one, of which he takes the hint and slips it into your open mouth, allowing your tongue to curl around it, making him groan.

He slips further down the bed and locks his eyes onto yours, you can see different shades of green and hazel in them and a whole world locked behind those beautiful eyes. Slowly, he delves into your heat, licking up everything that his hands missed. His mouth works wonders, sending your mind into a state of mild euphoria. The tip of his nose nudges your clit and you can feel yourself involuntarily gasp, so when Timothée finishes savouring every taste of you that he can get, he harshly bites your sensitive clit for just a moment, stimulating parts of your mind and body that you didn’t know could feel pleasure, let alone pleasure that intense.

He comes back up and kisses your lips, planting his hands in your hair as you kiss him back and get lost in the moment, your tongues dance together in an exploration, an experimentation of passion.

You pull away after a minute or so, gasping for air. Timothée examines your face for a moment, and you find yourself once again losing your thoughts and sanity in his eyes, until you feel the tip of his throbbing cock brush against your bare thigh. You feel bad for how much he’s been neglecting his own levels of desire in order to pleasure you, so you wrap your fingers around the base of his cock. He takes a sharp intake of breath and flutters his eyes closed, his long dark eyelashes twitching alongside his eyelids whenever you grasp harder or pump him.

He’s surprisingly big, causing you to take longer while rubbing your hand up and down his member. Half way down one thrust, you squeeze his cock a little, hearing him whimper a little. The mere sound of him drowns your core in want. You edge your way down the bed and swallow as much of his dick as you can take until his tip hits the back of your throat. He lets out the most sensual guttural groan that you’ve ever heard, his eyes still closed while placing his hand on the back of your head to keep you steady. You bring your head back up to look at him while your tongue swirls his tip, his mouth is parted a little with breathy moans of your name escaping every once in a while, his eyelids switching from being lazily half open to squeezed so tightly shut that they wrinkle a little.

You go back down slowly, inch by inch, hollowing your cheeks. You work your hand in the part of him that won’t fit in your mouth and continue to bob your head up and down. You lick a strip up a vein on the underside of his dick, making him near enough scream your name. With one final bob of your head where you deep throat him, you pull away with plump lips, climbing up his body to straddle his waist. He looks up at you with wide and loving eyes, pulling you down for a sensual kiss.

“Are you clean?” He asks breathlessly, kissing down the hickeys that he’s already littered your skin with.

“Yeah, i got tested after my last break up a few months ago, and I haven’t been with anyone since. Is that because I just…” He nods and you laugh a little, the vibrations from his chuckle rumble throughout your body.

“I did the same, but I’ll still…” You get what he’s saying and climb off him. He flings open the top drawer of his bedside table and after a minute or so of rooting through it he pulls out a condom packet and places it next to his glass of water. You give him a questioning look with your brows knitted together, but Timothée just smiles at you. He slips one slim arm beneath your back and the other under your knee joint before scooping you up and holding you close to his chest.

“Well hey there Timothée.” You say with a chuckle, secretly astonished at how strong he is, because with one arm still holding you, he throws away the decorative pillows and pulls the duvet back, throwing you onto the mattress and leaping on top of you. You smile into his kiss, savouring every second of the feel of his lips pressed hotly against your own, the taste of smoke driving you crazy.

He pulls away and sits up, tearing open the condom packet and grasping his hand sanitiser. He flicks the lid open and squeezes it liberally onto his hands before applying it and rubbing it into yours. “Are you sure?” He asks you, and your urgent kiss to his jawline is followed by a string of fervent reassurances that you are desperate to have him inside you, though you respect that he wants consent and that he wants to be clean. He slips the condom on, his eyes trained on your lips and the way they part from wanting every few seconds. He’s enjoying torturing you and making you wait, the same way that you edged him but denied him orgasm.

He slips the condom on and slowly enters in one smooth stroke. You gasp at the contact, especially how deep he goes with the first thrust, so deep that his pubic bone hits your own. He reaches for the duvet and he pulls it up over his shoulders, covering the pair of you since he can see that you’re shivering a little in the open. He looks for reassurance, but then begins to thrust inside you, holding his weight above you. You can see his biceps tensing while trying to hold his weight up and keep a steady rhythm.

“How about we spice this up?” He suggests, a sly smirk playing on his lips. He cocks an eyebrow, and the sun hits his face at an angelic angle, only making him more beautiful. You nod eagerly to him, only making his smirk grow wider.

“Yes Mr Timothée,” you say, triggering a dominant smirk to relight behind those stunning eyes.

“That's Mr Chalamet to you tonight, Miss.” Words cannot even explain how wet he makes you by saying that, already making your mind want to submit to his every want. You let out a whimper and remove your hands from his hips to lay above your head on the pillows. He joins his fingers around your wrist and proceeds to lay his slender hand flat against your wrists, preventing you from moving.

“Is this okay?” He asks, his movements coming to a halt. You nod and kiss him again. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

He must really enjoy what he’s doing to you. “Yes Mr Chalamet.” You reply, making your eyes as doe like and innocent as possible.

Timothée’s thrusts restart, faster this time. You moan louder, ecstasy filling every inch of your spent body before you’ve even properly begun. His moans are lower, more like groans, all of your name. It sounds heavenly coming from his lips, the way his mouth moves when he says your name just makes it better. His hips hit yours with vigour, adjusting to get a better position where he hits the best spot inside of you.

“There Timothée!” You scream desperately, your back arching on the mattress while your hands fight to break free. Submitting isn’t as easy as you hoped.

“I’m close.” He warns you and frees your wrists, but he doesn’t let your hand go too far. He interlocks his fingers with yours, using one elbow to prop himself up. His thrusts turn sloppy, more fervent, and just as he’s finishing, he digs his thumb into your clit.

Your entire body turns limp, screaming his name in a state of complete euphoria like you’ve never felt before. It travels from your brain to the tips of your fingers, setting a fire in your belly and making your toes curl. Your back arches so far off the bed that your chest becomes pressed against Timothée’s, your breasts moving in time with his breathing. You feel him come to his own climax, silencing his screams by kissing you with more passion than he has before.

You ride out your highs, but the level of pleasure illuminating every nerve ending in your body means that you don’t notice Timothée pulling out and disposing of the condom, you only notice when he flops down beside you on the bed and pulls you closer to his slightly sweaty body. You rest your head on his chest that seems to be glowing in the moonlight from the sheen of sweat. He absently plaits your hair, staring off into the distance. The faint thudding of his heart within his ribs comforts you, it's a little faster than would be normal, making you smile a little.

“How was that?” His hand grips around your shoulder even tighter, pulling you closer to his body. He seems content in simply holding you, maybe he just enjoys cuddling. “Wait, don’t answer that.” He corrects himself, his pupils dilating and his excellent, angelic body going rigid. You chuckle to yourself, drawing circles on his chest with the pad of your forefinger,

“Excellent, Mr Chalamet.” You tease him.

“I wasn’t too rough, was I?” He looks fearful, fretting, it's evident in the sudden sulk of his face, pulling his cheeks and forehead down. You shake your head again, slowly but surely moving your leg to lie over his. Ye inclines his neck to place a gentle kiss to our hairline, and you can feel him smile into it.

“Timothée?”

“Yes beautiful?” Just his simple words make you giggle and blush, such a sweet sentiment from a gorgeous and well meaning man.

“I’m hungry.” You say, feeling slightly embarrassed. He laughs, you feel his body move from it, and he proceeds to pepper your face with the softest and sweetest kisses possible.

“I’ll make us some food, grab any shirt you want and meet me in the kitchen.”

You watch him pull on a pair of grey sweat pants and walk out. His pale hips sway just a little as he walks, and he looks so lanky from where you’re laying on his bed, the covers pulled up around your chest. He kissed your forehead before heading to the kitchen, what kind of a man does that on the first night? He’s a famous actor and the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen, let alone a couple of years above yourself. He really knows how to please a girl, your skin rises in tiny goosebumps of pleasure while a shiver shoots down your spine and leaps across your synapses just at the mere thought of what he did to you, by far the best climax you’ve ever had.

You slowly slide out from under his warm, plush covers that smell just like him, only leaving with severe reluctance that melts away as soon as you shrug on the pale blue button down that he wore for the concert. Only a few hours ago you’d met at a concert for old people, already having a common interest that few your age have, yet he’s so eager about classical piano which is so special to you. You fiddle with the buttons, leaving the top few open in hopes of another round - he is making you an almost-midnight feast after all.

You walk out of his room and pad barefoot across his living room floor, only to have a little grey cat come and rub at your feet. You lean down to tickle behind its ears, hearing it meow, and you continue your way too where Timothée has left the kitchen door open for you. He’s standing over the stove with some ingredients laid out on the spotlessly clean countertops. You smile in spite of yourself, running a hand through your messy hair before wrapping your arms around his torso from behind. You place a couple of kisses to his shoulder blades until he turns around and picks you up in one swift movement, sitting you on the counter so that you meet his height.

“It looks better on you.” He whispers, pulling you closer by your bare thighs to plant a kiss on your lips. He’s making you feel things you’ve never experienced before, you can’t wipe the smile off your face for the first time in a while, and he's making you food in the middle of the night after cuddling you.

Dreamboat.

After watching him cook for a while, you slip out of his kitchen and take a seat at his piano. You run your fingers over the smooth wood, it’s well loved but well kept. Then you take a seat on the stool. You can feel where Timothée sits to play, your smile turning a little sad. There’s so much to him that people won’t see because he’s getting famous, but he’s still a person and that’s something that you’re able to experience first-hand.

Eyes closed, you feel for F and Ab with both of your hands. You press the keys down gently, creating the soft blend of notes that is Clair De Lune. You fall lost in the music in a new way, a new feeling washing you with all of tonight's new sensations and sitting at a piano that is neither your own nor at school, it feels somewhat ethereal.

Your fingers glide all across the keys, black to white, flats to sharps, switching between octaves like its second nature. Your mind dances along with the rhythm, your whole mind, soul and being becoming lost in the symphony that you’re creating, one that you haven’t been able to create for a while, and it’s only thanks to Timothée.

You become so absorbed in playing that you don’t notice him leaving the kitchen to listen. He just stands in the doorway, leaning against it with his head lolled a little to the side, completely mesmerised by your movements, your music, and just everything you are. Only when you play the final notes are you alerted of his presence from the creaking of the floorboards beneath his feet. He walks over to you with purpose, a slight grimace on his perfect lips, but he just hugs you. Timothée just holds you close to his chest, allowing you to entwine your arms around his neck and nuzzle your face in his bare chest.

“Stay the night?” He asks, such a simple request but he truly does seem anxious. You want to be genuine, kind, but it’ll be best to relieve the tension.

“You’re making me a late night post-sex feast and giving me your shirt, of course I’m staying the night.” After a moment of silence, he exhales a laugh and node, brushing a curl or two into his face. “Anyway, your cat likes me too, so it’d be a shame to disappoint the little cutie.”

After only a few minutes, you find yourself back in bed with Timothée. He’s carrying a tray full of food that looks and smells gorgeous, followed by his cat who decides to dance between his legs. He serves you a strangely shaped piece of an odd looking pizza, though it still looks excellent, and it has some perfectly cooked and seasoned vegetables next to it on a white plate.

“What is this?” You ask him as kindly as possible.

“Flammekueche with some vegetables. It’s a French pizza with crème fraiche and bacon. My dad makes it all the time and always gives me some that I just freeze and reheat. I can only make microwave meals and vegetables, so this isn’t bad for me.” The way he explains it makes him so endearing, and even makes the food seem more than enticing. “You’re not allergic to anything are you? Or vegetarian?” You shake your head with a smile, kissing him and thanking him for the meal even though he won’t let you touch it before you sanitise your hands.

You talk the whole while that you eat, learning little things about his favourite books and his family. His favourite book just happens to be Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald, a book you both know and love, and Timothee has a Jewish mother, a French father, an older sister, and he grew up in the city. You however are from out of the city with an exceptionally normal family, and your favourite book is Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte. He seems to be growing fond of you, wiping the pizza sauce from your lip, followed by a kiss each time.

He places your plates on the floor as soon as you finish, snatching at the speed of light for some hand sanitiser, lube and another condom. You more than happily oblige with all of his steps and strip off his shirt, kissing the living daylights out of him before he’s even slotted the condom on. He kisses you back with equal fervour nonetheless, exploring your whole mouth with the tip of his tongue. He cautiously adds some lube to the sides of the condom and slips into you while you’re still atop him. You moan at the penetration, arching your body forwards and hereby giving Timothée a full view of your breasts and the way they bounce with his every thrust inside you.

You moan pornographically at his slow and passionate movements upwards and deep inside you, finding your special spot within moments. He settles his hands upon your hips, squeezing them and guiding your every movement. You ride him just the way he wants you to, you can see it in his eyes. He looks at you like a teenage boy would at a naked supermodel, of which you are only naked and most definitely not a supermodel, despite him treating you like one, and Timothée is thankfully older than a teenage boy yearning for sex.

“You look so fucking brilliant.” He tells you, admiring the way that your face contorts with pleasure while taking every inch of him.

You rhythmically grind your hips against him, swirling them occasionally just to hear him cry out. Nothing is a hinderance from you going faster, but this sex isn’t needing to be urgent to be satisfying. He squeezes your hips harder and you decides to move up a little further, bouncing back down on him as he becomes buried to the hilt in your desperate core. You do it again, engulfing him anew and moaning his name continually from the mix of friction and pleasure that’s sending you into another euphoria, but not enough to release again just yet.

Timothée still hasn’t taken his eyes off you, namely your breasts where he’s currently focussed, eyes trained on your hardened nipples - partly from not wearing a shirt and partly from Timothée’s ministrations. He leans up and captures your left nipple in his mouth, sucking and kissing and swirling his tongue around you in the most divine way possible. He moves his hands away from your hips too, allowing you to grind your hips on his in any way that you like. His one hand moves to your other breast, tweaking and pulling at your right peak and sending sensations through your body that you’d never realised could be real before; while his other slips to the rounds of your ass, squeezing delectably.

“Mr Chalamet, p-please,” you find yourself begging, leaning down while still riding him, his torture on your breasts never ceasing, not even when he thrusts his hips up one final time, allowing your core to devour him whole and sending you into your third otherworldly climax of the night.

“Timothée!” You scream, your climax pouring out of you. You feel him come too, and you hear him cry out your name like a blessing.

He doesn’t pressure you, he just waits until you’re able to clamber off him with as minimal pain and exhaustion as possible, though you do whine at the loss of contact as you lie beside him, his arms securely around you and holding you as close to him as possible. It doesn’t matter that you’re both sweaty or spent, it just feels special.

“Look at that, done before 1am.” He chides, cuddling into you. You laugh a little at him, especially his humour, but it is rather remarkable.

“Two rounds, a meal, and a concert. Can’t speak for you, but I’m knackered.” He smiles at you sleepily, passing you the shirt that you wore earlier. You shrug it on and do it up while Timothée puts his joggers back on and draws the curtains, leaving the two of you in dark for the most part. You lie further down, still close to his thin chest, you hear his breathing rattle a little, but it's soothing.

“Night beautiful.” Is the last thing you hear before falling asleep in his arms.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

The only issue about sleeping with Timothée is that you forget it's a Saturday morning, and on Saturdays, you have to work. Your phone alarm starts to go off at 7.15 precisely, which when you’re home, gives you enough chance to get ready for teaching in a calm manner so that you aren’t already angry before teaching little children how to play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Today however, that is not the case.

Timothée sleeps through it somehow, but your eyes are shocked wide awake, causing you to leap from the comfort and warmth of his bed and cuddles just to crawl on the floor in search of your phone and where it fell last night. You find it next to his door somehow, and switch the alarm off immediately, propping yourself up against the door to release a long held breath and to watch the sun rise through his windows. He looks so beautiful asleep, his lips parted slightly, soft snores escaping every so often, dark eyebrows furrowed and his mop of curls haphazardly lying around him like a halo. The morning glow makes his cheekbones appear even more defined.

You want to gather your belongings without waking him, get dressed and catch a cab back to your flat, but just as you go to open his door, he stirs.

“Where do you think you’re going beautiful? Come back to bed, I’m keeping you here with me forever.” You know he’s joking, and his words melt your heart and inhibitions a little, but you can’t justify staying

“I have to work, my first student is at 9.30.” You say, walking across to stand beside his bed and brush some hair off his forehead, kissing him and your lips lingering on his sweaty skin a little longer than they probably should have.

“And? I’ll drive you home in time, if you live near Juilliard then I know a shortcut. Just come back.” He's virtually pleading, puppy eyes and quivering lip just to add to the effect, and you simply can’t say no when he looks so perfect. You place your things on the floor by the bed and slip beside him, allowing your eyes to flutter shut just a moment longer.

His finger traces your naked body beneath the shirt, focussing on the bruises he left on your hips and the marks on your neck. Just his touch is enough to take control of your body, to give you goosebumps, to electrify every feeling of love and lust held within.

“Can I use your shower please?” You ask him, and he nods, placing his chin atop your head.

“I’ll take you to my bathroom and then I’ll make you breakfast. Grab whatever clothing you want from my room, but you can’t leave this bed until you agree to dinner with me tonight.”

Your heart rate increases tenfold at his gesture, and you want to take a leap of faith and say yes straight away, but that would be playing your cards too quickly. “We’ll see.” You respond sultrily, making your way to leave, but his strong grip pulls you flush against him with no space to move. You can hear him laughing in your ear.

“Say yes to dinner and then you can leave.” He slips his hands further down your front without losing his grip and decides to toy with your clit as though it’ll get you to talk.

“Y-yes! God, Timothée, of course I’ll go to dinner with you, just don’t stop!” You find it impossible to understand the shockwaves of pleasure pulsating and electrifying your every sense from an action as simple as the pads of his fore and middle fingers twisting and pressing your sensitive clit. It’s so incredible that after the previous night, it feels like overstimulation, and you can’t get enough.

“I’ll never stop.” He murmurs gruffly into your ear, you can hear the hoarseness that smoking causes but god it sounds and tastes so good.

He pulls your body closer and rolls you over. “Hey baby.” You say as calmly as you can, but within seconds you find yourself sitting on his face, half of his stunning bone structure lost beneath you. He delves his tongue into your already dripping heat, licking as far as he can get and only pulling away to kiss and suckle at your clit.

“Let me come Mr Chalamet!” You cry out, and with one final swipe of his tongue around your core and a squeeze of your ass, you let go. Timothée licks you clean while you still chant his name, and he proceeds to pick you up in order to carry you to the bathroom. You settle your heels at the base of his spine, digging in a little, and his arms tense beneath your ass from the manner he carries you. You like being above him, able to trace every line and bit of stubble on his face with your focussed eyes that he stares so deeply into at any given chance.

“Don’t be too long or I’ll be tempted to join you.”

You slowly cross the threshold of the bathroom, winking at him as you close the door. He inaudibly groans, but you can tell from his facial expression and the tension in his joggers that make him look utterly sexy. You slowly unbutton his shirt, reluctant to take it off, but when you step under the warm jet of his shower, that reluctance washes away along with any inhibitions you may have had about Timothée. He’s an angel: clean, respectful, enjoys classical music, has a cat, isn’t a cocky dickhead, and he’s literally the most gorgeous human being that you’ve ever laid eyes on.

You run your fingers through your hair, standing directly beneath his showerhead. The steam clouds your vision, but you can hear Timothée singing while he cooks, Mystery of Love. What a dork, you think, chuckling to yourself while you rinse Tim’s shower gel from your body, and you just know that after this you’ll smell like him, but he smells delectable. As the water hits the most sensitive parts of your body, you remember the previous night. Just the thought of what he did to you makes you crave his touch again.

Through the bathroom window, you can make out the New York traffic that builds every morning, accompanied by the screeching of tires and sirens and car horns. Despite it being a ruckus, it's soothing as you step out the shower and wrap yourself in one of Timothée’s fluffy towels.

“How do you look so sexy when you’re getting out of the shower? God, I can't stress it enough, you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve seen in my life, even without any makeup and with your hair un-styled, just wrapped in my Goddamn towel. You’re gonna be mine, mark my words.” You feel tears come to your eyes at his kind words, watching him purposefully walk from the kitchen and all the way across his apartment just to place his hands on your waist and tell you how beautiful you are. Those words are better than a concerto to you.

Once you’ve finished getting dry in his bedroom, you ferret through his drawers until you pull out a white top with various tie dye patterns across it. It’s cute, very Timothée. You pull it on and it reaches your mid thighs, making it clock in your head just how much of a lanky lad he is. You bundle together your stuff and head out of his room, closing the door behind you and greeting him with a kiss. He sits you at the breakfast bar and serves you a proper cooked breakfast: bacon, scrambled eggs, and pancakes.

“There's ketchup and syrup in the cupboard if you’d like.” He offers, sidling up on the seat beside you, nudging the tip of your nose with his thumb. The smile hasn’t left your face since you met him.

“This is good, you’re an excellent cook.” You tell him, resting your hand on his. His cheeks glow an even brighter red in the cascading morning sunlight, dappled by his blinds, but he looks magnificent despite his embarrassment.

You take out your phone, just to take a picture of the breakfast while it’s still untouched, and of your hand held by Timothée’s, already wearing rings. You notice that he’s already wearing a silver chain too, and a couple of bracelets on the wrist away from your own, which you find unusually attractive.

“I wish you could stay all day.” he whispers, placing his forehead on yours.

“Me too.” you say softly, smiling sadly and caressing his cheek.

You finish your breakfast and make your way to the living room in a strange kind of waltz orchestrated by Timothée. He insists on holding your waist and turning around a little, moving your feet in sync until you yank him down onto the sofa, catching his lips mid sigh which leads to a much more passionate make out session than you anticipated. Once that’s over, he plaits your hair beautifully, explaining how it used to calm his sister down before an audition. By the time he’s finished a very good pair of plaits, you check the time and it’s already 9, time for you to leave with NYC traffic, but Tim won’t let you go.

“Not without a photo.” He insists, but you question his reasons. Who would want a photo of you with wet hair in plaits, an oversized tee-shirt and a bare face? But his answer is too sweet to refuse. “I like taking pictures of beautiful things, and of which, you are the most beautiful.” Your cheeks flush a raging scarlet, and Timothée takes your few moments of silence as the perfect opportunity to take a picture of you, sunlight hitting your face in all the right places, and he takes another for good measure, his hand on your cheek and his lips on yours, a kiss that shuts you up for good.

He takes you down the stairs right to the garage where he keeps his car, and surprisingly, it’s an understated car, not crazily extortionate nor flashy, something which you respect highly. He sits you in the passenger side, making sure to kiss you before closing the door, and he gets in the driver's side. After starting the engine and leaving the parking lot, he lays his palm flat against your thigh and keeps it there the whole drive while you change gears for him. You tell him all about your childhood, your high school, your time in uni while he tells you his life at a performing arts high school and then his life as an actor, he truly fascinates you.

Once he pulls up outside your building, he tries to convince you to let him come in, or at least walk you to your door, but on the grounds of not scaring the life out of your neighbours and students, you say no with a promise to see him later.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard tonight that you won’t be able to walk.” He says, pulling you in for a final passionate kiss before you step out of the car. He made you wet just before you have to work, you’ll get him back later, but the revenge melts as soon as he leans out the window to blow you a kiss and tell you how stunning you are.

You’re so lost in your trance of Timothée that you don’t notice your first student tapping you on the shoulder and excitedly saying “Was that the Timothée Chalamet?”

You chuckle to yourself, watching him drive off into traffic, all for you. “Yes it was love, yes it was.”

#timothee chalamet #concerto #timmy t #chalamet #tim chalamet #timothee chalamet smut #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet fluff #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee smut #timothee fluff #timothee imagine

2K notes · View notes

belit0 · 3 years

Note

Hey, can you write Indra + size kink + cockworship + nasty cum stuff ?? Sorry, i'm hungry for that man

Sorry this took me SO FUCKING LONG omfg

No need to be sorry, I’m as hungry as you. I haven’t written smut in a while, so bear with me, I’m getting back at it:,(

Tw: Indra knows nothing about communication

When Indra enters the house, the sun has already set. He looks drained, tired. It’s been days since he started wearing his hair loose, devoid of his usual ponytail, and it only helps to make him look more massive than he is.

His steps are heavy as he heads to the bedroom, and when he looks at you with those expressionless serious eyes, you know he won’t be eating dinner today either. That’s okay, you’re not used to spending time together as a normal couple anyway, and you know you’d feel weird if he actually sat down with you and joined you for a meal.

His form disappears down the corridor and you know he has found the way to bed, seeking comfort from the adversities of the day. His shadow is dragged across the walls by the candlelight, and for a moment, it looks like the demon everyone says he is.

But of course, you know better than to believe those ridiculous tales.

It’s been months since this man appeared in your village, a place led by a poor wretch who was trying his best to get his people ahead. Only a few enjoyed good fortune, privilege, and wealth, and you were not one of them. Life before Indra, here, was based on working hard for pennies, finding food wherever possible, wearing the same clothes repeatedly for lack of more garments. Poverty was rampant among almost the entire village population, and despite the leader’s best efforts, nothing seemed to work for the betterment of the situation.

But a mysterious man with long hair and thick shoulders, tattooed eyes, impressive physique compared to the famine-stricken people... left everyone captivated. With just a couple of suggestions and commands, things turned around, and the outlook brightened for everybody. This mysterious man quickly rose in the hierarchical power of the village, and the current leader ended up giving up his place.

Indra became their ruler overnight, and hopes for the future of the town seemed to grow stronger and stronger again.

Town expansion was inevitable, welcoming visitors and travelers intrigued by the legends of this man who brought fortune to a doomed place. Enemies were also unavoidable. The Otsutsuki defended and used all his power to prevent the destruction of the foundations he had built with so much effort, leaving everyone terrified in his steps.

His red eyes became stories used by mothers to frighten disobedient children, his violet beast traveled on the tongues of all the merchants and their incessant rumors.

Respect mingled with fear, yet Indra never wavered.

He looked imposing as he walked the streets of the town, staring at nothing in particular, an expression forged by iron and ice. His towering figure seemed to cast a gigantic shadow over every other man nearby, and all the women were dying to take the vacant place at his side.

Everyone thought as he became leader he would choose one of the few wealthy ladies of the village as his wife, but he did not.

It was months after his ascension to power before he communicated with a woman. And that turned out to be you.

Although the village prospered and grew bigger every day, your life remained the same, complicated. Money was scarce as well as food, and working hard every morning was necessary if you wanted to get a crumb of bread.

You tended the garden of a prosperous family, kneeling in the morning dew, your clothes covered in dirt from the work you had started just a few minutes ago.

Footsteps in front of you broke your concentration, and when you looked up, a tall figure was staring down at you. A flowing robe floated in the wind, and that frown was visible even from the floor. Indra was intimidating without uttering a word.

“You look thoroughly filthy.” He had said. “I’m sorry, my lord.” You had replied, bowing your head in respect.

You did not finish that day’s work, for offering you a wide hand, Indra Otsutsuki himself lifted you from the dirt and escorted you to get a fresh change of clothes. Not one of the worn-out ones you used to wear, but an expensive one, of excellent quality, full of exquisite details. A garment of high society, one of the kind he himself usually wore.

From that moment on, he did not leave your side. It was only a matter of time before you moved into his residence, an immense house in the middle of town. You became the envy of all women, no one being able to understand how their leader could choose a servant girl as his partner.

And despite the fear you felt towards him at first, although his haughty looks seemed to be empty initially, you eventually grew to understand him. Dread turned into respect, affection, love.

After all, he saved you from that life of misery to give you one of luxury and privilege, asking for nothing in return. Even though you slept in the same bed every night, he never touched a single hair on your head, never came near you, never took the initiative you feared he may take.

“Why me?” you asked once, the blush on your face shielded by nighttime darkness inside the room. A large space lay between you both on the bed, and Indra, while you couldn’t see him, probably had his back to you. “You are the prettiest.” He replied simply, and you caught a note of amusement in his voice.

During the day it was rare for you to see him, but at sunset, you would both be in the bedroom. No lustful touches in the middle were necessary to make the night complete, for the silences which at first were awkward eventually were filled with chatter.

That intimidating look, that wide-backed warrior with blood-colored eyes, became a companion, a pleasant person to spend time with. Never smiled, never laughed, but you know he is calm, that he enjoys the moment as much as you do. You’ve seen him interact with other people, how his muscles tense when someone is way too close for his comfort, how his brow furrows when anyone speaks to him. You know you’re the only person he tolerates, appreciates, and loves around him.

That’s why seeing him arrive like this is something uncomfortable in your chest. Slowly following in his footsteps, you find his clothes lost all the way back to the room. You pick up garment by garment, and there is a certain satisfaction as you smell his clothes and feel his perfume. As you reach the doorway, he is already tucked into bed, buried under sheets. One of his arms supports his head and acts as a pillow while his other hand scratches his chest, which is slightly uncovered. One of his legs is bent, and covers slip off his skin, revealing a thigh and worked muscles. His eyes are closed, but he knows you are there.

Leaving his clothing on a chair, you approach him and sit on the edge of the bed, hands clasped in your lap. Rarely have you seen this scene, where he relaxes with all his rights in his own bed. Sex has never been addressed between the two of you, and it’s something you’re grateful for. Rumors travel faster than the wind, and many a woman has walked around claiming to have spent time in the bed of the mighty Indra. Whether that’s true, you don’t know, and you’ve never asked either.

If true, your experience is undoubtedly unparalleled.

Still, seeing him like this, becoming one with the bed and stretching out, getting a taste of his toned chest and his thick thigh... Curiosity suddenly demands more.

“You’re staring.” His eyes are still closed, but to be put on display is still just as humiliating. “I’m sorry...” You’re not sure if get up and leave at that moment, but it’s his voice that clears the uncertainty. “Why? I’m your partner, naturally.”

It feels like confirmation of your actions, and you become brave all at once.

“Can I help you... To feel better?....” Your voice is full of hesitation, yet one end of his lips lifts, revealing a wickedly tinged smirk.

“Be my guest.”

Climbing on top of him, your hands tremble with anxiety and anticipation. His eyes flutter open and he watches you intently, analyzing where your actions lead. The man really is huge, and being partially on top of him, the size difference is even greater. Indra seems to rejoice in your stupor, picking up on your intentions and stirring the sheets covering him as you settle between his legs.

Whatever nervousness you felt about what was to come only grows worse at the sight of his size, as even half-hard, his cock’s intimidatingly enormous length.

“Already frightened?” The teasing tone sliding across his tongue fills you with new determination, and with both hands, you hold his shaft. One at the base and one at the head. Your tongue timidly explores that unfamiliar surface, feeling in your grip how hardness invades his dick second after second.

Your lips wrap carefully around it, and pushing gently, inch by inch, his length finds its way into the pleasantly warm depths of your mouth. One of your hands slowly slides down, dragging skin in its wake.

Fixing your eyes on Indra while trying to deal with the raw, inexperienced situation and size, you notice impatience and need, lust swimming in red eyes dominates his expression.

From an instant to the next, your shoulders are enveloped by two gigantic hands, and position is turned around, a vast body hovering over you and trapping you underneath it.

“You teasing little fucker...”

Being handled like that awakens something on the inside that you rarely felt before, some sort of tingling urgently needing to be soothed. A broad palm grasps your chin, which moves your face in the direction Indra desires as he suddenly engulfed your lips.

You have never kissed this man before, and to be making out with him for the first time in these circumstances should feel wrong... but it only builds up more sensations in your lower belly, a treacherous emptiness, and an almost unfamiliar fire.

Your hands awkwardly find his back, and the need to press him against your face, to demand more, to extract more from those luscious lips is interesting. There is no more distance to close between the two of you, but you want to crush yourself against his labored chest until becoming one.

The moment ends quickly as you gasp for air, and trying to recover, a sultry Indra, who grins viciously seductive overpowers your gaze.

“I’ll introduce you to a thing or two...”

Before you comprehend what his words mean, the position changes again, and his two knees are one on either side of your head. He looks even more terrifying from this angle than in everyday life, and you don’t venture to peek at his dick. Two of his fingers slide across your lower lip, caressing your cheek, and suddenly squeeze your face harshly. Your mouth is forced open, but when his cock slides over your tongue and you understand the functionality of the pose, you ease back.

Your lack of experience was driving him crazy, and rather than loosening him up, you were upsetting him further. Managing the matter with his own hands, or rather with his own hips, Indra finds peace again.

Rising to height, one of his palms cradles your face, while the other supports himself against the wall. You try to find stability by holding onto his thighs, and as he buries himself lower in your mouth, sensations in your body become almost unbearable, coupled with his movements.

Indra is kind at first, gradually pushing into your inexperienced cavity slowly, closing his eyes tightly and fighting the urge to destroy your mouth.

Yet when your jaw relaxes completely, grasping the rhythm and feel of the situation, he lets go. The beast is finally released, and the Otsutsuki fucks your lips with abandon, hitting the end of your throat with each thrust. His hips move with agility, and imagining him between your legs with the same surrender and strength makes you hold on.

Tears decorate your cheeks and eyelashes, blending with the saliva dripping from your mouth every time that cock lunges at your face. Indra becomes completely abstracted, tilting his head back as deep growls rise from deep within his chest.

When air is inevitably needed and you can no longer avoid gagging, you repeatedly slap his thighs, drawing his attention. He leans his forehead against the wall and holds your face with both hands, withdrawing his dick from your throat and catching his breath with difficulty. His gaze is fixed on you, and although you could probably look better, you feel really appreciated under those red eyes.

The fluids from your mouth completely soaked your chest and cheeks, your clothes are soaked, and at the sight, the Otsutsuki slides his fingers across your wet skin, then strokes his shaft twice.

When you catch your breath, you place a kiss on the head which has been hitting the back of your throat for minutes, showing he may continue.

Without a second thought, he burrows deeply into your mouth, reaching a depth he hadn’t hit before. The grunt he exhales makes your skin crawl, and you really want to see him enjoy you like this for the rest of your life.

He gives you time to breathe again, and his thrusts become more shallow, seeking more contact with the softness of your tongue and the warmth of your cheeks. It isn’t long before his length is completely out of your cavity and he works it rapidly, seeking the longed-for finish. You’re not sure what you should do, so you simply watch him, amazed at the size of his hands.

After a few seconds, several white shots paint your face, staining your hair and chest, leaving practically nowhere without even a drop. It’s unexpected, but satisfying.

#naruto shippuden #otsutsuki indra #indra otsutsuki #otsutsuki indra x reader #indra x reader #indra otsutsuki x reader #indra #otsutsuki clan #naruto

260 notes · View notes

waatermelon-sugaar · 3 years

Text

Bliss

Pairing = FO! Poe x reader

Words = 6k (don’t look at me)

Summary = You watch your husband throw a knife, sparking 18+ thots

Warnings = SMUT (18+ only!) KNIFE PLAY, reader masturbation, fingering (f receiving), violence, like one non-graphic sentence of imaginary blood, but no actual blood (PLEASE message me if you wanna know more before reading and I’ll answer any questions you might have :) )

A/N 1 = This is basically pure smut and I’m sorry, it’s all from that training video

A/N 2 = You and Poe are married in the fic, and love each other. There is also discussion of the scene involving the knife. In real life, this discussion should be much longer, and less one-sided, going through details with much more depth. If you ever try knife play in real life, please never use the knife during actual sex in case of injury. You should also always have a first aid kit, and certain places of the body (the neck, inner wrists, groin area) should never come into contact with a sharp knife because of the high risk of lethal injury. In this fic they do it because it’s fiction. Please always do your research and make sure your partner does too, make sure you keep communicating and also that you trust the person you’re with.

If you have any questions about the content of this fic before you read, send me a message, if you have questions about knife play, send me a message, I’ll be more than happy to talk about it!! (Actually I’ll talk about anything to anyone if you ever want to chat! ☺️)

Also PLEASE let me know if I missed any warnings!!

Posted to AO3

Masterlist

***

“What do you think … Captain?”

You pause for effect before pulling out Poe’s rank. It’s a little too tough and impersonal for your tastes, usually preferring the purr, the rough and ready of ‘Sir’, but you know that Poe enjoys the rare occasion when you do use it, and if it means you get what you want, you’ll call him every name under the sun. Your husband’s brown eyes darken as you pout, giving him your best puppy dog eyes.

You’re sat on his desk, far enough back that you can swing your legs a little, hands tucked under your thighs, while Poe relaxes in his seat, looking like work, all sharp angles and dark looks. He trimmed his beard in the refresher this morning, emphasising his jaw, and that perfect, pink mouth. You can’t wait to get him home so he can relax properly. He works far too hard for a thankless job in your opinion.

Anyway, in your defense, it was Poe who planted the seed of the idea in your head in the first place.

You knew Poe was proficient at fighting, and weaponry, and that his skill in a TIE fighter was unparalleled in the First Order, but you’d thought that his particular area of expertise was constrained to blasters and other long-distance weapons.

Not knives.

You were supposed to be the best at knives. After all, Poe had recruited you to work for the First Order after watching you take down some disrespectful asshole who had been twice your size in close quarters, a small hidden knife strapped in your boot being the deciding factor in your victory. All over a dispute of cheating.

It was a shame, really.

All that loss of life … for nothing. All that chaos, just breeding more chaos, and who was the real winner?

Poe had shown you how nice it felt to bring order. He’d shown you how nice a lot of things felt.

So you’d just assumed that Poe wasn’t as good with knives, and therefore wasn’t as disposed to use them. You’d never asked, merely enjoying the way his eyes lingered on you when you practiced your skills in training, and really enjoying the sex afterwards. And even after a year of marriage, it had never come up.

But last week, you and Poe had been among a larger group of officers fighting your way out of a Resistance base after blowing their central intelligence systems. You’d shot once, twice and then a third time at a particularly stubborn oncoming Rebel, finally hitting them in the stomach, causing them to double over in pain.

Stars, your new job had made you rusty. You’d have to practice using your blaster more.

You’d stood over the rebel to deliver a final shot to their face, taking them out of their misery and turned just in time to see Poe throwing his blaster to one side, smoke issuing from it, and pulling a small knife from a holster on his thigh. Your mouth dry, you’d continued to watch as, almost in slow motion, Poe had thrown the knife with deadly accuracy, the small silver flash burying itself into the Rebel’s exposed neck.

Fuck that was hot.

Why was that so hot?

The rebel had stood there with an expression of surprise, cocky bastard, blood already dribbling, a bright red stream running down their throat, but you just had eyes for Poe. You’d ignored the way the Rebel’s body slumped to the ground with a heavy finality, and moved forwards, suddenly desperate to feel Poe’s lips on yours.

Damn the Resistance, and damn the rebels.

You would kiss your husband, and you would kiss him right now.

Poe had turned, his eyes automatically sweeping for you, surprise in his eyes at first at how close you already were, but he’d allowed you to push him into the dusty wall, one of your hands looking for his and twinning your fingers together.

Your deadly hands, spun together for eternity.

Your other hand is automatically reaching for Poe’s neck, fingers grasping at his hair, pulling his lips towards yours. You can smell his sweat, the familiar scent pooling under his cologne, filling you with a sense of safety, even amongst the very-real danger the two of you are currently facing. His free hand is already gripping your hip, pulling your body towards him as if you weren’t as close as you could possibly be.

It’s moments like these that you think the two of you are made for each other. You couldn’t imagine needing to kiss anyone else in the middle of a mission, couldn’t imagine anyone else letting you do such a thing, couldn’t imagine anyone else wanting you the way Poe wants you. The way you want - no, need - him.

The way he needs you.

Even though your eyes are closed, you can still see how Poe’s fingers moved, causing the knife to fly out of his hands, even as they grip your hips, one of his legs pushing nicely between yours, canting upwards slightly towards the ache you’re already feeling.

The movement is replaying over and over again behind your eyelids, and you never want to forget it.

Poe’s mouth slots perfectly over yours, and he gasps into you when you pull on his hair slightly. He’d had it cut recently, and it’s still a touch too short for your liking, unable to properly tug unless you hold the curls on top of his head.

You take the opportunity to taste him, dipping your tongue into his mouth, and he lets you, lets you bite his tongue, as his beard tickles your skin, scratching deliciously. And then you bite his lip as you pull away, and he groans deep, hitting your body lower, warming you up.

But you don’t let yourself move against his thigh. Not now. Not yet. Not even as you move your mouth to his throat, where his salt and pepper beard gives way to tan skin, kissing him desperately. You don’t stop, even as your hands untangle, and Poe reaches for your holster, raising your blaster and letting off a shot in your ear. You keep kissing him, following the line of his beard up to his ear, nipping lightly at his lobe, ignoring the sounds of a body falling behind you.

And now he’s plastering kisses to your skin, wherever he can get his mouth, on your forehead, down your cheek, along your arm, only separating from you as he delicately kisses each of your fingers. There’s further swooping low in your belly as you look at him, kiss swollen lips, hooded eyelids, dark eyes.

And then your gaze is broken, other members of the First Order catching up to you, whooping and hollering in success. Their shouts are enough to make Poe reach for your hand again, holding it as he pulls the two of you back to his TIE fighter, back to safety and freedom.

But the image of Poe throwing a knife didn’t leave you, even after the mission, taking up most of your brain during the debrief, and even popping into your mind later that evening, before Poe joined you in bed, where you found your hands trailing fire over your body, pinching your nipples, as you imagine Poe pressing a cold knife into and around the flesh of your breasts.

You’re naked, and the room is cool, goosebumps prickling along your flesh despite that familiar heat spreading through your veins, slowly burning you up from the inside. You can feel sweat gathering despite the chill, along your hairline, your upper arms, your stomach.

Once you’d started you couldn’t stop, pressing your thighs together as you worked yourself up, fingers teasing your skin as you imagined Poe walking in, still in his uniform. He’d stop at the end of the bed and just watch you.

And then he’d lean over you, still watching you with those dark eyes, and take out that knife, just tracing it up your leg, gently pressing it into the inside of your thigh, dangerously close to your pussy, and you pause, with your head tipped back on your pillow, mouth open, eyes closed, imagining the feeling.

Letting out a small whimper, you’d lowered your hand, dipping your fingers between your folds, and delicately traced around your clit, spreading the wetness that had gathered throughout the day around.

You’d settled into your familiar rhythm, slowly building the speed and pressure of your fingers on your clit, letting out little gasps when you hit the spot just right. And then your fantasy Poe opened his mouth, and you imagined him playing carelessly with the knife. “Put a finger inside yourself.”

You remember letting out a noise of agreement, not quite a word, inching your fingers further down, when your imaginary Poe clarified. “Just one, baby.”

You’d immediately lifted your head in protest, even though he wasn’t actually there, and you could have done what you had wanted to, but you’d obeyed. It’s part of the fun. You’d slid your middle finger in with little resistance, and closed your eyes in pleasure, your head falling back to your pillow.

You’d bitten your lip, muffled any quiet sounds that escaped you, imagining again and again and again how Poe would look holding that knife, ready to use it on you, carve the cold metal into your skin, not hard enough to hurt you, but enough that you can feel cool trails over hot skin.

Your single finger was slowly pumping in and out of you, and you were so wet you could hear it in the silence of your bedroom, your small gasps gradually increasing in volume. When you thought you couldn’t bear it anymore, you’d imagined Poe telling you to “Insert another one baby.”

So you had, letting out a small moan as a second finger joined the first, and gasped out Poe’s name. It was easier than when Poe did it, your fingers being smaller than his, but you could still feel a slight stretch.

You’d kept moving your fingers, gradually circled faster, ground your hips down so your clit caught on your palm, curved your fingers inside yourself. Your breaths were coming faster now, shuddering through your chest as you imagined Poe trailing the ice-cold knife up your legs, getting closer and closer to the juncture of your thighs.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, you imagined locking eyes with Poe, and he opened his mouth. “Cum for me, baby.” His voice was velvet, soft, but commanding and familiar as your toes started to curl. You couldn’t hear the noises coming from your mouth anymore, only dimly aware that you were moaning, the sound drowning out the squelch between your legs.

Your orgasm was a slow builder, and you remembered the last time Poe brought you to orgasm, how he whispered filthy praises in your ear as his cock dragged slowly in and out of you, coaxing you through it then as his imaginary doppelganger does now, watching you gush and spasm over your fingers, legs shaking in pleasure.

After you’d come, you’d lain there, panting on your bed, sweat cooling your skin. Languidly, you’d raised your fingers, cleaning them off with kitten licks, the tangy taste coating your tongue and wishing Poe would come to bed, he always enjoyed watching you clean up.

Your fantasy confirming just how into the idea of playing with a knife you were, you’d stewed over the idea a little further for a couple of days, imagining how it would actually feel, sure that in real life it would be different. You’d curiously pressed the blunt side of a knife on your inner forearm one day when you were alone in the kitchen, sending furtive glances towards the partially closed door. Technically it was nothing special, technically nothing exciting, not in that way, and it was the blunt side, but it had still sent a delicious shiver through you. You could feel your heart rate increasing as you trailed the cold metal up your arm, biting your lip as heat pooled low in your belly.

You even went so far to press the sharp point into your skin, stopping short of making yourself bleed, but enough you could see a small indentation in your skin. Your little ‘exercise’ cemented the idea further into your brain, the idea of something so dangerous being used in such a vulnerable position was intoxicating.

You’d taken your time, thinking over the idea, and carefully considering. You wanted to be sure of yourself before bringing the idea to Poe. He wouldn’t judge you for changing your mind, but still, it would be a little embarrassing to change your mind. Poe was careful with your boundaries, always checking in when the two of you went a little further than normal, and you knew that this would be no different.

All this had led to you coming to Poe’s office on your break and asking what he thought. He was considering it, as you knew he would, leaning back in his chair. His eyes are raking over you already, but you give him time, even though your palms are sweating and you’re sure your heart rate is through the roof.

It’s only when he moves, fingers twitching in their grasp of the chair that you react, leaning forwards, your feet swinging slightly at the motion.

“Ok,” he nods, and before you can fling yourself at him, he holds a hand up. “But. We have to establish some rules, like what kind of knife are we going to use?”

You nod, already pulling up the bag that had been resting on the floor, slumped over and forgotten in your excitement. You rummage around for a second, trying to find-

“Here!” You hold the knife out for Poe to take, grinning at the amusement in his eyes. “It’s blunt on both sides, you’d have to apply some pretty serious pressure if you wanted to do any damage.”

The knife is - and there’s really no other word for it - pretty, with a black blade, and decorated handle. It’s small, about 15 cm long, but the metal is heavy, and one that will stay cold for a long time. It had raised a few eyebrows when you’d asked for a pretty knife with two blunt edges, but you were a Dameron, and had some sway of your own. If you told those lower than you to obtain a specific knife discreetly and with no questions asked, so it happened.

Poe takes his time examining it, admiring it from all angles, shooting you another look, this time filled with pride.

“I did my research.” You flip your hair as if it was nothing, omitting how expensive the final bill had been, and how you’d charged it to your work account.

“That’s my girl,” he praises, still looking the knife over. Then he rests it in his lap, so he can roll up one of his sleeves, talking all the while. “Now tell me what you want me to do to you.”

So you do, explaining you’d quite like to be blindfolded but not restrained, to keep your colour system as the safeword, all while Poe is pressing the blade at different angles into his forearm, testing out different pressures.

When you pause, watching him, Poe glances up at you. “Go on.” Is all he says, and you nod, swallowing.

“I’d quite like it if you pulled the knife along my legs.” Your voice is quiet, but sure. “And maybe the same with my arms.” You pause, feeling nerves rising inside you and reminding yourself that this is your husband.

“I think… pressing the blade around my breasts would be sexy.” Poe pauses as he presses the flat edge of the blade into his forearm. “Just tracing around,” you continue, slightly braver now you have piqued Poe’s interest. “Maybe you could hold it against my throat? I don’t… I don’t know when, exactly, but I think it would be hot.”

You take a second, breathing deeper and you raise your chin to meet Poe’s gaze, feeling more confident as you continue. “Maybe you could hold it against my throat when you fuck me.” Poe’s gaze is fire, burning through you as he loosely holds your knife in his hands. “Maybe you could blindfold me and tell me that you wish the knife had a sharp end so you could carve your initials into my skin, showing that I belong to you.”

“And,” you start to move now, hopping off the desk so you can straddle Poe, easily plucking the knife from his hand, and looking down at it. “Maybe one day I can use it on you, and I can tell you how much I want to carve my initials into your skin.”

“Because we belong to each other,” Poe murmurs, his voice low. You nod in agreement, mouthing at his pulse point, and trailing sloppy kisses above the cut of his uniform. “I’d love that, sweetness.” His hands are running up and down your sides. “I love you.”

You just hum happily, content to be breathing in Poe’s scent, to feel surrounded by him. You’re interrupted by a knock on the door, and you just sag into Poe, the knife pressing slightly into your stomachs as you nose at his throat, unwilling to face the inevitable departure.

“What is it?” Poe’s voice is once again hard and forceful, impatient with whoever dared to interrupt.

“Sir?” The voice is young and you turn slightly, just enough to spy a young recruit in your peripheral view, not quite brave enough to enter the room, instead choosing to dither in the doorway, holding a number of files. “I’ve got these for you to sign.”

Poe just huffs, not bothering to address the recruit. You know what’s about to happen so you untangle yourself, before leaning over to grab one last kiss from Poe before the evening. It starts off innocently enough, a small peck on your husband’s lips as a goodbye, but then you back for another. This time his mouth is open as it meets yours, and you happily deepen it, despite the awkward angle that you have to hold yourself at. Your earlier conversation has fuelled your desire, revving you up, and the idea of waiting is hellish.

You taste all of Poe, moving one hand to his face, moving to feel the slight scratch of his beard underneath the pads of your fingers. His hand moves to cup your jaw, and you forget about the recruit standing in the doorway until there’s a slightly awkward shuffling in the corner.

So you break away, slowly, unwillingly, Poe’s mouth following even as you stand to your full height. “See you later,” you murmur, leaving your blunt knife in his lap, and pressing one more quick kiss to his cheek.

His hand catches yours as you leave, and he lowers his lips to your knuckles, soft lips juxtaposing with the harsh strands of his beard. “I love you.” They’re commonly said words between you, but they never lose their power, especially not when Poe says them, like you’re a goddess on a pedestal and he’s an unworthy sinner who wants nothing more than to worship at your feet. Said reverently, like it’s a privilege to love you.

The recruit is forgotten again as you look back down at Poe, still unable (or maybe unwilling, you’re not entirely sure) to tear yourself away. This time it’s a small, almost involuntary clearing of the throat that makes you duck down again for a kiss on the other cheek. “I love you too.”

Poe flashes you a quick smile, before all softness leaves his face and he turns to the files the recruit is holding out for him. You admire him for a second by the door, proud of the terror that Poe can instil in those below him so easily.

***

You’re lying on your bed when Poe enters the room. He’s already taken off his shirt in the refresher, exposing his chest, the warm glow of small lamps around the room making his chest look more golden than usual, as though he’d been touched by Midas. The belt holding his trousers up is slung low around his hips, and you can just see where his snail trail mixes into a darker bush, just peeking over the top of the fabric.

You’re wearing some of your favourite lingerie, bra matching your panties, straps criss-crossing your hips, and outlining your breasts. It’s soft against your skin, the satin material outlining your curves, allowing your nipples to poke through the flimsy fabric. Part of the reason that it’s your favourite is because Poe loves it so much.

You’d heard him enter your rooms, so the book in your hands is just for decoration, more concerned with the way you look resting among the pillows, upper body raised artfully against the headboard as you wait for your husband.

It still gives you a rush to call him that, and you idly wonder if it’ll ever fade.

He’s put his holster on, the one he wore on that mission, the strap doing nothing but emphasising his thigh. You recognise the handle peeking out of the shaft, and your mouth goes dry with excitement.

And Poe’s only looked at you, silent as he takes you in. Just his presence can have such an effect on you. When he does speak, his voice is hoarse, and your eyes flick down, admiring the already large bulge in his trousers. “Fuck baby.”

You swallow, your breath already coming faster, you look at Poe like it’s the first time, tracing the outline of his shoulders as if you don’t already know them by heart. He’s wearing his necklace, a familiar sight, the only change being that the ring that used to hang on his breast bone is now on your left hand, but Poe still never takes it off.

You plan on moving to Poe, plan to blow his mind before he can blow yours but before you can he’s already crawling on top of you, holding his weight on his forearms either side of you, dipping his head down to kiss you.

This kiss isn’t like the one in the office, more hungry, more urgent. There’s none of the calmness simmering between the surface, Poe’s let go of his control.

You automatically hook your legs around his waist, already canting your hips upwards as you grind on the seam of Poe’s trousers.

You separate your lips from Poe’s, moving down his throat, kissing, and biting as you go, beard scratching the skin on your face, pleasurable little bites of pain. When you can, you grab hold of his chain between your teeth, tugging on it slightly.

You move your hands up to bury your hands in the neat curls on top of Poe’s head, pulling in tandem with the chain.

And just like that, with a flash of fluid movement, the knife is pressed dangerously against the column of your throat, pushing your head back onto the pillows, forcing you to release the chain. It’s cold, and feels sharp, and Poe’s using it to force your chin back and up, pressing into your skin.

“Are you going to behave?” His voice is a growl.

You just grin at him, ignoring the thrills shooting up your spine, and the way your legs are tingling with excitement.

“Maybe you should use that knife and find out.”

Poe just rolls his eyes in response, fishing into his pocket as he leans back. “Put that on, sweetheart,” he instructs, tossing you a small square of black silk, your blindfold. “And lie back.” You do as you’re told, putting the blindfold on carefully, adjusting it around your hair for comfort, before scooting down the bed and lying back.

You close your eyes behind the blindfold, never enjoying the sensation of seeing darkness, and instead feeling like you’re floating as you wait for Poe to do something.

“Colour?”

Stars you can’t tell where he is.

“Green!” Your voice is embarrassingly desperate but you want to start and what is taking Poe so long? Why isn’t he touching you yet? You can hear him moving around the bed, feel the slight disturbances in the air, but you’re still not entirely sure where he is.

The first thing Poe does is pull at the waistband of your underwear. You lift your hips, helping him pull them off, and then you wait. You can hear Poe breathing, but he doesn’t do anything for a moment and you’re free to let your imagination run.

Has he discarded them, and he’s just watching you? Admiring you? Or is he holding them up to his face, still in awe of how wet you get for him, smelling you, tasting you, without you even knowing? You’re wet, you can feel the heat gathering between your legs, but has it been enough to leak onto your panties?

And then the foot of the bed dips, Poe travelling up to straddle you, coming to a rest on your thighs. He sits there for a moment, not moving, and you keen for him, desperate for him to start doing anything.

You can’t see the look on his face, can only imagine his expression, and it’s driving you wild.

When the knife first touches your skin, it’s a shock, cold thrills shooting up your arm from where the knife is resting lightly on the inside of your wrist. You giggle, releasing some of the tension building in the room, causing Poe to lift the knife from where it’s resting, instead leaning over to bite the skin under your ear, his chest brushing yours. “Concentrate,” he admonishes you, but you can feel him smiling against your skin at you, that softness that comes easy to him when it’s just the two of you.

You arch your back towards him as he stays there, enjoying the feeling of his chest against yours, the way his warmth spreads through you. You can feel his chain trapped between your bodies too, a warm, comforting presence, at such odds to the knife in Po’e hand.

You giggle again, his beard tickling your neck when he drops a kiss, when you feel the knife turn on your skin and curve up your arm. It’s cold, and sharp, and if you didn’t know it was blunt, you’d be worried about the amount of blood running into the bedsheets. The sensation is enough to stop your laughing, and you take in a breath, short and barely audible.

Poe’s sat up now, away from you, and you arch your back towards where he must be, desperate for contact as he travels the knife slowly up your arm and across the front of your shoulder.

You struggle to press your legs together, already attempting to relieve some of the pressure building. Poe doesn’t miss your subtle squirming, kissing the soft underside of your jaw, before talking. “That feel good?”

You nod, whining out a “Yes Poe, it-it feels so good, don’t stop, don’t stop, stars.” Poe adjusts himself, bringing one leg over your thigh so he can fit a knee at the junction of your legs. One of your hands flies down to grab Poe’s thigh, clumsy fingers looking for him before spreading across his warm skin. Your other hand is already fisting into the sheets at your side.

“Poe.”

It’s a whine, high-pitched and a bit pathetic, even as you shift your hips down, feeling the delicious grind of Poe’s uniform catching on your bare pussy, imagining the mess you’re leaving on his uniform not for the first time, feeling oh so good when you angle your hips in a certain way to press your clit. You’re soaked, you can already feel it slightly on your inner thighs and you dimly remember a time when you were embarrassed at how easily Poe aroused you.

He uses the knife to push the straps of your bra down your shoulders, cold and slow and achingly painful, but Poe doesn’t slide them all the way down your arms, even as he allows you to keep grinding your hips down against his leg.

He lowers his mouth to your breasts, mouthing at your nipples through the thin fabric, a wet heat pooling and you mewl in protest, impatient and wanting more. Always more.

More, more, more.

You don’t think you could ever get enough of your husband.

And his beard. The skin on your breasts is soft, sensitive, and you can feel the burn already, even through your bra. Each scratch sends a thrill up your chest, settling in your throat as you let out small noises of enjoyment for your husband.

Poe moves under your breasts, kissing and nipping at your exposed skin, and you move your hands to his head, fumbling a little at first, your knuckles accidentally knocking into the side of his face when you misjudge the distance, until you find his thick curls.

They’re soft under your fingertips, and you tangle your fingers in, tugging every now and then. Poe’s moving at an excruciating pace, and you want more now. Your arms are caught slightly in your bra straps and you impatiently push them down, not liking the restraint.

“Please, Poe.” You struggle to find his head again, before giving him another, harder, tug, and now it’s Poe’s turn to moan against your skin.

“Baby,” He sounds just as broken as you feel, even as he keeps his hands on your shoulder, the knife resting gently against the column of your throat.

Poe peels your now-wet bra from your breasts, undoing the centre clasp and allowing it to fall to the bed at your side. He kisses somewhere on your stomach, moving his free hand down, slipping through your folds easily, and dipping in his fingers, spreading the slick that’s gathered there, and you widen your legs further in an automatic attempt to make it easier for him.

You can’t help it, lifting your hips when he slides in one finger, gasping in pleasure. Poe gives you a second to adjust, before stretching you with a second finger, and you can feel his smirk as he kisses your stomach, crooking his fingers towards your sweet spot a couple of inches inside you, moving slowly as he teases you.

His chain just touches your skin when he kisses you, each movement jostling it a little, and you giggle, pulling at it in a futile attempt to control Poe’s movements.

Warmth is spreading all over your body despite the cool knife, and you can feel droplets of sweat beading, on your face, your neck. You’re sure there’s sweat on your breasts and stomach and legs too, but you don’t care.

Poe moves the knife from your neck, and you’ve lost your concentration, unable to figure out how he’s lying, lost in the sensations of the cold glide of the knife over your sweaty body as you moan, Poe working magic with his fingers. You can feel his weight on top of you and you allow yourself to float further, willingly losing yourself in the sensations.

“Colour?”

Poe’s voice is hoarse, even as he keeps moving his fingers inside you, building you up and up, the knife hesitantly pressed on the underside of your breast.

Your arch your back towards him enthusiastically, gasping out, “Green! Poe, it feels so good!”

The knife starts to circle the flesh of your breasts, pushing in the side of one, before Poe moves it to the other, and you’re sure your nipples are hard. You’re trying to push your body up, Poe making you feel light and airy and like he’ll raise you above such mundane things as lying in a bed.

His fingers are moving in and out of you now, and this is so close to your fantasy from the other day that you come close to your peak embarrassingly fast.

“You really like this, don’t you?” Poe’s purring in your ear, and you tip your head towards him, mouth falling open in response. You do. You do really like this.

The only sound you can make is a strangled moan, and you hope Poe knows what you mean, his fingers speeding up with your confirmation. He keeps talking, as though you’re going to be able to answer, his voice only spurring you on. “I bet you can’t wait to do this to me, my filthy little thing.”

“Do you want my cock? I can’t wait to get you bouncing on my dick again.”

“You’re so wet for me, you’re dripping around my fingers.”

And stars, you are wet, Poe’s fingers sliding in and out with a practiced movement, his thumb flicking at your clit, and you can hear the squelching of Poe’s fingers in your pussy, even as blood starts to roar through your ears.

“Fuck,” you swear, panting, your body hot. “Fuck, Poe. Poe.”

It’s like his name is the only word you can remember, the only word allowed to pass your lips, a prayer, a chant, repeated over and over again as he lifts you higher.

And then the tip of the blade is on your nipple and you’re going to come, you can feel it, your legs tensing even as your hips writhe on the sheets below you, keening for Poe, still desperate for more.

You cum with a breathless gasp of Poe’s name, hips bucking upwards into Poe, your pussy clenching around his fingers which don’t stop moving as he works you through it. He moves to kiss you, noses bumping as he adjusts his position, slowing the movements of his fingers as you continue to spasm helplessly below him.

And this is better, because as you come down from your high, your heart beating like a drum in your chest, you can feel Poe’s chest against yours, his heart beating nearly as fast as yours as your lips move slowly against each other.

Your hands come up, pushing the blindfold onto your forehead, preventing any sweat from dripping into your eyes and you take in the sight before you. You’re unintentionally giving Poe your bedroom eyes, you know, unable to open them fully, still giddy from pleasure. There’s a lazy smile on your lips as you drink Poe in.

His hair has become disheveled from your hands, errant black curls flopping everywhere, including his own forehead, which is gleaming from a thin sheen of sweat. His eyes are dark, that lovely brown colour almost swallowed whole by his pupils and his lips are pinker than usual, swollen.

He’s straddling your thighs, one hand resting on your hip with glistening fingers, the wet catching on your sticky skin while his thumb idly draws patterns into your skin. Poe’s other hand is holding onto the knife, and you let your eyelids dip, unable to keep them open for much longer.

Poe gives you a minute of rest, allowing you to catch your breath, before he moves. You don’t think anything of it, until you feel the knife on the inside of your thigh, scraping up your leg like an old-fashioned razor.

You slowly lift your head, opening lazy eyes and watch as Poe slowly moves the knife up. There’s slick liquid on your legs, proof of your release, proof of how much you enjoyed Poe, how much you enjoyed the knife, now collecting on the edge, white and shiny on the blade.

Your mouth’s dry and you can’t tear your eyes away, you and Poe concentrating on the same spot.

And then, oh maker, Poe closes his eyes, and fuck, he lifts the knife up to his mouth. There’s a flash of white teeth, pearly and sharp, then a swipe of his pink tongue, and your cum is gone, Poe swallowing, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

Stars, he’s going to kill you.

There’s a drop stuck to his beard, but you can’t move, frozen as arousal courses again through your body.

Your heart is hammering in your chest as though it’s trying to escape. This time it’s your turn to move, pushing Poe down and straddling him, settling into his lap.

This isn’t the end.

***

Taglist: @darthdameron

Thanks for reading! Reblogs and comments mean the world to me 🥰🥰🥰

#first order poe dameron #FO! poe dameron #FO! poe dameron x reader #fo! poe x reader #knife play

222 notes · View notes

sithsecrets · 3 years

Text

rumors | din djarin x reader

A bit of gossip gets under your skin, but Din shows you that it's all a bunch of lies.

---

4k words

mentions: VERY EXPLICIT SMUT, fem!reader, a bit of harassment at the beginning, self-doubt, establishing a relationship, discussions about relationship dynamics, din tells reader his name

---

You know you’re in for trouble the minute two Guild Members sidle up next to you at the bar, shit-eating grins plastered on both of their faces.

They greet you and the baby with a kind of fake friendliness that makes your skin crawl, and not for the first time do you wonder what’s taking Mando and Greef so fucking long. The two men usually do business in under ten minutes, five if Mando can manage it, but of course today is the one day they decide to shoot the shit and pal around like old friends.

“So you’re Mando’s crew member, huh?” asks one of the bounty hunters, light eyes glinting mischievously as he leans in. “What’s he paying you these days anyway? Because I’d be happy to double his rate if it meant getting to have something as pretty as you around me all the time.”

“Ten percent,” you answer, choosing to ignore that last little comment, “and I’m perfectly okay with that.”

“That’s not bad,” Blue Eyes’ friend answers, brushing back a lock of his greasy hair with a smirk. “But what does that fee cover? You just a nanny for whatever the fuck that is,” he gestures to the Child in your lap, “or do you provide Mando with other services as well?”

On your left, Blue Eyes lets out a snicker, and Stringy Hair seems pleased with himself. You huff and roll your eyes, not at all in the mood for this shit.

“I take care of the baby and the ship, and I pilot the Crest from time to time.”

“You hear that, man? She’s a pilot and a maid!”

“Three guesses as to what she gives a good spit shine every night,” and then the two of them are absolutely cracking up, snickering behind their glasses as they toss back a round. They’re just mocking you now, so desperately trying to get a reaction, and you’re horrified by how it’s almost working. You don’t want to give them the satisfaction, but if they so much as—

“Everything alright over here?”

Mando’s voice is like a bucket of cold water down your back, startling you so badly that you almost fall off your barstool. The baby lets out a shriek of surprise, and you rush to make sure he’s secure in your arms before you turn around.

“Just fine,” you lie, rushing to get up. “We were just talking about your latest bounty.”

Stringy Hair and Blue Eyes don’t move to correct you, much more subdued now that Mando’s arrived on the scene. They greet him with respect, but he hardly gives the two dickheads a passing glance.

“We need to get back,” Mando tells you, and you’ve never been so glad to hear those words.

You nod, and then the three of you are trekking back to the Crest in silence. Mando goes up the cockpit immediately once you arrive, off to punch in the coordinates for his next quarry. Apparently Greef’s given him some kind of special assignment, so they journey to the next planet will be a long one.

The Crest lurches into hyperspace within minutes of takeoff, and you try to settle in for the evening, putting the baby down for the night, getting ready for bed yourself. The Child sleeps like a rock, but you aren’t so fortunate, tossing and turning in your little bed. It’s the conversation with those two assholes from earlier that’s got you so restless, their words playing over and over again in your head on loop. You don’t know why what they said bothers you, but it does. It bothers you a lot, in fact, mostly because they weren’t entirely wrong.

Everything you told Blue Eyes and Stringy Hair is true— Mando cuts you in ten percent on his bounties, and in exchange, you take care of the baby, maintain the ship (its living spaces and its mechanics, thank you very much), and you pilot the Crest from time to time when asked. But… But you’ve also fucked Mando before. Twice. Three times if you count the blowjob you gave him last week, but you’re not entirely sure that fits under the definition of “fucking.” Regardless of the details, you’ve had sexual contact with the Mandalorian— this is a fact. Mando’s never directly offered you money in return for sex, but it’s not like he didn’t just pay you your cut of his bounty less than an hour ago. And if those two pigs from the cantina could peg you at fifty yards, Maker knows what everybody else is thinking. Greef, Cara, even Peli on Tatooine— all of them must think you’re just Mando’s whore, right along with the rest of the Guild.

The idea of this weighs heavy on your mind, two parts of you waging an internal war. Your rational side says that you shouldn’t care what other people think of you— you’re a grown woman approaching thirty, and what you do with your body and your time is no one’s business but your own. The side of you that yearns to be accepted, however, worries that everyone’s secretly laughing at your behind your back, that they all think very little of you because of what you’ve done. And how could you blame them? You’ve let your employer fuck you twice, and all without him showing you an ounce of affection otherwise. Just thinking about it makes you feel remorseful, anxiety twisting in your stomach as you toss and turn in bed. And to make things worse, a third voice emerges in your mind, one that’s small and timid and raw. This little part of you wonders what Mando thinks of all this— it wonders what Mando thinks of you. You feel sick the minute it occurs to you, the notion that Mando could think nothing of you as well. Everyone else can say whatever they want, you suppose, if Mando still respects you at the end of the day. If he still cares for you at the end of the day…

After a whole hour, you decide that you won’t be sleeping until you get all of this sorted out. You’re almost shaking with anxiety as you approach the ladder, but you climb up to the cockpit anyway, calling out Mando’s name with a wavering voice. He says you can come in, and so you do, padding into the little space on socked feet.

“Everything okay?” Mando asks, vaguely distracted as he looks through holoimages on the display before him. You catch snatches of the same alien being in each one— Mando’s next quarry, no doubt.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “The baby’s asleep. He went down well tonight.”

Mando hums. “Good.”

“I, um. I’m having trouble sleeping, though, and I was hoping we could talk.”

Mando doesn’t look away from the holoimages as he speaks to you. “What about?”

You balk for a moment, gathering courage. “Us.”

Finally, it would seem you have Mando’s full attention. He shuts off the display and turns his chair until it faces you, the blue light of hyperspace reflecting off his armor and helmet. You grow shy under Mando’s gaze as you so often do, but you force yourself to be brave anyway. You can’t go on like this— you have to know.

“Us?” Mando echoes, titling his helmet just the slightest bit forward. You nod, and he straightens up again, regarding you. “What about us?”

“The sex,” you say slowly, “or, more specifically, why we had sex in the first place.”

“We had sex because we wanted to,” Mando says at once, and you just want to scream. He won’t make this easy on you, will he?

“Right, of course, but… but what made you want to come at me like that? Do you just like my body and how I look, or is it because you pay me—?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Mando cuts, losing all semblance of cool indifference in one fell swoop, “you don’t— Please don’t tell me that you think having sex with me is part of your job.”

“I don’t, I don’t!” you declare, rushing to prevent a miscommunication before it happens. “I just— I just wasn’t sure why you wanted me of all people, and I met some people today that thought you hired me just so you could fuck me or whatever. They—”

“Was it those two fuckheads from the cantina?” Mando asks, tone absolutely murderous, and all you can do is nod. “What exactly did they say?”

“They asked me about my pay and about what’s ‘included in my fee,’” you reply, face burning at the thought of what Stringy Hair and Blue Eyes said at the bar. “They said you were probably paying me for sex the way you pay me to take care of the ship and the baby. It just… It made me self-conscious because we have had sex, and I wasn’t sure what that meant. I know they’re just assholes, but now I’m afraid everybody thinks that of me, especially Cara and Greef and your other friends.”

Mando lets out a long, heavy sigh. “Come here,” he says, beckoning you over with an outstretched hand. You hesitate to move, shocked by the gesture, and the Mandalorian repeats himself. “Come here, cyar’ika, please.”

The beskar is cold against the back of your thighs, but you settle in Mando’s lap anyway, sure you must be dreaming at this point. He fingers the hem of your long, baggy sleepshirt, one arm holding you securely.

“None of my friends think you’re fucking me for money,” Mando begins, “I promise. Those guys from the Guild you met today, they’re assholes just like you said. They might treat their women that way, but that’s not me. It never will be. Understand?”

You nod shyly, relishing in the way Mando begins drawing little circles at the base of your spine.

“Good. Now to answer your question… I had sex with you because I wanted to, yes, but it wasn’t just to get off. The baby likes you, and you do a good job taking care of the ship. People like you wherever we go… Ilike being around you.”

You’re smart enough to know that that’s a big statement coming from a man like Mando, and you reward him for this display of vulnerability with a soft smile.

“I like being around you too, Mando.”

The helmet tilts just the slightest bit, and you wonder what his expression looks like under the beskar.

“I like being around you,” Mando repeats, speaking slowly, “and… and I’m sorry. For starting like that, I mean.”

Your brows draw together. “What are you talking about?”

Mando readjusts his grip on your, and the way his hand settles over the curve of your thigh is enough to make you shiver. “I should have taken my time with you. Fucking you against the wall, bending you over those crates in the back— that’s fine sometimes, but you deserve more.”

“If that’s how you like it, I don’t—”

He cuts you off then, a gloved thumb brushing against your bottom lip.

“I don’t care about me right now,” Mando says evenly, the tone of his voice picking at something deep in your stomach. “What do you want?”

It dawns on you then that this is foreplay— Mando’s decided he wants to fuck you again— and that makes your face hotter than fire itself. You know he’s waiting for an answer, so you decide to speak freely, the consequences of your words be damned.

“I want you to fuck me in bed,” you say slowly, whispering more than you’re talking. “With your gloves off. That’s not against the rules, right? You took them off the other day in front of me and Cara—”

“It’s not, mesh’la,” Mando affirms, the strange word dripping off his tongue like honey. You wonder what it means, though you don’t have the nerve to ask. “Go down to the hull and make us a space on the floor. I’ll be there in a minute.”

---

The darkness is disorienting, the blackness so black that you couldn’t see your own hand if it was two inches in front of your face. That’s by design, though, because none of this would be okay if you couldsee.

You had exactly two conditions earlier in the cockpit: in bed, no gloves. But it would seem that Mando had so much more in mind when he told you to come down here, and it’s anything beyond what you could have ever dreamed of. You’ve imagined this situation before, thought about what it might be like to know Mando this way, but to have it happen…

The beskar clangs softly as Mando lays it down, the sound letting you know that he’s somewhere off to your right. You’re sure he’s having no trouble seeing in the dark, given how many settings there on in his visor, but you can’t see a fucking thing. Not him, not his discarded armor, not even your own hand in front of you face. Under any other circumstance, you’d be afraid of the dark, but not now. No, now you simply tremble with anxiety, naked skin prickling with chills as you wait for Mando to undress himself. He stripped you first, of course, when the lights were still on, took his time and peeled your clothes off of you almost with reverence. You wish you could do the same to him, but something about that would be wrong you think— it would be crossing a line.

“Are you sure this is allowed?” you ask, almost whispering. The baby’s upstairs in the cockpit, dead to the world and tucked safely in his pram, and yet you still feel like you’re being too loud. Hyperspace is always so quiet, and the silence sets your teeth on edge even after all this time.

“Can you see me?” Mando asks, voice still filtered and staticky.

“I can’t even see myself,” you counter.

“Then it’s allowed.”

No more words pass between either of you for a moment, the space filled with the sound of clothes rustling. You hear a belt buckle and a zipper, can trace out the sounds of pants being kicked to the floor… Three short, bare footsteps, and then you aren’t alone on your little pallet anymore, Mando presence warm and undeniable close on the other side of the cushions.

“Cyar’ika.”

You aren’t sure if it’s the circumstances, or the fact that Mando speaks to you with a raw, unfiltered voice, but this one word picks at something inside you, gets you hot and needy where it counts. How many people has he laid down with like this? How many of them have heard Mando’s voice, his real voice, if any at all? You don’t know the answer to either of those questions, but you also don’t care, not right now.

“Can I touch you?” you ask softly, mustering all your strength and bravery. Mando doesn’t response, doesn’t so much as let out a breath, and so you jump when you feel his hand on your own. He guides you across the blankets, pulling you in closer, laying your palm on the warm, solid expanse of his forearm. Your fingers curl around it, squeezing the muscle, admiring the way Mando simply feels under your hands. He’s had so much of you— practically your whole body— and yet all you’ve been blessed with until tonight is the warmth of his hands, the feeling of his cock in you and on you. To feel his bare skin like this is strange, the fact that Mando is really and truly human coming into sharp focus as your fingers run along a scar, the hair on his arms…

“You’re handsome,” you declare, awed by feeling of Mando under your palms. He shudders when you lay your hand on the side of his face, the movement almost flinch-like in nature, but you’re quick to soothe his nerves with a gentle stroke of your thumb. You can’t imagine what this is like for Mando, can’t fathom what it must feel like to be touched when you hide yourself from everyone all the time. It’s in this moment that you realize he knows nothing of the sun or the wind, and your heart breaks for him.

“You wouldn’t say that if the lights were on.”

Mando sounds vaguely nervous now himself, voice more subdued than it was before. You have so much you want to say, want to shout out that you love everything about him and his body and your life together, but you that would be too much. No, doing something like that could ruin all of this in one fell swoop, and so you swallow those words down, replacing them with something else instead.

“If I ever get to see you one day,” you tell him, “I know for a fact that I’ll say the same thing. I promise.”

There’s a strange weight in that, a certain trust and understanding that you can’t put your finger on, but the pressure isn’t uncomfortable as it settles in the atmosphere, pressing you and Mando even closer. He pulls you under him without a word, holding you, twining your arms and legs and hands together until you aren’t sure where yours end and his begin. His kisses are tentative and unpracticed, but you feel the passion regardless, sighing as the press of Mando’s mouth tells you all the things he can’t say out loud. You don’t know how you ever got things twisted, aren’t sure how you could have possibly thought that Mando didn’t care for you because these aren’t the kisses and caresses of a man who sees you as little more than something to fuck. No, this is something else entirely, something better than you ever could have hoped for, and the rush of endorphins as your head swimming.

Your entire body arches when Mando begins to crawl down your body, his lips trailing over your neck and chest, your stomach and even the curve of your hip. “Mesh’la,” he says to you, murmuring into the spaces between your fingers. Mando’s paying particular attention to your hands now, kissing them delicately. “Listen to me, please.”

“Yes?” you say, half moaning as he drops your hand in favor of propping your legs open. The anticipation has you dizzy, brain fogged over completely as you wait, as you feel him line up your bodies—

Mando doesn’t say anything, not for several seconds, too distracted by the feel of you to speak. You’re fine with that, already too far gone to care after what, two, three thrusts? You couldn’t keep count if you wanted to, the haze in your brain too thick for any tedious mental activity to penetrate. Still, you try to listen like he asked, try to understand the words coming out of his mouth.

Mando’s voice is strained and low, but you catch everything regardless. “My name is Din,” he says to you, groaning shortly when you wind your fingers in his hair. “You can’t— You can’t say that in front of anyone, only to me and the baby. But that’s my name. I want you to call me by my name.”

“Anything you want, Din,” you say at once, and Maker does that have him swearing. Din does something with your body— opens your legs or lifts up your hips, something— and you see stars, whining brokenly. Not for the first time do you wish you could see his face or the plane of his back as he fucks you, but you have to admit that you’re glad that Din’s blind in all of this as well. You don’t even want to think about what you look like, how ruined and desperate your face must be. The pace is relentless now, and you find yourself struggling to keep up, keening and moaning and taking it until Din’s talking to you again.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, and you don’t understand.

“What?” you ask, breathless yourself. He hasn’t let up once since the two of you began, and even though you haven’t cum once, you already feel like you’re on another plane of existence.

“I’m sorry I never—” Din groans, adjusting his grip on your body. “I’m sorry I’m so bad at all of this shit. Talking and letting go and all the other stuff normal people do. I shouldn’t— You deserve more than that. I’m so sorry, cyar’ika.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” you tell him, holding fast to his shoulders, his arms, anything you can get your hands on. You don’t know how to tell him that all this is more than enough to make up for everything, that there’s hardly anything to make up for as it is.

“Yes, there is,” Din presses, and you know he wants to say more, but you cut him off before he can continue.

“Make me cum and kiss me while you do it,” you say to him, “and we’ll call it even.”

And Din seems more than happy to accept the deal, his fingers on your clit not three seconds after you’re done talking. You cum almost too fast, blindsided by your orgasm despite the fact that it’s been building for what feels like years now. Din’s not far behind you, asking whether or not he can cum inside you, and you tell him no, not this time. You have a long-term implant, but you it hasn’t been looked at by a medic in well over a year. It’s probably fine, but you’d rather be safe than sorry. And anyway, it’s not like the feeling of Din’s cum painting your stomach and chest isn’t incredibly hot, so you’re by no means complaining as you lie there and listen to him jerk himself off, your name falling from his lips.

“Stay here,” Din tells you, speaking gently even as he works to catch his breath. You miss him the second he’s gone, your ears straining to track his movements in the dark. Careful footsteps, the shuffling of blankets, the click of the light in the ‘fresher— you can’t see Din, not from this angle, but the idea that he even trusts you enough to cut a light on at a time like this has your heart pounding. He’s completely exposed in there, helmet still sitting next to his armor across the hull, and you almost close your eyes on reflex as you listen to the water run. But it’s all for nothing because Din tells you to do it anyway, turning off the faucet and stepping out into the hull again after you say that you’ve done as he asked.

The washcloth Din cleans you with is warm, a fact that’s not lost on you as you lie there in the semi-darkness. He’s quiet, but the delicate, precise nature of Din’s work speaks volumes. You want to ask him if this is something he does for everyone he sleeps with, but you keep your mouth shut, thinking a question like that might ruin the mood. He goes away from you again once your stomach’s clean, cutting off the light in the ‘fresher and discarding the rag all while you keep your eyes closed. It’s not until Din’s back in bed beside you that you dare to so much as crack them open, afraid you might glimpse too much if you move any sooner.

“Thank you,” you murmur. You’re not sure if you’re thanking Din for the sex or for cleaning you up, but it’s probably a bit of both.

“You’re welcome, cyar’ika,” he replies, pulling you in close. “Are you tired?”

You don’t speak for a moment, thinking of how hard it is to keep your eyes open now, how your thighs ache and your body yearns for rest. “Yeah.”

“Sleep, then,” Din tells you, and you almost feel pathetic for clinging to him like a child. Almost.

“Will you be here when I wake up?”

You aren’t sure why you’re asking— it’s not like Din has anywhere else to go— but his answer is important to you regardless.

“Right here, mesh’la,” he tells you, sounding tired now himself. “I promise.”

#my writing #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction

236 notes · View notes

alicanta77 · 4 years

Text

Boys Like This

Pairing: y/n x Haechan

Themes: fluff, angst, badboy au

Warnings: swearing, mentions of smoking, mentions of sex, sexual harassment (one drunk guy gets a bit too close)

Words: 18.8k - this was meant to be like 3k max someone save me

Tag list: @honei-n (happy birthday bubs!! ilysm and i’m sorry i’m not there to give you the biggest hug but have this instead) @lebrookestore @ch3nj1 @ridinhyuck @cacaubs @cheonsa1004 @tyongf-sunflower99

——————————————————————————

If you’re looking for the personification of the bad boy stereotype, look no further than Lee Donghyuck. His legs were clad in ripped black jeans and on his shoulders always lay his signature black leather jacket. His usually bruised knuckles were adorned with silver rings and the cigarette that hung from his lips all made him look like the typical bad boy out of a cheesy 90s romance film.

As infuriating as the smirk that was constantly plastered on his lips was, and the way he insisted everybody called him ‘Haechan’ instead of Donghyuck, you couldn’t deny that something about him pricked your interest.

Maybe it was something to do with how self assured he was, the confidence he radiated in simply being himself and being in his own skin that made people almost resent him for it. Or maybe it was something to do with how he reminded you of every boy that your mother would warn you about when you were growing up, being told to steer clear of the boys in black, they would be the ones to break your heart. Maybe it was the fact that as soon as anybody new arrives in the area, they’re immediately told to ‘Avoid Haechan, he’s bad news.’ And you weren’t the exception to the rule.

There’s just one problem, you never do what you’re told.

So when you were told to stay away from Haechan, you simply rolled your eyes and kept walking, you weren’t afraid of some bad boy. You’d moved around your entire life, your father’s job meaning you had to be prepared to pack up and travel wherever he needed you to, and, throughout your time you had heard of and come across every kind of character that there was in a high school. A few groups in particular always stuck out to you.

The jocks. Probably the most famous group and likely the first group that comes to anyone’s mind when you talk about high school. Jocks are an elite crowd, often very popular and normally find themselves very important. For them, high school tends to be the best time of their lives, sadly finding that this popularity and fear doesn’t translate to the workplace. Jocks are a large group as well, in fact, they often have so many members that they divide into sub-categories, usually by sport. You have the baseball team, the football team, the soccer team etc. and then these are ordered into a hierarchy apparently based on the importance that each team has to the school when in reality it’s down to how attractive/popular the team captain is.

Splitting off nicely from the jocks come the cheerleaders. Originally part of the same pack but grew in popularity when they adopted mean girls cliché. Therefore, in order to gain more power and dominate the school, they became a separate breed. The Head Cheerleader was guaranteed to be just as popular as she was bitchy, a stereotype that you were fed up of. What if they were actually nice people and felt as though they had to be rude cause that was what the “role” of Head Cheerleader asked of them? What kind of a place would that be? Anyway, getting back to the point, the best thing to do with this group, would be to avoid them entirely.

Then, usually the polar opposite in terms of popularity, come the nerds/geeks. You had never really been sure why this particular group was always picked on. You always thought that being smart and doing well in life was something to brag about, but then, maybe you just had weird opinions. They formed a cluster and stuck with it, whilst also managing to keep themselves to themselves. They sat at the same seats in class, the same table at lunch and never argued back. Despite their deathly awkwardness and shy behaviour, they were usually pretty good people. You just had to be willing to put in the effort to break through their shell.

Next come the artsy kids. This group can, once again, split into sub categories based on Theatre, Art, Dance and Music but that depends on the size of the school. Normally they just come under the umbrella term of the artsy kids. Very easy to pick on but are normally left alone. They’re pretty chill and mostly mind their own business, despite often being slightly obnoxious about the art that they specialise in. You swore that if one person asked you to go and see their one woman show you might punch them. You’re a broke student, why would you pay to put yourself through two hours of pretentious speech? Yeah, the artsy kids weren’t quite your scene.

Honourable mentions go to the stoners, the class clowns, the hipsters, the ‘I was born in the wrong generation’, the gamers and the punks. But there was only one group left worth mentioning.

Finally, the last stereotypical school clique would be the troublemakers, otherwise known as the bad boys and bad girls The commonalities between the two groups tend to include things like, black ripped clothing, silver jewellery, sassy attitudes and bad decisions. They never stray from their crowd, finding other groups too boring and stuck up for their taste. The cheerleaders and jocks attempt to pick on them, but it rarely works out in their favour. Instead of leaving victorious while dropping the mic, they often find themselves running back to their respective groups with their tail in between their legs. They like to either find relationships with their own kind, or play around with various people until they’re bored. Things are never too serious for this group.

So as soon as you arrived, you knew you’d need to find somewhere to fit in. You didn’t really conform to one of the many cliche groups that roamed this new school. You instead thought that people were a mixture of all of them, and shouldn’t be defined by a single personality trait, but that often wasn’t the most popular opinion. In fact, that opinion is why you often found yourself alone, wandering the halls by yourself. Sometimes people pitied you (usually the hipsters or artsy kids who tried to make you “find your passion”) but, to be honest, you didn’t mind it.

Being by yourself meant that you didn’t owe anything to anyone, and it meant that you could turn the school upside down and disappear without regretting a thing. After all, that’s how you left your last three schools.

---

You walked through the doors on your first day, to empty folders tucked under your arm as you walked towards the Principle’s office. You had barely made it five steps before some guys in a football jersey stopped you. He moved in front of you, buffing himself up in an attempt to look more impressive. You refused to speak first, instead just raising your eyebrows judgmentally.

‘So what should I call you?’ He purred, looking at you through hooded eyes.

‘You shouldn’t.’ You cut back, already tired of his attempt at flirting. You knew you had “new kid” written all over you and this wasn’t a genuine attempt, but most like rather a “welcome to the school fresher” and you weren’t here for it.

‘Trouble it is.’ The guy flirted, sending you a cheesy wink to which you could only respond with a groan and an eye roll.

‘God could you get anymore cliche? You may want to be a bit more inventive if you wanna impress me.’ With a quick tilt of your head, you turned and stalked past him to the other end of the hall, leaving the poor jock with his mouth hanging slightly open at your reply.

You felt a bit bad turning him down so intensely like that, but you also knew that if you didn’t make a strong first impression, you would be like fresh meat to them. And you didn’t want to go through that again.

---

After meeting the Principle, getting his painfully rehearsed welcome speech, then dealing with the three students who called themselves the “Welcome Committee”, you briefly stopped off at your locker to grab the text book that had been left there for you and place your empty folders there. You wouldn’t need them until your classes anyway. You picked up the textbook and grabbed a pad of paper that was conveniently left there for you as well and headed towards your Maths class.

You walked through the door, sighing in defeat as you saw you were one of the last ones to arrive. This meant that all eyes were on you and the teacher stood up and introduced you as the new student.

‘So y/n why don’t you tell the class a little bit about yourself?’ The teacher gave you a wide smile, one that you were sure was meant to reassure you but it honestly just creeped you out slightly.

‘Uhhh, sure. My name’s y/n and I moved here about a month ago.’ You sent the class a quick nod before attempting to move off to head off an empty seat at the back.

‘Ahhh come now y/n, I’m sure there’s more that you can tell us.’ The teacher stopped you in your tracks, as you let out a breath of annoyance.

‘Ok. I’ve never lived anywhere longer than a year, I like coffee and I’m done with this now.’ You quickly moved away before the teacher could stand up and make you continue. You slouched in your seat, crossing your arms and letting out another sigh of frustration.

You had just opened your books and prepared to start listening when the door swung open again. All the heads in the class, including yours, looked to see who would be walking in so late. A boy appeared, his honey skin glowing slightly in the morning sun that reflected off his leather jacket and silver jewellery. He probably couldn’t get more cliche, but he also couldn’t get more beautiful.

‘Haechan, you’re late.’ Your teacher snapped and you looked back at the boy walking through the seats.

So this was Haechan, this was who you had been warned about earlier. You remembered the annoyingly cheery welcome that this group of three had given you, yet this preppy ginger was the only one who spoke. You were sure she was a really lovely person, she was just way too excited about the first day of school to not be annoying. Anyway, she’d told you about the groups at school and made a point to mention this “Haechan”. Her exact words being:

‘Let me save you the trouble, Haechan is the last person you want to get involved with here, in any way. He puts himself as number one and nothing and no one is going to change that. It’s in your best interests to stay away from him.’

And yet, despite your absolutely minimal effort to avoid him, this Haechan was standing at the front of your class, and you couldn’t lie, you were already intrigued.

‘Yeah I’m aware.’ Haechan retaliated, his bored voice bringing you out of your memories and back to reality.

‘Do you feel like apologising?’ The teacher asked, a very forced smile on his face. Haechan turned back towards him, breathing in as if he was thinking before responding with a smile.

‘Not really, no.’ He then turned away and walked towards the back of the classroom. He approached where you were sitting, examined you quickly causing you to frown at his behaviour, before he pulled out the chair next to yours and collapsed into it.

He slouched back into his seat, crossing his arms and staring mindlessly at the front of the class, where the teacher was still sending him the stink eye.

‘Haechan, did you bring your books?’ The teacher asked with the kind of tone that told you he probably already knew the answer.

‘Nope!’ The boy replied, popping the ‘p’ and causing the teacher to obviously roll his eyes.

‘Well, maybe our new student, y/n, would be nice enough to share with you for today?’

It took everything in you not to roll your eyes at his statement. But you still shifted your textbook in between the two of you so that he could see it. Haechan sat up in his chair slightly in surprise, as if he wasn’t expecting you to actually do it.

‘Thank you y/n. Now let’s begin-’ The teacher turned back to the board and began the lesson.

After only about five minutes you realised that you had done this entire topic in your previous school. It had been necessary for you to pass the entrance exam here, so you knew all of this already. You huffed once again in frustration, dropping your pen and leaning back in your chair as you began to pick at your nails. Why would they bother to ask you to know something that they’re just going to teach you as soon as you got here?

You could see Haechan notice and begin to subtly watch your behaviour so you leant forwards to whisper to him.

‘Is there something interesting about me?’

‘That’s exactly what I’m trying to figure out.’ Haechan replied, his voice just as soft as yours was and yet you couldn’t resist the shivers that it sent down your spine.

“Well let me know if you find anything?’ You spoke softly, turning away from him to look at the ceiling as he did the same.

‘Haven’t you been told to stay away from me?’ He asked you, not even bothering to look back towards you.

‘Oh yeah, I got that speech. The welcoming committee was quite informative about you and your personality.’ Now that got his attention. His head turned, as he looked at you out of the corner of his eye, examining your features carefully.

‘So...’ He spoke, dragging out the word as he looked at you.

‘So?’ You asked, not sure what he was getting at.

‘Why aren’t you doing as you were told?’ He questioned, leaving you to turn back to him with an amused look on your face.

‘What makes you think I wanna do what they tell me to? They look as though they have the personality of milk.’ You groaned, remembering the fake happiness that radiated off them.

Haechan couldn’t help the chuckle that came up in his throat, unable to believe just how accurate your words were. Nobody in that school would quite be able to admit that that girl wasn’t drop dead boring.

‘Well, you’re a little firecracker aren’t you?’ He smirked at you, causing you to simply raise an eyebrow in reply. ‘I think you’re gonna fit right in with us.’

‘Who says I want to?’ You smirked back, now enjoying the interaction you were having.

‘Do you want to?’ He leant in closer and you could smell the mint of his breath.

‘We’ll see. Don’t want to give away all my secrets so quickly.’ You pulled back, leaving Haechan awkwardly leaning over half of your desk just as the teacher turned back around.

‘Haechan! Not only are you not paying attention but you’re distracting y/n as well. If you’re not going to pay attention you can wait outside until you’re prepared to take this class seriously.’ He snapped, and Haechan turned to you with a surprised look on his face, not expecting you to have set him up like that. He nodded, unable to keep the small smile from his lips and stood, walking swiftly out of the door at the front.

He leaned back in for one second, just to cheekily wave at the teacher who looked as though he was about to explode and it took everything in you to stop yourself from laughing.

A couple more minutes passed before you were bored beyond belief. You were starting to think that getting your only source of entertainment, Haechan, kicked out of class wasn’t the smartest idea you’d ever had. You were halfway through counting the black marks on the ceiling when you heard a very quiet tapping from behind you, You turned around in your chair to see Haechan standing by the floor length window at the back of the classroom. He was on the outside looking in and quickly gestured for you to follow him.

He cracked the window open slightly and leant in, getting just close enough to you to whisper:

‘I’ve played your game, now it’s my turn. Your move y/n, are you gonna live up to your attitude or are you all talk?’

With that he moved away from the window, hiding behind the wall as the teacher turned around again. You didn’t want to get caught sneaking out on your first day, but you also couldn’t stand the idea of letting Haechan win. Somehow the boy was an addictive kind of annoying, no matter how infuriated or annoyed you had gotten, you already wanted more.

You waited for the teacher to turn around and quickly piled up your books, placing them on the shelf under your desk. This was your only class of the day and you were in here the next morning so you weren’t too fussed about leaving them behind.

You began to get up but your eyes suddenly caught sight of blue haired guy sitting a couple of rows ahead of you watching you. He raised his eyebrows in question, as if asking if you were going to go, to which you shrugged and he shrugged himself before turning back around.

You waited until the girl at the front had finished asking her question and, when the teacher turned back to the front to go through the example on the board again, you made your move. You quickly pushed your chair back, relieved when it didn’t make a sound and climbed out of the window. You pulled it gently shut behind you and turned to left, finding yourself face to face with Haechan.

‘Wow, for a minute then I didn’t think you’d have the balls.’ He grinned at you, pulling you out of sight of the class as you began to walk away.

‘Well as you can clearly see, I do. So what now?’ You replied, unable to stop yourself from grinning back.

‘Now we have some fun.’ Haechan said, the smile he sent you this time was the opposite of innocent and it made your heart pump.

This was someone you would enjoy causing trouble with.

---

The two of you decided that leaving the school and skiving on the first day was a bit too cliche and unoriginal, so instead you came up with the idea that, no matter what you guys did, it had to be on school grounds.

‘Interesting...’ Haechan mused, the smirk that you were already familiar with gracing his delicate features. ‘So we cause as much chaos as we like, and do what we like, but there’s a much higher risk of getting caught...’

‘Exactly.’ You clarified. ‘But we can leave for lunch though! I want McDonalds.’ You quickly added, Haechan laughing slightly at your expression.

‘Agreed. So we’ll have our fun here, then head to McDonalds for lunch. Tell you what, why don’t we leave a little earlier than the lunch break so that we avoid bumping into the rest of the students?’ Haechan watched as you nodded in agreement.

You allowed your gaze to drift around the unfamiliar halls until your eyes came to rest on the smoke detector on the wall. Suddenly an idea popped into your head. It was stupid, reckless and if you got caught you would be in serious trouble. Sounds ideal.

‘Hey Haechan?’ You began, turning towards him with a grin on your face.

‘Yeah?’ He answered, a grin appearing on his own. He didn’t know what you were planning but he knew it would be interesting.

‘Have you ever set off the fire alarm?’ You asked, raising an eyebrow as his furrowed in thought.

‘Like falsely pulled it? Yeah.’ He admitted, nodding like it was no big deal, but you shook your head.

‘No, not falsely pulled, actually set it off.’ You watched as his jaw dropped slightly and he shook his head. 'Yeah, neither.’ You told him, before looking away. He followed your gaze to see the smoke detector on the wall.

You both turned back to each other.

‘Well...’ Haechan began, a mischievous grin stretching across his face. ‘There’s a first time for everything.’

---

The alarm blared through the school as you and Hyuck laughed to yourself as the school emptied.

‘No talking!’ A teacher behind you barked, causing the two of you to roll your eyes in sync. Why you had to walk silently during a fire alarm you would never know. If the school was actually on fire you would be sprinting out of it swearing at the top of your lungs, not walking silently in an orderly fashion.

The two of you had had to find a way to set off the alarm, so you put your heads together. Neither of you had managed to come up with anything that wouldn’t get you caught, and you were about to give up when you noticed the cigarettes in Haechan’s pocket. Now that gave you an idea.

You had lit the cigarette and, with Haechan supporting you from beneath as you sat on his shoulders, managed to stuff it inside the fire alarm. You gently blowed on it, to make sure it was lit and there was smoke coming off it and suddenly the alarm blared throughout the school. You then proceeded to slip off his shoulders, him catching you easily in his arms and you both quickly moved into your respective bathrooms.

You stood by the door and counted to five before opening the bathroom door and leaving again. You’d noticed the men’s bathroom door next to you open and Haechan walked out. The two of you blended seamlessly into the crowd of students as they made their way out to the assembly point.

You had decided to hide in the bathroom for a couple of seconds so that neither of you were spotted underneath the fire alarm. You thought that if they noticed the bad boy and the new girl under the fire alarm that ended up having a cigarette stuck in it, the game would be over before it had even properly begun.

Students poured out of the doors of the school, lining up cleanly and efficiently on the sports pitches. You were standing in sections, divided by years and then each class split into lines. You faced your teacher at the front as they called out student’s names from the register.

‘Here.’ You spoke out as you heard your name, a similar call coming from your partner in crime behind you as his name was called. You turned around to face him. ‘Lee Donghyuck?’ You raised a teasing eyebrow.

‘Yep, that’s my real name.’ He replied, looking down at you.

‘So, can I ask then, why Haechan? Donghyuck’s a nice name.’ You wondered, tilting your head out of curiosity.

Haechan opened his mouth to answer but before he could, a boy who you recognised from your Maths class came up to the two of you.

‘Already corrupting the new kid Hyuck?’ He joked, a large smile on his face.

‘Trust me man, she barely needs corrupting.’ Haechan replied, laughing at his friend. ‘Y/n, this is Jaemin, he’s one of my closest friends.’

Jaemin flashed you a smile that you swore almost blinded you. You shook his outstretched hand and returned his smile with one of your own.

‘I’ve gotta say, I was impressed to see you follow him out of that window y/n. It looks like you’ve got some guts.’ Jaemin spoke, his face showing how he was clearly surprised. ‘And I’m guessing from what happened in Maths that this fire alarm may have something to do with the two of you?’

You and Haechan shared a grin and that small action told Jaemin all he needed to know. Jaemin laughed in disbelief, muttering something about how exciting the rest of the year was going to be if this was how you were acting on the first day. You couldn’t quite hear him though, your attention focused on the way that Haechan studied the features on your face, with such intensity you would think he was never going to see them again.

You spent the time making conversation with Jaemin and Haechan, getting to know the two boys, but your attention was drawn away from them when a fire engine made its way into the school gates. All the conversation surrounding you dwindled to a stop as one student asked what was going on.

‘Since there was no fire drill scheduled for today, we needed to call the fire department to determine what caused the alarm to go off.’ Your teacher explained.

The three of you looked at each other in disbelief, all of you unable to stop yourselves from giggling at the chaos you’d caused. You couldn’t help but think that Jaemin had been right. If this was day one, who knew what adventures this year would bring you? You’d never liked a place so quickly like you had here. Maybe for the first time in your life, you’d found somewhere you could actually see yourself staying.

You didn’t want to let yourself get your hopes up though. You had only been in this city a short while, and your father’s job would always mean that you had to move by this time next year. You couldn’t afford to get comfortable.

The boys watched as the firefighters entered the building, attempting to determine what caused the alarm to go off. It didn’t take long before they emerged with one of them holding a small plastic bag. A bad that you assumed that had the cigarette in. The teachers came into a small circle to have a short conversation before turning back to the waiting students.

The Principle suddenly stepped forward, immediately commanding attention from every student present as he began to speak.

‘This fire alarm was no drill. Nor was it an accident. We have evidence that it was set off on purpose and I seriously suggest that anyone who knows anything about how this happens steps forward. Do not make this any worse for you than it already is.’

With that, he turned, and made his way back into the school. An uneasy silence lay over all the students. You teacher walked back over to your group and spoke to the rest of you there.

‘Since it’s so close to lunch, we’ve decided to let you go early. But-’ They raised their voice as everyone began to move off. ‘This incident will not be taken lightly. To anybody who may have been involved, it is in your best interest to own up to it.’

You noticed their eyes were fixated on Haechan, and how they narrowed slightly. They seemed to fully believe that Haechan was involved with setting off the alarm.

‘They always assume it’s me. Whenever anything happens.’ He whispered into your ear and you nodded in understanding. ‘So... McDonalds?’

---

Haechan pulled back into the school grounds after your trip for lunch, Jaemin jumped out of the car and waved at the two of you before heading back into the building. While you and Haechan had a free afternoon, Jaemin didn’t, so, after some begging and bribing on Jaemin’s part, Haechan begrudgingly agreed to drop him off.

You turned back around to Haechan, wondering if you should propose to do something together, or if he was bored of you and had other things he’d rather be doing. However, before you had the chance to make up your mind, Haechan spoke for you.

‘I know where to go now.’ And with that he was off, driving out of the gates and off down the road. You couldn’t help but notice how good of a driver he was, always managing to keep his awareness on the road even when he was talking to you.

Haechan fumbled for something down near his feet, letting out a happy giggle when he found it and pulled out an AUX cord. He offered it to you, telling you to put something on the speakers.

You raised your eyebrows in surprise at his offer, considering he’d adamantly refused to let Jaemin play any of his music on the way to grab lunch, instead choosing to listen to the radio.

‘Already letting me choose the music? Damn, I feel special.’ You teased as Haechan laughed.

‘Just don’t play that song and we’ll be good.’ He looked over for a split second, noticing your offended face and quickly continued. ‘It’s a good song, don’t get me wrong, but all Jaemin plays is girl groups and you reach a limit of how many times you can hear a grown ass boy with blue hair sing Feel Special.’

You looked down at your phone, chuckling to yourself at Haechan’s story. You scrolled through your Spotify to find a good playlist, eventually settling on your driving music one. ‘What You Know’ by ‘Two Door Cinema Club’ started to blare through the speakers.

Haechan nodded, his fingers immediately tapping on the steering wheel in time to the song.

‘Good song!’ He complimented smiling at you as you gasped over-dramatically.

‘Ahhhh, Haechan likes my music taste! I have officially won at life!’ You placed one hand on your heart to emphasise your point as Haechan rolled his eyes, laughing at you. ‘Where are we going by the way?’ You asked, looking out of the window and realising you had no idea where you were. You were still new to the area so you hadn’t got everywhere memorised yet.

‘We’re almost there, don't worry.’ He replied, not giving you an answer in the slightest. You leaned back into your seat, accepting that he wasn’t going to tell you and just listened as Haechan began to sing gently along to the song. You were surprised by his voice, it was soothing and honey-like, the opposite of his image.

You watched him out of the corner of your eye, secretly enjoying listening to his voice more than the music.

---

You were standing behind Haechan in a quiet little coffee shop, looking at everything on the menu. Everything looked so amazing you could feel your mouth watering just from looking at the display cakes.

‘Any idea what you want?’ Haechan asked over his shoulder as you nodded.

‘I’m gonna get the Caramel Frap and a muffin of some kind.’ You replied. ‘What about you?’

‘Doubleshot Vanilla iced Coffee and a brownie. You gonna have coffee in your frap?’ He answered, moving forwards in the line as the person in front of you finished.

‘Always!!!’ You answered in a sing-song voice as Haechan rolled his eyes muttering something about you being as bad as Jaemin.

He stepped up to the counter and gave the cashier a friendly smile.

‘Hi, please can I get one large Caramel Frap with coffee and whip, one large Doubleshot Vanilla iced Coffee, one brownie and-’

‘Whoa what? It’s okay I can pay for myself.’ You interrupted him but he brushed you off.

‘Nah it’s fine, this is on me. And one peanut and banana muffin please?’ He finished the order and your eyes widened at his choice. ‘All the muffins here are good.’ He explained turning back to you.

‘Haechan I-’ You began, slightly in a panic.

‘Y/n, I told you I’m paying.’ He insisted but you continued.

‘Seriously I can’t-’ You stuttered, desperately trying to get your point across.

‘For the last time, y/n I am paying!’ He cut you off again.

‘No! I’m allergic to peanuts...’ You hurriedly told him and watched as his expression morphed into one of utter dread.

‘Oh god.’ He mumbled before turning around and almost throwing himself across the counter in an attempt to correct his order to a white chocolate and raspberry muffin. He turned back to you with the treats in his hand and gave you a sheepish smile. ‘Sorry.’

‘It’s okay, you didn’t know.’ You laughed, looking down at the muffin in your hand that smelt absolutely delicious.

It didn’t take long before your drinks had arrived and Haechan hurried you back into his car, claiming there was one more place he wanted to show you.

---

You were sitting on a bench in a deserted area of the park. Haechan had explained that if you wanted privacy, to come down here as people normally don’t bother to walk this far. He pulled his cigarettes out of his pocket, offering you one which you refused, before lighting his own.

‘It’s always worth it though. The tranquility that you get just from being a little further out.’ He looked sideways at you, tilting his head when he saw your confused expression. ‘What?’

‘Nothing it’s just... Why are you telling me all this? I mean I was told that you were aloof, never telling anyone but a close few details about yourself, keeping everything a mystery and yet here you are. With me, someone you’ve known now for about five hours and so far we’ve skived Maths, set off the fire alarm, brought the fire brigade to school, bought McDonalds, grabbed a coffee, almost killed me and now you’re talking to me about tranquility. You just... It doesn’t seem like something you’d do with someone you just met.’ You admitted, shrugging your shoulders as you finished.

Haechan looked away from you for a second, taking a drag from his cigarette before he faced you again to answer your question.

‘Well, I guess the only thing to say to that is, not all rumours are true. And yes, you have a point, not a lot of people sit and talk about tranquility with someone they just met, but not a lot of people get into trouble worthy of suspension on the first day. And even less of those people are willing to do it with me. Maybe that has something to do with it.’

‘Tell me something, then. Which rumours are true?’ You challenged.

‘Some of them.’ Haechan admitted. ‘I do smoke, I do cause trouble, I did sleep around quite a bit, and yeah, I hurt some people in the process. And also, yes, I didn’t really care that much. But the one thing I never did was lie to anyone or give them the impression that it was ever something more than just one night. That’s why I was “unsympathetic” to anyone. They knew what they were getting into so why is it my fault that they couldn’t handle it?’

Your jaw dropped slightly, not expecting that kind of answer. You mumbled a quick ‘fair point’ and turned your gaze back to the scenery. The river in front of you flowed gently, coursing it’s own way through life, the sun reflected off the constantly moving waves, casting flecks of light to dance across yours and Haechan’s bodies.

‘But I don’t think I’m gonna be doing that again. It makes you feel kinda empty, like you’re searching for something but anytime you come close to possibly having a chance at finding it, you take it away from yourself. Do you see that up there?’ Haechan changed the topic suddenly, pointing to a cliff edge in between the trees. You squinted slightly, trying to get a look at it, but it was difficult to see through the leaves.

‘Yeah, I think so. What’s up there?’ You asked, turning your body towards him as he grinned.

‘Real tranquility. If you ever want to properly get away, that’s where you go.’ He told you and you looked back. ‘From up there you can see the whole city.’

‘But how do you get up there?’ You wondered and Haechan simply winked in response, tapping his nose twice to signal that he wasn’t going to tell you. ‘Will you ever actually tell me anything when I ask?’

‘We’ll see princess, we’ll see.’ Haechan grinned, turning back to the river but at some point having moved closer to you, so close that your legs were almost touching.

Your heart was pounding, yet you weren’t sure if it was from the nickname or the close proximity of the two of, or both. As much as you tried to convince yourself otherwise, you had a strong suspicion it was the latter.

---

Before you knew it, another month had passed in your new city and you weren’t feeling so much like the obnoxiously new kid. You knew your way around without getting lost, your professors had started to get to know you and stopped treating you like you were made of glass because you were new, and you had a good group of people around you.

Haechan had easily become your closest friend, his constant teasing covered a layer of love that it took him a while to show to you. But once he did, you were constantly smothered by his affections. And if Haechan wasn’t smothering you, then Jaemin would be. Once you got to know him, Jaemin was almost too nice for his own good, his caring and loving nature making him a very easy person to get along with. There was never an awkward moment between the two of you and already, he felt like a friend you’d known for years.

Apart from those two, you had also become friendly with Momo from your sports class, Hyunjin from Chemistry, Siyeon from History and Dino from Music. But none of them really held a candle to how close you were with Haechan.

You found yourself spending most of your time with Haechan, Jaemin often came too but you realised pretty quickly after befriending him that, wherever you were, Haechan would find a way to be there too.

Your friendship hadn’t gone unnoticed by the rest of the school either. In fact, you were surprised by how quickly it had gone around that the two of you were close. The day after you had gone out for a coffee, you had walked into school to be greeted with confused stares and hushed whispers surrounding you everywhere you went.

You did your best to just ignore them, you told yourself you couldn’t care less what people here thought of you, it wasn’t as if you would be here for long anyway. Their whispers and accusations sometimes got to you slightly, but every time you finished your classes and saw Haechan waiting for you with his sunshine smile, you found all your worries melting off you.

You had always met some pretty cool people wherever you went, but you had never met anyone quite like Haechan, nor had you ever expected to. You already knew that he was something you would miss about this town when you inevitably left.

‘Bye Dad!’ You shouted through your house, a similar response coming from his study as you walked out of the front door. Even though you didn’t have class until late morning on a Tuesday, you and Haechan made it a tradition to grab a coffee together before it started.

And as you turned around there he was. Leaning out of the open window of his car grinning at you.

You smiled back in greeting, before climbing into the passenger seat, grabbing that aux cable he had offered you, and setting down as he took off.

Haechan had officially entrusted you with the music, naming you the car DJ much to Jaemin’s discontent. You were often on the receiving end of his whiny complaints about the injustice and unfair treatment he was getting.

Haechan pulled into the street that your favourite bakery was one, parking his car swiftly before you both made you way into the shop. You had arrived a little later than usual due to traffic, so you quickly approached the counter.

You leant forwards, catching the barista’s attention and gave them a smile before telling them your order.

‘Hi! Please can I have one Caramel Frap with coffee, one chocolate chip cookie, one Doubleshot Vanilla Iced coffee and one brownie please?’

The barista nodded, handing you the card machine as you quickly tapped your phone before Haechan could complain. You turned around, expecting to see him watching you in surprise, but instead he was nowhere to be seen.

The barista handed you the cookie and brownie in a bag before they moved to make your coffees as Haechan jogged into the shop.

‘Left my phone in my car.’ He explained before moving towards the counter.

‘Here.’ You said, offering him the bag which held his brownie. ‘Your coffee is on the way.’

Haechan reached for the bag slowly, confusion all over his face as he looked inside it.

‘I got you a Doubleshot Vanilla Iced coffee.’ You informed him, relishing in the way his face lit up with excitement at the mention of his favourite drink.

‘Why- You didn’t have to do this!’ Haechan whined. ‘I’ll pay you back!’

‘No you won’t.’ You said firmly, ignoring his protests. ‘I never paid you back for the first time we got a coffee together so this counts for then. Now we’re even.’

‘How did you know what to get me though?’ Haechan wondered, looking up at the menu.

‘I remembered?’ You offered, laughing at him slightly. ‘Plus you mentioned it to me a couple of days ago that it was your favourite so I thought it was safest to go with that one.’

You head turned towards the counter as your name was called, signalling that your drinks were ready. You walked over to collect them, missing the way Haechan watched you go with the softest smile on his face.

You handed him his drink as the two of you made your way back to his car.

‘Ready for class?’ You asked, groaning slightly at the thought of your history lecture that was looming.

But he didn’t reply, instead just looked at you. You tilted your head in confusion at him, wondering why he wasn’t starting the car.

‘Haechan?’ You asked and something in him seemed to wake up.

‘Hyuck.’ He corrected, turning away from you and beginning to drive away. ‘Call me Hyuck.’

You couldn’t help the small smile that spread across your face as you cruised through the streets.

‘Hyuck...’ You repeated to yourself under your breath, unaware of the way that Hyuck’s lips twitched upwards into a smile slightly as you did.

---

For the next two weeks you fully utilised your new privilege, calling him Hyuck at every opportunity you had. You also couldn’t stop yourself because every time you called him Hyuck, he would turn around to look at you with the largest grin on his face. There was no lying that both of you were happy with the rapid speed the two of you were becoming so close you were almost inseparable.

You were lying in your bed on Friday night, your chemistry textbook and worksheets from hours ago lay abandoned on your desk as you stared up at your ceiling. Your final lecture had been cancelled, so you originally planned to come back and try to get some work done. Only, once you started did you realise that your mind was just a fuzzy mess and there was no way you were going to get through it.

Instead you decided to go to sleep, hoping that some rest would help you clear your head and you’d feel more refreshed the next morning. However, your attempt to get an early night for once was disrupted by your mind and body purely refusing to let sleep take you.

You groaned, rolling over on to your side and staring at your clock. The numbers shined brightly in your face, the red 2:08am reflecting off your eyes as you stared at them. Turns out it was Saturday morning.

You were just about to give up and go downstairs to watch something, when you noticed your phone screen suddenly light up. You grabbed your phone and lifted it to your face to see a text sitting on your home screen.

Hyuck: yo

Hyuck: are you awake

You grinned at your phone, texting back a quick reply.

You: yeah

You: couldn’t sleep. why

Hyuck: come outside

You furrowed your eyebrows at that, silently moving to your window and pulling the curtains back. You looked down at your drive and saw Hyuck’s car sitting there with him in the driver’s seat staring up at your window. You made eye contact with him and he nodded towards his empty passenger seat. You held up a finger, asking him to wait a minute, and you shut your curtain again.

You quickly grabbed a pair of shoes and ran out of your bedroom, making sure to grab your keys on your way. You made your way through your house, leaving a quick note for your dad in case he woke up and thought you had disappeared, and slipped as silently as you could out of your front door, jogging down to the car that was waiting for you.

‘God it’s cold out there!’ You exclaimed, rubbing your arms to warm yourself up as you directed the heaters in his car towards you.

Hyuck raised his eyebrows at you, replying sarcastically.

‘Well, maybe if you’d worn more than a thin t shirt in October this wouldn’t be a problem.’

You looked down at what you were wearing, huffing when you realised he was right. Your choice of pyjamas, a t-shirt and jogging bottoms, while comfortable, were not doing much to battle the cold night air. You opened the door to run back inside and grab a jumper but Hyuck stopped you.

‘Don’t worry, I had a feeling you would do this, so I came prepared.’ He leaned backwards, reaching into his back seat and pulled out a hoodie of his before dropping it into your lap. ‘Here, wear this.’ He told you, quickly turning his attention back to his car as he got it started.

You looked down at the hoodie in your lap, unable to stop yourself from smiling slightly, and you whispered a quick thanks. You pulled it over your head, allowing yourself to be submerged in the soft fabric. The first thing you noticed was Hyuck scent taking over your being. You were surrounded by him and it was much more comforting than you were expecting.

Unknown to you, Hyuck found himself unable to take his eyes off you. Seeing you in his hoodie made his heart beat a lot faster than he was willing to admit, and, if he was being honest, he didn’t want you to ever take it off.

Hyuck began to drive and you found yourself automatically reaching for the aux cable. You decided to play one of your favourite songs that you hadn’t heard in a while, and soon ‘(Un)Lost’ by ‘The Maine’ gently filled the car, immediately reinforcing the relaxed atmosphere.

‘You hungry?’ Hyuck asked, and you shrugged slightly.

‘I could go for some ramen to be honest.’ You replied. ‘What’s going to be open at this hour though?’ You looked out of your window and found yourself filled with confusion. ‘Where even are we?’

‘Somewhere I like to come when I can’t sleep.’ He answered you. ‘Also, don’t worry, I know a place to eat.’

You hummed in response, trusting Hyuck’s judgement when it came to food. You had learnt that he always knew the best places. You couldn’t help the feeling of deja vu you were having, flashbacks to the time you and Hyuck first got coffee together and he refused to tell you where you were going, travelled through your head.

You stared out of the window, trying to recognise any of your surroundings, but you were on an empty road with trees on either side of you. If you weren’t with Hyuck you would have been terrified.

Eventually, he began to slow down, and you spotted a neon lit diner to your right. Hyuck drew the car to a halt and you both climbed out. He noticed the slightly nervous look on your face as your eyes darted across the dark woods surrounding you, and held out a hand. You smiled shyly, reaching out for him. The second you felt his hand in yours, you immediately relaxed and allowed Hyuck to pull you towards the diner.

A small bell sounded, signalling your arrival as Hyuck pushed the door open, and a man who you assumed was around mid-twenties appeared from the back. One look at the two of you and his face lit up into the biggest smile.

‘Donghyuck! Welcome back!’ He exclaimed, throwing his arms out to the side for emphasis.

‘Hi Johnny.’ Hyuck laughed, bringing you forwards as the tall male came around the counter to give him a hug. He pulled away from the hug and turned towards you. ‘Johnny, this is y/n. Y/n, this is Johnny, he runs this diner.’

‘Ahhhh, so this is the famous y/n!’ Johnny laughed, turning towards you. ‘It’s nice to finally meet you.’

‘It’s nice to meet you too.’ You replied, slightly taken aback at how nice this guy was.

‘So the usual?’ Johnny asked Hyuck and he nodded in response. ‘Anything for you, y/n?’

‘Surprise me.’ You said, having no idea what this place even offered, and Johnny nodded, his large smile never leaving his face.

‘Oh, Taeil is in the kitchen tonight if you want to say hi.’ Johnny said, turning back to Hyuck. Hyuck’s eyes lit up at the mention of Taeil and he turned to you, telling you he’d be back in a second.

‘Don’t rush, Hyuck.’ You laughed. It was clear from Hyuck’s expression that he hadn’t seen this Taeil in a while.

‘Tell him the order while you’re there?’ Johnny shouted, getting a shout back in reply. Johnny chuckled to himself, offering you a seat by the island and sitting next to you. ‘You know, Donghyuck talks about you a lot when he’s here.’

Your eyes shot up to his, your eyebrows lifting slightly in surprise and he nodded.

‘Yeah, you must mean a lot to him. Not only are you wearing his hoodie and you get to call him Hyuck, but he brought you here. That’s something...’

‘What makes you say that?’ You asked, sending Johnny an appreciative smile as he poured you a glass of water.

‘This is his safe space, the place where he comes whenever he wants to escape. Mainly from other people.’ Johnny gestured around him, and you followed his movements, your eyes resting on the seats, tables and jukeboxes that decorated this place.

‘I don’t get it, why would that make me important to him?’ You asked, looking at Johnny once more.

‘Well, most of the time, when you want to escape from something, you don’t bring the thing you’re running from with you. Donghyuck has never brought anyone here, not even Jaemin, and those two grew up together. So for him to bring you here, you must be something pretty damn special.’

You were speechless by the time Johnny had finished. You had been completely unaware of just how much Hyuck had cared for you. You weren’t even aware of the smile that was stretching across your face until Johnny chuckled.

‘I can see he’s special to you too.’

You looked back at him and nodded.

‘I...’ You swallowed slightly before speaking again. ‘I wasn’t expecting to care for someone this much.’

Johnny lifted up a hand, placing it on your shoulder and squeezing gently. You found the gesture surprisingly reassuring and you sent him a grateful smile.

‘For what it’s worth, you two make a good pair.’ Johnny said. ‘I’m glad he’s found someone he cares for this much.’

At the moment a laughing Donghyuck came bursting back through the kitchen doors, quickly followed by a slightly shorter male who you assumed was Taeil. Taeil looked up and saw you.

‘This is y/n?’ He asked Hyuck, who nodded in confirmation.

You stood up to greet him, placing your water on the counter as you did so.

‘It’s nice to meet you.’

‘You too, I’m Taeil.’ Taeil introduced himself, and you smiled at him.

Hyuck held up two boxes of ramen, the smell making your mouth water.

‘Shall we?’

---

You sat on the hood of Hyuck’s car and looked out over the skyline. The entire city was illuminated, the lights shining through the darkness and creating bright patterns in the night. You were mesmerised by the sight in front of you, the beauty of the twinkling lights demanding your attention.

The two of you were currently at the look out point which Hyuck had pointed out to you the day you had first met. It was a cliff edge that you could drive to, and it was only a couple of minutes away from the diner.

Your trip to the diner has been surprisingly entertaining. It was clear that Johnny and Taeil had known Hyuck and each other for a long time, but they made sure to welcome you and make sure that you felt comfortable. They wanted to know about the previous places you’d been to and any stories of your life or previous schools that you wanted to share. There was never an awkward moment, the three of them being so quick witted with their humour that you were in stitches the entire time. It felt as though you had spent the past half an hour laughing with old friends.

You didn’t know how long it had been since you’d felt an environment like that.

Hyuck was silently watching you, studying the reflection of the city lights in your eyes and wondering what was going through your mind. He eventually forced himself to tear his eyes away from you and back to the scenery in front of him. This view was normally the only that could set his mind at ease no matter what he was feeling, but after today, after seeing you interact so well with the friends he called his family, after seeing how beautiful you looked in his hoodie, how ethereal you were sat on his car in the moonlight... all Hyuck wanted to do was kiss you.

‘I’ve got to say, out of all the places I’ve lived, this is my favourite view.’ You softly broke the silence and Hyuck found his gaze wandering back towards you again.

‘Can I ask you something?’ He asked and you hummed in response. ‘How many places have you lived?’

You turned your head towards his and thought for a second.

‘Honestly... there’s been so many, I don’t think I could tell you the exact number.’ You told him. ‘I’ve moved around since I was a kid, we rarely stayed anywhere longer than one year before we headed to a new city which always seemed to be as far away from the previous one as you could possibly get. My dad’s job requires him to move wherever the company asks him to move, so we’ve never really had a choice. It’s nice, I guess, I get to see all these amazing places and travel so much already, but...’ You trailed off, unsure whether to continue.

‘But?’ Hyuck encouraged, looking at you with nothing but support in his eyes.

‘But it’s hard.’ You admitted. ‘People don’t really see how difficult it is. Everyone sees me as the lucky one, they tell me they wish they could travel like me, and see all the things I’ve seen. Someone even once told me that they wished they could only live in one place for one year before moving on, because then they wouldn’t have to worry about caring for anyone but themselves. Sometimes, for me, it really feels like that. But that it’s a good feeling. I’ve never lived anywhere longer than a year. I’ve even never lived anywhere long enough to call it home. I’ve never had a friendship, or relationship of any kind for that matter, that didn’t end a month after I moved away.’

‘You have your parents though, right?’ Hyuck asked, and you nodded in response.

‘Yeah, I have my dad. My mum, umm, she-’ You paused for a minute to take a breath. ‘She didn’t like the constant moving, she always said she found it too difficult. So, when I was nine, she decided she wasn’t going to move on with us. One night, she packed her bags, walked out the house and never came back. I haven’t seen her since.’ You confessed. You had never told anyone that, yet somehow, it felt safe to tell Hyuck.

‘I’m sorry.’ Hyuck offered and you sent him a smile.

‘It’s okay, it was a really long time ago.’ You tried to reassure him, even though you knew it wasn’t very convincing. ‘Moving like this... it’s a lot more lonely than you think it is.’

Hyuck moved himself slightly closer to you so that you were almost touching. He lifted his hand, and gently tucked your hair behind your ear before cradling your face.

‘You don’t have to be alone here. I’m going to be right beside you.’ He promised, the sincerity in his voice scaring you slightly. You knew that he meant it with every fibre of his being.

You didn’t know who leaned in first, nor did you care, but, either way, the two of you began to lean in. Your lips were almost touching when you stopped. Hyuck, noticing your movements, stopped immediately as well, his lips so close that his breath was gently fanning your face.

‘I’m leaving at the end of this year.’ You whispered, not moving away from him.

‘So we have two thirds of it left.’ Hyuck argued, his thumb gently stroking your face.

‘I’ll break your heart.’ Your voice was even softer than before, wavering slightly with emotion as your eyes fluttered shut.

‘It’ll be worth it.’ Hyuck whispered back, before you allowed him to finally close the distance.

He pressed his lips to yours, it was sweet, innocent and everything that a first kiss should be. You lifted up your hand to rest them on his wrists as he pulled away. He moved his hands away from your face and brought them down to your waist, pulling you closer and you wound yours around his neck.

You leant in again, this time kissing him with more passion. You were so overwhelmed with how much Hyuck cared for you, and how much you cared for him that all you wanted to do was show him, and this was the only way you knew you. Neither of you said it, but you both knew this was the start of your relationship, a secret kiss in a hidden place, with only the stars in the sky as your witnesses. And, honestly, it couldn’t be more perfect.

---

You closed the front door as quietly as you could, wincing as the lock audibly clicked into place. You briefly stopped to grab the note you had written for your dad before leaving and scrunched it up into a little ball before throwing it away. You then began to make your way through your house, tiptoeing silently past your dad’s room before making it into the safety of your own.

You fell into bed, pulling the covers up and smiling happily into them. No one had ever made you feel this way, and you couldn’t imagine ever feeling this way about anyone else.

There was something about Hyuck that made you want to just do things. Not in a “throw caution to the wind and cause chaos” kind of way, but in a motivational kind of way. He made you want to work harder, to fight for what you want, to always give people a chance to see the real them, to say yes more.

You couldn’t imagine what your life would be like if you hadn’t followed him out of the window on the first day. And if you could do it all again, you knew, you wouldn’t change a thing. You pulled the sleeves of Hyuck’s hoodie down over your fingers as you found yourself, once again, comforted by his scent.

It was only then that you realised you had forgotten to give it back, quickly reaching for your phone to text him.

You: i still have your hoodie

Hyuck: keep it for now

Hyuck: you can give it back to me at school on monday

Hyuck: or you can wear it

Hyuck: actually no

Hyuck: please wear it

You: i promise

You: night hyuck x

Hyuck: night

Hyuck: sleep well <3

---

You had kept your promise to Hyuck, wearing his hoodie into school and you were blown away by the amount of attention it had gathered. You would have thought that people would have more interesting things to talk about, but the main conversation topic in the corridors for the past week, was yours and Hyuck’s relationship.

Today was the Wednesday of the week after that Monday. You had a single lecture in the afternoon, while Hyuck was stuck in school until the end of the day. You had never been happier to hear the bell ring, signalling your escape from the most painfully boring Chemistry lecture of your life. You exited the classroom, laughing with Hyunjin as you complained about the hell you had just been put through.

He waved you a friendly goodbye, one which you returned before you walked towards your locker. You placed your books inside it and closed the door, making sure to lock it shut. You turned around, almost jumping out of your skin when you spotted three girls waiting for you to finish.

‘Can I help you?’ You asked, confused beyond belief as to why they were silently standing by your locker.

The one in the middle spoke first.

‘We just want to look out for you honey. Haechan is bad news, and we don’t want you to get hurt.’

You frowned at them in disbelief, wondering why on earth they were telling you this. You had never even seen any of them around Hyuck before.

‘Yeah, he’s a bad boy for a reason and we’re just worried that you're blinded by his charms. We’ve all fallen for it at some point, and we don’t want you to get manipulated like the rest of us.’ The brunette on the left piped up as you rolled your eyes.

‘Ok, this is very.... weird. Also, it’s not really any of your business, so thanks for your concern, but I’m fine by myself.’ You picked your bag up from the floor, swinging it over your shoulder.

As if a switch had been pressed, the expressions on the girls faces changed in a flash. Gone were the sympathetic looks and wide eyes as judgemental gazes and cocky smirks replaced them.

‘I don’t know who you think you are, but you’re not the golden girl. You’re not the exception to the rule, the one who’s going to be able to change him, so stop trying. You’re not that special. You’re wasting your time and you’re going to end up with a broken heart.’ The one of the right spat, surprising you with her sudden change of tone.

‘She’s right.’ The middle one took charge again. ‘He’s nothing more than a cigarette puffing, selfish asshole. Just remember, we’ll be here when it all goes to shit.’

They began to strut their way down the corridor, leaving a very confused you standing by your locker.

‘Y/n?’ A voice suddenly rang out. You turned towards the sound to see Jaemin coming towards you. ‘What was that all about?’

---

You sat next to Jaemin on a bench at the nearby park. You dragged him down the river to find a deserted area, before sitting down to explain what had happened. Jaemin had insisted that you talk him through it, not wanting you to feel alone.

‘-so they reassured me that it was going to fail, no matter what.’ You finished, staring at the river in front of you.

Jaemin didn’t respond for a minute, just watched you as you finished speaking. Eventually, he broke the silence between the two of you.

‘You know, something that comes with having a reputation like Hyuck’s, is that everyone puts their own spin on it. Everybody likes to come up with new things that he’s done or find a rumour that sounds like him and spread it. He’s been ignoring it for god knows how long, but that doesn’t stop it from happening. I’m not going to tell you how to feel, that’s not my job. However, I am going to tell you this.’

Jaemin readjusted his seating, moving so that he was facing you more. You mimicked him, turning your side towards the water.

‘Hyuck is brave, and self assured, and confident, and cocky, but, just like everybody else, he has his weakness. And for him, it’s love. He’s completely terrified of falling in love. When Hyuck slept around last year, he didn’t do it just cause he wanted sex, or cause it was a confidence boost to get those girls. He did it because he wanted company, because he was lonely. But, he could never let it be for longer than one night because then he was putting himself at risk.’

‘At risk of what?’ You asked, and Jaemin sighed before continuing.

‘Of getting attached, of catching feelings, of being vulnerable, of caring. Hyuck’s afraid of falling in love with someone because, if he does that, then there’s no turning back. He’s at their mercy, and no one will have the power over him that that person does. And that terrifies him.’

You nodded as Jaemin spoke, taking in every detail. When he finished you leaned back on the bench, this time staring up at the clouds as they passed. Jaemin had made a lot of sense and, although you would never admit it, you did understand his fear of being in love.

‘I care about him.’ You began as Jaemin looked back towards you. ‘I care about him a lot. But there’s this part of my brain that’s telling me he’s got a reputation for a reason. That this only has one ending and I’m kidding myself if I think I’m any different from the previous girls.’

‘You’re kidding yourself if you think you’re anything like them.’ Jaemin huffed. ‘And, if you’re going to think like that, if that’s going to dominate your mind, then honestly, you should spare Hyuck the pain. After everything, he deserves to actually have someone who loves him, not someone who doubts him. If you can’t see past his reputation, then it’s not fair to string him along.’

You could tell from Jaemin’s eyes that he meant every word. As soon as he said that, it was like a cloud had been lifted, clearing your vision. You leant forward, forcing him to look at you while you spoke truthfully.

‘I’m not going to judge him on his reputation. I don’t want to. I care about him, and that’s all that matters. And I don’t care about what other people think about him, because I know him.’

Jaemin nodded at you, a smile forming on his face.

‘Good.’ He looked down at his watch. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be meeting him at yours tonight?’ He asked, looking back up at you.

You pulled out your phone, checking the time and your eyes widened. You and Jaemin had spoken for a lot longer than you had thought, and at this rate, Hyuck was going to beat you back to your house. You stood up, thanking Jaemin before giving him a quick hug and running home to Hyuck.

---

One takeaway, four movies and three deep conversations later, Hyuck had fallen asleep. You quietly closed your laptop, placing it on the floor as you climbed out of your bed. You picked up the food containers, carrying them downstairs to the kitchen as you cleaned up slightly.

You dropped the takeaway boxes into the bin, before washing your hands. You thought for a second before grabbing two glasses, which you filled up with water and made your way back to your bedroom.

When you arrived, you spent a short amount of time standing in the doorway and just watched Hyuck sleep. He looked so angelic when he slept, all the stress and worries of the day melted off his features. You placed the water next to your side, moving around the bed to place the second one next to him.

You stepped forward, lightly grabbing the blanket and pulling it up to cover him with it. You lifted up a hand, placing it in his hair and you gently stroked it. He let out a contented hum in his sleep and you smiled down at him. You removed your hand, replacing it with your lips for a soft kiss on his temple and then proceeded to stand up and move around to your side of the bed.

You lifted up the covers and climbed in. Hyuck, as if sensing the sudden weight, rolled over, his arm finding its way around your waist before you had even laid down properly. His other one snuck underneath you, unnoticed by you until you lay down and found your head resting on it. Hyuck tightened his grip, pulling you close into his chest as you were surrounded by his embrace.

As much as you loved sleeping in his hoodies, this was by far the better option. You rested one hand on his chest, the other one winding around his waist and you curled up as close to him as you could.

You shut your eyes, letting your mind drift back to the conversation you had with Jaemin earlier, and the unprovoked attack from the girls in the hallway, and, easily, you came to one very solid conclusion.

The girls in the hallway may have been talking about Haechan, the rumours, the past mistakes and the persona, but you knew Donghyuck. You knew the boy that would stay up until 2am watching movies and chatting with you about life because you couldn’t sleep. You knew the boy that pulled you closer to him, even when he was fast asleep. You knew the real Donghyuck, and you were getting very scared that you were falling in love with him.

---

Time started to pass faster and, before you knew it, another month had passed. Your father had met Hyuck officially as your boyfriend and loved him. You had met Hyuck’s parents too, thankfully getting on their good sides even though they weren’t around much. You had managed to convince Hyuck to quit smoking, something that he had found surprisingly easy. Any time you asked how he did it, he’d claim that you were more addictive than any cigarette ever could be and give you a sweet kiss. Hyuck had been the perfect boyfriend to you, caring, fun, teasing and through it all, he still felt like your best friend.

You were preparing to head off and see him today. You grabbed your phone and keys before leaving your room and jogging down the stairs. You landed gently at the bottom and began to head straight for the door when you heard your father’s voice.

‘Y/n? Will you come in here for a minute sweetheart?’

You followed his voice into his study to find his standing by his desk, his phone in his hand.

‘Dad? Is everything okay? I’m meeting Hyuck in like ten minutes so I can’t be long.’ You said, checking your phone for the time.

Your father turned around to face you, leaning backwards so that he was sitting on the desk behind him.

‘Yes of course! Sorry, I’ll try to make it quick. Would you be happy to stay here for a bit longer than normal?’ He asked, getting straight to the point since he knew you had places to be.

‘Like this town?’ You wondered and your father nodded.

‘Yes, right here. In the same town and same house. Would you be okay with staying here for longer?’ You father spoke, this time raising his eyebrows in question.

‘How much longer?’ You asked, remaining suspicious and skeptical so that you didn’t get your hopes up.

‘Well, I’ve been offered a permanent position here, and I accepted it. So as long as you like.’ You jaw dropped at his words, unable to process what he was saying.

‘No more moving?’ You asked him.

‘No more moving.’ He confirmed and you burst out into a happy laugh, running forwards to hug him.

‘Oh my god, Dad that’s amazing! I’m so happy for you!’ You gushed, pulling out of the hug to see his smiling face.

‘So you’re happy to stay here?’ He asked and you grinned back at him.

‘I think I’d be okay with that.’

---

You made your way through Hyuck’s house, stopping only to briefly wave at his parents, before arriving at his room. You could hear him talking inside, so you entered as quietly as you could. He turned around as you entered, smiling and coming towards you to place a soft kiss on your cheek before turning his attention back to his phone call. The smile hadn’t left your face since your dad had told you his news, and you couldn’t wait to tell Hyuck.

He walked towards his window while talking, clearly attempting to wrap up the conversation without being overly rude. You approached his desk, chuckling at the piles of papers and discarded assignments that lay on it. Hyuck never was one for keeping things neat. You tilted your head slightly as one piece in particular caught your eye.

You reached for it, pulling it out from the bottom of the pile and scanned the words, your heart sinking as you did. The title as the top stood out the most: “the to-DO list”.

As you read further and further down the page you saw name after name of different girls in the school, and next to them were a short list of pros and cons, and the number of points they were worth. There were even lines though some of the names with ticks next to them, which you could only assume meant that they were checked off.

You recognised Siyeon and Momo’s names, neither of them having a cross through, but you also recognised the names of the “Welcoming Committee”. They were the same girls who cornered you in the corridor to warn you about Hyuck, and you ignored them. All three of their names were on the list, and all three of them had lines through them.

When your eyes reached the bottom of the page, your heart stopped. You forgot how to breath and you felt as though time suddenly stood still. You stared at the final name, the latest addition to the list that had the highest points and a bright red line through it.

Y/n Y/l/n - 150 points

Pros: new kid, gullible, not around for long, won’t stay to cause you trouble

Cons: defensive, needs effort to be worn down, not as easy as previously assumed

You stared at your name, the tears that filled your eyes blurring it slightly, but not making it any less real. This was a game. Hyuck and his friends were playing a game about who could get the most of the girls. You were just a target to him, something to tick off his list. And he had.

You registered Hyuck hanging up the phone and you furiously blinked away your tears.

‘Sorry about that. I was trying to-’ Hyuck stopped talking mid-sentence, his phone falling from his grip in shock when you turned around with the list in your hand. His eyes shot from the paper to you again, but one look at your face told him everything he needed to know.

‘What’s this?’ You whispered, holding up the piece of paper for him to see.

You watched as Hyuck’s jaw dropped and fear and panic took over his features. His mouth opened and closed repeatedly like a fish out of water.

‘What is this?’ You asked again, articulating every word. ‘Please tell me it’s not what I think it is. Tell me that this isn’t some sick game, that- that I’m just some game to you.’

You watched as Hyuck struggled to form a reply, obviously lost for words at what was happening.

‘I swear to god Hyuck, you better tell me the truth right now or I am gonna walk out of that door and I am not coming back.’ You kept your head up, refusing to let him see how affected by this you were more than he already had.

‘Tell me!’ You shouted, your temper flaring as your patience ran thin.

That seemed to finally get through to Hyuck, his eyes snapped towards your face as he stuttered out some weak reply.

‘No- no- no it’s -it’s not what you... No y/n I don’t... I can’t explain it I just-’ Hyuck looked at you, his eyes full of desperation but you couldn’t find it in you to feel sympathy for him.

You let out an empty laugh, one of pure disbelief at your own foolishness. You couldn’t believe that you really thought you were important to him. It’s Lee Donghyuck for Christ’s sake. He has a reputation for a reason. What made you think you were special enough to break that?

You swallowed, lifting your eyes to Hyuck’s once more and realised that you didn’t know a thing about the boy who stood before you. You opened your mouth and, with a shaky voice, you spoke.

‘You know, I was told by so many people that I wasn’t the exception to the rule, I wasn’t the golden girl, I- I wasn’t the one who could change your ways or prove that you were more than just a cigarette puffing, leather jacket wearing, selfish ass hole. But, god... I really hoped I was. And for a minute there, I actually believed it... you actually let me believe it. Maybe that’s why this hurts so much.’

‘Y/n please-’ He began, reaching out for you with one arm but stopped cold at your next words.

‘Save it, Haechan.’ Your use of Haechan instead of Hyuck struck Donghyuck right to his core. You hadn’t called him Haechan in the two months since he’d given you permission to use Hyuck, instead taking pride in the fact that you were close to him to not only call him by his real name, but by his nickname. When you used Haechan, he felt as though someone had picked up a blade of ice and driven it straight into his heart.

He had no idea why this was hurting him so bad. He knew from the moment he walked in and saw that look on your face that something was wrong. He never liked seeing you upset, but watching that door slam behind you, he never would have been able to presume that him being the cause of your upset would have been so heart wrenching.

There’s something about knowing that you’re the reason that the person you love most in the world is crying, that can rip a man’s heart in two. And for the first time in his life, Donghyuck began to experience what heartbreak was like.

---

You ran out of the door, tearing down the streets as fast as the tears were running down your face. You felt small, you felt ridiculous, you felt humiliated, you felt as though you were five years old again. And all you wanted to do was run away.

The irony was impossible to ignore. Your entire life, you had hated moving. Always leaving everyone behind, allowing them to forget you and forcing yourself to forget them. Every city, town or village you had lived in, you had wanted to stay, make friendships that would last a lifetime, fall in love, grow old in the same place you grew up, but you never could. Now for the first time in your life you were finally staying in one place, a place that you were supposed to call home, and yet, you wanted nothing more than to leave it.

---

‘Ok, I’m just going to say it. You’ve done a lot worse to a lot of other girls and you’ve never had this severe of a reaction before. Why now? What’s so special about this one that she’s the reason you’re suddenly experiencing the feeling of guilt?’ Jaemin leaned forwards towards his friend, hoping to finally get a solid answer out of him.

Jaemin had received an SOS text from Donghyuck and immediately moved to meet him at the local bar. He was currently sat across from the aforementioned, watching as his friend had a mini meltdown in front of him. This was the most emotional that Jaemin had seen Donghyuck in a while, and he knew that there was something about you that Donghyuck was refusing to admit.

‘I don’t know, but when I was standing there, looking at her face as these tears began to fall... all I wanted to do was to run up to her and wipe them away. To hold her and reassure her that... that I’m going to be the one to protect her from harm, not cause it, that I’m going to be the one who she’s safe with, the one who provides her comfort, the one who...’ Donghyuck trailed off at the end leaving Jaemin unable to catch what he was saying.

‘Alright, so here’s my next question: Why didn’t you?’ Jaemin raised an eyebrow at Donghyuck’s moping figure as his head shot up.

‘Why didn’t I what?’ Donghyuck questioned, too tired and emotionally worn out to actually think through what he was being asked.

Jaemin rolled his eyes so hard that he thinks he actually saw the one remaining braincell of his that had survived this conversation, the rest of them choosing to jump ship and abandon him.

‘Why didn’t you go elephant hunting? What do you think?! Why didn’t you do all those things you wanted to? Why didn’t you tell her how much she means to you?’

Donghyuck paused for a minute, thinking back to when he saw you standing there, completely vulnerable, with all your walls down for just him to see.

‘I was scared...’ He admitted, looking up at his friend slowly. ‘I’ve never felt like this before and I don’t know what it means to do this kind of stuff and be good at it. What if I told her the truth and she didn’t feel the same? What if I scared her away when I told her how I felt? I was scared that she wouldn’t want anything to do with me if I told her I loved her.’

Jaemin didn’t respond for a second, his mind taking it’s time to wrap around the fact that Donghyuck was in love. He knew that you meant more to Hyuck than he had ever let on, but Jaemin never would have expected for his friend to have fallen in love with you.

‘Donghyuck... I don’t think you’ll lose her if you tell her you love her. But I do think you may lose her if you don’t.’ Jaemin watched Donghyuck’s expression change as the realisation of the reality of Jaemin’s words dawned on him.

‘What do I do Jaemin?’ He asked, begging to know how to get you back.

‘Do what you couldn’t before.’ Jaemin told him. ‘Tell her the truth.’

---

You could feel all eyes on you as you walked through the main gates the following morning. It was the first time you had walked in by yourself, Haechan having insisted on driving you every morning he could, so this seemed to alert people that there was something wrong.

You held your head high and refused to let them see how emotional you were, biting the inside of your cheek anytime you could feel your eyes begin to water slightly. If it were up to you, you would have stayed at home today, choosing instead to drown yourself in chocolate and chick flicks, but, unfortunately, your dad was working from home so you had to come in.

You made your way towards your locker, unable to avoid making eye contact with a couple of people along the way. You accidentally caught eyes with the trio of girls who you had become all too familiar with from their welcome when you arrived and their more recent “friendly” advice by your locker.

‘Aww hun, we tried to warn you...’ They crowded you, one of them stroking your hair and all of them effectively drawing all the attention towards you once more. ‘We wanted to protect you from this...’

You tensed up, irritated and a little creeped out by the unwanted contact.

‘Fuck off!’ You spat, pushing them away from you. They stepped forwards again, obviously trying to paint themselves as your saviours in front of the rest of the school who were watching.

‘Sweetie, we just want to help! We knew this would happen and-’

You cut them off, speaking quietly at them through gritted teeth.

‘You don’t know shit about what happened. Stop pretending like you care about me and go back to whatever it is that you do, and leave me alone.’

With that, just like it had in the hallway, the fake smiles and false pretences melted off the three witches, as they rolled their eyes at you before strutting away. Gossiping just loud enough for you to hear.

‘If she actually thought that relationship was real she’s such an idiot.’

‘I know! I mean, it’s Haechan for crying out loud, is she dumb?’

You screwed your eyes shut, resting your forehead against your locker as everyone else began to disappear from around you. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself and opened your locker. An envelope fell out of it as the door opened, the white paper landing on your feet.

You looked down at it in confusion, bending down to pick it up. You turned it over and examined the messy handwriting on the front. You immediately recognised it at Haechan’s and your eyes flew back to your locker, scanning it to see if he had left anything else. Your gaze focused on a bar of chocolate, which you pulled out and examined.

You nodded in disbelief. Did he really think that a bar of chocolate and a letter would make up for all that happened? When he couldn’t even look you in the face and give it to you himself? You grabbed your books, slamming your locker shut out of anger. If Haechan actually wanted to make amends, he should stop being such a coward and have the courage to face you himself to say whatever he wanted to. You weren’t going to give him an easy way out.

Before you headed to your class you stopped briefly to dump the letter and chocolate in a nearby bin, unaware of Donghyuck’s teary eyes watching you as you did so.

---

You walked into the local bar, exhausted from the long day you had just had and desperate for a drink. The bar was a college bar, but it was famous amongst students to turning a blind eye towards seniors that may not be of legal drinking age yet.

That day, you had found flowers on your desk in History, your favourite coffee waiting for you at lunch and another letter and chocolate bar in your locker by the end of the day. By this point, you were fed up with it. Everyone had been pointing at you and watching you the entire day, trying to figure out what had happened, and these gifts were not helping to keep you away from everyone’s prying eyes.

All you wanted was to just sit at a booth by yourself and think for a minute before walking home. Unfortunately, life in the form of a slightly drunk baseball jock had other plans.

‘Hey there.’ He approached you, getting a bit too close for comfort.

‘Hi.’ You greeted politely, moving away from him slightly, an infuriated sigh falling from your lips when he followed you.

‘Don’t run from me. What do you say that you and I get out of here okay?’ He purred, his face coming closer to yours so that you could smell the alcohol on his breath. You pushed against his chest, the alcohol coursing through his system worsening his balance making him take a few steps back. ‘Feisty... I like that.’ He began to advance again, making you quickly speak up.

‘Okay first of all, I just want to get a drink. Second of all, why would I leave when I’ve just arrived? Third of all, why would I leave with you?’ You turned away from him, rolling your eyes as you did so.

However, the message didn’t seem to go through his thick skull, with him pushing himself right up against you, his hand dangerously low on your back and he whispered into your ear, making your skin crawl.

‘You’ll pay for that later sweetheart.’

‘Hey!’ A different voice cut through and before you could register what was going on, an arm had wound its way around your shoulder and successfully pulled you away from the creep. ‘Back off.’

‘What do you think you’re doing, Na?’ The baseball player asked, his eyes narrowing as he noticed Jaemin pulling you away from him.

‘Spending some time with my friend, now beat it beefcake.’ Jaemin kept one hand on you, moving his arm off your shoulder but staying close so that you were comfortable.

‘Well, get in line I saw her first.’ He leant forwards to grab you again, as if you were some kind of prize that he’d won.

‘She said no.’ Jaemin said calmly, watching as the jock’s face screwed up in frustration as he lunged for you again, hitting Jaemin’s free hand as he reached out to stop the drunk from touching you.

‘That doesn’t matter.’ He began to raise his voice, the alcohol in his system fuelling his idiotic actions.

‘Allow me to explain, and I’ll use small words so you’ll be sure to understand.’ You had to stop yourself from smiling slightly at Jaemin’s words, his sass never failed to make you laugh and the fact that a couple of people in the bar had turned their heads towards the commotion made it even better. There was now an audience to watch as Jaemin obliterated the drunk baseball player in front of you two. ‘No means no. I understand that may be hard for you to understand, having taken so many hits to the head, but welcome to the 21st century you warthog faced buffoon.’

With that he turned away, making sure to keep himself between you and that jerk and guided you towards an empty booth as the jock was escorted out of the bar for uncivil behaviour. He sat down across from you and quickly whipped out his phone asking if you wanted anything.

‘I was originally planning on just getting something that wasn’t too strong but after that little experience I think I’ll take a vodka coke, thanks.’ You breathed, enjoying the safety of the booth that you were sat in.

Jaemin simply nodded, tapping away on his phone before putting it back into his pocket.

‘What do I owe you?’ You asked, reaching for your own phone so that you could pull up your mobile banking but Jaemin shook his head.

‘Why don’t you just get the next round?’ He proposed and you nodded in agreement.

‘Sounds fair.’ You trailed off after that, silence falling over the two of you as you tried to figure out what to say.

‘Thank you...’ You began. ‘For stepping in like that, he wasn’t backing down and I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t here.’ You were a little shaken up by it. Guys, especially drunk guys, had a tendency to be a bit gross and over comfortable but none of them had pursued and threatened you the way that guys had today.

‘Don’t mention it. He’s kinda famous for doing that kind of stuff, unfortunately people have just come to accept it. It’s fucked up.’ Jaemin chuckled. ‘People can get so used to seeing someone harass a woman that they begin to turn a blind eye.’

‘Yeah...’ You trailed off again, not sure how to respond.

Your drinks soon arrived, a waitress placing them down on the table in front of you. You reached out and grabbed the glass with your drink in as Jaemin picked up his. He lifted it to his lips and took a sip as you mirrored his actions with your own.

‘If you were meaning to catch Hyuck, he just left.’ Jaemin said suddenly, and you sent him a tight smile.

‘I wasn’t so don’t worry about it.’ You replied quickly, praying that this wouldn’t be the entirety of your conversation.

‘He misses you, you know?’ Jaemin continued softly, watching your face for any kind of reaction as you sighed.

‘Does he now?’ You muttered, staring into the dark brown drink in your hands.

‘Yes, y/n, he does.’ The certainty and clear frustration in Jaemin’s voice made you lift your eyes up to stare at him. ‘I’ve known Hyuck a long time and there’s something about you that’s stopped him in his tracks. He cares for you.’

‘He’ll move on. He always does, doesn't he? Soon he’ll stop wasting his money on the flowers or food and find his next girl to conquer. Don’t get mad at me for figuring out what was going on before he got the chance to pull the rug out from underneath my feet.’ You argued, slightly fed up that this was the only thing you could take about. You and Jaemin had always got along well so it upset and infuriated you that you had lost that relationship too.

Then Jaemin spoke again, this time the words that fell from his lips hitting you like a truck.

'Look, the list was never Hyuck’s idea to begin with, in fact he was really against it. The day you found it was the same day where he called our group to let them know that he was burning it, “it can only cause pain” were his words. The names that were crossed, weren’t crossed off by him. This old friend of ours, someone who we don’t speak to anymore after this, he heard about your relationship and gave Hyuck the list when he came back into town. Hyuck never wanted it, he never even looked at it once since he was given it, and he certainly didn’t care about it or use you just to cross your name off it. And the fact that you think that... y/n it’s killing him.’ He leant forwards as you averted your gaze, and forced you to look him in the eyes again. ‘Y/n, I've seen him work very hard to get girls and I've seen him work very hard to get rid of girls. I've never seen him work this hard to keep one around.’

And with that Jaemin stood, leaving the drink he barely touched sitting on the surface in front of you. You stared at it, not bothering to watch the boy leave as his last words swirled around in your head.

‘I’ve never seen him work this hard to keep one around.’

---

You stepped outside, shutting your front door behind you. You had arrived home from the bar to an empty house and having not felt like cooking, you decided to get a takeout. However, the one place you were really craving was only doing pickup so you had to walk there to order and get it. You pushed on the door, checking it was locked and then turned around, only to stop dead in your tracks when you found yourself face to face with Haechan.

The two of you just stared at each other, you refusing to speak first and, even though Haechan had practiced what he was going to say about a million times on the way over, all words had now left his mind. Eventually you just gave him a tight lipped smile and a nod and made to walk past him.

‘Wait! Y/n wait, please!’ Haechan called out and you slowed to a stop, lifting your eyes up to look at him once more. ‘I, um... I owe you an explanation.’

‘Really Haechan, you don’t have to it's pretty clear what was going on. It’s chill, we’re done and that’s fine. I’m just gonna do my thing and move on like I’d always planned and-’ You shrugged before getting cut off.

‘For the love of god y/n, would you please stop acting like everything’s fine and start dealing with your crap!’ Haechan snapped, causing you to look at him in shock. ‘Look, I’m sorry I snapped but... God, you don’t have to always pretend like it isn’t a big deal. You’re allowed to be upset about things. I hurt you, I know I did. You trusted me, confided in me, cared for me and I threw it all away, and it’s okay to be hurt by that. I’m not saying that I want you to feel hurt, obviously, but... not every has to mean nothing to you.’ Haechan was pretty much mumbling by the end of it, furious with himself for shouting at you when he was here to apologise.

‘Nothing? You think what happened meant nothing to me?’ You asked in disbelief. ‘Hyuck, when I saw that list, it was like everything I had ever thought, every reason I had ever had for keeping my walls up was proved true. I know it may seem like a small deal to some people, but it isn’t to me. It isn’t, okay? You lied to me, manipulated me for weeks, months even, and I feel like such an idiot. And don’t you dare think for one second that you mean nothing to me because the reason it hurt so much is because it was you. Nobody else has the power to hurt me and heal me like you do. And I keep my guard up, I keep my walls up, even when I’m upset, especially when I’m upset, because I don’t want someone to know what power they have over me. Because... if they see how much I care about them, how much I love them, what’s stopping them from using that against me? Once someone knows about it, I don’t have control over it anymore. Once someone knows about it, my heart is completely in the hands of, and at the mercy of, the person I love.’ You ranted, the tears in your eyes gathering rapidly as you tried with everything you could to blink them away. You never told people the truth about how you felt, scared about how they would react to the real you. In fact, telling Hyuck this was terrifying.

Hyuck stared at you with wide eyes, his expression, for once, was unreadable.

‘Love?’ He asked, hope reaching out across his face as you finally managed to get a read on him.

You swallowed, the fear that you had previously been trying to explain began to bubble up as you forced it back down.

‘Yes Hyuck, love...’

‘You’re calling me Hyuck...’ He pointed out, his voice just as soft as yours.

‘I guess I am.’

‘Do you love me?’

Your eyes shot up at his question, leaving their previous view of the tarmac of your drive and instead settling on Donghyuck’s brown eyes, ones that were currently glistening with tears.

‘Does it matter?’ You whispered. ‘It’s not going to change anything. It all still happened.’

‘But it didn’t! Well, it did, but I never wanted it to happen in the first place. I never wanted anything to do with that stupid list! I told him it would only hurt people and now I’ve gone and hurt the one person that I truly love and it’s not fair!’ Your eyes widened at his words, unable to process that fact that he just said love. Hyuck began to wind his hands through his hair as he continued his angry rant that wasn’t really directed at you but rather anyone who would listen. ‘I burnt it. I burnt the fucking list but it was too late and now it’s all a mess and it’s my fault cause I should have burnt it when I first got it. I never even scratched a name off, I’ve only spent time with you this year and I only ever wanted to and I want only you now and I’m not making sense anymore and-’

‘Hyuck!’ You interrupted, stopping him mid rant as his words began to turn to nonsense. His innocent doe eyes looked into yours and you refused to break eye contact. ‘Love?’ You asked, repeating Hyuck’s question from before.

You wanted as his demeanour completely changed. He forced some air into his lungs, dropping his shoulders as he took a deep breath. He lifted his head and locked eyes with you for the thousandth time that night, yet this felt very different. There was something in his gaze that held you captive, even if you had wanted to look away, you wouldn’t have been able to. Your eyes never left his, even as he began to speak and you saw the truth in his words through his sincere expression.

‘I’m not good at this. This kind of moment, this conversation where I admit how I’ve been feeling this entire time. I’m good with music, I’m good with food, I’m good with jokes and making people laugh, but... I’m really bad when it comes to looking someone in the eye and telling them how I feel. Especially if that means letting my walls down. I’m not here to tell you that I’m falling in love with you. I’m here to tell you that... I’ve already fallen. And I was terrified of falling for you, because it was so easy. The way you always remember my coffee order, or the way you drape a blanket over me when I fall asleep on the sofa, or the way that you made me care more about my life, about who I am and how I impact others. Loving you was so easy and that’s why it was so god damn terrifying. Because I couldn’t stop myself. No matter how hard I try, I can’t stop myself from being in love with you. I am utterly, hopelessly, irretrievably in love with you. More than you’ll ever know. And for the first time in my life, that doesn’t sound so scary.’

By this point, the tears that had been previously threatening to fall were now steadily making their way down his face. You knew that you looked no better, your vision was blurry and your throat was tight. He refused to look away from you, not even to wipe the tears from his face, instead, he kept talking.

‘And I know that this doesn’t change anything. You’re still leaving at the end of this year, but that’s just over seven months away. And, even though I know how it’s going to end, I want those seven months with you. I do. I want them more than anything. And I will do anything it takes to earn your trust back.’

There wasn’t a single speck of doubt in your body that Hyuck was telling the truth. This wasn’t Haechan speaking, this was Donghyuck, vulnerable, emotional and broken Donghyuck talking to you from his heart, begging for your forgiveness and understanding. You found it impossible to tear your gaze away from him, your eyes glued to his as you tried to come to a conclusion in your mind.

No matter how many times the irrational part of your brain tried to convince you this was all a trick, some elaborate scheme that will end up with you getting your heart broken, you couldn’t hear it. It was outweighed by the sheer volume of every atom, every fibre of your being screaming out for the boy you loved, for Donghyuck.

‘Hyuck, I love you... But I don’t want you to have only seven months with me.’ You began. Donghyuck’s face quickly fell, as if accepting defeat and he sadly nodded. ‘I want you to have more than that. And I know that it doesn’t seem possible, because I’m moving, but, what if I wasn’t...’ You trailed off as Hyuck’s eyes filled with hope.

‘What are you saying?’ He asked, his lips twitching as he fought back a grin. He had never wanted anything more than he wanted you to be saying what he thought you were saying.

‘I’m saying, my dad got offered a permanent position here, and he took it. I’m not moving. I’m staying here, in the only place on earth I want to stay. Because, here, I get to be with you.’ You revealed.

A second passed as the revelation sank in and Donghyuck’s face split into the biggest smile you had ever seen on him. He rushed forwards towards you, his arms making their way around your waist as your bodies crashed into each other. You wound your arms around his neck, dropping your head into his shoulder and feeling him do the same. You breathed in, savouring the feeling of being wrapped in his embrace, the place you had missed so much.

Hyuck eventually lifted his head out of your neck, looking you deep in the eyes before he leant his forehead on yours and breathed out a soft:

‘I’ve missed you.’

You couldn’t stop the smile that grew on your face, nor could you stop your reply.

‘I missed you too.’

You pulled your forehead away from his, watching as his gaze flickered down to your lips and back up again, a questioning look in his eyes. You nodded, giving permission and Hyuck wasted no time in pressing his lips to yours.

You could have sworn fireworks went off. You had never understood that saying until that very moment, but right there, you felt an explosion of love that you hadn’t known was possible. You pressed yourself into him as his arms pulled you as close as possible until there wasn’t any space between your bodies.

You both pulled away to catch your breath, yet neither of you moved away from the other at all. You stayed just as close as you had been, with Hyuck’s arms never loosening from around your waist. He couldn’t stop himself from laughing slightly, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

‘I love you.’ He laughed, provoking a chuckle out of you too.

‘I love you more.’ You replied, grinning up at him as he raised an eyebrow at you.

‘Not possible.’ He answered back, his voice softening as he leant down to kiss you once more.

Hyuck kissed you again, and again, and again. He kissed you throughout the whole night, only stopping to whisper confessions of his love or to attempt to pull you closer to him than you already were. He came with you to pick up some takeout, he also insisted on paying, but even when waiting for the food, he held you tightly in a back hug.

He pulled your legs over his on the sofa at yours as he fed you your takeout while you watched a movie together. And he kept his tight grip on you as you went to sleep, tangled up together like vines, so intertwined that it seemed impossible to pull them apart.

Hyuck never ended up telling you why he held you so tightly that night. In his defence, you never really asked, and, as much as Hyuck allowed himself to be vulnerable and honest around you, this was something that he kept as his own little secret. As his own little confession. Whenever Hyuck was struggling, he just thought back to this night and how amazing it felt to finally have the girl he loved wrapped in his arms, with the knowledge that she will still be there when he wakes up.

He had finally found someone who he loved and would do anything for, and he never wanted to let you go.

---

Not even one month later, it was the Winter Formal. The school had decided to put a monumental amount of effort into it, hiring out a local ballroom and turning it into a winter wonderland, complete with fake snow, white trees, gentle lighting and sparkly white silk hanging around the room. You would be lying if you said that your breath wasn’t completely taken away when you walked in.

Yet none of it compared to the feeling of walking in with Hyuck on your arm.

Hyuck had surprised, not only you, but the entire school it seemed when he walked in with a smart suit on, a white flower in the pocket and green tie neatly around his neck. It seemed as though all eyes were on the two of you when you entered the hall, and you were sure that Hyuck’s look was something to do with it.

Of course he disagreed. He insisted that it was all to do with the green gown that you were wearing, claiming the way it hugged your figure in all the right places and the slit in the thigh made you look like a dream. Walking out of your house to meet Hyuck and seeing his jaw literally drop was a major confidence boost. That boy knew how to make you feel good about yourself.

You met your friends at the dance, and not even two minutes after arriving, were immediately pulled onto the dance floor by Jaemin.

‘You guys look good!’ He commented, flashing you his million dollar smile. ‘Probably the best out of everyone here. ’

‘Well we thought it was best to make an impression.’ You shrugged, grinning back at him.

Just as Hyuck opened his mouth to reply, your maths professor walked past, unable to stop himself from commenting.

‘Nice to see you finally put some effort into your appearance Haechan.’

‘Thank you sir. You too!’ Hyuck replied cheekily, before turning back to the two of you with a confused look on his face.

‘Was it just me or was that a little bit weird?’ He asked the two of you.

‘Just a bit, yeah!’ You replied, laughing as Jaemin agreed with you.

The music began to slow down and Jaemin, not wanting to get stuck in the masses of couples who were taking to the dance floor, said a quick goodbye before moving away.

Hyuck gently grabbed your hand with his, wrapping his other hand securely around your waist and pulled you in close to him. You rested your free hand on his shoulder and gently began to sway to the music.

The whole scene felt like something out of a movie. The soft lights were gently shining down on the two of you, making you feel as though you were the only two people there as the atmosphere surrounded you, enclosing you in your own little bubble. You found yourself getting lost in Hyuck’s eyes as the music faded slowly into the background, the sound of your heart beating for the boy in front of you overpowering everything else.

There really was nothing that you wouldn’t do for Hyuck. And, no matter what people told you, no matter what rumours you hear, you knew that you knew him. The real him. Not Haechan, not the bad boy cliche image that he puts up everyday, not everyone else’s perception of him as the kid who didn’t give a damn about anyone or anything. You knew Hyuck for who he truly was, all the good, the bad and the ugly. You had seen him at his highs and his lows, you trusted him with your heart and you knew he would never break it.

After all these years of moving and leaving things behind, you had finally found somewhere you could call home. Only it wasn’t a place. It was a person. And you knew that, as long as he was looking down at you with that much love in his eyes, you wouldn’t need any other home ever again.

Maybe senior year wasn’t just the best year of your life as everybody says it is, but also the beginning of the rest of it.

Roll credits.

788 notes · View notes