#time to never touch digital art again

[art-o-gant]

miss helen's one pace from disgraced cabaret

[faerieomenart]

An old sketch of Damian Wayne and Jason Todd ofc ofc. Damian has always been one of my favorite dc characters (next to Bart!! ik. drastic difference), but I never draw him (or Bart but I'll fix that dw).

I always like it when these two get along. They are like opposite sides of the same coin to me.

Drawn Nov 5, 2020 (prob the oldest art piece that I'll repost lol).

This was in my queue but I'm posting it early bc why not?

[eggsistential-basket]

man the struggle of going back into my old art and trying to see if i've improved or not

[bribinart]

wip hee hoo

[prael]

A Bargain To Remember

Kinktember Day 13: Car sex

(G)I-DLE Miyeon x male reader smut

words: 4,950 Kinktember Masterlist

"Finally, a face to the name."

You know all about Miyeon, of course. She's the type of girl whose face is plastered on every screen and every street in every corner of the galaxy, a darling of the interplanetary conglomerates. From the spaceports to even the most downtrodden of back-alleys, you can probably find her face on some poster or flyer or some massive digital billboard high above you—those corporate powers that be sure want to squeeze as much out of her as possible.

The surprise is that she knows you.

Of course, it's on those screens, or the ones at home, or the ones in their pockets, that most people become acquainted with a girl like Miyeon. Those glossy eyes, her effervescent smile, her delicate but fierce features, of course, they leave an impression. They sell you dreams, products and promises. That's why you can find her all over the place—but the versions of her you can interact with— ones to purchase and enjoy—are another beast altogether.

"Can I help you, miss?" you feign ignorance of her identity as she takes the chair at the other end of your desk.

"I would like to make a purchase."

"A purchase? From me? What could I possibly offer to someone like you? I sell scrap electronics to junkies and fix the broken implants of low-life thugs. How could that possibly interest you?"

She crosses her legs, and says, "Don't play with me. I have seen your work, quite the artist you are, though I wouldn't say you exactly have my mannerisms down. The curve of my mouth, the cadence of my voice—not exactly up to par with the real deal. But as fakes go, you do well with what you have."

You scratch at the back of your head and then catch a bead of sweat forming at your temple, "Think you have the wrong guy, miss. You're talking AI and Virts here. Not my thing, definitely not my forte."

She's quiet as you look around at anything but her face. The grey concrete walls and steel beam of the roof are awfully fascinating suddenly, and then the holos playing on loop above the screens of your makeshift booth—really anything than to have to admit that your life's work consists of making and selling forgeries of people like her. She knows why she's here—the least you could do is be brave and admit to your craft.

"I tried your work myself. Quite the experience. Can't say I ever planned on fucking myself—but well, there's a first time for everything I guess."

There's enough power across your desk to not only shut you down and make it so the only tech you would ever touch again is a pair of electrified cuffs at best, and at worst she could have you put down and silently disposed.

Miyeon continues, "As I say, it wasn't entirely accurate, I'm not actually that loud or aggressive, for the record. But it was fun, so if you're thinking I'm about to expose you, not the case—I'm actually here to invest in your skill. Your art is fun, and I dare say your tastes in women, are spot on."

You let out a small nervous laugh and then say, "I don't usually take requests."

Her pink-painted lips, the gloss shimmering slightly from the bright fluorescent overhead light, form into a delicate, mischievous grin. "I'm willing to make you an offer, one you won't refuse. You get me what I want, and I'll license your work. Think about it. An official Miyeon VirtueX™, think of how lucrative an asset that could be. The whole galaxy's lining up to get a taste—and you would be the only real supply."

You lean forward in your chair to peer at her and ask, "Let's say I was who you think I am, what is it that you want from me?"

"What I want from you," she pauses and tilts her head, her eyes glance across your features briefly and her tongue traces the edges of her teeth. "Is to show me the past." She places a drive on the desk—old-tech, the kind that would never run on any kind of systems that are sold today. "You can get this working, right?"

"Is that a government stamp?" You point to the symbol on the drive. "I plug that in and I'll have execution squads here in under a minute."

"It's all above board. Officially disposed and untracked. I just need to live it, once." Her voice is quiet and pensive.

"Alright. Deal. But those two lumps of metal you call bodyguards have to stay out there, and you're coming through to my studio. If I'm gonna help, you have to play by my rules."

She flashes you a winning smile. You thought you had her pegged down but all this has proved you wrong—there was more to Miyeon than the flashy clothes and the blinding lights, a lot more. And your curiosity is getting the better of you now.

"You know, you're only the third person to ever step in here," you open up the secret passage into the back room, and gesture for Miyeon to step in.

You close the door behind you both and feel the heavy metal slide lock with a hiss.

"The first was me, naturally, and the second left it in a body bag a few years ago."

She doesn't flinch, just brushes past you and sits on the edge of your desk, running a finger along the steel as if surveying the conditions of your equipment. "Hard to imagine you make the stuff you do from a place like this," she says.

"The drive," you say as you hold out a hand.

She passes it over and you examine the shape and material. Most drives these days are designed to interface with neural implant ports or organic docks directly—this is true vintage work. It might have been what some would have called groundbreaking tech a hundred or so years ago. You hook the little device up to your primary work machine and start running tests.

She slides off the table, her hands resting on your shoulders. She bends down, her body pressed into yours as she murmurs near your ear. "How is it?"

"A mess. But a fixable mess. Should have something you can use soon enough."

Miyeon breathes gently in your ear before placing a hand on your arm, "Please, whatever you do, do not look at the contents. It's personal, just let me view it, and live it, one last time. Then you can lock it away again for all eternity and erase the copy from your server. And then you get exactly what you want from me."

You breathe in deeply, a mixture of her perfume and the thick oily scent of hot electronics flooding your brain. "Whatever, it's none of my business anyway. Now take a seat will you." You nod to the chair on the other side of the room.

The drive whirrs softly and a data scan runs to gather all the fragmented encryptions left behind on the device. Miyeon lies flat back on your chair and waits for you to connect her—she holds out her forearm expectantly.

"Come on then," she smiles sweetly and pulls a loose curl behind her ear.

You clamp your eyes tight and inhale. "Here goes nothing." You run the system at the push of a button and all the data you scraped compiles in a memory, one for Miyeon and Miyeon alone to relive. You walk over, drawing the connection from the chair and readying to insert it into her arm. "Connections like these, they can hurt, okay? Are you ready?"

"Do it." She's insistent.

A quick stab of your fingers later and the tiny prongs slide into the barely visible organic slot on her skin. Her head tosses violently and for the first time, there's fear on her face. But as soon as you have her connected, her eyelids begin to flutter. You sit a while, watching her as a million synapses all spark to life behind rolling eyes—whatever the moment is, she is in it. You leave her in peace and sit back at your workstation, waiting.

There's an artificial sensation of the atmosphere becoming slightly humid all around, the lights are a soft pastel blue, and the world is swathed in cotton wool. Silent. You find yourself completely frozen in time. It drags and yet somehow comes to a finish just as you're still adjusting to the quietude.

Miyeon's connection beeps and you turn around, removing the port from your system. She pulls the connection from her arm.

"So, tell me, was it worth the trip down memory lane? You get everything you wanted?" You unplug the old-school hardware and await the confirmation that all the corrupted data's safely expunged from your hard drives.

"Almost everything. But most things, in the end, never get a happy ending, do they?"

"Sounds heavy. The stuff that happened on there, pretty rough, huh."

Her pupils are dilated, the whites of her eyes flooded red. "Like you wouldn't believe." Miyeon climbs from the chair, finding her feet back in the real world after living in another for a precious few minutes. She blinks twice and there's a distinct film over her corneas.

"So that's it? My end of the bargain was fulfilled. And I get my licensed content?"

Miyeon turns and you wonder if that's a tear that's been cast down her cheek. "Sealed and guaranteed. Now let's give you some real data to work with. The right anatomical model, an authentic Miyeon behavioural pattern, every single unique vocal calibration, every erogenous spot, every subtle expression in real-time—have it all. One more condition. I have another memory, a real one in my head, if you make me relive that, you can record it and scrub every detail you need. Are we agreed?"

You nod. "Done. Sit there and we'll connect."

"You're going to manually record?"

"How do you think I get it all so accurate?" you tell her with a smug smile.

She sits and gives a nod. "If it's got to be done." You take a seat behind her, and you both reach over your shoulder to pull the neural connector into your napes and slot them in.

A brief flash of many realities as you slip into her consciousness and she welcomes you to her memory.

A calm setting, sitting in a car, you were driving and she's in the passenger seat. You're parked beside a winding hillside road and looking out over a city. A city you don't recognise. Miyeon's fingers dancing across your thigh with a suggestive gentleness, a sly smile.

"Where are we?" you ask.

"Seoul." Miyeon smiles.

"When are we?"

"2024."

"2024? That's over seventy years ago!"

She laughs. "Yeah? You wanted the real authentic Miyeon, didn't you?"

"Sure, but in 2024? That's just unbelievable. You look the same. How are you so—"

She leans close and traces a finger across the line of your jaw. She stares directly into your eyes and says, "We'll worry about the details later. Right now, you want what I've promised, and you've come this far, so you know what has to be done. We're already where we need to be."

Your senses are engulfed in an emotion and memories that are not your own. All a simulation and all a vivid and overwhelming experience. You're in love with her, that's the overriding feeling—the feeling of whoever she was really with at this time.

"This is the memory of the best sex of my life." She leans close to whisper to you. "So do try your best."

"This is just..." You don't get to finish, she's grabbed your shirt and pulled you close. She kisses you deeply. There is nothing of the daintiness or composure that you're used to, you've lost all your will and she is dragging you out of control. You find yourself consumed with an overwhelming and perplexing ecstasy and the idea of restraint or of reason seems unimportant now. You're driven purely by passion and by instinct—she has to have you and you have to have her, it's almost a compulsion. She's yanking off her seatbelt and reaching for your trousers, clawing at them desperately.

And just like that, you're scrambling at each other's clothes, almost frantic. You have the sensation of her breath across your face, the heat of her lips against your skin. Hands, everywhere. Exploring the curves of her body. A hungry desperation to peel back every layer of fabric to feel more, and more of her. She bites your bottom lip and looks at you with pleading eyes.

"I want you and I want you now." Her lips move like liquid lust and her hand like electricity, the energy tingles when she wraps her fingers around your cock and pulls it free from your pants.

She gasps and then giggles as if pleasantly surprised, a cute and kittenish squeal, she hums with her own approval of her actions.

"I'll be gentle," she whispers, her eyes shining with mischief. She rubs you from tip to base, taking the full length, slowly and teasingly over and again until the blood's pumping and you're at full salute. She's on her knees in the passenger seat and leaning over you. A smirk on her lips, she goes lower and lower still, her tongue warm and wet. Taking your crown into her mouth and enveloping you, her pace slow but sure.

Your hand in her hair, not to control or pressure, just to feel her in the moment. Encourage her, caress the back of her neck and appreciate every moment of pleasure. She takes you deep, deeper into her throat, the heat of her lungs, the power in her movements as she comes off and plunges again and again. It's effortless and instinct, and not for anything other than her own desire to please, and that itself is thrilling, you have to admit.

It's a strange new world for you to have sex without the enhancements of technology. It's so raw.

You sigh and whimper at every suckling pull, your nerve endings raw and singing. Her palms firmly pressing down onto the tops of your thighs, her movements grow slower, more sensual but she sucks harder, the vibrations from the moans of her enjoyment humming through the root of your shaft—fuck, it feels so fucking good, too good. She releases you with a slight gasp for air and a drooling line of spit.

She wipes her lips with a knowing glint in her eyes. "Outside, now." Miyeon doesn't hesitate. Her shirt pulled off and tossed into your face and she's leapt over to the rear passenger door, flinging it open wide, the warm night air rushes in to greet you, along with the sound of crickets. She slams the door shut and you open yours.

You climb out and head to meet her at the front of the car, she's already leaning against the metal hood. The car is one of those muscle cars from back at the time, a real classic ride that suits a woman like her. "Hey you," she rubs her hands against the metal as she leans forward and sprawls herself over it. "Get behind me already," her tongue dancing across her red-stained lips, her chest heaving in excitement, you're as hot and as hard as you'll ever be.

Miyeon tilts her head, watching you closely with half-opened eyes, her pretty pink tongue sticks out between her perfect teeth, and a teasing wink follows. She wiggles her hips, an inviting gesture, her skirt raised to reveal the gentle wobble of her cheeks—she doesn't have underwear, what a perfect minx she is—all bare for you.

She runs a hand down over the hem of her skirt and then raises it fully up over the top of her ass. As glorious as the very stars overhead. You have an overwhelming urge to run your hands across her bare flesh and as you take the first steps towards her, you find your arms reaching and touching and tracing every inch of skin that's exposed.

You run your hands over her cheeks, spreading them, kneading them, Miyeon's letting out soft little noises, encouraging you, inciting you—but fuck, this view... it's exquisite. It's so clear now, that all those fakes, the painstaking hours of recreation, simply did not live up to the real deal, and not just the view, everything is magnitudes superior.

You smooth your palm between her thighs and you part them, pulling her ass to the edge, sliding her legs open, watching as her wetness shines. "Just how badly do you want me?" you ask her.

"Look at me, how can you say something like that? Of course, I fucking want you. I hate having to wait. Come and fuck me."

You guide your cock to sit between her cheeks and rock into it gently, enjoying how those perky cheeks cradle your length and the way her whole body rocks with every movement. "Is it wrong that I love watching you squirm?" you ask, running the palm of your hand over the bare skin, digging your fingers in, grasping a handful and appreciating how it yields under your fingertips.

"Only wrong if I mind, and I don't," Miyeon groans, lifting her hips against you and smothering your dick in her deliciously juicy flesh. She is irresistible. "So what are you waiting for," her voice soft and suggestive. "Go on, you know you want to. You know how much I need it."

You grit your teeth and trace her lips with the tip of your cock, and it's like lightning flashing between you both. Fuck. Her lips are so wet and hot—they're so tantalisingly puffy. She wiggles and gyrates against you as you rest inside her opening. She groans and you're shuddering.

You slide the first few inches and gasp. You both moan softly together as you glide in, she's so much tighter than you had imagined she might feel—every inch that slides inside makes her clench you more.

"Yes," Miyeon is urgent and breathy, her muscles are contracting as though attempting to swallow your entire length. And she's hungry for it. "That's it baby, nice and deep," her words as electrifying as the sensation of her snug walls quivering as she clings on with greed.

"Like this?" you whisper in her ear as you lean over and pin her petite frame against the metal, letting her feel you, all of you. Every inch. And as she moans and shivers under the weight of your body. Your hands reach her shoulders and your fingertips find her neck, circling and caressing and massaging in all the right places—she turns her head as far round as she's able to gaze at you as she hums and gasps with each rolling movement of your hips.

Her teeth biting her bottom lip, her cheeks flushed pink, a complete dream in motion. Her body arches as she urges and wills herself back on you. You groan in return. Everything about her feels unreal in its perfection. She's squeezing against your cock, and her most hidden recesses begin to melt for you.

Miyeon cums like this, and it's without warning. She tenses, her eyes go wide and her mouth hangs open—her silky tunnel clamps tight as a vice grip. And the way she gushes all over you, covering you, she can barely breathe, she can barely let out a cry or a single noise, only ragged breathing as you hold her firmly in place and fuck her through it.

You fuck her without shame or inhibition. She whimpers, a feeble cry, every thrust powerful and deliberate. Miyeon moans what feels like your name and you give another forceful snap of your hips, both hands firmly on her slim and shaking waist. There are no words that can possibly encapsulate her.

"That's it," her breath erratic and shaky. She grinds her ass into you with every forward push, working into a perfect rhythm and going balls-deep with each pump. "Hard." You slam against her ass, the clapping sound of skin against skin—it fills the warm and humid air.

Miyeon cums again. So fucking easy to make her cum. Her beautiful brown eyes are desperate with desire. She shakes, she is panting, "Just like that, keep doing exactly that and I'll lose my damn mind. God, you feel so fucking big."

She's limp now, just taking rough, powerful and blissful strokes—her cries a series of hoarse grunts and weak moans.

You grab her by the waist, hard, she lets out a yelp, and then you're manhandling her, throwing her delicate figure over onto her back. There they are, those perfect little tits, grown red being forced against the metal of the car. Her soppy mess drips out from her thoroughly fucked hole.

"This, is all you wanted right?" You gather her legs and thrust them roughly up and over your shoulders, sliding easily back inside. Her pussy gushing and absolutely soaking. "A good rough fucking. You just love to be used don't you, baby. This is the side of you I've been missing, seeing how you have always been so prim and proper in front of everyone."

"That was your problem, all those homemade VirtueXs made me all commanding when I really just love to be taken." Her breaths are ragged.

"Maybe that's just how I'll be selling you in future then," you say.

She gives a throaty chuckle. "Do whatever the fuck you want, but for now," Miyeon takes a tight hold of her knees, and draws them against her chest. "Make me cum again, please."

You have her absolutely filled with every inch of cock and stretched tight with every savage drive of your hips, again, and again, and again. Sweat forms a light film over every curve and groove of her form. She's gorgeous, she's taking it, and she's loving it. "Let me feel you cum," she breathes between pumps and thrusts, her fingers kneading the flesh of her thighs as she spreads herself as open as is physically possible.

A combination of pressure and adrenaline, you're hammering deep. Miyeon is groaning and pleading. A loud moan, a series of short sharp exhales and whimpers. Those narrow hips are trembling, her slim thighs shake, toes are curled. Her orgasm and invitation for you to join her come as a surge.

You explode. Locked, sheathed so deep and full, you fill her. "Cum so much..." Miyeon sighs in awe. Your climax is euphoria.

Both a sweating, quaking mass of interlocked limbs, you pull away and your drenched cock slips out. "How are you real," you exhale. "Never felt anything like you."

"I am one of a kind." Miyeon laughs gently to herself. "Now let's get back in there and you can fuck me some more."

You're in the backseat now, Miyeon's slender body climbing all over you. She leans in and takes your lips, her sticky lip gloss and the sweet taste of her mouth as she invades with her tongue and leads yours into a frenzy. Her fingertips drag down across your chest. She's positioning herself over your cock.

The beauty of simulation is there's no recovery, only the chasing of the next orgasm, and she's keen to provide the means. She takes you with her eyes closed, a small, grateful moan and she slides herself slowly up and down. Your head arches back with a cry as she holds onto your shoulders and glides her lips down over your shaft.

"Gonna ride you," she whispers as she rocks herself in time with the rise and fall of your breaths. "Ride you until you explode again." Your fingertips squeeze into the supple curves and muscles of her torso.

It is a euphoric ecstasy. Miyeon looks perfect riding a dick. She sinks down low, grinding back and forth. She moves like waves, her hair stuck against her cheek. You take hold and move the strands out of the way, before trailing down the bare skin of her neck and to her tits, groping them firmly.

"Been so long since I last got to do this. Missed how big you are." She grasps the headrest as the speed and intensity of her motions increase. "Yeah, that's it, baby."

Her eyes flutter and her head starts to fall further and further back. Erratic, out of control, wild—she starts slamming her ass down hard. Fucked-slack and oozing, her juices dripping down. She's growing quiet and you watch her expression transform, her eyes turn glassy. You watch her face strain in her pleasure, it's a wonderful sight—pure bliss. Then she erupts into moans as her body convulses and spasms, and all you can do is hold her steady, her hole throbbing tight around you. She gasps, desperate for oxygen, every fibre and nerve singing in harmony.

From one, right into chasing the next, Miyeon lifts herself, turns, presents her ass to you and sits back on your cock. You watch it slip up between her cheeks and disappear inside her cunt once more, she hums a content sigh and leans forward. Miyeon braces herself against the window of the car, looking over her shoulder as she moves.

Her groin rocks and grinds on your shaft in a rolling motion and it's heaven itself. That cute, perky ass smacks on your groin in a sensual motion. Her hand snakes between her legs. Her moans grow in strength and volume. Wet, slippery, soft, Miyeon's fucking you and riding herself to her own orgasm. She starts to tremble. You start to tremble. She's squirming wildly, desperate for her climax, that gorgeous cunt squeezing every inch and driving you crazy.

And you lose it. Another intense explosion that makes you clasp onto her ass and hold it steady. A groan rips through your entire body, and you empty everything you have. She cums the instant she feels the heat spread through her. A unified orgasm. Pure heavenly relief. The energy seems to drift into the air and the car rattles beneath you both. It is incredible. The euphoria is otherworldly.

"Tell me that was good," she asks softly.

"Like you wouldn't believe."

"Again. Again. Please, one more time?"

"It's your head, sweetie. Have at it."

"Hmm, I suppose it is. Then I want to sit on you, and I want it in my ass." Miyeon giggles and slips herself off you, a mixture of your cum and hers falling down her thighs.

"Whatever the fuck you want," you groan, delirious as Miyeon pulls you up to the seat and then takes her place on your lap, she spread her legs out over yours and you take her hips, guiding her ass onto your cum-soaked cock. Everything is a fucking blur but the sensations are turned up to eleven, and there is nothing else that is comparable.

You plant kisses on her hot, sweaty back as you slide her down onto your length. She's twitching, and squirming. You hear her let out a soft gasp of delight at the invasion. The tightness, the constricting squeeze is just...

"Oh yes..." Miyeon breathes softly. "Let me... let me do the work now, let me fuck this big hard dick with my tight ass." She circles her hips, drawing on your cock with a slow, tight, merciless motion. Your world starts spinning all over again. She's slick with sweat, her cheeks grinding on your thighs, the scent and the sex drives you fucking wild. "What a perfect dick. I could do this all day."

You lean your head forward, and sink your teeth into the muscle of her shoulder—a flurry of loud moans from Miyeon as she bounces on your shaft. The sloppy sounds, the music of her pleasures, the clapping slap, it's insane and exhilarating. You lick her sweat from her flesh, tasting her.

She's slick and stretched, clamping around your cock as her pace quickens and turns ragged and urgent. It's a whole other level, it's unparalleled and all-consuming. You're just about ready to blow inside her ass.

"Hold onto me," She pants, grasping your left wrist and bringing it over to her mouth, placing your fingertips upon her tongue and sucking. It is lewd and erotic and exciting and your insides begin to churn and ache.

There's no stopping you now, you erupt again, gripping her waist as your hips buck up on instinct, jamming yourself deep and blowing. Miyeon moans around your fingertips—taking your load while still rubbing her swollen little clit.

"Yes, I love it when I make you cum like that," she murmurs, sliding herself slowly off your half-mast cock and crawling off your lap. She throws herself down on the seat in a heap, peering down at the thick mess of cum dripping out of her freshly fucked orifices, a dazed smile, satiated.

You blink and try to get her into focus but it's to no use—she blurs and vanishes before your eyes. And soon, you're back. Your workshop, in your chair, and still hooked into Miyeon. Still sitting back-to-back, your foreheads damp, breathing hard and ragged. The lights flickering a bright electric blue.

"Incredible," you breathe.

Miyeon sighs. "Yeah..." She detaches the link from behind her ear. Miyeon climbs to her feet, shakily making her way around your workspace. "I'm such a mess," She says, touching under her dress.

"Fuck, yeah me too," you sit there trying to process what just happened.

"I want a copy. The whole thing." Miyeon places a card down on the desk.

"I'll get started."

[bandgie]

what would stray kids' "we shouldn’t be doing this" sex situation be??

MDNI 18+ | step/incest themes (individual warnings), age gap, oral (f!), fem!reader, I prolly missed some tbh

chan! (tw: step)

something about him screams step-dad. you're not home too much cuz you're already older by the time your mom remarries, but whenever you do swing by, your step dad is more than eager to cook, to clean, to show that he's a good husband...for your mom ofc. but the air thickens and you both start growing more bold. you come more often, making sure to bend lower enough for chan to catch a sight of your panties. he never makes a move though, not until the inevitable divorce papers are served. then he's a little more receptive to your advances, but ofc, he has some morals left

"Wait! I know your mom and I are getting a divorce, but that doesn't mean-" Chan shuts up real quick at the feel of your hand lowering, cupping his bugle and kissing his neck. "Shh, weren't you trying so hard to be my daddy before? You can be that now."

minho! (tw: age gap)

dad's best friend. older, hotter, flirty. he honestly has little to no shame when it comes to teasing you. if anything, it's you telling him that you can't do this, that it's wrong, but gosh it just feels so good. your friends tell you about the sexual experience older men have and it only tempts you more to give into Minho's advances. the furthest you've gone is light touching, his gentle kisses to your bare shoulder when you get out of the pool. but honestly, he's just so charming, it's only a matter of time before you're under him

If you don't get his cock soon, you think you'll cum just from his fingers. Minho's got two digits fucking into you, his thumb swirling your clit while he lavishes your nipple with his tongue. You whine, throwing your head back and arching upwards. "Minho! Minho, my dad-" but a harsh bite on your swollen bud makes you yelp. Minho briefly picks up his head, "You're dad's downstairs. You should be quiet before he hears us."

changbin!

he's your ex. you come across him at one the parties your university throws and you swore to yourself that you'd never get involved with frat boys again, but he just looks so good. big arms crossing his chest, black jeans on his thick thighs (and thick cock) with a red solo cup in his hand. you keep reminding yourself that he's not worth it. it would be so stereotypical to hook up in a someone's house you don't know, but once he sees you it's pretty much settled.

"Come on, you know you miss it," his words are like butter, and truthfully you do miss it. You miss how his thick fingers wrapped around your neck, how his fat cock stretched your pussy. But still, you're prideful, "As if. I shouldn't even doing this shit with you." Rather than his little smirk disappearing, it widens. "Who are you tryna convince? Me or you?"

hyunjin!

you're his art teacher. he's super talented, super dedicated to his craft and you constantly praise him for it. as true as that is, you also love seeing his smile and dimples. you have yet to admit that you find your student attractive, but you can at least acknowledge that he makes your job a little bit better. it's when he comes in for your office hours that you finally have to come to terms with your true emotions. you think you can keep professional, but hyunjin's set on letting you know how he feels.

"Hyunjin...you know we can't," but your words fall on deaf ears. Hyunjin pushes a loose strand from your face, cupping your cheek in the process. "Why not? Is there something wrong with me?" He sounds so desperate, so sincere. You have to swallow your desires but you can't push his hand away. "Nothing. Nothing's wrong with you." He leans past you, brushing his plump lips over the shell of your ear. "Then let me touch you one time. Let me show you how much you mean to me just once."

han! (tw:incest)

icky brother for sure. older brother to be specific. you always thought it was normal for siblings to be as close as you are, to kiss when either of you are stressed, to go on outings that usually end in more kissing on the ride back home. but, of course, you realize that his affection is twisted, and you cut off contact with him and the rest of your family. even then...it's really hard to move on, especially when he shows up to your master's graduation.

"I said I never want to see you again." You try to sound strong, but your voice shakes. He's crying too, as if he isn't the reason you guys can't have a normal relationship. More tears fall, more apologies are spoken, but you can't say no when he begs for those little kisses that always make you guys feel better. You can't say no when you finally give your body to your brother like a good little sister.

felix!

brother's best-friends trope. you grew up besides him and you've always had a little thing for him, but he hardly noticed. you guys age, and you've totally given up on your little crush. but when felix is invited to an overnight cabin with your family, it's hard to ignore that reignited flame in your stomach. ignoring him is probably your best plan, but felix is just too friendly to really understand that you don't want to talk to him. you decide you should show him exactly why you should stay away

Felix's eyes are wide, filled with uncertainty, fear, but he can't help the excitement that bubbles in his stomach when you rip your shirt off. "I- I don't think this is a good idea! Your family's upstairs and your brother will kill me." You can practically see his heart jumping from his chest. To calm him, you crawl on the bed to where he is and place a gentle, but firm kiss to his lips. He whines, shaking as he cups your face in his small hands. "And if you don't fuck me," you pull away to look into his eyes. "I'll kill you."

seungmin!

he's your boss, and you're his secretary. since you're pretty much forced to be with him at all times, you know how he handles his anger when the company isn't doing as well as he wants. It usually involves drinking and working overtime, but this particular night has him restless. since your a great worker, you stay overtime with him, helping on what you can and making sure his coffee is always filled. but when the lack of sleep starts to get to his head, he starts acting a little...weird.

Mr. Kim hasn't dismissed you yet. If anything, he beckons you closer with a finger. You obey, following his every instruction until you're bent over his desk, skirt lifted up with your panties to the side as his warm tongue licks up your pussy. "The cameras," you moan out. "We'll get caught. Mr. Kim, you'll get fired." But he doesn't care. He's so stressed, too tired that he needs something to keep him awake. You can't help but feel pity, so you lay pliant on the desk while he laps your cunt.

jeongin!

he's an idol helping out the trainees. he's super professional, a great dancer, and an amazing teacher. really supportive and gives helpful feedback. it's super dumb, but totally expected for a trainee to fall for their instructor, or in this case, an idol. you know better of course, his image matters a lot. you don't want to risk anything for him. but it's hard to not feel anything when he stays extra hours with you to get a routine down. both of you are tired, both of you are exhausted. neither of you are thinking clearly when jeongin grabs your hips as a means to help your posture, but it leads to something totally different

The practice room is filled with wet slapping and messy kisses. Jeongin eyes are hooded, a darkness covering him as he looks down at you. Your breasts bounce at the force of his thrusts and you grab them for support. "Jeongin. Innie, the sun's gonna come up. Your leader-" But he covers your mouth with his large palm. He's chasing his high, coxing an intense orgasm that he can't bother to care about your worries. "Just shut up and let me finish."

my fav's seungmins tbh (and maybe hannie :p)

[ylangelegy]

⋆.˚ childhood best friend ♡︎ chan.

── .✦ the one where bang chan learns what 'home' means. #우리의_찬란한_청춘_방찬에게 #BrightestStarBangChan

✰ gn!reader, idol!chan, fluff!!!, angst 🙁, childhood best friends, long distance friendship, homesickness, hurt/comfort, ambiguous romance [pining/crushes], open ending. end notes included! ❤︎ all sfw. intentional lowercase. wc: 1,800+

🧸 childhood best friend chan who moves in next door, who came from seoul to sydney and was scared he wouldn't meet anyone his age.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who is the only one to attend your birthday party. he flashes you a grin and tries to cheer you up by saying, "that just means more cake for us!"

🧸 childhood best friend chan who introduces himself as christopher— but you can call him chris, he says hastily. he knows his full name is too long. you assure him no, it's okay, you'll call him christopher. he rewards you with another one of his signature dimpled smiles. the first of many.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who spends most of his summers with you. his next door neighbor, his new best friend. he tries to teach you how to play soccer. you burn songs you think he'll like on to CDs. the two of you learn to bike down your street. see? you both still have the scars to prove it.

🧸 childhood best friend chan whose fondest memories with you are set in beaches. you're both still too young to surf, so you kill your time trying to outswim each other. it's a tender rotation of portraits— hands sticky with fruit-flavored ice cream, sand in your slippers, the smell of sunscreen.

🧸 childhood best friend chan slash guitar teacher. you spend one too many evenings out on his porch with his beat-up acoustic guitar. as his fingers gently guide yours over the strings, you consider romance. but for only a moment. because you'd rather have him like this than risk not having him at all.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who sticks to your side at school. everyone thinks you're dating; the two of you give up on correcting peers. chan doesn't quite understand why he's so happy to have people assume, and why he's even happier to have you acquiesce.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who tells you, first, about what he plans to do. "it's just an audition," he tells you, but you already know. you already know what he's destined for, who he's going to be, as early as then.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who practices his bruno mars audition song with you over and over and over again until you forget what the original version sounds like. nowadays, whenever you hear just the way you are, it's only ever in the voice of thirteen-year-old christopher.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who calls you up excitedly, who only says two words. "i'm in," he breathes, and there's so many things you can say in that moment. of course you are, and i never doubted you, and you're leaving me?, but instead you settle on, "i'm proud of you."

🧸 childhood best friend chan who doesn't cry at the family dinner. doesn't cry at the airport. he laughs when you tear up, teases that you're being silly. think of it as summer camp, he tells you, and when he hugs you goodbye, his hands shake just a teensy bit.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who cries on the plane— because at least, there, no one who loves him will see.

🧸 childhood best friend chan slash trainee who keeps in touch. he texts a lot in those first couple of years. you'd like this café. these cherry blossoms look really good. dance practice today was tiring. you learn to read between the lines; he is saying i miss you, but he cannot say the words themselves, because then it becomes real.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who never misses a birthday, whether its yours or someone in your family's. shipping fees are too stressful and so he perfects the art of long-distance gift-giving. here, an 8tracks playlist. here, a digital flipbook. here, a video of him singing your favorite song.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who gets busy, who gets frustrated, who watches dozens of trainees debut before him. you try your darnedest to sympathize but there is only so much that you can know about this industry, about his lifestyle.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who never blames you. how could he? he made his choice. but still. but still. there are days, weeks, months, where he forces himself to keep his distance. because this is a whole other kind of hurting— saying goodbye and knowing that the door is still left open a crack.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who watches your life in pictures, in the squares of instagram photos, the tagged posts on facebook. you graduate high school, and then uni. you work part-time jobs. you finally learn how to surf. and he is proud, and he is hurt, and he is yours, still, in ways that neither of you can comprehend.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who, after being distant for what feels like forever, extends an olive branch in the form of a follow request. finstas are only just becoming a thing in his part of the world. every trainee has one. the first person he thinks to follow is you.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who starts reacting to your stories, who replies every so often. your haircut looks nice and how's your mum? and wow, that part of town has changed a lot. it's all so stilted, all so polite, but he's trying, he's trying, he's trying. he needs you to see that.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who finally calls you one evening to tell you everything. you are horrified by what he's gone through, by all the times he's been passed over, but chan reassures you. even as you apologize, again and again, for not knowing.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who tells you, "i chose this. i want to keep choosing it. but—" a beat. then, softly, the words he's held himself back from saying. "i just miss you, that's all."

🧸 childhood best friend chan who slots right back in to your life. he's still plenty busy. at least now he knows that you're always just one message away, that you'll appreciate his updates of i met another aussie today or there's a new day6 song or i can finally stop dieting.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who excitedly tells you about 3racha. about his genius lyricist j.one and his killer rapper spearb. his own moniker is plain and simple, he says with a laugh. cb97. but it's him, it's his, it's a start.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who sends you the first demo of a song he's genuinely happy to have produced. my heart is in your hands, he jokes in the e-mail subject line. j.one is good. so is spearb. but chan, cb97, your christopher, who sings "i'd like to start off this speech with a 'thank you' to everyone that helped little chris to grow up"? he's everything.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who tells you in vague terms that he might not be reachable for some time. there's a lot of things he wants to tell you, wants to divulge. there are other people on the line, now, though, and so he holds back. you understand. you tell him you'll wait. he is so, so grateful.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who is introduced as the leader of JYPE's newest boy group. he is not christopher or chris. he is chan, now. bang chan. you watch the survival show with his family. you give them a handwritten letter for him, when they go to visit him in south korea. you see him become everything he said he would be.

🧸 childhood best friend chan whose hair is two-toned dirty blonde and aqua blue when he debuts with hellevator. you buy his photocard. you still have it up in your room; it makes him cringe, but he is secretly pleased that you cared enough to do such a small thing.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who bears the weight of impossible expectations. leader, producer, idol. son, brother. friend. he is so many things all at once. they say he is too much. they say he is not enough. he doesn't know who to listen to.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who blames himself for things that are beyond his control. for 2019. for 2020. for 2021. for— there isn't a year where chan isn't blaming himself for something, really.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who finds comfort in the smallest of things. a noisy dorm with seven other boys. the thrill of turning a note in to a living, breathing song. you. your little updates. you. your easy responses. you. your unwavering support. you, you, you.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who wonders often sometimes what it would have been like if he stayed.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who can see it so, so clearly. the college you would have both gone to. working at the record store; busking in the mall. summers of surf and sun. your fingers fitting in to the spaces between his.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who thinks he would have been happy with that life. happier than right now?... he's not sure. all he knows is that he would have been happy. the two of you could have been so happy.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who often sometimes feel like his youth was taken from him. his teenage years were spent as a trainee; his early twenties were spent fighting for every scrap. he doesn't regret the choices he made. he doesn't want to. he can't.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who doesn't tell you any of this. a part of him doesn't have to. you know just how much he gave up. you know just how much he gained. you know why there are certain encores that make him cry, why there are songs he can't bear to perform live. why it's always so hard for him to name 'home' nowadays—

🧸 childhood best friend chan who wants to believe that 'home' means sydney. who, to make things easier, says 'home' is seoul. who will sometimes say that 'home' is STAY, 'home' is stray kids. who knows, deep down, that home is a three-letter word of y-o-u.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who, when he makes his way back to sydney, is scared shitless. he's been gone for so long. it's an endless litany of 'what if's. what if berry doesn't recognize him anymore. what if all his favorite restaurants have shut down. what if you realize you don't like the person he's become. what if, what if.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who is only partially reassured when he realizes there's still a spot for him at the dinner table, when his old friends don't treat him any differently, when the path to the park still feels familiar.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who realizes that all of his worries are unfounded when you greet him with "long time no see, christopher." not chan. not chris. christopher.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who smiles the same way that he had when he first met you. all bright eyes and dimples.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who holds out his hand, waiting to see if you'll take it.

✰ i think a lot about a line in The Myth of Sisyphus, where it goes something along the lines of "one must imagine sisyphus happy." in some way, this is me #coping (lol). one must imagine bang chan happy. because maaan, does he deserve it. happy birthday, chris.

[crying-fantasies]

Monsterfucking

Masterlist

Featuring Merformers! Rodimus Prime, smut/fluff/humor, CW: you fuck the fish, that's it, Roddy doesn't know about kissing, licking (sexy and lovingly), handjob, penetration, mention of a knot, barrier language, nesting, light gore (in a fight), mention of Rodimus’ creators, mer pups/cubs (I love these fictional babies so much), long fic.

Days in Cybertron tend to be regulated in cycles, the days are longer than average back on Earth, and it has been years but you still get problems waking up at the start of the day cycle, a new day to work, and a new day to try and not mess all up as a snake-like tail gets clingy, not letting go of your leg and purring when his claws get a hold of your torso again, hardly letting you hold on the data pad and give your boss a message of your more than sure tardiness just to get a thumbs up from her, almost hearing her say “work hard!”

Anything to help an endangered species.

Rodimus tends to be quite the hyper-energy kind of person, well, fish, he stands up more than the rest of the marine wildlife on this planet, and that's saying a lot given the unique metallic nature displayed, it’s a miracle that whatever kind of liquid filling most of the planet's oceans isn't cooking your meat out of your bones; Rodimus stands up, a lot, you've seen the others around, most are friendly, more inclined to curiosity when they touch your legs or look at you from some reef like structures, believing those as the better spot to hide but forgetting to low the light in their optics, first time it happened you were in for a shock as the rest of the team laughed at your spooked reaction to more than 20 pairs of optics shining bright under the liquid, all with overflowing attention to the new organic putting feet on the floating laboratory.

Rodimus would always be more noticeable to you, as he was the first pair of blue optics reaching out to you the same day your work put you there, so far away from your real home, all to preserve the mechanical nature of this planet and it's creatures, Rodimus escaped from his group, servos trying to catch onto his fins, all for nothing as the mech came up to a side of the lab where your official in charge was giving you the tour of the facility.

With shiny red-colored scales and flimsy paper-like metallic membranes, he was just like in the books, something from far away yet seemed organic, it was something so intricate no one could ever think of, the pads in his digits patted your right foot, feeling the texture of skin and thin body hair before giving a high pitched trill when he launched himself back to the liquid.

One of the scientists laughed, “Rodimus likes you”, almost catching on to his designation he emerged back, just to be dragged under by the rest of his group in a hissing feat, especially by a very mad hunter mech.

Mechs they call them, as in mechanical individuals, some skip over formalities and call them mers because the mers call themselves that way; and no, it’s not a joke as you see Chief Medical Darcy act as a referee when Optimus and Megatron are about to rip the fins of one another again as the doctor only sips on his instant chemical coffee, watching them both quarrel like an old couple, using sounds on a piano-like artifact to tell them to, in the mers own language, “frag off already, Optimus, you left him” while pointing at the blue mer, then to the almost smiling big-like ancient shark, playing his piano like a pro, moving pieces and volumes to say: "Megs, you shouldn't have acted like that, you started it”.

They are ancient, going way back to when Earth was still galactic powder, sentient in every way, they have language, culture, arts, and everything in between, the planet was under colonization until someone noticed the fishes could communicate, it all burned down from it, now considered a protected system the priority was to increase their number, as they could tell tales from bygone times, cures and methods never told before; the mer called Alpha Trion knew of a treatment for decayed fins, which somehow also worked on humans, it was incorporated to treat many skin diseases back on Earth, and the pros of keeping them alive overwhelmed the ones trying to sell them in pieces like it was done at first.

Rodimus is part of the reproduction program, more like one of the offspring resulting from it, but you've seen the program, it looks more like a dating event to this point, and then a nursery program, once the mers get good results, keeping the babies is high maintenance even for the most experienced ones, Cory tells you so once he catches on Rodimus going to you more times than ordinary, cuddling your side like an over-affective cat while purring, “he was just a small baby when I handled him, seems like it was yesterday”, he has a very worn-off expression, and the bags under his eyes tell you of unending nights while he has a new baby in his arms, you see a few mers in the pool connected to the nursery, passed out on the floor in uncomfortable positions over beds of wire-like kelp, some with their young sleeping like angels over them, and Rodimus, who is now shining and swimming in circles for some reason around you two as you also hold a baby, is very focused in how the little guppy holds the neck of your t-shirt, even using one of the sleepy carriers as some platform to show off his pretty red and orange scales, “never expected to live enough to see the day he would dance for a human”, you take a moment to think over it, process it, Rodimus has little time to do something when one moment you're standing there and the next you're running like you heard Megatron is coming with a bad temper.

Rodimus hasn't seen you since that day and makes it everyone else's problem while wailing on the shore closest to your room, and you, so shocked you almost dropped the baby back into the water, only hide in the sudden realization that an alien, mechanic, sentient fish wants to have something with you.

It was too much for a Saturday night, excusing yourself and leaving the baby with Cory who shouted something along the lines of it being normal, “Have you seen this fellow here?” he pointed at the red and silver mer in the pool, a new sire taking a rest while his babies were being rocked back and forth by you just a few seconds ago, the silver and white baby, now in Cory’s arms next to his red and white sibling, “have you meet Miss Astoria yet? The co-owner of this preservation program? These are her boys”

How can it be normal? How did it even happen between two different species on two different planets? How come the babies don't even look human? How?

And why is he trying so hard to find you? There is hardly time to even eat next to the shore before he appears once again, at least his blue optics peaking over the liquid before he goes back down, leaving you in a moment of solitude, raising your hopes, that maybe he finally settled for a partner of his species, but no, Rodimus only went back to the ocean and took out some kind of alien mechanical fish, still moving and trying to return from where it came, only to be gutted right there and then in front of you, Rodimus looks at you, expectantly, how can his optics shine so much?

“You know what? Fuck it”

Next thing everyone knows you're sunbathing in your free time on the beach, Rodimus making a donut-shaped nest at your side with his body, thrilling happily while doing so before you are called back, making him look at you, then at the nest, and back at you, big optics pleading and almost whimpering, “what is-? No, no! It's not that I don't like it! You shouldn't even be doing that here!”

Mers hardly do nests everywhere, as it is only recommended to do it near calm waters, safe to raise their young, close to the waters to ensure the moisture of the nest, with enough light to keep the iron sand warm and cozy for the growing protoforms.

Rodimus makes them where he likes or where you stay for a time long enough for him to get back at his job.

Cory tells you that's normal, since you said yes to Rodimus is normal for any newly paired couple to create their own nest, and also the fact that Rodimus is a recently matured young adult makes him more eager over the idea.

Maybe not exactly at the prospect of having a baby, more like the idea of banging.

Rodimus makes a lot of nests around the iron sand, he has one outside your shared habsuit, another out of your side of the laboratory, one in the sunbathing grounds like the other mers, but not one in the nesting grounds or the nursery, being extremely on edge if an unpaired mer looks at you or his nests, Rodimus is snarling at them when he notices, fins flaring with violent intent and only stopping when the other mer is at a distance he considered respectful before going to you as if he was the victim and not the curious young mech, chattering inconsolable until you let him snuggle in your lap, holding to you and whistling happily.

Mers, while being highly intelligent and sentient still go by their traditions, quite animalistic traditions as they fight over themselves to get a partner, and catch the attention of another; a group is wrestling in the iron sand in one of the little islands while you sunbathe with Rodimus, cleaning his fins of parasites or dead scales, taking samples while at it before a road and a snarl catches on your attention, jumping on your spot over the sand and looking at the island, two mers soon to kill each other while some others look, expectantly, waiting for the winner, the mers waiting to make a display and show their scales, show their array once the loser is bleeding energon in the sand and the winner takes the prize, you feel bad for the med, dragging his massive metal body back to the ocean, maybe soon to arrive at the medic area for medical aid, Rodimus calls your attention back at him, his servos holding your hands and pressing them back at his chest which rumbles, then holding onto your face to look him directly at his optics once you notice the healed scars under his scales or the growing pity on the injured mer just meters away.

Doesn't take much to know why he is always so clingy, or the reason for him to have so many scars when you look at his multiple medical reports, all gained after several mating seasons, losing every single one, being dragged back by Cory to patch him up even in a fainted state.

You look at him now, different, both resting in the bed inside your habsuit, still too early in the morning, Rodimus is curled next to you, his arms holding you, tail heavy over your legs, tangled within your legs, a remarkable subject that pointed out what he was and what you are, impossible to miss, still, you know about it now.

Nesting season is still a long way to come but the mating one is ever present once the fights for lovers have ended, Rodimus seems to not be moved by it, or he tries to appear as much as he grooms you with his hands and his glossa, it is more like an affectionate display but it still far from any sex, still, while he tries to rule over your hair with his oral solvents you catch on the puffy look his slit shows; most paired mates had long since gone to more private zones to let their needs and urges free, you are with the rest of the team as everyone gives their farewell to the newly paired young mechs, hoping for the best in the nesting season.

He tries to deny it, trying to keep up with the older mers who choose not to join the younger ones and the ones without pairs, all just doing their usual routines, Rodimus comes back much earlier than usual and becomes more anxious, just yesterday you finally noticed the reason why he didn't like to enter the nursery lagoon, using the piano-like artifact, asking him if he didn't like to come near the nursery even when you or Cory, his partner and his sire, were inside, his answer was simple “you don't like pups”.

Take a moment to let that sink and the misunderstanding born from the moment you realized his intent in courting you, Rodimus was, in reality, giving you much praise while snuggling next to you, presenting how nice you were with the young pup in your arms in front of his sire, happy by the way you two seemed to be getting along and then thinking in how happy his carrier was going to be when he came back with the hunting group, but his sire said something, making you jump and run, leaving the pup behind with his sire.

Rodimus believed you didn't like babies.

Which, in truth, wasn't exactly like that or different, “it may be impossible”, your words translated with the machine made his optics go big, soon pointing at himself, “Well, hard to happen”, Rodimus looked at you with barely closed optics, a little mad and hurt, “how can we be prepared? Or in any case, why now?” of course, it had to be soon, as the days progressed, and as every grooming session got heavier, sometimes you would nap while Rodimus cleaned you, soon feeling the way his servos were touching, massaging, his glossa looming over your neck, denta nipping at the skin.

He has been so strong so far, but it only takes a movement of your leg to make his tail recoil over it, rubbing his dilated slit over your hip, moaning during his recharge, optics opening just slightly when your fingers started to move along the opening, he squeaked, then rumbled out a groan, hissing while letting his slit open, you've seen the books, but it never said anything of it being soft, like rubber, Rodimus moves his hips, his massive tail pumping against your fingers as his arms go to your neck, anchoring himself to you while crying out in ecstasy, your fingers push a little more and you find a protrusion, pushing your fingers out for a moment to show his spike, letting you touch him more, lavish him more, his servos were frantically holding to the meat in your ass, trying to make you move against his spike in a rutted haze, barely giving your time or space to get the pajama pants off, “Okay, if only we could- could you keep it down?”, your laugh is nervous as he seems to be ripped apart on putting you over or under him, groping where he can while doing so, being careful to not catch your skin or hair with his frantic moving seams, finally deciding to put you down in the mattress, rocking his spike in between your open legs, knowing well the differences, but also the coincidences, between your bodies.

Where the slit of his tail was is also the point in which your legs connected.

“Come here”, your instructions are hard to follow as he is overthinking, full of joy while nipping at your neck, eager to couple but too excited to put it in, the little fighting you both do, one to put his spike inside of you and the other showering you with affection, finally ends when your hand catches on the pointy head of his spike, pumping at it while dragging him over, making him curl a little to be able and still be face to face plate.

Of course, you should've expected the unfamiliar sensation, impossible to compare to anything you've ever had, there was desperation in it, and his movements were too fast, too eager, still, Rodimus kept showing what you liked about him, smiling like a dork and holding to you, letting your legs brace to his tail, said tail rocking fast against you like he was swimming, putting your arms around his helm as he snuggled against your chest and neck, leaving bite marks just to show off, never to give you real damage, moving just enough, in that specific part to make you see starts with your breathless indications, easing your worry with forehead nudges that you changed for kisses, taking him for a surprise before he just let you continue, imitating you, when you felt his spike grow, inflaming, he was sure to make you come at least once before he started to pump faster, wilder, until the base was all in, pushing to a point never had before, looking at you with barely open optics as he started to coo and chatter, you didn't know what he was saying without aid, but Rodimus was singing you praises once again, “I love you, we are mates, mates for life, you're mine, I’m yours”, every short break in between his thrilled gibberish were supposed to be words, but you didn't have much to think straight as he kept on leaking into you, overflowing, keeping it all inside while relishing over your limp body as he still moved to let you get all of him, cleaning you once again to let you rest.

Once you slept well, he was back from wherever he went, coming back with food for the day for you both, once you ended your rations he would give you one of those glances, holding one of your legs, smoothly putting it over the beginning of his tail as you let him, seating you over his already wet and dilated slit.

Mating season wasn't a long period, but it was a delightful one, soon comprehended why so many people on base were missing for all of its duration, now being part of them and even learning why some told you to keep your clothes off most of the time except for a night coat easy to open, Rodimus was a good lover, as he barely left your side, and if he did, it was only to get rations from the cafeteria before leaving them to you and expanding the nest he was making outside your habsuit, using his body, curling it over the sand to make it compact at the base, then making a hole in the middle to keep water inside while you rested inside, not worrying about you leaving to do your science as he was sure the other humans just let you rest.

Months later, Cory found Chandler hissing at the ocean, just to stop, startled, like him at the sight of Rodimus, soon making direct eye contact with them, holding a still closed-eyed little black and silver hissing pup between his servos, presenting his own young and beaming with pride as they both heard you screaming Rodimus’ designation with two more pups in your arms from your habsuit, more than likely enraged and worried out of your mind by the lack of your firstborn in the nest where you left him with his siblings, then being startled by the potent cry of the pup that could only be comparable to a dying animal asking for mercy as he was soaked, cold and scared out of his young mind by the emotion of Rodimus’ to show off his offspring, and this was the fourth stop he made so far.

Rodimus’ carrier, Chandler, didn't give his own pup time to ponder what made you so mad before he was trying to knock some sense with violence into his adult pup like he was still a youngling after snatching protectively the pup against his chest to try and comfort him, Cory runs to them to try and save his son from the fury of his partner and his heavy servo, you appeared with your other two babies to see Rodimus being smacked by his carrier without mercy, “Have I not taught you well?! What in the PIT were you THINKING?! What are you DOING with a NEW FORGED PUP OUT OF THE SLAGING NEST?!”

Rodimus was a great lover, he was still learning to be a sire.

.

Inspired by the work of @tinydefector and @shyspider, love your guys’ work so much, totally lost Mermay but I can try it again with some good monsterfucking.

And if you realized, yeah, that hissing baby is Sunset.

@tf-kinktober2024

[ssavaart]

heya!!! so excited to see you use tumblr. i have a question: what’s a painting you used to dislike but now find joy in? a lot of my old art i used to dislike and tried to think of all of the ways of fixing it, but now in the present i’m starting to grow really fond of it. kinda like a “wow i’ve actually improved so much but i still like the way i did this work” if that makes sense? have you ever had an experience like that?

Hi. Great question.

I think this piece of Marion from Raiders of the Lost Ark that I did for my friend Charlie back in 2002.

I had pretty much given up on traditional art at this time. I hated my art. I hated colored pencils. I literally took 10 years off (away from traditional art) after this piece.

Charlie was a good friend and he loved Indiana Jones. So... I slapped some watercolors down on bristol paper and did a REALLY quick sketch of Marion for him... and... never thought of it again.

For the next 10 years, I worked mainly in 3D/Digital doing my webcomic The Dreamland Chronicles. I didn't touch traditional art until 2011 when I decided to learn watercolors.

I look back on it now with a sense of nostalgia as this was the last colored pencil illustration I did before that long 10 year break and even though it was just a quick little sketch for a friend... it's not that bad.

[fanaticsnail]

Kid-Pirates Masterlist

Navigation Masterlist Here

Eustass Kid:

Shameless (NSFW Series 3/3)

You have a type, one that has been forcefully revealed by your crewmen's incessant nagging. After being ordered to return to your workshop to receive further instruction, you become fully aware of why you have been hidden away from meeting with the captain of the Victoria Punk. He was exactly your type.

"Good Boy" (one-shot)

Eustass Kid didn't know exactly when it happened, but now he craves to be praised by you. He thrives beneath your words, but the one time you didn't call him a "good boy" has him in a bratty rage.

Restrained (NSFW one-shot)

Eustass Kid didn't know what possessed him to allow his lover to restrain him against his Captains' chair. But yet, here he is: stuck and loving it.

Cellist Kid (NSFW drabble)

Your academic rival and you do not get along. You find his boorish intensity revolting, and he finds your attitude standoffish. As your conductor decides to pair you together to practice, tempers flare and passion ignites.

Longing (drabble)

Eustass Kid doesn't know how to behave around you, especially now that he's developed feelings for you.

You're So Much More To Me (NSFW Pollen One-Shot)

Desperate to impress the Straw-Hat botanist as you travel with his unruly bunch of pirates, he goes against your warning and immediately goes into uncharted territory and does the unthinkable.

Told You You'd Like It (NSFW One-Shot)

You suggested something new in the bedroom, and your boyfriend immediately shot it down. You thought that's where the conversation ended, it had now flung from your thoughts never to be thought of by you again. Unbeknownst to you, Eustass Kid was consumed by the thought so much he almost thought on nothing else.

Baby (NSFW One-Shot)

Eustass Kid wants to treat you like he does with all of his other partners. He wants to top you, degrade you, pound into you like a wild animal. But he can't. Not when you give him praise like that. He's far too in love with the pretty words fleeing from your lips to try.

Massacre Soldier Killer:

Will You Let Me? (NSFW Pollen!one-shot)

Your crew was docked at a port, exploring a new land while you requested to remain behind. Enjoying being without the unruly bunch, your momentary calm was disrupted by the staggering step of your superior. Coughs, grunts and stuttering over his words: your concern grew more severe as you offered to help him through it.

Killer Watchdog (One-Shot)

Studying at sea was never an easy feat, especially while travelling under the captainship and serving alongside the unruly crew sailing on the Victoria Punk. As you complete your intensive over Den-Den, you notice the silence and choose to investigate the cause.

Killer Needs You Too (One-Shot)

Killer longs for you as much as you yearn for him.

Heat:

They'll Love You (One-Shot)

Heat is nervous about meeting your friends and fearing their judgement in your choice of lover. You reassure him they'll love you as much as you do.

Perfection Incarnate (One-Shot)

Several members of the Heart, Kid, and Straw Hat pirates engage in a game of Poker. When Shachi runs out of Berry, he decides to bet something a little more interesting: Tobiuo's kiss. (Heat x OC)

Art:

Sketch, pencil

Side Profile, digital

Misc and Multiples:

Kiss their cheek (Drabble one-shot)

It was a simple reaction, an impulse you felt organic and out of your control. Their cheek was right there, and the swell in your chest and spike of adrenaline prompted you to lunge forward and capture their cheek beneath your lips. How do they react to such a soft touch? Do they shy away, or do they respond in kind? Sanji, Zoro, Luffy, Law, Kid

How They Kiss (drabble)

Four different kisses with all of your favourites. Where would you place them in these categories?

You Shot a Baby? Sweet Baby Boy (Dialogue + Drabble)

Benn Beckman shot Eustass Kid's arm off. You are not happy about it.

Dreaming of You (NSFW Drabble)

They couldn't help it. You looked so heavenly in their dreams. The way they had you wrapped around their body as a marionette in their minds, dancing for them as they awoke to sticky blankets when they jolted upright. Their thoughts got the better of them, and they are wracked with guilt. Kid, Killer, Heat

Competency, Stupidity, Duality (one-shot)

They can't help what attracted them to you. No matter what you did, they simply couldn't get enough of you. Their emotions finally catch up with them, and they confess their adoration for you. Kid, Zoro, Killer.

Acid, Salt, Fat and Heat (NSFW One-Shot)

Your captain has engaged with a petulant challenge that included refusing to make port until both Kid and Law did first. Feeling pent up at sea, you set your sights on the blonde first mate to aid you in finding relief. The catch? He won't unless his captain does too. Kid x afab!reader x Killer

Laundromat (NSFW One-Shot)

You're folding clothes in the laundromat and a needy captain Kid decides to enjoy you on the benchtop. Kid x afab!reader x Killer

Wearing Their Shirts (Mini-Fic)

Hey Doc (Series)

What wearing Kid and Killer's shirts is like.

It won't fit (NSFW One-Shot)

The four commanders of the Victoria Punk were large in size, in every way. Eyes finally catching what goes on below their hemlines, you're brought to terms with the fact that it would be difficult to fit. Kid, Killer, Heat, Wire

You are the medical practitioner aboard the Victoria Punk. You are overworked, exhausted, underpaid, but so loved and appreciated. The crew seeks you out for everything that ails them. The Straw-Hats adore you, the Heart-Pirates pity you, your own crew fears you sometimes.

[andshesaidwhat]

Cherry - Clay Beresford

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six |

Summary: After a bad shift at the club leaves you shaken, you make the decision to call the number that Clay had left you — effectively changing the boundaries of your interactions forever.

Warnings: unprotected sex, penetrative sex, fingering (reader receiving), handjob (Clay receiving), nipple play, teasing, lots of praise, multiple orgasms (Clay and reader receiving), angst, alcohol consumption, mentions of food, descriptions of sex work, brief mention of a deceased family member, a lil glimpse of some domestic fluff.

Playlist | Masterlist

You had stared at Clay’s phone number more than you hadn’t over the last week.

You had it memorized at this point. You could recite it in your sleep, envisioning the quirks of his handwriting and the specific ways he wrote the numbers.

Everything in you wanted to call him, even if it was just to hear his voice. You had even caved and admitted to yourself that you wanted to hear another one of his whimsically poetic stories.

It was killing you slowly, but you had fought with everything in you to resist the urge. You knew that if you gave into the temptation there would be no going back. Once that line was crossed, you wouldn’t be able to recover those boundaries.

Still, the urge grew worse with everyday that passed by without him showing back up to the club.

Maybe he’d decided to keep his distance unless you called — taking it as a sign of you rejecting his advances. Or, maybe he was just busy with work.

You hoped it was the latter.

The thought of never seeing Clay again was something you couldn’t let yourself think about. It felt too devastating, too indicative of the attachment you’d unwittingly formed to him.

You showed up to the club for your Friday shift, feeling distracted and detached. Those ten digits were dancing in your mind like a taunt, a tease.

You went through the motions of your first set on autopilot, knowing you weren’t at your best. It didn’t seem to matter much as the bills came flying in.

Of course, they didn’t care about the time, effort, and artistry that went in to performing like you and the other dancers did. All that mattered to them was that your clothes came off.

You walked off the stage once you finished, trying to get a hold of yourself. Your emotions were all over the place. This was not a usual problem for you. You normally couldn’t care less about these things, but Clay’s presence had shattered your usual way of living.

His absence had made it even worse.

You sat at your station, holding your head in your hands, as Sal walked up behind you. He gave you a once over, furrowing his brow in a look that bordered on concern before shaking his head.

“You’ve got a private booking,” he told you. “Room four.”

Your ears perked up as your heart fluttered, a small glimmer of hope sparking inside of you. Sal walked away as you looked in the mirror, trying to conceal your smile while you quickly touched up your appearance.

You all but ran down the hallway, the anticipation growing as you got closer to your destination. You opened the door, ready to meet those dazzling blue eyes again — to hear his stories, to answer his questions.

Your heart plummeted to the floor and your stomach twisted into knots as you were instead met with a dark, lust-filled stare. You recognized the man — a semi-regular who always tried to cop a feel of the dancers when they’d walk past him.

His eyes raked over your figure, like a predator sizing up its prey. His twisted smile made you feel nauseous. He watched you, expectantly — sprawled out on the couch as he waited for you to give him a show.

You used to be able to do this easily. You could compartmentalize the disgust, dance for them, turn them on so they turned out their pockets.

It was a business, an art that you had perfected.

Now, it just felt so wrong. Being in this room, your room, seeing some sleazy man sitting in the spot that Clay should be sitting in…

You didn’t want to do this. You couldn’t do this.

Your breathing felt shallow as your chest tightened. You couldn’t seem to focus on anything. You couldn’t bring yourself to push through it.

You turned around and rushed out of the room, unable to hear the man’s complaints and protests over the ringing in your ears.

Barely registering your surroundings, you changed and grabbed your things. You muttered something to Sal about being sick and told him to take the fee for the private room out of your next check before leaving the club.

You got back to your apartment, pacing the floors as you tried to calm yourself down. You didn’t know what was happening to you. This had never been a problem before, but now…

Now there was him.

You fished through your bag, pulling out the crumpled piece of paper. You stared at it, gnawing on the inside of your cheek as you warred with yourself.

You dialed the number, your thumb hovering over the call button.

I shouldn’t do this, you thought. There will be no going back.

Before you could finish talking yourself out of it, you pressed the button. You raised the phone up to your ear, holding your breath as it rang. Your heart pounded in your chest, each second that passed feeling like a lifetime.

You were about to hang up and forget about the whole thing when you heard him pick up.

“Hello?” Clay’s voice rang out from the other line. Your mouth opened and closed, unable to form any words as you panicked. He waited for a moment and then said, “Cherry? Is that you?”

The anxiety you’d felt instantly quelled at the sound of his voice. You didn’t want to think about what that meant.

“Hey, pretty boy,” you said, grimacing at the way your voice trembled. “I hope it’s okay that I called.”

“Of course it’s okay,” he replied, the smile evident in the way he spoke. “I had been hoping that you would.” He paused, hesitating before he asked, “Are you alright? Is something wrong?”

For once, you couldn’t bring yourself to pretend that things were okay — that you weren’t affected. You couldn’t keep up the carefully crafted facade you’d spent years creating. Something in the way he spoke, the genuine concern in his tone, cracked through your stone walls.

Your bottom lip quivered as you said, “I don’t know.”

“What happened, Cherry?” Clay asked, gently. “I’m here to listen, whatever it is.”

“I, um…I was working my shift at the club, and…” Your voice broke off as you huffed out a shaky breath. You weren’t used to this — being vulnerable with someone. Your hands shook as you tried to open up for the first time in years. “I was told that I had a private booking and I thought it was you, but it wasn’t… It was this creep that comes in sometimes. Normally, I can push through it. It was just…the way he looked at me. It was like I wasn’t a person, like I was just some object that he owned for the hour. I didn’t like being in there with him — not in our room and…I just couldn’t do it this time. I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said, softly. “I can’t imagine how that must have felt for you.”

You swallowed down the lump in your throat as you took a deep breath and said, “I chose my job. I don’t regret it. It allowed me to survive, to provide for myself. I just…thought about you. I thought about your stories. I started thinking that, maybe, I want to write a better story for myself.”

Clay let out a breath, sounding like a sigh of relief, as he said, “You can write any story you want.”

Blinking back tears, you nodded to yourself. Something about his encouragement made you believe it.

“I think I want…” You trailed off, not fully sure what you were even saying. “I mean, if you wanted…if you weren’t busy and you wanted…I told you once I liked to cook and…”

Clay laughed softly and said, “Go on.”

“Would you want to…” You paused, taking a deep breath as you decided to put yourself out on the line. “Would you want to come over? I could cook dinner.”

“I would love to,” Clay responded, immediately.

A relieved sigh escaped your lips as a small smile grew on your face. You bit your lip, trying to contain your giddiness.

“Good. That’s good,” you said, awkwardly, internally cringing at yourself. Clay just chuckled, his deep voice sounding light and airy. “I can text you the details and everything.”

“Alright, that sounds perfect,” he said, the smile evident in his voice. “I’ll be looking forward to it. I’ll see you soon, Cherry.”

“I’ll see you soon, pretty boy,” you whispered back, listening to the silence as the call ended.

You put the phone down, squealing to yourself. The events of the day were nearly forgotten, now replaced by the excitement you felt.

Clay was going to be in your home.

Oh god…Clay was going to be in your home.

You looked around your apartment, beginning to panic as you started to frantically clean. You’d never had anyone come over and you suddenly felt the need to make sure every surface was spotless.

This was going to be much different than meeting him in the club. When you were there, you could keep pretending that you were just two strangers dancing in your little bubble. Inviting him into your home meant inviting him into your life.

You could only hope you wouldn’t end up regretting it.

A few hours later, dinner was finishing up in the oven as you waited for Clay to arrive. The nerves swarmed like bees in your stomach, each second feeling like an eternity.

Your heart leapt in your chest as you heard the soft sound of Clay knocking at your door.

This is it, you thought, there’s no going back.

You rubbed your shaky hands against your pants, realizing that this would be the first time he’d see you in real clothes. Somehow, you felt more naked now than you did in the lingerie. You couldn’t help but wonder if he’d still like you when you weren’t the incarnation of a fantasy.

Taking a deep breath, you opened the door and met those dazzling blue eyes.

“Hi,” you breathed, feeling all of the nerves dissipate.

“Hi,” Clay smiled, holding out a small bouquet of flowers in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other. “I didn’t know if the champagne was still a requirement, so I brought it just in case.”

“Thank you,” you laughed, softly, turning your head to hide your blush as you took the flowers from him. You stepped back, holding the door open as you said, “Come on in.”

You held your breath and watched as he walked in to your apartment, looking around with a small smile. He seemed to be taking in every detail and you were grateful that you’d taken the time to clean.

“You have a lovely place,” he spoke, after a moment, turning to you with a look that you couldn’t quite decipher. “It feels like a real home.”

You looked around, too, imagining seeing it through his eyes. It showed him more about you, you supposed. You had little knickknacks and decorations scattered about, hinting to little pieces of your personality.

“It’s nothing much, really,” you shrugged, looking down. It was a simple one bedroom apartment, small and cozy. “It’s probably not nearly as big as you’re accustomed to.”

“Bigger doesn’t mean better, Cherry,” he said, a hint of longing in his voice. Then, with a cheeky grin, he added, “Well, in most cases, at least.”

With a playful roll of your eyes you led him into your small kitchen as you said, “Dinner is almost ready.”

You grabbed a jug of water out of the fridge, pouring some of it out before sticking the flowers in it. You noticed the way Clay raised a brow at your actions and said, “What? I don’t have any vases. I don’t exactly get flowers often.”

Clay chuckled, shaking his head as he said, “Well, I suppose we’ll have to invest in some. Though, the water jug does add character.”

He set the bottle of champagne down on the small kitchen table and leaned against the counter, watching you as you grabbed some oven mitts and turned off the timer.

You were very aware of his gaze on you as you opened the oven, nearly dropping the dish as you pulled it out and set it on the stove.

Clay inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as he hummed to himself.

“That smells amazing, Cherry,” he groaned, gazing hungrily at the steaming dinner. “You’re an incredible chef.”

“You haven’t even tried it yet, pretty boy,” you giggled, grabbing plates and glasses to set the table.

“I guess I just trust your abilities implicitly,” he said, playfully.

He took the initiative to help you set everything out, putting on the oven mitts himself to carry the dish of food over. He poured the champagne as you filled the plates with food, the two of you working in tandem naturally.

As you both sat down, you held your breath as you watched Clay pick up his fork. His eyes widened as he took a bite of the food, looking up to meet yours with a twinkle of delight.

“I was right,” he smiled, nodding his head in confirmation. “This is delicious.”

“Well, I’m glad I haven’t poisoned you,” you joked, trying to deflect from the way his compliment made your heart skip.

He took a sip of the champagne and asked, “Where did you learn to cook like this?”

There was a small pang in your chest as you quietly responded, “My grandmother.”

“She must be quite exceptional if she taught you to make food this good,” he smiled, taking another bite.

“Yeah,” you nodded, solemnly. “She was.”

Clay’s eyes flickered with understand as he said, “I’m sorry, Cherry.” He paused, considering his words carefully. “Do you want to tell me about her?”

“That’s a story for another day, pretty boy,” you told him, smiling sadly.

“Another day, then,” he said, softly. As he continued to eat, he glanced around the apartment again, changing the subject. “You’ve created a wonderful space here.”

“It’s the first place that’s ever been mine,” you shrugged, looking around with a proud gleam in your eyes. “It may not be much, but it’s enough for me.”

“It’s perfect, Cherry,” he said, that look of longing returning to his face. “It feels safe and warm. It means a lot to me that you’d let me in.”

You held his gaze for a moment longer before the sheer emotion flowing between you two became too overwhelming.

As you finished dinner, you started to gather the plates and bring them to the sink. Clay didn’t hesitate to help, grabbing the other dishes and rolling up his sleeves to wash them.

“Oh, you really don’t have to do that,” you said, sheepishly.

“I insist,” he responded firmly, but kind. “You made me a wonderful dinner. Please, let me help.”

You nodded, silently, watching him move around your apartment with ease. It all felt dangerously domestic, filling you with a warmth you weren’t familiar with. It was oddly natural, being with him in this way. The simplicity felt so much more intimate than anything else you’d done.

He washed the dishes while you dried them, and you couldn’t help but steal glances at him. He looked so human. His black sweater was rolled up to his elbows as his hands were covered in suds. In the dim kitchen lighting, he looked beautiful. More beautiful than you had ever seen him.

“You can stare as long as you want, you know,” he grinned, turning his head to catch your eye. “I don’t mind.”

You bit your lip, looking down at the plate you were drying to hide the blush that warmed your cheeks.

“I was just looking at the suds you’ve got on your nose,” you shrugged, smiling bashfully.

“Mhm, sure,” he nodded, chuckling softly as he turned off the sink. “There. All done.”

“Thank you for your help,” you said, softly, turning to him, “and thank you for coming over tonight.”

“The pleasure was all mine, Cherry,” he smiled. “I had a wonderful time.” He reached out to gently grab your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. “I hope there are many more nights like this.”

You gasped as your eyes met his. Those goddamn eyes could reel you in every single time. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away.

“Remember when I told you my favorite color was blue?” you asked, quietly.

“Yes,” Clay nodded, his voice a whisper. “Why do you ask?”

“I didn’t mean blue like the ocean,” you breathed. “I meant blue like your eyes. I don’t think I had a favorite color until I looked into them.”

Clay’s breath hitched, his gaze swimming with a newfound intensity.

“You’re…beautiful, Cherry,” he whispered, cupping your cheek as his thumb caressed your skin.

You couldn’t help but lean into the warmth of his gentle touch, feeling your heart racing in your chest. He glanced down at your lips before meeting your eyes again.

Slowly, he lowered his head, pressing his lips against yours in a soft embrace. You sighed into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Clay’s hands found your waist, pulling you into him as he deepened the kiss. His tongue teased your lips, requesting entrance that you gladly granted. Your hands tangled in his hair, feeling the soft locks as he groaned into your mouth. His breathing was labored as you pressed further into him, kissing him like he was feeding the oxygen into your lungs.

He pulled back, resting his forehead against yours as he gazed at you breathlessly.

“Cherry…” he whispered, his voice raw with desire and unsaid emotion.

The intensity in his gaze, the feelings flowing within it, nearly made your knees buckle. He looked at you like he needed you, like nothing else in the world could ever matter more than this moment.

Don’t run away. Don’t run away. Don’t run away.

You didn’t know if you were mentally pleading to yourself, or to him. All of your instincts screamed to put your walls back up, to block anyone out, to keep a hardened shell around your heart.

You didn’t want to do that anymore. This was worth the risk. He was worth the risk.

You kept your gaze locked on his as you reached for his hand, leading him back toward your bedroom.

Clay followed willingly, his breaths coming out shaky. He squeezed your hand, looking at you with a mixture of apprehension and adoration as he asked, “Are you sure, Cherry?”

You held his face in your hands, gazing up into his eyes. Looking at him like this, it all made sense. For a moment, all of your fears and doubts seemed to vanish.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” you breathed.

The smile that grew on Clay’s face was enough to stop your heart.

“Then I’m yours,” he whispered.

He kissed you with a new intensity, not an ounce of hesitation in the action. Your fists clutched the front of his shirt, pulling him closer to you as your lips moved against his. Clay moaned softly, sliding his hands up your back to press your body into his.

You let your tongue tease his bottom lip as you slipped your hands beneath his shirt, feeling the taut skin that stretched across rippling muscles. Your fingernails gently scratched against the sensitive skin of his hips.

Clay groaned, arching into your touch as his grip on you tightened. He broke the kiss, panting heavily as he looked at you with hooded eyes.

“Is this what you want?” he asked, his voice thick with desire.

“I want this off,” you whispered against his lips, tugging impatiently at the material of his shirt.

He lifted his arms, letting you take it off as his muscles flexed. You took your time, letting your eyes travel along every inch of exposed skin. Desire swelled in the pit of your stomach as you rubbed your hands across his chest.

“You’re exquisite, pretty boy,” you breathed, looking up at him again.

“Exquisite?” Clay echoed, swallowing thickly as he reacted to your touch.

You trailed your fingers down the rivets in his abdomen, stopping at the waistband of his jeans. You toyed with the button, keeping your eyes locked on his.

Clay let out a shaky breath, his body trembling as he waited for your next move.

Slowly, you pulled his zipper down and pushed his jeans down his legs. You couldn’t help but drink in the sight of him. The contrast of his muscular build against his tight, black boxer briefs was enough to make you drool.

“Fuck, pretty boy,” you whispered, your eyes still roaming his body. “You’re goddamn work of art.”

Clay groaned, a blush of his own dusting his cheeks as he breathed, “You’re killing me, Cherry.”

You slowly removed your own clothes, smirking as Clay’s breath hitched the moment he caught a glimpse of that red lingerie set.

“See?” you grinned. “I told you. Just for you.”

“Jesus Christ…” Clay whispered, his eyes raking over your figure. He stepped toward you, reaching out to trace his fingers over the red lace. His eyes were filled with need and his voice was hoarse with desire as he looked up at you and asked, “Can you also be just for me?”

You gasped, feeling your body react to the slightest of touches from him. His question made your heart stutter. He didn’t go any further, waiting for your response.

“Is that what you want?” you asked, balancing on the precipice of vulnerability.

Clay held your face in his hands, his gaze filled with longing as he said, “More than anything, Cherry.”

The conviction in his voice nearly knocked all of the breath out of your lungs. Your mind wandered back to the feeling you’d gotten when you’d read the note he’d left you at the club. ‘Your pretty boy’, he had written. You’d dwelled on those three words everyday since, realizing that the thought of being his and him being yours didn’t sound so awful. You’d never thought that kind of relationship was something you were capable of but, gazing up at him now, you were starting to believe it could be.

You couldn’t find the words to say, to tell him that maybe you wanted all of the same things he wanted. Instead, you pressed your lips against his to seal the deal. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling his face closer to yours as you kissed him desperately. It was raw and heated and needy. You needed him. You wanted to be his completely.

Clay responded to the urgency, his large hands finding purchase on your hips as he pulled you into him. His kiss was explosive, filled with raw passion and devotion as his tongue tasted yours.

He pulled back, slightly, his eyes locked on yours as he gave you a small smile. His hands wandered further down until he gripped the backs of your thighs, lifting you up and carrying you toward the bed. He gently laid you down, lowering himself onto you.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, bringing his lips back down to yours. Clay groaned into the kiss, shifting his hips as you felt his erection press against you. You could feel his heartbeat against yours, joining together in a song of passion.

“I need you,” Clay breathed, pulling back to gaze down at you with desire.

With a grin you rolled the two of you over so that you were the one on top. You straddled his hips, resting your hands against his chest.

“What’s the verdict now, pretty boy?” you whispered, leaning down to kiss the side of his neck. “Have I convinced you that I’m not just a figment of your imagination…” you nipped at his pulse-point, tracing the vein with your tongue as he groaned. “…or do you need more proof?”

Clay’s hands gripped your hips tightly as he stared at you with hungry eyes, his heart pounding.

“I think…” he swallowed thickly, licking his lips. “I think I could use a little more proof.”

You smirked, moving down to press a kiss to his chest. Your eyes never left his as you asked, “Does that feel real?” Clay’s breath hitched as he nodded. “What about this?” you asked. “Does this feel real?” You swirled your tongue around one of his nipples, letting your teeth gently graze over the peaked bud.

“God, yes,” he choked out, his fists squeezing your skin. “So real…”

“And this?” You whispered, kissing him below his bellybutton, caressing your lips just above the waistband of his boxers.

“Yes,” he moaned, his eyebrows drawn together in desperation.

“What about this, pretty boy?” you smirked. “Is this real?”

You leaned down and placed an open-mouthed kiss against his clothed erection, letting him feel the warmth of your mouth.

“Fuck, Cherry,” he cried out, bucking his hips up involuntarily.

You traced your finger along the length of him, gently messaging the place where a wet spot had already begun forming.

“Want me to touch you, pretty boy?”

“Please,” he whispered, his voice thick with need as he nodded his head.

Your toes curled at the sound of his desperation. You dipped your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and pulled them off of his legs, freeing his throbbing erection.

Your lips parted as you took in the sight of his thick shaft with a bright red aching tip. You’d known he was big from feeling him pressed against you, but seeing it was another thing entirely.

You ran your hands up his thighs and cooed, “So fucking pretty.”

Clay let out a shaky breath, his cock twitching at the praise.

You let your fingers graze over him in a teasing manner before wrapping your hand around his shaft. You gave him a gentle squeeze, causing him to gasp and lift his hips off of the mattress.

The moment you began to slowly stroke him he let out a low moan, his eyes rolling back. His breaths came out in ragged pants, the muscles in his neck tensing with restraint.

“Fuck,” he breathed, arching into your touch. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

His hips jerked as you stroked him faster, pulling another moan from his lips. His eyes widened and he grabbed your hand, pulling it away from him. He tried to catch his breath, a light blush creeping up his neck.

“You’re a little too good at that, Cherry,” he laughed, breathlessly. “I’m not gonna let this be over that quickly.”

You couldn’t help but grin at the thought that you had gotten him so close with just a few strokes, giggling at the playful roll of his eyes.

He moved his hands into your hair, pulling you back up to kiss him again. His lips moved against yours with determination, knowing exactly what he wanted. His fingers trailed up and down your spine before he reached around and unclasped your bra.

He pulled it off of you and tossed it to the side, unabashedly admiring you as he groaned in appreciation.

His eyes stayed locked on your chest as he rubbed his hands up your sides and whispered, “God, you’re perfect.”

You couldn’t help but shiver in anticipation, his touch leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

In one swift motion, he turned the two of you back over. He hovered over you, gazing down into your eyes with admiration. He lowered his head, kissing you softly.

“You have no idea how much I want you,” he whispered, kissing down your neck. His fingers grazed the inside of your thigh, slowly moving higher.

You gasped, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you tilted your head back to give him better access. You were pretty sure your lacy bottoms had been completely soaked through at this point.

You couldn’t help but whine when Clay’s hand skipped over your need and moved further up your side. He chuckled against your neck, kissing further down toward your chest.

Clay lifted up his head to watch you as he traced teasing circles across your nipple, grinning as it tightened under his touch. He flicked his thumb over it, gently tugging on it. His eyes sparkled as you gasped, arching into his touch.

He leaned his head back down, letting his lips graze against your ear as he asked, “You like that, baby?”

“Yes,” you breathed, writhing beneath him. “Please, keep touching me.”

“Is this where you want me to keep touching you?” Clay asked, a knowing glint in his eyes as he kept teasing you.

“No,” you whined, biting down on your lip. He knew exactly what he was doing and it was driving you crazy. “Just go…lower.”

“Mm, lower?” Clay grinned, cocking his brow. He trailed his fingers down your stomach, reaching between your legs to softly caress you. “Right here?”

“Yes, right there,” you gasped, gripping onto his shoulders.

Clay hooked his fingers into the sides of the bottoms, pulling them off as he sat up to look at you. His eyelids fluttered as he pushed your legs apart, gently rubbing your thighs.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, wrapping your legs around him before leaning back down to kiss you.

You whimpered against his lips as his fingers teased your swollen clit, rubbing small circles against it. His thumb continued to toy with it as he pushed one finger inside of you. He groaned into your mouth, lifting his head up to look at you as he panted.

“God, you’re so wet, baby,” he breathed, adding another finger. “You’re gonna feel so good wrapped around me.”

You arched off of the bed as he curled his fingers, brushing them against that perfect spot inside of you. He leaned his head down and wrapped his lips around one of your nipples, flicking his tongue against it.

“Fuck,” you moaned, feeling that knot tightening in the pit of your stomach. “I’m so close.”

Clay’s eyes snapped back up to you and he released your nipple with a pop, a trail of saliva still connecting it to his lips.

“That’s it, baby,” he encouraged you. “Come all over my fingers.”

Your eyes rolled back as you felt the wave of pleasure washing over you, crying out as he worked you through the high.

With a satisfied grin he pulled his fingers out of you, bringing them up to his lips to suck them clean. He closed his eyes, groaning softly at the taste.

The sight of that alone had you worked back up in an instant. You grabbed his face, bringing his mouth back down to yours as you tasted yourself on his lips.

“I want you,” you breathed, reaching down to line him up with your entrance. You kept your eyes locked on his as you said, “I want all of you.”

Clay’s gaze softened, his eyes swimming with emotion as he whispered, “You’ve already got it.”

He rested his forehead against yours as he slowly pushed into you. Both of you let out strangled moans as his hips landed flesh against yours, the size of him stretching you out. He held your gaze as he let you adjust to him before slowly starting to move.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, burying your hands in his hair as he picked up speed. Each thrust drove you closer and closer to the edge, the feeling of him becoming completely addictive.

“You feel so good around me, Cherry,” he panted, rolling his hips into yours. “I could stay buried inside of you forever.”

You moaned at his words, gasping as he lifted your hips to push deeper inside of you. The new angle made you see stars, feeling him in places you’d never felt anything before. Your eyes fluttered shut as you breathed out, “Clay.”

Clay froze, halting his movements. His chest heaved with rapid breaths as he stared down at you, his eyes growing darker.

You’d just said his name — his real name — for the first time. It had rolled off your tongue so naturally, like it had always been yours to say.

“Say it again,” he breathed, his voice hoarse. “Say my name again.”

He slowly pulled out, nearly all the way, before thrusting back into you sharply.

“Clay,” you gasped, tugging on his hair.

He repeated the movement and groaned, “Again.”

“Clay,” you moaned, crying out as he picked up speed again. Your nails scratched down his back as he thrust into you with a new fervor. “Clay, fuck.”

“That’s it, baby, keep going,” he prompted, snapping his hips up into yours repeatedly. “Let the whole world know who’s making you feel like this.”

Your senses were honed in on him, blocking everything else out. Every thought, every worry, every doubt was all replaced by him and how he was making you feel.

“Clay, I…I’m gonna come,” you whimpered, feeling your body rocking with the force of his thrusts.

“Come with me, Cherry,” he breathed, locking eyes with you. “Let’s finish this dance together.”

It didn’t take much more for that band to snap again, sending you soaring over the edge as you came around him. You cried out his name, clinging to him as he made you see galaxies. He quickly followed, burying his face into your neck as he groaned. You rode each other out, drinking in every last ounce of pleasure before he collapsed on top of you.

“Fuck,” he breathed, lifting his head as he grinned up at you. “That was incredible. I’ve never experienced anything like that before.”

You gazed up at him and lifted a trembling hand to run your fingers through his hair, unsticking it from his forehead.

“I’ve never experienced anything like you,” you whispered, unable to hide your emotions like you’re used to. “You’re something special, Clay.”

Clay’s eyes softened as he rested his forehead against yours. He gently caressed your cheek with his thumb, placing a sweet kiss against your lips.

“You have no clue just how special you are, baby,” he murmured, softly.

You hummed, feeling a pleasant warmth spread through you as a smile tugged on your lips.

Baby.

“Call me that again,” you whispered. “It sounds nice when you say it.”

“Yeah?” He chuckled, a wide grin lighting up his face. “Alright, baby.”

Your breath hitched as he kissed across your jaw, letting his lips hover by your ear as he whispered, “Baby.”

You could feel him stiffening again where he was still connected to your body. He brought his hand up to tease your nipple again, eliciting a soft whimper from you as he kissed down your neck.

“What are you doing?” you breathed, your mind already going fuzzy.

“What do you think I’m doing, baby?” he smirked, kissing your lips as he began to rock against you again.

You both fell into a fit of moans and gasps as you clung to each other, chasing that mutual release for a second time. Succumbing to the passion and pleasure, your desires crescendoed with a cry sweeter than any song.

Your legs trembled as you came down again, breathing heavily. Your body felt like jello, but you couldn’t find anything to complain about.

“Was it your goal to make sure I wouldn’t be able to get out of this bed?” you grinned, sighing contentedly as Clay rolled over and pulled you into his chest.

“You caught me, Cherry,” Clay chuckled, rubbing soothing circles along your waist. “It was my plan all along to keep you here forever.”

You knew that things had changed. The dynamic you shared had been irreparably altered. Yet, it didn’t scare you as much as it should. Lying here in his arms felt so…right. You rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. For once in your life, you felt at peace.

“Tell me a story,” you whispered, tracing patterns against his chest with your fingertips. “Tell me one about you.”

A gentle smile settled onto Clay’s face as he said, “Well, this might sound silly, but I used to race remote control cars with my grandfather…”

He dove into tales of his childhood, painting a picture for you of the boy he was. You listened intently, hanging on to every word as he filled your heart with light. You listened to him for over an hour, never once growing bored. You found yourself wanting to know every little detail about him, even if you weren’t ready to share your own yet.

The two of you laid there as the night grew dark, basking in the haven of your new bubble away from the world. It was these moments that made the risk worth it — the calm before the inevitable storm.

————————————————————————

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[acupofqueercoffee]

“Fires of Fidelity”

Rhaenys Targaryen x Female Reader

wc : 4800+

cw : ambiguous relationships // description of violence which i wouldn’t call graphic but it depends i guess // there’s smut towards the end, also not very explicit but then again, it depends :’)) // i am OBSESSED with her hair, so it would only make sense that my reader is also obsessed

rook’s rest doesn’t exist for me 🥰 fuck rook’s rest, and happiest of birthdays to my absolute badass of a queen 🥳🎂 but fuck her too (affectionate)

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The market is teeming with hustle and bustle of common folks. A cacophony of vendors shouting and shoppers strolling around, alongside an undertone of your lady’s heeled boots kissing gravel throbs inside your ears, softened only by the cloak that you are currently shrouded under.

Overhead, clouds hang heavy, a grim portrait of gloomy greys and ivory whites, the sun but a vague presence in the silver-lined edges. No shadows paint the ground aside from you who is hot on your lady’s heels. Everywhere she walks, you follow, akin to a shadow perpetually casted on the ground.

Meanwhile, a few children scamper around you, shouting, laughing, and one comes astray, collides with your lady before she continues scurrying on her jolly little way, blissfully unaware. The sudden jostle has the precarious effect on the body in front of you for you notice the break in rhythm of the feet that are taking graceful steps. All at once, you are directly behind her, the gentle sway of her body braced by a stable palm across her back.

“Careful, Prin-” Eyes, a milky-way of green and brown, render you quiet. You are, after all, accompanying your Princess on her covert little trip to town.

Nevertheless, a token of her gratitude follows in the form of the tiniest hint of a smile that beautifully graces her features. Disguised beneath the cloak though her head is, given the close proximity of your bodies, you are granted an audience with wisps of moon-kissed locks caressing the delicate plane of her forehead.

“Walk next to me.” She says, and donning a playful smile, you drop a whisper directly into her ears. “As my lady commands.”

Aloofness shrouds her mien, lips a firm line, although it is not lost on you that there is a twinkle in her eyes, the cause of which dawns on you as soon as a sly hand disappears into the privacy of your cloak. Two of her digits waste no time in pinching your flesh through the fabric of your cloth. Pain blossoms, bringing with it a small wince to your face.

When her fingers remain unrelenting, a grumble flies past your lips, “I jest. I jest.” And only then does she relent with a hum, feet never faltering as you walk abreast, her body the very picture of cool and collected save a smile touching her lips.

“I have promised gifts for my granddaughters. What do you think would delight them?”

“Well, I’m afraid I’m the worst person you could have turned to for such suggestions.”

“Indulge me, then. Go on.”

Ever the woman of queenly manner, even her cadence oozes charisma. It colours your cheeks rosy, bringing forth memories from which the delightful utterance has graced your ears under more intimate circumstances.

“I don’t know.” You begin by clearing your throat, a shrug on your shoulders as you walk. “Perhaps a kiss on their cheeks would suffice? I know for a fact that it would delight me greatly.”

Being both a Princess and a Dragonrider, your lady looks every bit the epitome of poise and gravitas. Seldom does she wear her emotions on her face, head held high and spine ram-rod straight, always an enchanting enigma except to trained eyes which, as a matter of fact, are few and far between, although an aura of authority is effortlessly, perpetually crowned on her Targaryen head. However, having spent a better part of your years by her side, during formal as well as more personal occasions, you have mastered the art of unravelling the subtleties of her features and nuances of her words.

It is how you find yourself now, raising a hand in faux surrender along with a defensive arm across your waist by merely a slight tilt of her head and a gaze to your face.

“Again, I jest.”

In the vicinity of the place where you currently stand, a ruckus suddenly arises, a heated argument between two vendors, it appears, which quickly fans the flames of a full-blown uproar. A crack of thunder is a prelude to the heavy drizzle that descends upon the crowd as fists are thrown, and like a carcass attracting vultures, the fight lures those who have an innate thirst for violence.

While the chaos unfolds, your sole focus is solemnly fixed on the Princess by your side, all the more so because a plethora of people are darting around in panic. You do not know, have no time to seek what your lady’s wishes are as instinct forces you to act. Taking her waist in your arm, you tuck her body into a nook as delicately as possible.

A desperate attempt on your part to narrowly escape the wagon that whizzes past leaves your bodies fitted together, your lady’s back pressed against the wall with your hand behind her head softening the impact. Her breath caresses your face, and the perfumed air is tentalising, fruity with sweet floral notes alongside something that is entirely her.

Meanwhile, the downpour has become more merciless, and you commit to memory the way raindrops cling to her lashes like tiny diamonds.

“Have anyone ever told you that you have such beautiful eyelashes, Princess?”

An arch of an eyebrow accompanies the dainty little rain-soaked lips as they curve into a dizzying smile.

“Evidently, I have.”

“So it seems.” You chuckle, step away, although not before you have adjusted her cloak in such a way that it will offer her face more protection against the rain. “I’m afraid you’ll have to cut your trip short, my lady.”

“It would appear so.”

“Shall we return to the castle then?”

Rivulets of rain travel down your cheeks, and your lady invites herself into your space, mirroring your movement from a while ago as fingers fix the hood on your head, supple in their movements.

“Yes, let’s return home.”

Home.

Home to you is not a place, but rather, a person. A person to whom you have sworn loyalty, to protect, to kill for, and should the need arise, to give your life for. Simply put, your home is by your Princess’s side, and hence, the subtle admission that the castle is as much a home to you as it is to her becomes the culprit behind the joyful little swell of your heart.

The short journey back to the castle is taken by way of a detour, in which you lead your lady through quiet alleyways, except that they are too deserted, almost suspiciously so. Once you reach the town square, you guide your lady to the exit on the other side, a hand on her back as you match her pace.

Beyond the archway, a hooded person is looming out of the darkness, and no sooner have you registered their dubious presence than your hand is grabbing your lady’s waist to urge her behind your body.

“Well, well, look who we have here.”

You recognise the voice to be that of a person from your life before your Princess, a thug who has had unsavoury history with you.

“I don’t have time for your tomfoolery.”

Mockery drips from your lips as you turn, taking your lady by her arm to leave through another archway, but to your vexation, you find that more hooded hooligans have obstructed your path. Hidden beneath your cloak is a sword attached to your hip. Closing your fingers around the hilt of it, you scan your surroundings with a surreptitious move of your eyes. There is a total of five people, six if you include the man standing behind you.

“Don’t you mean, you have no time at all because you see, me and my boys, we’re about to end you right here.”

He taunts you with his words, his insufferable tone grating on your nerves, and irked, you unsheathe your sword, just in time to swivel on your feet and parry his slash, a clang echoing through the alley when your blades collide. At the same time as you hold your stance, a strong kick is unleashed to his chest. The force of it sends him sprawling across the ground, and you let loose a snicker.

“All bark and no bite, eh?”

From your left and right, two of his lapdogs charge at you, and your blade effortlessly cuts through the air in a blur of sharp counterattacks and swift manoeuvres. You make quick work of them, one stab through the abdomen, another through the chest, and they are nothing but marionettes severed of strings, drowning in a pool of their own blood. Following in the wink of an eye is a shower of three more swords that descends upon you in full force, and you block them with your blade, raised horizontally above your head. No matter how well-trained you are, the combined strength of three against one is proving to be a little beyond your endurance.

Your knee has barely braced against the muddy ground when all of a sudden, one of your opponents drops dead, the Velaryon seahorse adorned hilt of a dagger which is embedded in his back letting you know that it has been a product of your lady’s great finesse.

Until now, all of their attention has been fixated on you, but now that your lady has divulged her capabilities, the two lapdogs disperse, one rushing towards your lady with a cry while the other swings his blade at you with renewed vigour. Every inch of your body screams at you to rush to your lady’s side, but the wretched little demon in front of you is giving you no leeway, lavishing you with onslaughts upon onslaughts of attacks, one of which, in your desperation to end him quickly, manages to catch you in your cloak.

“Stay focused, tigress.” As if sensing your distress, your Princess calls out to you. “Don’t worry about me.”

One touch of her voice and fire meets gasoline, the flame within you burning so fiercely that you let out a loud roar.

“Come on! Come at me, you cunt of a coward!!”

Having his feather ruffled by your gibe, he charges at you once more, but when the blade comes, rather than avoiding it, you catch it between your arm and body, trapping the sword and its wielder in place as you push your blade through his chest so hard that a good few length of it escapes through his back. Blood pours out of his sorry little mouth, and retrieving your sword from his body effectively drops him to the ground.

Your lady’s strikes, not as refined though they are as yours, can easily withstand a vermin whose attacks are disorganized at best. Furthermore, she is swift on her feet, wielding the agility of a crane whereas you possess the strength of a tigress, or so your Princess has whispered into your ears, your strikes always heavy, deep and precise.

Speaking of the Princess, your gaze catches her in time to feast your eyes upon her magnificence. The vermin has swung his blade at your lady, but she has gracefully swept down, and before he can recover, her dagger has made his stomach its temporary case, a snug fit. You watch, morbidly fascinated, as blood spills forth the hole once she pulls out her weapon before bestowing another swift stab upon his neck.

Out of five lapdogs, two lie dead at the hands of your lady, and three at yours which leaves only the old hound who at present, is eyeing you with contempt. When he starts advancing however, instead of lunging at you, he opts for your Princess, but having predicted his dirty, old tricks, you easily intercept, swift and light on your feet as your blades clash. You dance around each other in an exchange of onslaughts until once again, you are forced to maintain a firm stance to keep his sword from bearing down on you.

The rain has thinned and through the clouds, the sun’s rays has spilled across Driftmark. In the corner of your eyes, you discern a glint. You notice it a second too late though because one moment, both of his hands are keeping a firm grip on the blade, and the next, one hand has disappeared into his cloak to retrieve a hidden dagger. Nevertheless, his strength barely wavers, and so engrossed in keeping the looming threat at bay you are that you have not been able to stop in time the dagger that stabs you.

Although its sharp tip has scarcely pierced your flesh before you lock your fingers around his wrist, the struggle that pursues leaves a crimson slash across the plane of your stomach. Gritting your teeth, you swallow the pain in fear that it will upset your Princess who apparently has seized the opportunity to deliver cuts to the backs of his knees. Immediately, he falls to the ground with a grunt. Meanwhile, you waste no time in kicking the dagger away from his hand and throwing his blade across the square.

“Bagged yourself another degenerate like yourself, huh? Or did you whore yourself out?”

You are not as perturbed by him making a ridicule out of you as you are livid by his insults towards your lady, but when you have poised to throw a punch to his face, a gentle hand on your arm stops you.

Pulled free of the hood and kissed by sunshine, a waterfall of liquid starlight almost appears to be glowing.

“Lady wife of the Sea Snake.”

She remains silent at his observation, staring him down, but something about him not addressing your lady by her individual title rubs you the wrong way. Still, you will not interfere, for after all, you dance to your lady’s every desire.

Entwined hands resting just below her waist, your Princess has donned intimidation as though it is regalia, a goddess to be worshiped oozing effortless allure.

“I- I didn’t know. Have mercy.”

“I can be merciful if I so choose, but I can’t in good conscience have a vengeful man pouncing on my sworn shield at every chance he gets. And what’s more, you have thrown insults to my face. I could have your tongue for it.” She blinks, sly and languid, slow and deliberate, alongside a small tilt to her head. “So, what do you propose I do, hm?”

“My tongue. If- if it would appease you-”

The old hound in the face of the dragon is like a lamb to the slaughter, grovelling at the feet of the exalted creature who slowly approaches him.

“Insults are insignificant.” So, she drawls, and before he can register a word, a dagger has been plunged so deeply into his throat by way of his mouth that blood gurgles. “Keep your tongue.”

A squelch accompanies the recovery of the dagger. While she wipes it clean off blood on his cloth, you carry out your own retrieval of her other dagger buried in the back of another body. It, too, is wiped clean before being sheathed on her hip.

“Are you alright, my lady?” Your question is answered with a query. “Are you?”

Her gaze, beneath the dapple of daylight, holds the warmth of sunlit amber, flecked with whispers of forest green, and when it caresses your body from head to toe in silent observation, the wound hidden beneath your cloak throbs in harmony with the beat of your heart.

“I am.” You say, and your lopsided grin garners a small smile in return. “It’s high time we returned home then.”

It is only when you have escorted your lady into the safety of her castle that your false bravado comes to light. Your fingers touch your stomach and they come away wet, viscous, and overwhelmingly red. While you are lost in your head, the voice that caresses your ears comes in the form of your name, and you look up to find your lady standing in front of you.

Stickiness clings to your palm as you curl your digits into a fist, but your sorry excuse of an attempt is proven futile when lithe fingers lock around your wrist. A tug coupled with a look from her is all it takes for your fist to pour open. You can almost pinpoint the exact moment when realisation dawns on her, in the delicate lines on her face that have all but calcified into rocky plains.

“Uncloak.” Her tone harbours an icy ring to it by the time she speaks, releasing your hand at the same time, although when you stand unmoving, she demands instead. “Now.”

Pulling your dark cloak open reveals to your lady the cut across your stomach in all its scarlet, grisly glory. There is a twitch to her jaw as well as a tiny tilt to her head, and when she looks at you, a tempest brews in her eyes, but beneath the blaze of storm-tossed sea, dark and churning with a blazing anger, you find a shadow of concern.

“Pay a visit to the Maester, get it treated, and by nightfall, I want you in my chambers.”

And so, that is how you find yourself in your lady’s chambers after getting the crimson slash properly cleaned, stitched and wrapped in fresh linens at the masterful hands of House Valeryon’s Maester.

The door shuts with a soft click, and a greeting falls past your lips.

“Princess.”

You have crossed paths with her handmaiden in the corridors leading up to the chambers, and she must have helped your lady get ready for bed, you conclude, for the Princess is now comfortably clothed. Oddly enough however, her braids are not yet unwoven which is how you find her now, sitting in front of her vanity desk, a waterfall of white silk flowing down her back.

As if possessing a mind of their own, your legs carry you towards your lady before depositing you directly behind her back. Immediately, reverently, your fingers make a descent onto the intricate little bun perched atop her head, during which the Princess regards you silently through the mirror’s reflection. With much delicacy, you unbind the thick braid that is keeping the bun in place, and doing so spills another layer of those silken locks in an effortless cascade down her back.

“You would do well to remember-” It is amidst you undoing one of the smaller braids that her voice graces your ears for the first time since you have set foot in her chambers. Meanwhile, her gaze finds yours in the mirror. “-that your fealty to me is to no avail should you lie wounded and are unable to fulfill your duties.”

“But what good is a sworn shield who cannot…well…” With a sigh, you drop your gaze to your hands before seeking her eyes once more. “…shield?”

“And what good is a sworn shield who cannot stand?”

“I am perfectly capable of standing though.”

“Are you?”

And then, she is turning on her seat, a lock of her star-kissed hair slipping through your fingers like liquid silver, as she seizes you by your tunic. In the wink of an eye, dainty lips collide with your own, all but sucking your soul out of your body, and your witty remark, which you have been intending to let loose, dissolves on her tongue altogether.

Such marks the epilogue to your little repartee.

While one hand holds a fistful of fabric, another wanders, ghosting along your thigh to then settle on your stomach, fingertips dancing across the gauze before it grabs your waist. A wicked pad of a thumb presses onto your side, and the outcome is just shy of agony, a whimper being fed into your lady’s mouth as your knees very nearly fail you.

“Kneel.”

With a mere touch of her murmured breath branded so deliciously onto your lips that are presently bearing the fruit of her ardent assaults, you are instantly reduced to a puddle at her feet, eager to worship your goddess.

“Hmm, I thought as much.”

“Well,-” Your tone is tinged with a whine, whereas a smile blossoms on your face. “-that was unfair.”

“Are you questioning your Princess?”

You tuck your face into her stomach, dropping a little kiss onto the spot where you think her navel lies.

“I wouldn’t dare, Princess.”

In the meantime, fingers trace patterns on your cheek, caress the outline of your jaw, and closing your eyes, you revel in the luxurious sensation up until a palm that cradles your face coaxes you out of your sweet sanctuary.

“It would be cruel of me to have you remain kneeling.” As she speaks, her thumb maps each curve and contour of your lips, which, swollen by now, speaks of whispered words and the heady waltz of fervent kisses. “I believe improvisations are in order.”

“Strip.”

And strip, you do, for at present, you stand only in your loose trousers.

Gracefully, tentalisingly, your lady arises, and even though a few braids remain in place, her hair, now freed from its confine, flows freely past her hip, a cascade of luminous waves shimmering like moonlight upon a still lake. Her gaze, on the other hand, is fixed on the linen that is entirely wrapped around your waist. The seepage of blood from the wound paints the white fabric in a vague vermillion which offers a glimpse into the extent of the injury.

“It will heal in no time, my lady.” Your attempt at soothing your lady is received with a gentle threat. “I do not tolerate imprudence. Nor deceit. It would do you well to remember that.”

“I will, Princess. But it doesn’t mean I won’t do it all over again if it concerns your safety.”

“Stubborn as ever.”

“My Princess likes me stubborn though, doesn’t she?”

“With that bold tongue of yours, count yourself lucky that I do.” Although she has leveled you with a glare, the blaze of which can very well put the sun to shame, you smile a cheeky little grin, looking every bit the picture of a cat that has eaten the canary, or rather, a tigress who has eaten the dragon. “That I agree. My tongue is capable of doing unimaginable wonders after all.”

You feel her hands move, and fearing that her fingers are once again going to subject you to those ruthless torments, you quickly raise your hands in surrender. She proves you wrong however by snaking her fingers into the waistband of your trousers.

“These need to go too.”

Your Princess has said her command, and like the very devotee that you are, your hands make swift work of getting rid of the only piece of clothing that is covering your body. Meanwhile, what enters your line of sight is a heap of white fabric that pools at your lady’s feet.

A breath catches in your throat, your heart beating with an awe so profound that it borders on reverence. She is a nymph of old tales, a creature of myth sung by the bards, born of the elements and graced with the beauty of the divine. Her presence, lucid and otherworldly at the same time, seems to draw the very light towards her, bathed in a halo of celestial radiance.

Your lady’s bare frame, delicate and strong, speaks of both grace and power, a goddess in her own right. It is a sight that will never tire you, and despite having seen it before, you are awed anew by such glorious vision. Your gaze lingers, admiring the soft curves and the rise and fall of her chest, enthralled by the sheer wonder of her existence that stirs the deepest corner of your soul.

Fascinated, you go to take her hips in your hands, but a push from her, and pliantly, you let yourself fall onto the mattress, for after all, a dragon will always be a dragon no matter the circumstances. You have not so much as blinked when she climbs atop the bed to straddle your body, toned thighs, befitting a dragon-rider of her caliber, on either side of your ribcage.

Your lips collide.

Amidst the clash of tongues and teeth, your hands find home on her waist, flesh supple and soft beneath your fingertips, as you move to sit up, lifting your lady slightly to reposition her on your lap, a special throne fit for your Queen.

Wetness oozes, and as soon as you feel the heat of her core on your thigh, you moan, but given that you are locked in place by a hand grabbing a fistful of your hair and an arm around your neck, it tumbles directly into her mouth. There is a sway to her hips, her essence coating your flesh, and all too eagerly, you encourage the dragon-rider to ride your thigh to her heart’s content, hands sliding into the delicious little dip of her waist as you help her maintain the rhythm that she has set.

Her lips part from yours with a delectable little mewl. Those delicate buds, once dainty, now beautifully bears the bloom of passion’s visit. Each swell hints at the fervor of love’s embrace, leaving them a charming, rosy hue, a testament to moments of rapture. Coated in a layer of dew, they glisten softly in the warm glow, as if kissed by dawn itself, promising the sweet ache of desire.

Like a siren’s call, they lure you, and enchanted, you give in, raising a hand to gently trace the curve of her lips beneath your fingertips. A gasp escapes your lips once your wrist is caught in her hand. Another catches in your throat when two of your fingers are sucked into her mouth.

Every ridge and bone is visited by a velveteen tip of a tongue, licking, prodding, and by the time she guides your hand between her legs, your fingers are as equally soaked as her core. They slip inside smoothly to be enveloped in luxurious softness. Curling your fingers into a cruel, little curve seems to drown your lady in sweet suffering if the way her forehead falls atop your shoulder to muffle the sounds, that very nearly spill out of her, with a bite to your flesh is any indication.

Beneath the soft folds of her belly, you can see muscles straining, hidden little pearl, hard and sensitive, grinding against your palm to seek friction. Meanwhile, your love-struck gaze is busy admiring the lovely little freckles that are scattered across her chest, a spillage of stars, and upon chasing them with your lips, syrupy sweet kisses blossom in their wake.

The sight of her trembling frame as she rides your fingers is a scene worthy to be immortalised in art form, but at the same time, you frankly doubt that bards and painters all across Westeros can truly do your lady’s ethereal beauty justice. Swelling to near bursting with adoration, you hold her to your chest, fingers doing their job in the warm cavern of her core, and in doing so, you earn yourself a nibble to your neck, lips closing around your pulse point, sucking, kissing.

Hot air escapes your mouth as you bury your nose in the healthy mane of her hair.

“You seem awfully fond of my hair, tigress.” She pants, whereas you smile, nuzzling her silky strands that are not only smooth but also addictively fragrant. “Fond is an understatement, Princess.”

“What is it, then?”

“Love.”

“You love my hair?”

You abandon your happy, little haven in favour of taking her face in your hand. Tiny pearls of sweat blooms on her forehead while her lips are slightly parted. A knit occupies the space between her eyebrows while her eyes, usually an intense hazel brown, are now hazy with hunger.

“I love you,-” It is into the delicate lines forming at the corner of her mouth that you breathe your admission. “-and everything you have to offer.”

She says nothing, but you doubt even a thousand spoken words will be capable of touching you the way you feel deeply touched by being made aware of the effect it has on her in the fluttering of her folds as they clench your fingers. Your lady has died that sweet little death in your embrace, head collapsing onto your shoulder. It is only when her muscles have relaxed, and her core has released its grip on your fingers that they can finally slip out.

“And my dear tigress.” Fingers lazily toy with your hair. “Yes, Princess?”

“Don’t you dare hide your wounds from me ever again.” Your arms wrap around her body to hold her a little closer, a little tighter, into which she happily melts, rare moments where you can witness her softer, more affectionate side.

Nevertheless, you must have taken too long to her liking because the delicate flesh of your neck falls victim to her teeth.

“Do I make myself clear?”

Although she has left you throbbing in pain, the happiness that swells inside your chest easily prevails over anything and everything, burning so fiercely that you feel as if you can conquer the Seven Kingdoms to offer it to her on a diamond platter. Suppressing your silly little urge, you content yourself instead with a delicate press of a kiss to her bare shoulder.

“Delightfully so, Princess.”

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

[narcissarina]

𝙼𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 10.4ᴋ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs/ᴛᴀɢs: ɪɴsᴜʟᴛɪɴɢ ᴡᴏʀᴅs, ᴅᴇɢʀᴀᴅᴀᴛɪᴏɴs, ᴘ ɪɴ ᴠ, ᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴘʟᴏᴛ, ᴜɴᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ sᴇx, ᴄᴏʟʟᴇɢᴇ ᴀᴜ, ᴍᴜsɪᴄ ᴄᴏᴜʀsᴇ!sᴄᴀʀᴀ × ᴀʀᴛ ᴄᴏᴜʀsᴇ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴘᴇᴛ ɴᴀᴍᴇs, ғᴜᴄᴋ ʙᴜᴅᴅɪᴇs ᴛᴏ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀs(?) ʀɪᴄʜᴅᴏᴍ!sᴄᴀʀᴀ, ɢᴇɴᴛʟᴇ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ(ᴄᴀɴ ʙᴇ ǫᴜɪᴛᴇ ᴠᴜʟɢᴀʀ ᴛᴏᴏ), ғᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴘʀᴀɪsᴇ ᴋɪɴᴋ?, sʟᴏᴡʙᴜʀɴ?, ʜᴜʀᴛ/ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛ (ɪ sᴜᴄᴋ ᴀᴛ ᴛᴀɢɢɪɴɢ sʀʀʏ, ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ɪғ ɪ ᴍɪssᴇᴅ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ!!)

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴠᴇ ɪɴ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴅᴇ ᴏғ ᴛᴇʏᴠᴀᴛ, ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴀᴅ ʟɪᴠᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴡᴀs ᴘᴇᴀᴄᴇғᴜʟ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ. ᴠɪsɪᴏɴs ᴡᴇʀᴇ ɴᴏ ʟᴏɴɢᴇʀ ɴᴇᴇᴅᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ sᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʀᴄʜᴏɴs. ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɪɴ ᴄᴏʟʟᴇɢᴇ, ᴀɴ ᴀʀᴛ sᴛᴜᴅᴇɴᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴏᴏᴍᴍᴀᴛᴇ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴs ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴀɪᴅᴇɴs. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡɴ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴡᴇᴀʟᴛʜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴜsɪᴄ ɪɴᴅᴜsᴛʀʏ, ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴇʟᴅᴇsᴛ sᴏɴ; sᴄᴀʀᴀᴍᴏᴜᴄʜᴇ ʀᴀɪᴅᴇɴ ᴡᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴏᴏᴍɪᴇ, ʜᴇ ʜᴀs... ᴀ ʀᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴜɴɪǫᴜᴇ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ. ʜᴏᴡ ᴏᴘᴘᴏsɪᴛᴇs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛɪᴇs ᴡᴇʀᴇ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ʜᴜᴍʙʟᴇ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ʜᴇ’s ғᴜʟʟ ᴏғ ʜɪᴍsᴇʟғ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏᴄᴋʏ. ᴏᴘᴘᴏsɪᴛᴇs ᴀᴛᴛʀᴀᴄᴛs, sᴏ. ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴅᴇsᴘɪᴛᴇ ʙᴇɪɴɢ sᴏ ᴅɪғғᴇʀᴇɴᴛ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ? ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴇɪᴛʜᴇʀ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜ sᴜʀᴠɪᴠᴇ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴏɴᴇ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴏɴᴇ ᴅᴏʀᴍ ʀᴏᴏᴍ?

ᴀ/ɴ: ɪ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʜᴏᴡ ɪ ᴡʀᴏᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇɢɪɴɴɪɴɢ, ɪ ᴜsᴇ ʀᴀɪᴅᴇɴ ᴀs ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʟᴀsᴛ ɴᴀᴍᴇ (ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ sʜᴏɢᴜɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇɪ’s) ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ! ɢʀᴀᴍᴍᴀʀ ᴇʀʀᴏʀs ᴀʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴘᴇᴇᴘs!!

There was another world of Teyvat that exist.

Where gods and visions were no longer needed, where everything become modern and everyone lives peacefully.

Where the dead lived and had a happy life.

Where what it felt like everyone live in the same continent of Teyvat.

Catalyst, swords, claymores, and bows no longer wield a purpose in this part of Teyvat—weapons no longer needed as it was replaced by advance weapons. Only meant to be use if you’re in position to use them.

In this side of Teyvat, you no longer need to fear the heavenly principles—fear the gods nor worship them or think of the visions.

Even the archons saw how Teyvat change over the course of hundreds of years, now that their people don’t need gods nor visions no more. They now live among human society and pretended that they aren’t archons—but one of them.

Maybe the this Teyvat you live in could differ than the old “Teyvat” that the elders use to tell?

დ➳დ➳დ↴

The light of the sun illuminates to your room, how your alarm goes off to have your eyes flutter open and start your day anew. A yell was heard from downstairs kitchen, “y/n! Get up, hon.” The voice called.

You sat up, eyes half-lidded and still heavy. You stretched out your stiff muscles as a knock was heard from your door then your mother; still in a cooking apron stood from your door frame.

“Get up, dear.” Mother spoke as she knock on your door again, a little louder this time so you could hear. You can only reply with a tired groan giving your mother a thumbs up and rubbing your eyes gently.

“Pack your things, ok?” she reminded you, “and breakfast is ready, sweetheart. Come down and eat, all right?” she added before leaving your room and shutting your door.

Pacing out and blankly staring at the wall in front of you, you hop out of bed and start your day with showering first then packing your clothes for college. And maybe add some other things that can keep you entertained.

Art major, that’s right. You are an art student. The one who has poor posture every time you draw either traditionally on paper or in your digital tablet—that probably cost you more fortune.

You love to draw ever since you were little, probably at around the age of 5 or 6—well, everybody goes through that phrase right? Then when they came to age; they find new passion that suits them more and never touch paper and pencils again.

Well, that’s what you think anyways.

It doesn’t surprise your parents that you took art classes and art school in middle school, then now? Art major in the most well known college around Teyvat. It would take a while to get there even by car.

After getting done, your steps were light as you got down stairs and had your luggage’s ready. Your mom smiled as the two of you exchange a kiss on the cheek as a way to greet your mornings, “Morning, mom.” You greeted and sat down on a stool bar chair, resting both of your elbows in to the table while mom cooks your favorite breakfast.

There’s still time before mom drives you to college, “have you packed your necessaries, dear?” mom asked, you replied, your voice sounded like a murmur as you spoke. “yeah, I packed almost everything, mom.” You chuckle.

“alright then, sweetheart.” She sweetly smiled, turned off the stove—took a plate then happy place it down in front of you, what did mom cooked? The usual. Omelet with rice and French toast with jam. Yummy.

As you eat, mom hang her cooking apron at the fridge handle and let down her hair as she tidy up her attire. She breaks the silence as you eat, “So I heard that your…” she raised an eyebrow with a grin planted in her face, you rolled your eyes playfully in response. “Yeah, yeah. He’ll be there, alright.” You giggled and munch on your French toast with jam feeling.

“Do you know that the eldest son of the Raiden will be there to attend classes too?” Mom asked, fixing her blouse and skirt. Looks like she’s getting ready to get to work too.

The Raiden’s, that’s a name that you haven’t heard—no, even not familiar to you. All you hear, either in school or friend groups that the Raiden’s are insanely rich and owns a music industry. Hell, even the eldest son has a band that you… Well, surprisingly follow their band socials and listen to their music; 6reeze.

Neat band name, even though they all look like emo kids that hasn’t surpass their emo phase.

You were intrigued, “the eldest son, attending the same college as mine?” you ask to be sure, mom nods and turn around to have you look at her work attire.

“Yeah, and dear. How do I look?” She asked and gave a little twirl to showcase her proud look and attire, you smiled then finished your breakfast as you gave mom a double thumbs up. “You look great, mom.”

The two smiled as she gestures you to get up whilst she get her car keys, her jacket in hand and took your luggage’s too to have them inside the car. You followed along, chatted as the both of you got inside the car and continued sharing stories, your future even, then mom telling you how proud she is to you and how proud dad will be if he saw you, his baby girl all grown up and pursuing her dream.

He would’ve love seeing you stand in that stage, give your speech and throw your graduation hat in the air.

დ➳დ➳დ↴

“So…” mom starts, breaking the eerie silence throughout the ride as trees passes by your window seat, mom continued. “The raiden boy, the one that will be attending the same college as you.”

“What about him, mom?” you manage to mutter with a curious tone, tilting your head to your side as you listen to your moms words. “I heard he has… uhm…” she cleared her throat before continuing, “a rather, unique personality.” There was a pause in her sentence, unsure what she just meant by that.

“He can be, you know.”

“A jerk? I know mom, he has an ego and I don’t know why the internet love him about his bitch behavior.”

“y/n!” Mom called your name with a warning tone, “mind your language, young missy!” she pinch your side while looking out for the road. “owie!” you could only yelp and purse your lips to her direction, “I mean. It’s true that he has an ego and attitude.” You murmur under your breath.

“Don’t call him a bitch.” Mom shook her head, “but he is.” You groan, “y/n!”

“Fine, fine,” you laughed as mom continues to pinch and tickle your side, “I won’t call him a bitch, please mom! Eyes on the road!” you laughed as she just let out a sigh and smiled at you. You knew she couldn’t keep herself angry with you, you’re her angel. An angel that has a little wild and dark side, your tongue that has no remorse when it comes to speaking your mind. Yeah, an angel.

“I love you.” You confess and gave her your best puppy eyes that you know she could not resist. Mom let out a hum of an “aww” as the end of her lips tug a wide and wholesome smile, “I love you too, my baby boo.”

“Ew, what’s with that pet name.” you tease and giggle again, “I’m not going to buy you Starbucks.” Mom remarked as you plead for her forgiveness the whole ride.

The whole ride was filled with laughter and a strong bond between mother and daughter. You were glad that you have her as your mom, and your mom was glad that she has a daughter like you.

დ➳დ➳დ↴

It was huge, when I tell you huge. Huge, like really, really huge.

No wonder this college was well-known to over Teyvat. From what you heard from a friend—who also heard it from a friend. That not only it has a classy and massive inside, it also has a garden! Truly perfect to find yourself lost in endless inspiration, where you are surrounded with beautiful views.

They also give high class education, expect teachers be tight and extra strict. But overall! It was perfect! So perfect that you felt intimidated, just by the other looks of student, they all look… Expensively stylist and beautiful. Probably get themselves Starbucks like it’s in their daily lives.

Your mom assist your luggage’s as you are busy admiring how lovely and massive your college school is, “You already love it here, dear?” Mom let out a chuckle as she got a glimpse of your mouth agape and thinking you just saw the most jaw-dropping scene you have ever seen.

“The school view is great, honey, but do you mind helping your dear mommy?”

You turn around to face her, snap yourself back to Teyvat and hum a chuckle, “sorry, mom.” You apologize and lower your head to the ground, “I’d be lost in my own mind too if I’m attending to this kind of school too.” Mom admitted with a laugh as she took out one more luggage, “Let’s go.” She gestured as the both of you walk and talk then take flyers that’s been handing out.

You got in your dorm room, it was alright. Plain white walls and bed, luckily the school provides each students their own desk study in their own dorm room. “oh look! You got the first dip. Pick your bed, hun.” Mom spoke as she neatly tuck your luggage’s to the side as you inspect the beds and desk first.

“I’ll have the bed on the left.” You mutter and flop down, “set your things up before laying around, hm?” She clicked her tongue as she sat beside you, “I know you felt a little bit intimidated by the environment of the school and students here. But whenever you need me, I’m free to call and hun.” She pauses and brush your hair that’s been covering your face, “you’ll do great, I know it!” she encourages you and stood up from your bed.

You sat up with a smile, “I know, mom,” you hum, “thank you.” You smile as you stand up too to hug her goodbye, exchanging a kiss on the cheek before she bid farewell.

Now that she left, how about unpacking your things first and get some rest for the day? You too, are curious who’s going to be your roommate for today.

დ➳დ➳დ↴

Everyone was busy in campus, playing and welcoming new students as they hand out flyers to promote their program nor club.

A smile in all of their faces, playful chattering in the background—everywhere you walk nor set sight to. There will be people either playing, giving out flyers and chattering.

And of course, this was suffocating for him.

Most of the crowd went silent as the boys steps out from their car, their instrument on their back as the boy with a medium-length dark green forest colored hair with a teal undertones. What’s more eye catchy is his golden irises with avian pupils, and a red eyeshadow. He also has a diamond marking on his forehead and he only held a drumstick rather than a big case of the instrument like the others.

He was the first one to step out, and he goes by the name; Xiao. His green tattoo almost visible because of the length of his sleeve, numerous fans adored his cold demeanor. As if it’s giving, cold prince vibes.

Murmur filled the air, quiet squeals and excited whispers were heard.

“Who are they again? 6reeze?”

“Holy moly, good archon! Aren’t they handsome?”

“I want Xiao’s autograph.”

“The main vocal is so pretty!”

Praises and compliments were in the air, all eyes on them as flashes of photographs were takes and only got it to stop the paparazzi’s to picture the boys is to block their view.

Venti, the main vocalist and main star attraction of the band.

Xiao, the drummer and fans favorite “cold prince.”

Kazuha, the bass guitarist. The calm and collected guy, who sets everyone’s needs and helps the groups rehearsals.

Aether, who plays the electric keyboard—he was also the main attraction of the band because of his gold long-braided hair. Just like Kazuha, he puts everyone’s needs and the “leader” of the group.

Heizou, the guitarist or ‘rhythm guitarist’ who provides the rhythmic pulse along the bass and drum. He’s playful and has a knack on charming his fans, he was described that he’s sweet and has a soothing voice.

And lastly, we have him.

Scaramouche, or Scara for short. The eldest son of the Raidens—wealthy, cunning, blunt, cocky, prideful, and the lead electric guitarist of the band. There was an… issue about his behavior a few years back, the issue died down and well. His mistakes were now covered up.

The six walk each by their side and chatted as some fans yelp and tried to get their attention, their bodyguards were preventing them from crashing themselves to either of the idols.

“God, this school is so suffocating.” The boy with dark purple hair complained, picking his ear to drown the noise of the fans.

“For you it is, but for all I know—we’ve got ourselves some club room reserved, we could rehearse there every after classes.” Venti spoke with enthusiasm, waving at the fans as they walk pass them.

“Aren’t they lovely?” Kazuha smiled, giving a fan an autograph as he spoke to the group with the same calm and soothing voice.

“lovely? More like a nuisance.” Scara rolled his eyes, annoyed by the same squeals and cheer whenever fans sees them—even if they just breath they’ll automatically say something idiotic, which he finds entertaining and laughable.

“Scara, watch that attitude. You’ll cause an issue again.” Aether warned and sigh, handing the paper and pen to the fan after giving his autograph to them. The boy with dark purple hair only rolled his eyes and click his tongue.

“How about we get our dorm room and key,” Xiao suggested, his voice hoarse and husky but when he speaks—it was flat and lacks emotion. Heizou second his suggestion.

They got their dorm number and keys.

“Me and Heizou are in a same room.” Kazuha shared and pocket his key, “hell, yeah..!” said Heizou, requesting a light high-five with Kazuha.

Aether nodded and check his list, “Ok, so. I’m with my sister, Heizou with Kazuha. Venti with Xiao…” he flips the paper back ‘n forth, “that leaves…” all eyes were on him.

“Scara. Separate room with someone.” Aether mutter low, but still heard, the dark purple haired boy scoff and groan.

“Of course,” he rolled his eyes, “I’m paired with a stranger. Great.” His tone filled with sarcasm and irritation, “so uhm. Whoever they are, please be nice to them? Have some remorse and don’t cause a scene like last time.” Aether let out a sigh with his parted lips, still letting out a small faint smile and tap his lead guitarists shoulder.

“whatever.”

“So, let’s all go to our room and call it a day? We still have packing to do.” Kazuha propose, “Me and Kazuha will go first.” Followed by Heizou as he tug the bassist away.

Aether wave them goodbye, Xiao nodded at them and left with Venti—which leaves him and Scara. The boy with golden braids cross his arms and let out a long sigh, “be good, ok?” he said and gave him direction on where his dorm is before leaving him last.

As he walk through the hallway, less crowds and few people murmuring; which he can clearly hear. He puts his earphones on, muffling the voices of the outside world as he make his way to the staircase. Getting lost in his own world, his earphone playing their band music. Something soothing and relaxing rather than the usual metal music they make.

Facing the door, he look down to see his dorm number to check if he’s in the right spot. Dorm 809; both his key and dorm plate sign has the same number.

Turning the knob, pushing the door open—his bag thud when he saw who’s his roommate is.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

დ➳დ➳დ↴

Setting up your easel in your desk, on your side of the bed. Finally finish unpacking and setting up your drawing on your bedside wall, organizing every pen and sketch pad inside the desk drawers and setting up your markers storage to store them in.

A heavy thud was heard from behind, a husky and hoarse voice spoke behind you.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” The male curse which surprises you, it was one hell of a greeting, a rude way to welcome your roomie don’t it?

You turn and met him eye to eye, his face filled with annoyances and disgust—as if he saw the most disgusting creature he laid eyes upon.

You could only tug a small smile from your lips and a small wave, you recognize him, of course you do! Scaramouche Raiden, the eldest son of the Raidens. The dickhead, asshole, bastard, a cocky hell of a guy.

He scoff, the side of his lip pulled up—rubbing it on your face how disgust he is to lay his eyes upon to someone not worthy sharing a room with him. “Of course, they’re going to pair me with a fucking girl.” He mutter, took his bags again and threw it on his side of the bed.

“Fuckin’ hell.” He clicks his tongue, and unpacks his things with anger and irritation. You could only stare and stand there, frozen like a statue, not knowing what to say or to do. When you are fucking paired with an asshole.

He first set his guitar on the side, took a pin or it’s just something sharp, you can’t tell. He punctured a fuckin’ hole in the fucking wall, what the fuck? You stare blankly, brows furrow together as if you too—silently judging him on what the fuck is he doing.

He then, took out his electric guitar; it was classy and aesthetically pleasing to the naked eye. Lavender and white colored, rounded corners, and his printed name and signature visible and readable even from a few distance.

The boy turn and face you with a raised brow, “name?” he asked, his tone flat and commanding.

“Pardon?”

“Are you stupid or just plain deaf?” his tone change to annoyances and irritation, his brow furrowing like yours—short-tempered, just like his height.

You tense a little, cleared your throat and maintain a small friendly smile as you told your name, his facial relaxing as he held his hand to offer a handshake. At least he still has some manners left in him.

Having second thoughts, hesitating whether to shake his hand. As if he deserves it, right? You shook his hand with yours, “Scara. Scaramouche Raiden.” He quickly removed his hand away from yours.

Then took a hand sanitizer and sanitize his hand, as if you were some kind of bacteria.

“You’re being rude, you know?” you grunt and scoff at him, “so what, princess? As if you’re the same level as me.” Scara bark back and scoffs, seeing you fold your arms against your chest with a frown on your face.

“You think highly of yourself, mister.” Emphasizing the word as if it was an insult. He scoffs and grin, stepping forward to you, “And what can you do about it, princess? Teach me a lesson or something? Fix me, change me?” he emphasized and mocks you, despite him being the average height, you too, were also short. Hell, even shorter than him, god damn it!

“That’s right.” He licks his upper teeth, showing off his ‘attractiveness’ as he lean down—meeting your eye level. “Shortie going to throw a mini tantrum?” he provokes, his finger pressing to your forehead as he gives it a few light and heavy taps before flicking it.

“God damn— Fuck you!”

“I’d like to see you try, princess.” You scoff at his word, pure disgust planted in your face. “Ew?” you gag and rolled your eyes, “That’s what your doctors first impression about you when your mom gave birth to you.” God damn this bitch has no remorse.

You could only frown as you can’t think of a comeback, you watch as he turns his back on you and continue unpacking his things sloppy and untidy. It looks like he’s in a rush, his smartwatch ding a notification. Fixing his posture, shifting his weight to his left and read the message.

You also received a notification message, it read; “Hey, I’m outside your school gate. Come meet me when you’re already free ;) XOXO”

A wide smile spread across your face after your read the message and stared at it for a few moment, “I’m out, going to rehearse.” Scara announced and took his electric guitar, “I’m going to enjoy toying with you, princess.” He added before leaving, a laugh got out from his lips, menacing and evil.

You roll your eyes and shrug your shoulders on what he said, toying with you? As if. You wouldn’t let yourself get bullied, no ma’am. You only set your mind on one thing.

Finally meeting your long distance boyfriend for the first time.

Last year you two only got a chance to meet up once, but now? Maybe every after school, you get to meet him outside the school gate. His school is only a few blocks away from yours, and his house is an easy walk too as his school and house were only near.

You hurry yourself and rushes to the school gate, panting and slightly sweating as you face him, “you okay?” he sweetly asked, god his voice was mellifluous.

You nodded in response and regain your composure, being all shy all of a sudden and not knowing what to say. You start to break the silence, “You come here often?”

He replied, “Yeah, I had a friend here. We always chat after his practice and hang out at a nearby café.”

Both of you continued talking, wasting hours sharing each others stories and how you aren’t familiar to most places here and how he share his experience here as well. Lost in both of your worlds, the outside world and back ground chattering began to muffle as you both lost in time and in each others presence.

Until it’s time to say each others goodbye, and tomorrow will be the first day your art class will start. You should probably draw something to present tomorrow, right?

დ➳დ➳დ↴

The door swung open, the cool breeze greeted him as if to welcome him in.

“There he is!” Venti playfully exclaimed, Aether then clasp his hand together, “6reeze, let’s all assemble and have our meeting finish and rehearse after.”

Seems like he’s the last one to enter the club room, Scara sat to a nearby window. Xiao leaning on the table then soon sat down on top of it, the boy with two braids; Venti, sat down to a chair—followed by Heizou and Kazuha.

The meeting starts like any other normal club, preparing each activities, what album nor music can they release next or maybe try something different than metal music.

But of course, this was just like any other “nonsense” meeting to him, as Scara sat by the window and listen to their leaders chattering, his gaze caught a glimpse of something outside—down there, as he fully took his gaze off of Aether and look down at the window.

“well, well. Look who we have here.” The dark purple haired boy grins at the sight, of you with your boyfriend, the view was very, very clear too.

“Ahem, Teyvat to Scara?” Aether called out as the lead guitarist, who’s been busy watching from afar. His gaze returned to the boy with golden hair, “mhm?” the lead guitarist raised an eyebrow. “Rehearsal today, does that sound good to you?”

“As in, now?”

“Yeah,” Aether nodded to his question, placing down the paper he has in his hand before going to his keyboard, “whenever all of you are ready.”

Scara took another quick glimpse, seeing how you and your lovely significant other bid farewell. He scoff and let out a chuckle, “this is going to be fun.” He mutter to himself, “what was that?” Xiao asked, seems like he heard what the lead guitarist said, “nothing.” The lead guitarist dismissed.

Little did he know, that Xiao caught a glimpse of the two of you too—how you and that other person touch and bid goodbye.

The two didn’t say anything, instead they got into their position—their respective stand as their music blast the room.

The lead guitarist couldn’t take his mind off of you and your significant other. How did he knew? Because no friend looks and touch that way. It’s pretty darn obvious to him.

Which it’ll be fun and entertaining for him.

The rehearsal finish at five sharp. The band bid their goodbyes and goes on their separate ways. Scara walks to the same hall and staircase to get to his dorm while looking down to his phone and checking for any messages or tea he could read.

Facing the door and turning the knob, he saw you sitting and working on your drawing, “Well, if it isn’t miss artist.” He starts and you ignored his remark.

“Why the cold shoulders?”

“I’m working something here, can’t you see or are you just blind?” you bark to him, he click his tongue and flop down to his side of bed. “What did your boyfriend left you a bad taste or something?” you froze in place, pencil down and your heart race.

“What?” he raised a brow, his hands on the back of his head as he relax in his bed. “You think I didn’t see you two being all lovely-dove? You know that some club rooms are close to the school gate,” he chuckle in the middle of his sentences then continues, “for all I know, not even a friend can look at someone like that.”

“And your point?” you asked as you held your breath, not knowing why. Why is he being a pest at your love life.

“He looks like he doesn’t belong here, comes from another college school correct?” you nodded at his question, not knowing why you answered to him truthfully. “He could be cheating on you, you know.” He grins.

You could only scoff at his accusations, “excuse you.” You stood up and goes up to his side of the room, “My boyfriend would never ever cheat on me. I trust him.”

“That trust blinds you,” he sat up and lean back to the head board of the bed, “seeing is better than believing.” He added and laughs, he truly enjoys toying you like this.

You were silent, dark thoughts crawling in your mind—what ifs and possible scenarios coming together, what if he’s right? You and your lover only saw each other once last year, what if your lover thinks your ugly and having a long distance relationship excuse him for cheating?

Your breathing becomes rapid, panic setting in and fear visible to your eyes, “but you know, I could be wrong though.” Scara laughed, he loves that face you made; terrified, anxiousness, doubt and fear settled in your face. He enjoys your reactions to his make-believe and evil remarks.

“God damn it, you are the worst roommate that anyone could ask for.” You hiss, took his pillow and harshly threw it at him, he could only laugh at your reaction—enjoying that his roommate is a softie and someone he could enjoy pestering.

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Don’t be a pussy and fuck me yourself.” He grins, waiting for your comeback with his flirty remark.

You got to your bed and threw your mini octopus plushy at him, it’s expression ‘angry’ as you were hinting that you are mad at him. “Thanks,” he waves your lavender and black inside-out plush, “for safe keeping.” He laughs and it looks like that plush is now his.

How the tables have turned.

დ➳დ➳დ↴

The next morning, in class, you put up your drawing—clipping it to your easel as you stood beside it. You saw other students creation, beautiful, detailed, realistic, imaginary. Their creativity are something else, and you felt you couldn’t match that.

You stand firmly as your art professor walks in, eyeing every each one of the artworks and their artists, he spoke; “There are rules of art, some find techniques and master it. But, today.” His voice deep and husky. “Let us set those rules aside, and want you guys to draw from the very core of your soul.” He added.

Students looks at him confuse, he then continued, his tone hinting playfulness and in a joking tone. “Well, to understand, can someone held their painting up and tear it?” he asked, then chuckle as he saw no one tear up their painti—

Rip.

Gasp from the students were heard, all eyes were on you—tearing up the drawing you did last night. Shock, from the male professors face, he steps forward to you, “y/n.” he called, “I was just joking, why would you tear up a beautiful drawing like that?” he asked, stress can be heard in his tone of voice.

He let out a sigh from his lips and still spread a smile, “Care to tear it once more?” you obliged to his request and tear it once more, “now, that wasn’t so hard. Wasn’t it?” he smiled and patted your head, you were praise by your art professor but he was a bit stress when you took his silly joke too literally.

“Let me introduce myself again, I am Zhongli. I’ll be your art professor fro this semester, so everybody grab their pencil and present something from your hearts content.”

Professor Zhongli was a professional in arts and ancient history of arts, he’s also a gentleman and a total opposite of him. He’s tall, has fair skin tone, amber-eyes with yellow diamond shaped pupils and red eyeliner on the lower lids of his eyes. His hair dark brown with a longer fringe on the right side of his face, he also has a rattail at the back. Then a golden brown tip that seems to glow a little, it’s eye-catchy and sometimes distracting when he turns his back and teaches.

The bell rang and class was dismissed, you made your way to the campus ground to find some inspiration, headphones in, blasting soft lo-fi music.

You stop your tracks when you saw one of the band members of 6reeze; Xiao, talking to professor Zhongli. Xiao also caught you standing there, he didn’t say anything and just wave at you. You wave back and gave him a smile, then a hand stop you.

“There you are..!” it’s a females voice, sounds like she’s been in a run to come and find you. You turned and face her, “oh hey, Kylie.” You greeted.

Kylie, your internet friend that you have finally met thanks to her attending to the same school as you.

“So..” she’s still catching her breath, she sure made a run for it. “w-… Where you heading?” she asked, taking a couple of deep breaths as her chest finally relax and so do her breathing.

“somewhere less crowded to take air and maybe find some inspiration for my next drawing,” you replied with a smile, she tagged along and clung to your left arm as the two of you walk out. You both talk about how different your major to hers, and ranted how you have an asshole of a roommate.

“ok, ok.” Kylie started and munch on her muffin, “you tore your drawing apart?” she asked again, to make sure for good measures. You nodded in response, letting your headphones rest on your neck as you doodle something in your sketchpad.

The both of you were sitting in the grass, you admiring the greenery of the school and sketching random trees. And your friend… munching and sharing her days how she missed you, and how she’s happy finally meeting you face to face. “You know there’s a café nearby here, let’s go there sometime.” She suggested, “my treat!” she added with enthusiasm hinted in her voice.

“By the way,” she leaned in and rest her head to your shoulder, clinging to your arm again as if you are her lover. “That roommate of yours, if I was in your shoe; I would’ve demand the principal to switch me a roommate.” She huffs, “guess who’ll I rather have a roommate?” Kylie asked with a grin.

“Nah. I already knew who.” You grinned.

“Tell me.”

“Xiao.”

The girl made a squeal, hugging your arm tight and kicking her feet as she goes on rambling on how ‘delusional’ she is for Xiao.

Then someone harshly bumped next to you two as they pass by.

“Hey, watch it, dickhead!” your friend curses at a certain boy and she gave him the middle finger. And of course, it was Scara.

“Get it? Dickhead?” your friend silently giggles, “because his haircut looks like a shape of a dick no? Not funny at all?” she made an ‘aww’ sound and purse her lips to you.

The boy with golden long braids yell, “Sorry!” from the distance, you took a glance at their direction and wave at them and gave them a thumbs up, saying it’s ok.

You felt another persons presence behind you, looking up to see Xiao towering over the two of you, his expression unreadable and his tone flat. “I apologize on our lead guitarist behalf.” He said and gave a slight bow to show that he’s genuine and respectful.

You can feel Kylies silent squealing as you stood up and she followed, “I’m Xiao, you probably already knew that but I rather keep it like this.” Xiao offer a hand to shake, you took it and said your name to him—he smiled. “And she is?” he points to your friend, before you could speak, she took Xiao’s hand to shake. You can almost sense she was trembling, “Kylie! I’m her friend.” She nervously shook his hand before Xiao removed his from her trembling hand, he nodded at her and turn to you again.

“Here, have a cupcake. Accept these for an apology for Scara’s behavior. Truly sorry for that.” His tone change to something genuine, as in he’s truly expressing how sorry he is for their lead guitarist behavior.

You and Kylie took a cupcake, “Thank you.” You smiled at him, “Is he also your roommate?” Xiao asked, you nodded. “I see, please don’t hesitate to tell us his reckless behavior nor is he bothering you and kept pestering you. We’ll deal with him.” And with that, the boy left to return to his band group.

“Good thing you didn’t embarrassed yourself.” You remark as you ate the cupcake Xiao gave to the two of you, “Good thing I didn’t said something stupid.” Kylie let out a huff and laughs.

“oh shit!” Kylie curse, munching her cupcake almost as if she’s eating it all in one bite, as she spoke—you couldn’t understand her when her mouth is fucking full. “Don’t talk with your mouth full, idiot.” You sigh, curious on why she’s in a panic.

She swallowed and hiccup, took your tumbler to drink some of your water. “Y-You..” she needs to catch her breathing first, “You have a boyfriend, right? Here? From another school and only a few blocks away?” questions over question was thrown at you, you could only nodded and watch her rummage through her phone.

Anxiety sets in, you don’t know what’s happening but you could feel your heart race. “When you haven’t arrived here yet,” Kylie starts, “I thought your boyfriend was a familiar lad, but he was the same person I saw a few weeks ago.”

A few weeks ago, before you got here?

Kylie showed you a bunch of photos, not edited, not Photoshop, it was legitimately real. You saw your lover in the picture, a girl clinging to his arm, the picture was a little blurry but you could tell that it was him. “here, I even filmed them to ask you if it’s your lover or it’s a different person.”

“no, no. That’s him alright.” You quickly replied, not even a second thought held on that. You took her phone and held it in your hand, you click play and watch the whole video.

The video shows you, your lover and the girl—the camera zooming in on them. You can’t hear what they’re saying but you are sure that the bastard in the video was your boyfriend. The fucking audacity, the girl was clinging into his arm and kissing his cheek—making you want to barf and vomit the cupcake you’re eating right now.

The video ended, it was only ten seconds long but you are sure that his predicament were right. “I have to go.” You told your friend as you finish eating your cupcake, putting away your sketchpad and pencils in your tote bag and bid goodbye to Kylie.

You heard her yell out, “Text me, ok!?” you gave her a thumbs up, noting that you’ll surely text her.

Tears were forming in your eyes, you tried holding them back but a tear fell from your cheek. You wall to the hallway, some people noticed you as you made a run for it—running away from them and running up the staircase to get to your shared dorm room with him.

დ➳დ➳დ↴

Scara was on his desk, in his side of the room as he compose his part of the music they’re now currently working on. Headsets on to have the outside world muffled as tunes and relaxing music sets in—as he strum his finger against his electric guitar, if he finds the tune more fitting—he then will write it down, hence and repeat.

Bursting in your shared room was not something he expect, “Holy shit—” he cursed, headset almost fell to the floor and having his phone open and had his band on a video call. You startled him as he made a sound of relief from his lips, “holy shit, you could have at least knocked first.”

You ignored his remark, instead—you sat down to the edge of your bed, blankly staring down at the floor. He can see how your eyes were red and swollen, Venti's voice spoke to his headphone as it was on Bluetooth connected.

“Something wrong?” The vocalist asked Scara, the lead guitarist could only stare and watch you like a statue, you wouldn’t even budge or flinch.

He raised a finger to his phone and placed down his headset to his desk, “hey.” He called, but you ignored, “Teyvat to y/n?” he snaps his finger to get your attention.

Scara can hear whispers from his headset, he glared at his phone and sigh—he then stood up from his seat and walk towards to you, knelt down on one knee to meet your eye to his, “Teyvat to y/n.” he repeated, “your eyes are red,” he then stood up to squat as he took your chin to his fingertips, “look, I know something happened. Did I made you cry about something? Did I hit you and your friends shoulders too hard?” he threw questions at you, but his voice weren’t the same stern and irritating tone but rather low and soft as if he’s trying his best to understand you.

“You good?” he asked again, tears then started to rain from your cheeks again. “S-Shit. Look, princess. I d-did not want to make you cry, I-I’m sorry, o-ok?” he stammer, panic sets in him. He didn’t know why you were crying, but all he knew that he did not like it.

His Bluetooth suddenly got disconnected from his headset as voices of his band sets in the room, “Making a girl cry? Not cool, Scara.” “oh dear, what did you do?” “apologizing to her won’t do, beg for forgiveness. On your knees.” “Yeah, your mom wouldn’t like this. Can you stop her from crying and give comfort at least?”

“Could all of you shut the fuck up?” He snaps at his band members through the phone, “look, I suck at this. What happened? Tell me and stop crying.” He demands in a softest way possible, but it is still a demand.

You couldn’t form your words, couldn’t even form a sentence and you don’t know where to start. He can only make out a few sentences and words, but all he could make sense is that ‘his predicament were right.’

“So, you mean I was right, all along?” He confirms, you could only nod and weep. Scara slowly nods and turn his head to look at his band, they only gave him a peace sign and tell him, “you fucked up.” And hang up.

Scara let out a frustrated scoff and messes his hair up, then look down on you—still weeping and sniffling, trying to stop your tears.

It was a minute of silence, only the fan and your breaths were heard, he starts; “Look, I’m sorry. I was just joking, I didn’t mean it to be real, ok?” he apologized and scoot over next to you, his legs spread and his elbow resting to either of his thighs as he clasp his hands together and look at you.

You could only weep in response, not having the energy to say a word. He even got the most comfortable blanket wrapped around your shoulder as if he’s covering your whole body up, acting like you had a strong cold. “Ok, ok. Who’s this bastard again?” he asked and you didn’t give two shits about your cheater boyfriend no more and gave away his name.

“Ok, so the next time you meet him at the school gate. Bring me along.” He remarked and put his arm around you and placed you down to his lap, “comfortable?” he asked, you nodded as your eyes were red and swollen and eyelids were heavy.

“noted.” You manage to utter before fully shutting your eyes and feeling his embrace around you while in the most soft and comforting blanket. “alright, get some rest.” He sigh and had you cradle in his arms tonight.

A bit odd on how you find comfort in his touch, his presence, and even his voice as he starts to sing you lullaby to help you sleep faster. As if his mellifluous tone uttering the lyrics was too good not to hear nor miss. Deep within, you wish you could hear him sing you another time, as you seek comfort in both of his voice, and presence.

დ➳დ➳დ↴

Strangely enough, you found yourself being in your roommates arms frequently. As if you’re seeking his presence and warmth against yours and even taking it far from borrowing one of his oversize hoodies and wear it as if it’s your own.

“what the fuck are you wearing?” Scara asked with a drink in his hand, as he points to the hoodie you’re wearing, “it’s that mine?”

“No, it’s now mine.” You snuggle and hug the hoodie you’re wearing close to your body, “it’s comfy.” You added and pulled the hood up.

“whatever.” He rolled his eyes and drank his can drink.

What’s more strange that he didn’t mind it, he didn’t mind that you’re being all too clingy to the point you find yourself waiting outside his club room to wait for their rehearsal to finish and drag him away because he “promise” to take you out as is it’s his treat. Even your own friend thought you’re being odd now.

“Hey girly!” Kylie greeted, waving and hopping towards you to greet you with a hug too. You could only hug back and greet with a happy hum, the girl then look at you then at the club room door. “Why are you being a by stander here all of a sudden?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

You didn’t answer, you only lay your head low and look at the ground while humming their songs, Kylie sigh and hangs out with you, standing for hours.

Then the boys finished, Scara slide the door open and steps out—only to glance down at you when he steps out, “What the fuck?” he cursed, you stopped your friend from saying a word and pulled Scara away.

Away from his band members, away from your friend and away from the crowd.

“Looks like they’ve grown close.” Xiao remarked, his presence only behind to Kylie, “yeah. Too close.” She frowns and sigh.

“Want to hang out with us?” Xiao asked the girl, the other members greeting her with a smile and filling the atmosphere with laugher and joy, “sure!”

So odd, that your friend, and his friends also suspect that something fishy is going on.

Venti cleared his throat as he sat on top of the table while Scara brush off some dust of his guitar, “so.” The main vocal starts, breaking the silence.

“You’re good at math right?”

“What about it?”

Venti enthusiastically grins and chuckle at your response, “Formally speaking; may I require your assistance in a simple math problem? I find your arithmetic intelligence quite intriguing my friend.”

“If it’s a simple math problem then go solve it yourself.”

“come on! It’s only one..” Venti frowns and whines at him, Scara could only roll his eyes and wave his hand to gesture, ‘ask away.’

Venti smiled and tap the table, “I shall provide you two-variable equation, my friend! You plus your adorbs roomie equals?”

“You seriously asking this bullshit?”

“Yes.”

“Cannot be.”

“Ouch?” Venti dramatically groan to the pain and fake a sob, “Oh how cruel of you! To have such an adorable roommate like that, it’s impossible to have the answer; cannot be!”

Funny enough, Kylie also asked you the same thing and you answered the same. But with a hint of doubt in your answer.

You have always seek his presence, warmth and mellifluous voice every chance you get. You were getting too comfortable with him to the point where you both share the same bed even though this dormitory has two bedroom for a reason. You find yourself in his bed or him in your bed.

Having a nightmare? Scared of the loud roar of thunders? Can’t sleep? Feeling uneasy? You will and always will find yourself standing up from your bed and going to his, snuggling close as if he’s your teddy bear or you his little bear.

“Why are you here again?” Scara asked, his tone tired and sleepy as he rub his eyes.

“I can’t sleep, I had a nightmare.” Scara clicked his tongue to your response as he groan, pulling you close to his chest and pressing his chin at the top of your head, “there. Now go to sleep.” he grumbled and pulled your body close to his.

This would happen every often, then before you know it. It’s now a normal routine for the both of you, hell even every morning there will be hugs and kisses for a way to greet good morning.

And little by little, day by day and even weeks had pass, little feelings began to crawl in. Pushing in their way to develop the chemistry between the music and art students.

But hey, it wasn’t so bad after all.

დ➳დ➳დ↴

How long has it been the moment you and him finally settle to your lifestyle like this? Three months? Or less than that?

You were rummaging in your drawer, looking for available comfy clothes but you can’t see one. You stood up and go over to Scara’s side and rummage through his things, “Really?” he scoff and squint his eyes to you.

You stick your tongue out and took his oversize hoodie, again. And wore it to your liking, it was pass your knees and you’re wearing a cat high-knee socks. It compliments the look.

Scara could only roll his eyes and lean back to his seat, you walk up to him and casually sat down to his lap—giving all your weigh to him and snuggling close to his warmth, “bitch.”

“you’re a bitch too.” You barked back and pinch his side as he jolt and flinch at the pain, “god damn it.”

You smile and kick your feet up as your phone dings a notification, Scara took it and read it with you as his hand were supporting your rear while you’re on his lap. The message read; “Hey, it’s been 3 months since the last time we met. Want to hang out today? Come meet me at your school gate ;) XOXO”

“Ew?” Scara scoff and place your phone down to his desk and spun around with his chair, moving around as if he’s giving you a mini roller-coaster ride.

“I have to meet him.” You remark.

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Nah.”

You frown at his response and tries to kick your feet to move the chair back to his desk, “Nah uh.” He said, “Yah uh.” You responded, “You’re here with me, in my arms, in my embrace. So no.”

He push himself back and took your phone in his arm, “lay your head to my neck, I have an idea to have you avoiding that piece of shit.” You followed what he said and snuggle yourself close to him, your face covering up to his neck as he snap a picture—us his two hands to send and type; “Sorry, this little brat of a princess is busy cuddling with me. Also, not making an effort nor show yourself inside those 3 months, seriously? What kind of a dickhead of a boyfriend are you? Plus, I heard you cheated on this poor little brat, thanks for that. I’ll be taking over, and also. You look like a fucking pig that has been abandoned by your owner and was never loved by your mother, so that’s why you treat your partner like shit and took advantage of the long distance relationship so you could cheat. Disgusting imbecile.”

“What did you send to him?”

“None of your business.” He answered and stood up, cradling you in his arm as he lay your back against the soft fabric of the bed and puts all of his weight on top of you.

“Don’t worry, he won’t bother you no more and, I broke up with him for your behalf.” He informed and drown himself to your scent and chest. “small tits.” He remarked.

“says the one who has a small dick.”

“You haven’t even seen my size yet, princess.” He grins and pulled himself up and cage you in his bed. He leaned in and whisper into your ear, “want to me to make you my little slut in broad daylight?”

დ➳დ➳დ↴

You didn’t know how it happened, it just did.

You were in his lap, legs spread wide open, you mewling over and breathing softly as you felt your heart race. His fingers in between your folds, motioning in circle to tease your aching hole. He whispers degrading words next to your ear as he finally plunged in his middle finger in.

His left arm around your back, holding you close and supporting you so you wouldn’t fall over, this his hand around your side to held your tummy, strumming like it’s the string of his guitar. You were confuse but you could only mewl and let out a gasp when he began scissoring his fingers inside you—you didn’t even felt a second finger entering.

“There we go, such a needy hole you have.” He scoff and god, he’s spreading your tight walls so good. You arch your back and whimper at him, biting on to the fabric of his hoodie that you’re wearing. Your cunt clench around his fingers, he can feel it pulse and twitch, “You want more? What a whore.”

And there, inserting a third finger—you gasp and held on to his chest and thigh, panting and mewling as you tried to move your hips away from his fingers subconsciously. He plunges in and stayed still, “Stop moving, bitch.” He hiss and harshly thrust his fingers, spreading you out.

“Let me teach you how to play a guitar, hm?” he spoke next to your ear and starts to separate his fingers and pressing pressure inside of you, stretching you even more. You moan and gave shuddered breaths, tears forming in your eyes as you look up at him with those beautiful glassy half-lidded stare, begging him to do more.

“Feel this, this is E major and this is E minor.” He spread his fingers and pressed pressure inside your cunt, he felt it clench around his fingers—your back arching and you almost crying your moans on how it’s becoming too much and how you felt something warm inside your stomach.

“No, no. You’re not going to cum just yet, I haven’t finish teaching you all the basic chords.” He murmur, his brows furrow together and a sinister grin can be seen across his face. “I c-can’t help, ‘m going to c-cum..” you mutter, his fingers retreating and you mewl at the sudden emptiness as he snaps his three fingers back in.

Your eyes widen as tears rolled down from your cheeks and you muffled your scream as you felt your release, “Oh, I didn’t know you squirt.” Scara almost laugh at the sight, his gaze almost degrading and he looks like he’s plotting something evil.

As you let out broken gasp and trying to calm yourself from you high, you opened your eyes and saw him lay you down from your back—in his bed, as he position himself in between, “Look at the mess you’ve created in my bed,” he sigh and pulled you by your hip, pressing his hard length against your soaked cunt. “Such a needy slut, you don’t mind me using your hole as a toy for now, right?”

Your manage to frown at him, watching him pulling down his sweatpants and letting his length sprung free, his tip almost hitting his belly button and he sure is thick.

You mewl as he rub himself against your wet cunt, brushing his tip against your folds and pressing his slit to your clit—resulting him to hiss. God you’re sure he won’t be gentle with you.

He grabbed your thighs and motion you to wrap your legs around him as he press his tip to your entrance, “You’re loose enough, you can take me in one swift motion.” And with that, you felt like you’re being stretch apart by something thick when he thrust and bottom himself out to your cervix.

“God, fuck. Taking me well with this tight cunt you whore.” He hiss with a laugh, “oh, fuck so tight.” He moan as he pulls back and plunge himself deeper again, you almost moan aloud, the only thing that’s muffling you is you biting onto his blanket. Mewling and weeping on how good he’s stretching your cunt with his fat cock, every thrust you’ll shudder and clench around his length.

“Fuck, such a good slut.” He hiss again, finding his preferred pace—taking grasp of your thighs, pushing them back as he spread his legs wider to go much, much deeper.

He growls every thrust he make, he leans and pecks your neck and collarbone with sloppy kisses and bite marks—he couldn’t contain himself, he could not hold back.

You were already crying on how overstimulated you are, but he kept on going and singing either degrading words and praises in your ear. He’s even vocal with his moans, more like on grunts and growls, even his moans and grunts soothing like early birds in the morning.

You try to quiet yourself down to hear more of his mellifluous moans and grunts every time he plunges himself deeper inside you, but fail because on how good he’s fucking you stupid with his length.

Not that long, you felt your second release and squirt yourself in his cock. “That’s right, cum on my cock like a whore you are.” He chuckle and pecks you love bites more, and soon after, he chase his own high as he plunged himself deeper to release his seeds. Abusing your poor cervix.

He rides out most of his seeds, pushing his tip and not letting a drop go to waste before collapsing on top of you, not even thinking of pulling out.

“P-Pull out..” you mewl, “make me.” He replied as he wraps his arms around you and gave a few light thrust to have him hear your sweet melodic moans again.

You didn’t knew you’d even last, he has a really high sex drive and you did not know. He fucks you dumb all day, resulting not attending your classes that day as you beg and mewl for him to stop because you have class and that his band needed him, but he told you they not important right now. What’s important is him breeding out your sweet little cunt, but hey. At least you can hear him grunt and moan right?

დ➳დ➳დ↴

The two of you cuddle in each others arms, his back leaned over the wall and you in the center of his legs that’s been spread apart so you can lay your butt on the softness of the bed cushion. His chin on your shoulder as he taps you by your tummy while being covered in thick blanket, “mhm?” you look up at him with half-lidded eyes, fighting the urge to close them.

“I didn’t make it to your wall?” he raise a brow and pointed at your side of the room—at your wall, where you store up your paintings, “your friend and my band members made up to the wall, why didn’t I?” Scara growls and frowns at you, jealousy creeping in.

You shrug and rest your back to his front, head going to the crook of his neck as you mutter, “dunno.”

“I won’t be paying for your Starbucks.”

“you won’t do that.”

“Oh, yes I will.”

You huff and crawled out of his bed, limping as you walk to your bed and curled up like a ball there. He laughs at the sight as you flip him off with your middle finger and he could only laugh.

The following days were normal and sometimes chaotic whenever you and your friends hang out, your friend and well… Roommate hated each others guts and always yelling each others curses nor making you choose between them here on out. The school first semester almost brought to an year, and till next year—you will meet them again.

The band; 6reeze, had something in planned for all campus before going home to celebrate with their families, they posted their invitation on the school group,—inviting everyone to their performance before years semesters end.

It was crowded and many students cheer and yell as the boys got on stage, they got to their respective position and yell out to all of the students—bringing their attention to the stage, “Me and my friends put up a show before we all got home and reunite with our family, to celebrate the end of the schools semester.” Venti starts, “we hope you love it!”

Music blast and crowds went wild as they sing the song that they already knew, the student sang along and dances within the crowds.

You and your friend were watching them shine in that stage, even though they are already shining but seeing them perform live and in front makes it special. Then a new song kick in, this must be the song he talk about with you.

“Wait, I must go.” You told Kylie, “what? But it was just getting good..” she whines and you made your run with a smile on your face, waving her goodbye to the distance. Well, she can’t stop you doing what you’re going to do, right?

დ➳დ➳დ↴

The performance ended and other students bid their goodbyes as the boys got some time to autograph for some students who asked them.

The lead guitarist look around but no signs of you, must've miss the performance, perhaps? Scara look around and call out to a familiar girl, “Hey!” he yelled and walk up to her, “Where’s y/n?” he asked.

Kylie was talking to Xiao and taking a couples of pictures with him and taking his autograph, she turn to face the lead guitarist, “She was in a hurry, so I didn’t stop her from leaving.”

Scara sighs and nodded at her response, “thanks.” And left off.

Running in a hurry and passing by the same locker room in the same familiar hallway and running up to the same staircase where their shared room is.

Panting and sweating as he burst open through the door, “oh goodness!” you were startled and look at him in disbelief, “why are you in a rush?” You asked as you neatly pack your luggage’s, but what caught Scara’s attention was the big canva portrait that you hang up through the wall. He smiled and scoff.

“Looks like I made it to the wall, huh?”

You laugh and responded, “you sure did.”

The portrait shows the 6reeze members, but what’s eye-catchy about it is where you stand before it when watching the performance play, Scaramouche’s figure is bigger than most of the other members. Catching his figure and focusing on every detail when he plays his electric guitar as you could hear him sing along with his mellifluous voice with the vocalist.

The two of you only look at the painting you did up to the wall, admiring it and talking before leaving it there.

And hence, that’s how the story of an art and music person romances. It was lovely.

Because that was everything.

[keehomania]

professor (교수님) — kim namjoon (김남준)

✧.* 18+

the classroom was a haven of knowledge, a place where the boundaries of your mind were pushed and expanded. every time you walked through those doors, you were met with an air of possibility, the faint scent of old books mingling with the fresh anticipation of discovery. all of the professors had ways of making the most complex concepts feel within reach, of turning abstract theories into tangible truths that you could almost hold in your hands.

they spoke with a quiet confidence, their words weaving intricate patterns that painted the vastness of the world before you. each lecture was a journey, guiding you through the twisting paths of philosophy, literature, and history. they had a gift for connecting seemingly unrelated ideas, showing you how the art of renaissance painters could influence modern technology, or how ancient philosophies could still hold relevance in the digital age. under their guidance, you realized that learning wasn’t just about absorbing information; it was about seeing the world through different lenses, understanding the interconnectivity of all things.

you delved into texts that explored the human condition, the nature of existence, and the purpose of life. you wrestled with questions that had no easy answers, questions that required you to look within yourself for understanding. it wasn’t just about gaining knowledge for the sake of it—it was about applying what you learned to your own life, using it as a tool to navigate the complexities of existence.

but among all the things you studied—science, art, history, language—there was one thing that stood out as the most important: the lessons you learned. these weren’t found in any textbook or taught in any lecture. they were the lessons life had already carved into your soul, shaped by your experiences, your failures, your triumphs. under your own guidance, you came to understand that the most valuable knowledge you could acquire wasn’t about facts or theories. it was about the wisdom you gained from living, from making mistakes, and most importantly, from learning from those mistakes. in the end, it wasn’t just the information you gathered that mattered, but how you used it to grow, to become better, and to understand the world and yourself more deeply. if only you had put those lessons learned to better use.

you hadn't been taught the lesson of love, not in the way you had learned about history or philosophy. love was never something you could study in a textbook or learn through the wisdom of others. it was a lesson you learned by living it, feeling it, enduring it. but you had always trusted too easily, believing that everyone who offered you a kind word or a gentle touch had your best interests at heart. it was a trait that made those around you frustrated, watching as you opened yourself up to hurt time and again. even you, in quieter moments of reflection, found yourself exasperated by your own naivety. but you couldn't help it; trusting others came as naturally to you as breathing.

so, it was no shock—no surprise, really—when you got your heart broken for the first time. you were in your early twenties, a time when many had already experienced their share of heartbreaks and fleeting romances. you, on the other hand, had waited. you had held out for something real, something lasting, thinking that by doing so, you could avoid the pain that others had endured. but love, as you learned, didn't work that way.

for two years, you were caught up in what you thought was a love that would last forever. you built your life around it, around him. you imagined a future where the two of you would wake up side by side, where you would make breakfast together in a sunlit kitchen, sharing quiet moments over coffee. you dreamed of nights spent stargazing, your fingers intertwined as you pointed out constellations, finding comfort in the steady light of the north star. your idea of forever was simple, yet profound: it was the promise of a shared life, of growing old together, of finding peace in each other's presence.

his idea of forever was something else entirely. it was a fleeting thing, something that could be found at the bottom of a bottle of vodka or in the anonymity of a cheap motel room. it was in the arms of whoever he could get his hands on first, someone who wasn’t you. the realization that he had been unfaithful—repeatedly, with over fourteen different girls—shattered the image of the life you had built in your mind. every girl was another crack in the foundation of your trust, another tear in the fabric of your heart. it wasn’t just the betrayal that hurt, but the way you had been so blind to it, so willing to believe that what you had was real.

you were devastated, to say the least. the pain wasn’t just emotional; it was physical, a deep ache that settled in your chest, radiating through your entire body. the nights were the hardest. you would lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment of your relationship, trying to pinpoint where it had all gone wrong. you wanted to understand how the love you had given so freely could have been so thoroughly disregarded. but no matter how many times you turned it over in your mind, you couldn’t make sense of it.

the worst part was that you couldn’t even be angry with him. you wanted to be—to scream, to curse him for the way he had treated you—but all you felt was a hollow sadness. you were disappointed in him, but more so, you were disappointed in yourself. how could you have let this happen? how could you have been so foolish, so trusting? you had always prided yourself on being smart, on being able to see through people’s intentions, but when it came to him, you had been blind.

the nights following your heartbreak were long, seemingly endless. sleep was a distant stranger, slipping through your fingers every time you tried to grasp it. Instead, you spent those hours in late-night conversations with your friends, searching for solace in their words. their voices were a lifeline, pulling you from the depths of your despair, even if just for a little while. you talked about everything and nothing, dissecting the intricacies of your failed relationship, trying to find some sense of closure that always seemed just out of reach.

those talks were punctuated by silences filled with the quiet clicking of a lighter, the soft exhale of smoke as you shared a joint or two. the haze it brought was a welcome escape, a way to dull the sharp edges of your thoughts, to ease the relentless ache in your chest. it wasn’t a solution, but it was enough to get you through the night, to carry you to the next day. and on those days when the darkness seemed to press in too close, you relied on the small comforts you could control—a coin flipped to decide whether you would indulge in a few too many sweets or abstain from food altogether. it was a way of exerting some semblance of control over a life that felt like it was spiraling out of your grasp.

but after weeks of the same routine, you began to realize that you were merely existing, floating in a limbo of your own making. the conversations, the indulgences, the vices—they were all temporary fixes, distractions that couldn’t mask the hollow feeling that had settled in your chest. you were tired of it, tired of feeling like a shadow of yourself, tired of being weighed down by the remnants of a love that was never truly yours.

and so, one night, as you stared into the mirror, you made up your mind. you were going to step out of the bubble you had been living in, to let loose, if only for a single night. you reasoned that if he could spend two years indulging in every whim and desire, seemingly without consequence, then why couldn’t you do the same for just one night? why couldn’t you, for once, allow yourself the freedom to be someone else, to cast aside the constraints of who you were and embrace something—someone—new?

as you stood there, gazing at your reflection, you barely recognized the person staring back at you. your makeup was bold, the colors striking and uncharacteristic of your usual understated look. the dress you wore was scandalous, clinging to your curves in a way that made you feel both powerful and exposed. it was a look that screamed confidence, even if you didn’t fully feel it yet. but that was the point, wasn’t it? you were going to stop being you for just one night, just enough time to forget, to drown out the memories of a love that had never truly been yours.

you inhaled deeply, letting the air fill your lungs, steadying yourself for what was to come. Yyu weren’t sure what you were seeking—perhaps a fleeting connection, a momentary escape, someone who could make you forget all about him for a few hours. maybe you didn’t need to know. maybe it was enough to simply let nature take its course, to surrender to the night and whatever it might bring.

the club pulsed with a life of its own, the heavy bass thumping through the floor, reverberating in your chest as the neon lights cast erratic shadows across the crowd. bodies moved in sync with the music, a sea of motion and sound that made it easy to lose yourself if you let it. but your mind, despite the alcohol and the haze of smoke in the air, remained annoyingly sharp, focused on anything but the moment at hand.

you leaned closer to your friend, your voice slightly raised to be heard over the music. “did you hear about the new english and philosophy teacher? they’re replacing—”

ahe groaned, cutting you off with an exasperated look. “please,” she begged, placing a hand on your arm, “not tonight. can we just, for once, not talk about teachers or school or anything remotely responsible? we’re here to let loose, remember?”

you hesitated, the words dying on your lips. she wasn’t wrong. you were supposed to be here to escape, to forget, not to get caught up in the mundane details of your everyday life. but old habits died hard, and it was difficult to switch off the part of you that found comfort in routine and order, even when surrounded by chaos. still, you nodded, forcing a smile, and took a deep breath, letting the noise and the lights and the sheer energy of the place wash over you. “okay,” you said, more to yourself than to her. “okay, let’s do this.”

your friend grinned, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she reached for the bottle on the table. the label was foreign, the name of the alcohol something you couldn’t even begin to pronounce. that should have been your first warning, but tonight was all about ignoring those little voices of caution in your head. she poured a shot for you, and then one for herself, the clear liquid shimmering under the lights. “bottoms up,” she said, lifting her glass.

you mirrored her action, the cool glass pressed against your lips as you downed the shot in one swift motion. the burn was immediate, searing down your throat and settling heavily in your stomach. it was unpleasant, but it was also a distraction, a welcome one at that. you had no intention of focusing on the men who watched you from across the room, their eyes lingering on your exposed skin as if you were some kind of display piece. it made your skin crawl, but you forced yourself to ignore it, to focus on the drinking instead. the coin had been flipped, and tonight, apparently, drinking it all away was your new diet. so you did just that. another shot, then another, until the sharp edges of your thoughts began to blur and the leering gazes of strangers became easier to dismiss.

but then, in the midst of it all, you saw him. he was standing at the edge of the crowd, partially obscured by the throng of people. you didn’t see much at first, just a tall figure with a presence that drew your eye. He was turned slightly away, talking to someone, but something about him caught your attention, held it. you found yourself staring, your curiosity piqued in a way that the alcohol couldn’t dull. and then he turned around.

your eyes met, and the world seemed to slow for a moment, the noise around you fading into the background. he was gorgeous, that was your first thought. his features were sharp, striking—high cheekbones, a jawline that could cut glass, and eyes that were dark and intense, holding a depth that made you feel as though he could see right through you. there was a sweet smile on his lips, but it was his eyes that captivated you. there was something almost menacing in them, a contrast that sent a shiver down your spine.

he didn’t look away, and neither did you. for a moment, it was as if the two of you were the only ones in the room, a silent understanding passing between you despite the fact that you didn’t know him, and he didn’t know you. but that didn’t matter. not tonight. before you could second-guess yourself, you did something you wouldn’t normally do. you flashed him a smile, one that you hoped was confident, maybe even a little alluring, and silently prayed that the universe would take your side for once. that, just this once, everything would fall into place.

you turned back around, the music vibrating through your body as you reached for another drink, your hand shaking slightly as you grasped the cool glass. you brought it to your lips and downed it in one go, the burn familiar by now, comforting in its own way. the alcohol was your crutch tonight, something to hold onto as you navigated this unfamiliar terrain of letting go, of not being yourself for just one night. you prayed silently, to whatever or whoever might be listening, that he would come over. that the universe, for once, would be kind. and as if in answer to your unspoken wish, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

you turned, heart racing, and there he was. the man from across the room, the one whose gaze had pulled you in and held you captive. his smile was easy, confident, the kind that could make anyone believe that the night might hold something special, something just for you. “mind if i buy you a drink?” he asked, his voice low and smooth, carrying easily over the noise. “or have you had enough already?”

you smiled, fighting the urge to laugh at the absurdity of it all. fuck, not another drink or you might just convulse, you thought silently. but what you really said was, “you could keep me company, and i might make it worth your while.” he laughed, a sound that seemed to roll through you like the bass in the music, deep and warm. “i like that offer,” he said, as he took a seat next to you, his presence somehow making the world around you feel smaller, more intimate.

there was something about him, something that made you feel like the night was just beginning, like everything before this moment had been leading up to something. you looked at him, really looked at him, trying to decipher what it was that drew you to him, but all you could see were those eyes, that sharp jaw, the way he seemed to belong in a place like this, even if you didn’t. “what’s a guy like you doing alone in a place like this?” you asked, leaning in slightly, letting the alcohol loosen your tongue.

he shrugged, his expression casual, as if the answer didn’t matter much. “felt like it’d be nice for a change,” he replied, before his gaze slid back to you. “what about you?”

you sighed, the weight of the night settling on your shoulders. “i felt it’d be nice too,” you admitted, “but that feeling was dead wrong.” he laughed again, and the sound was a little sharper this time, a little more knowing. it made you pause, a sudden, unwelcome memory resurfacing—a project due tomorrow, something about socrates. you groaned inwardly, realizing how far you had strayed from your usual path, how this was so unlike you.

“a project,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him, the thought slipping out before you could stop it. he raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “what about?”

“socrates,” you said with a hint of frustration. “i decided to do one on him, but it completely slipped my mind.” he scoffed lightly, a smirk playing on his lips. “poor choice, aristotle is much more influential.”

“okay, and?” you countered, a spark of your usual self peeking through. “socrates is the more seminal one.” his amusement deepened, his eyes studying you with renewed interest. “i can’t believe a smart thing like you is in a place like this.”

you frowned, the words not sitting well with you. they reminded you of everything you were trying to forget tonight, everything you didn’t want to be for just a few hours. “i don’t want to be a smart thing,” you said softly, almost to yourself. “not tonight.”

something in his expression shifted, softened, as he looked at you. he placed a hand on your thigh, the touch warm and steady, grounding you in a way that nothing else had that night. “are you sure you feel that way?” he asked gently, his voice low, the words carrying a weight you weren’t sure you could handle. you didn’t feel that way, not really. but tonight wasn’t about what you usually felt, or who you usually were. It was about letting go, about being someone else, if only for a little while. so you forced yourself to nod, even though a small voice in the back of your mind screamed that this wasn’t you, that this wasn’t right.

he seemed to sense your hesitation, but he didn’t push. instead, he simply said, “let me help you.” you opened your mouth to ask what he meant, but before you could, he was gently tugging your wrist, gesturing for you to follow him. your vision, blurred by the alcohol and the dim lighting, focused enough for you to see where he was leading you—to the back, to the private rooms. a sense of unease settled in your stomach, but you pushed it aside, telling yourself that this was what you wanted, what you needed.

you followed him, your heart pounding louder with each step. the corridor to the private rooms was dimly lit, the music a dull thrum in the background. as you walked, he glanced back at you, that same smile playing on his lips, the one that had stopped you in your tracks just minutes earlier. “i never got your name, sweetheart,” he said, his voice teasing, yet somehow sincere.

you gave him your name, “(y/n) (l/n),” the sound of it foreign in your own ears, as if it belonged to someone else. “and yours?” you asked, trying to hold onto the last vestiges of caution.

he turned to you fully then, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of mischief and something else, something darker. “namjoon,” he said, the name rolling off his tongue with a confidence that matched everything else about him. “kim namjoon.” and as he said it, you felt the world shift slightly, as if that name carried more weight than you could understand. but you were too far gone to care, too far gone to do anything but follow him, to see where this night might lead, to forget about everything else—your project, your heartbreak, your old self—and lose yourself in the unknown, if only for a few hours.

the private room was dimly lit, the shadows playing across the walls as you and namjoon stepped inside. the door clicked shut behind you, a sound that seemed to echo in the small space, followed by the unmistakable turn of a lock. it felt final, as if you were sealing yourself off from the rest of the world, from everything you knew, leaving only this moment, this man, and the uncertain promise of the night ahead.

you couldn’t help but watch him as he moved, your eyes tracing the strong lines of his body. the way his broad shoulders filled the space, how his black shirt clung to the muscles beneath, made your heart race. his hands, veiny and strong, were relaxed by his sides, but you couldn’t stop imagining them wrapped around you, feeling their strength and gentleness at once. and his eyes—god, his eyes—were the most mesmerizing of all. they were dark, intense, and held a dangerous kind of allure, like something that could either save you or ruin you, depending on how close you got.

a flicker of doubt wormed its way into your mind. you worried you might not be enough, not for someone like him. he was so composed, so sure of himself, and you—well, you were there trying to forget who you were, trying to become someone else for just a night. what if that wasn’t enough? what if you weren’t enough? namjoon must have sensed your unease because his gaze softened, the same easy smile spreading across his lips as he approached you. his steps were unhurried, confident, and with each one, the air between you seemed to thicken, heavy with anticipation.

when he reached you, he didn’t say anything at first. he simply cupped your cheek in his hand, his touch warm, and surprisingly gentle. his thumb stroked your skin, the soft caress sending a shiver down your spine, and for a moment, all you could do was stare up at him, lost in the darkness of his eyes. “you’re not afraid, sweetheart, are you?” he asked, his voice a low purr that sent another shiver through you. it was a voice that could coax secrets from you, a voice that promised things you weren’t sure you were ready for but found yourself wanting anyway.

was it fear that you were feeling? the heat coursing through your veins, the quickened beat of your heart, the way your skin seemed to burn where he touched you—was that fear? you didn’t know, and the uncertainty of it all made you nervous. but you shook your head, trying to convince yourself as much as him that you weren’t afraid.

he didn’t seem entirely convinced. he let out a soft, almost playful, tsk, his thumb still brushing against your cheek. “you should use your words, yeah?” he coaxed, his tone teasing, but there was an edge of seriousness beneath it, something that told you he wanted you to be sure, that he wanted you to choose this, to choose him. “i promise i’m not,” you managed to say, your voice softer than you intended, but steady enough. it felt like a small victory, a way to prove to yourself that you could do this, that you could be this version of yourself, if only for a night.

it seemed to be enough for him. namjoon’s smile widened, and the warmth in his eyes deepened, drawing you in even further. he leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull away, to change your mind, but you didn’t. you couldn’t. you were caught, helpless under the spell he was weaving with every look, every touch. when his lips finally met yours, it was like the world stopped. the kiss was slow, deliberate, as if he was savoring the moment, tasting it, tasting you. his lips were soft but insistent, moving against yours with a controlled kind of passion that left you breathless. he wasn’t rushing, wasn’t pushing for more, just kissing you like he had all the time in the world and was determined to spend it unraveling you, piece by piece.

you responded tentatively at first, unsure of how to match the intensity of his kiss. but he guided you, his free hand sliding around your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies were flush against each other. the heat between you flared, igniting something deep within you, something that made you press back against him, your lips parting slightly as you began to lose yourself in the feel of him. namjoon took the invitation, deepening the kiss as his tongue brushed against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through you. it wasn’t just a kiss—it was a claiming, a way of marking this moment as something significant, something more than just a fleeting encounter in a club. you could feel the way he held you, firm yet gentle, as if he was trying to tell you something without words, trying to show you how he could make you forget everything, even if just for tonight.

your hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping them as if they were the only thing keeping you grounded. his body was solid, reassuring, and the way he held you made you feel small, but in a good way, like you were being enveloped by something safe, something you could trust, even if only for these few stolen hours. he pulled back slightly, just enough to break the kiss, and rested his forehead against yours. his breath was warm against your lips, mingling with your own, and for a moment, the two of you just stood there, breathing together, the air thick with the tension and the promise of what was to come.

“you sure about this?” he asked again, his voice a whisper in the small space between you. his eyes searched yours, looking for any hint of doubt, any sign that you weren’t ready. but you were ready. or at least, you wanted to be. you nodded, your hand coming up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. it was calming in a way, a reminder that despite everything, despite the chaos in your own heart, there was something steady, something real, right in front of you. and so, with the taste of him still lingering on your lips, you whispered back, “i’m sure.”

his smile grew, and his hand slid down to the hem of your dress. with one swift tug, he pulled it over your head, revealing your bare skin to the cool air of the room. you felt exposed, vulnerable, but his gaze was like a warm blanket, wrapping around you, making you feel seen and desired. his eyes raked over you, pausing at your tits, your stomach, your hips, and you felt your cheeks flush with heat. he stepped back just enough to take you in, his gaze lingering on your lacy black bra, the one you’d picked out specifically for tonight, hoping it would be enough to catch his eye.

his hands went to his own shirt, and he began to unbutton it, one button at a time, his eyes never leaving yours. the anticipation was almost unbearable, the slow reveal of his chest, his abs, the v of his hips disappearing into his pants. when he was finally bare-chested, you couldn’t help but stare. he was beautiful, sculpted in a way that made your mouth water, and you felt a sudden urge to reach out, to trace every line and curve with your fingertips.

before you could act on the impulse, namjoon stepped closer again, his hand sliding up your back to unclasp your bra. it fell away, and your tits spilled into his waiting hands. his thumbs brushed over your nipples, and you gasped at the sensation, the pleasure shooting straight to your core. his eyes never left yours as he played with you, teasing you, watching as your breath grew shallower, as your eyes glazed over with lust. “you like that, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice a dark promise. and you nodded, unable to form coherent words as he continued to toy with your sensitive flesh, rolling your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, tugging gently until you were squirming against him.

his other hand slid down to your ass, squeezing it firmly, and he stepped closer, pressing his growing erection against your stomach. it was a clear message, one that sent a bolt of excitement through you, making you even wetter than you already were. without breaking eye contact, he leaned down to whisper in your ear, his breath hot against your skin, “you’re so fucking pretty. can’t wait to ruin you.” the words sent a shiver down your spine, and you nodded, your voice a breathless agreement.

his hand moved from your ass to the hem of your panties, and with a quick pull, they were pooled around your ankles, leaving you in absolutely nothing. he knelt down, kissing a trail from your belly button to one your hips, and you could feel the dampness seeping onto his fingers. his fingers slid down your legs, relishing in the fact that you were completely bare before him. his eyes took in the sight of you, and you could see the hunger in them, the desire that mirrored your own.

his hand slid up your thigh, his thumb brushing against your clit, making you jump. he chuckled, a low, dark sound that sent shivers through your body. “you’re sensitive, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice a purr that made you want to melt into him. “yes,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “good, i like that in a woman.”

his hand slid away, and you felt a pang of loss, but it was quickly replaced by the pressure of his mouth on your pussy, his tongue sliding through your folds, tasting you. your legs trembled, and you had to hold onto his shoulders to keep from collapsing. his tongue was skilled, teasing and probing, making you gasp and moan with every stroke. you’d never felt anything like this before, never been this exposed, this wanton. and as he worked you over, you realized you didn’t care. all you cared about was the feel of his mouth on you, the way he was making you feel.

his tongue circled your clit, and you felt your orgasm building, a pressure that grew and grew until you couldn’t hold it back any longer. you cried out, your body shaking as you came, the sensation overwhelming you. namjoon didn’t stop, didn’t ease up, just kept licking and sucking until you were a trembling mess, your legs barely able to hold you up.

he stood, a smug smile on his face, and you couldn’t help but stare at his erection, straining against his pants. he noticed your gaze and chuckled, reaching down to free himself. “you want it?” he asked, stroking himself, and you nodded, your mouth dry with need. he led you to the bed, pushing you down gently. “spread your legs for me,” he said, his voice a command that sent a thrill through you. you did as he asked, your heart racing as he climbed on top of you. he positioned himself at your entrance, and without any preamble, pushed inside you. you gasped, the sensation of his size filling you up, stretching you in the most delicious way.

his thrusts were deep and deliberate, hitting that perfect spot inside you that made you see stars. you wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him deeper, your nails digging into his back. he groaned, the sound sending waves of pleasure through you. “you’re so tight, so wet,” he murmured, his breath hot in your ear. “feel so good around me, baby.”

his hand found your ass, and he began to spank you lightly, the sting melding with the pleasure, pushing you closer to the edge again. you moaned, your hips moving in sync with his, your body begging for more. “yes, like that,” you panted, and he complied, his hand coming down harder, the smack echoing in the room.

his movements grew more urgent, his breath coming in harsh pants against your neck. “you’re gonna cum for me again, aren’t you?” he growled, his teeth grazing your skin. “yes, yes, please, namjoon,” you whimpered, unable to hold back the words that spilled from your lips.

his hand moved to your clit, his thumb pressing down as he thrust into you. the pressure was too much, and you shattered, your body clenching around him as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. he followed closely behind, his own orgasm ripping through him, his body taut with the effort to hold off until you reached yours.

as you both came down from the high, he collapsed on top of you, his weight feeling surprisingly comforting. you could feel his heart hammering against your chest, matching the beat of your own. he kissed your neck, his breathing still ragged, and whispered, “you’re mine for the night, remember that.” and as you lay there, his cock still inside you, you realized you didn’t want it any other way.

his kisses grew softer, more tender, as his hand slid up to cup your cheek. he pulled out slowly, making you whimper at the sudden emptiness, but before you could miss it too much, he rolled onto his back, pulling you with him so that you were straddling him. he was still hard, and the feeling of him between your thighs was enough to make you want more. “ride me, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

you didn’t need any more encouragement than that. you positioned yourself over him, your hands on his chest for balance as you began to slide up and down, his cock filling you with every movement. the sensation was different like this, the angle hitting you in new, delicious ways. you moaned, throwing your head back as you found a rhythm that made your toes curl. namjoon’s hands roamed your body, caressing your tits, your waist, your hips, guiding you, pushing you to go faster, to take him deeper.

his eyes never left yours, watching you with a hunger that made you feel powerful, like you could do anything. and as you moved above him, grinding down on his length, you realized that maybe you could. you felt alive in a way you hadn’t in a long time, free from the constraints of who you were outside of this room.

his thumb found your clit again, and he began to rub it in slow, deliberate circles. your eyes rolled back in your head, and you leaned down to kiss him, your movements growing erratic as you approached the edge once more. he swallowed your moans, his own hips bucking up to meet yours, pushing you closer and closer. you felt it building, the tension coiling in your belly, tightening around his cock. your muscles clenched, and you gripped his shoulders, your nails digging in as you came, your body shaking with the force of it. namjoon’s grip on your hips tightened, his own orgasm following quickly after, his cock pulsing inside you.

you collapsed against him, your breaths mingling, your bodies slick with sweat. his arms wrapped around you, holding you close, and for a moment, you just enjoyed the feeling of him, the way he filled you up in more ways than one. as you caught your breath, you couldn’t help but wonder what the rest of the night would bring. would it be more of this? or would it end with the club, a memory that you’d cherish forever? either way, you knew you’d never forget the way he’d made you feel—like you were the only thing that mattered, like you were the most important person in the world. and as you felt his heart beating in time with yours, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t need to be anyone else but yourself to be enough.

the pale light of dawn was beginning to filter through the cracks in the curtains when you stirred, the dim glow pulling you out of a deep, dreamless sleep. it took you a moment to remember where you were. the unfamiliar surroundings, the dimly lit room, and the soft, warm body lying next to you—everything came rushing back in a disorienting wave. the events of the night before flashed in your mind, and with them, the realization of what time it must be.

your heart began to race as the panic set in. morning classes. you had morning classes, and you weren’t in your bed, you weren’t even in your apartment—you were still here, in a private room that now felt too intimate, too close. you sat up carefully, trying not to disturb namjoon, who was still sleeping peacefully beside you. the sheets were tangled around you both, his hand resting on your thigh, his chest rising and falling with each slow, steady breath.

your gaze dropped to him, taking in the sight of his relaxed features, his slightly tousled hair, the way the early morning light played across his face. he looked almost boyish in his sleep, the sharpness in his eyes softened, his usually confident demeanor replaced by something more vulnerable. it was a sight that made your heart warm, despite the chaos swirling in your mind. for a moment, you hesitated. there was a strange comfort in being there with him, in the warmth of his presence and the softness of the bed beneath you. part of you wanted to stay, to curl back up against him, to let the world outside wait a little longer. but reality was a harsh companion, and the ticking clock in your mind reminded you that you had responsibilities, a life that didn’t include waking up in a stranger’s bed after a night of reckless abandon.

you gently lifted his hand off your thigh, sliding out of bed as quietly as you could. your feet touched the cool floor, sending a shiver up your spine as you quickly scanned the room for your clothes. they were scattered across the floor—your dress draped over a chair, your shoes lying haphazardly near the door, your bag tucked under the bed. as you gathered your things, you couldn’t help but steal a glance back at namjoon. he was still asleep, his breathing deep and even, one arm stretched out across the bed where you had just been. you paused, taking in the way he looked so at peace, a contrast to the whirlwind of emotions you were feeling.

you dressed quickly, your movements hurried but careful not to make too much noise. the dress, once sleek and form-fitting, now felt slightly wrinkled and askew as you slipped it back on. your fingers fumbled with the zipper, your mind too distracted by the thought of the morning ahead and the fact that you were nowhere near ready for it. just as you reached for your bag, you heard a rustling behind you. you froze, praying he wouldn’t wake up, but when you turned around, there he was—propped up on one elbow, his eyes half-open, still heavy with sleep, but focused on you.

“where are you going?” he asked, his voice rough and low, still laced with the remnants of sleep. the sound of it sent a small thrill through you, even as you tried to calm your racing heart. “i have morning classes,” you replied, your voice quiet, almost apologetic. you weren’t sure why you felt the need to apologize, but something about the situation—the intimacy of the moment, the fact that you were leaving so abruptly—made you feel like you owed him an explanation.

namjoon blinked, his gaze sharpening slightly as he processed your words. he sat up fully, the sheets pooling around his waist as he ran a hand through his hair, making it even messier. “you won’t even let me treat you to breakfast?” he asked, a small, playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. you couldn’t help but smile back, though it was tinged with regret. “maybe another time,” you said, already moving toward the door. “but i really can’t be late for my classes.”

he watched you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before he nodded. “i’ll see you around, then,” he said, his tone easy, but there was a note of something else in it, something that made your chest tighten slightly. you paused at the door, your hand on the handle, and turned back to him. “i had a good time,” you said, the words coming out softer than you intended, but they were true. despite everything, despite the way the morning had come too soon, you didn’t regret the night before.

he smiled again, that warm, disarming smile that had drawn you in from the start. “so did i.” with that, you slipped out of the room, the door closing softly behind you. the corridor outside was empty, the muffled thump of music from the club below barely audible through the thick walls. you hurried down the hallway, your mind racing with a million thoughts—what you were going to say if anyone saw you, how you were going to explain the state you were in, and most importantly, how you were going to make it to class on time.

the drive back to your apartment was a blur, your hands gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly as you sped through the early morning streets. the city was still waking up, the sun just beginning to rise, casting a pale, golden light over everything. you barely noticed, too focused on the task at hand—getting home, getting dressed, and somehow making it to class without looking like you had just rolled out of someone else’s bed. when you finally pulled up to your apartment, you nearly tripped over your own feet in your haste to get inside. the keys fumbled in your hand, slipping once, twice, before you managed to unlock the door and rush inside. your apartment was quiet, the kind of stillness that comes with the early morning hours, and for a brief moment, you let yourself pause, leaning against the door as you caught your breath.

there was no time to waste. you darted into your bedroom, shedding your dress and tossing it onto the bed as you rifled through your closet for your uniform. the blouse was slightly wrinkled, the skirt a little too short for your liking, but there was no time to worry about that now. you yanked the blouse on, your fingers clumsy as they buttoned it up, tucking it into the skirt with a haste that left it slightly uneven, but you didn’t care. you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror as you hurried to the bathroom, and winced. your makeup was a mess, the once-perfect red lipstick now faded to a nude smudge, your eyeliner smeared, leaving dark circles beneath your eyes that made you look more like a raccoon than the confident, put-together student you were supposed to be.

there was no time for a full fix, but you did what you could—wiping away the worst of the smudges with a makeup wipe, reapplying a thin layer of a lighter lpstick, and hoping that no one would look too closely. your hair was another matter entirely, tangled and wild from the night before, but a quick brush through had to suffice. with one last look in the mirror—satisfied that you were at least presentable—you grabbed your bag and bolted out the door, your heart pounding in your chest as you rushed to make it to class on time. you didn’t allow yourself to think about namjoon, about the way he had looked at you as you left, or the way his voice had lingered in your mind, soft and warm. there would be time for that later—maybe.

you made it to class just before the bell rang, your breath still a little uneven from the mad dash across campus. the relief that washed over you was short-lived, though, as you barely had time to compose yourself before you felt eyes on you. you caught soobin’s glance from the corner of your eye—he was the kind of friend who could read you like a book, even on your best days, and today was far from your best.

feigning being startled at your sudden appearance, soobin exaggeratedly flinched, his eyes widening in mock surprise before breaking into a smile. “well, well,” he drawled, his tone teasing, “i didn’t think you were gonna make it. i was about to call search and rescue.” you scowled at him, trying to ignore the way his smirk widened. but before you could retort, he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “so, how much is a night?”

his words were laced with humor, but they hit too close to home. you glared at him, a retort already on your lips. “you couldn’t afford it,” you shot back, your tone sharp, but there was no real heat behind it. the truth was too raw, too close to the surface, and you weren’t in the mood to joke about it. as you settled into your seat between soobin and heewon, you could feel the tension beginning to ease—only slightly, though. the classroom was slowly filling up, students chatting idly as they waited for class to begin, but you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach.

heewon, who had been flipping through her notes, glanced up at you and immediately burst into laughter at the sight of your disheveled appearance. “god, you pull off the messy whore look really well,” she teased, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “almost like hyuna.” you rolled your eyes, not in the mood for jokes. “not today, hee,” you muttered, reaching into your bag to pull out a small mirror. you avoided looking at her directly as you adjusted your hair, trying to tame the unruly strands that refused to cooperate.

your reflection was unkind, showing the toll the morning’s rush had taken on you—your blouse was still slightly untucked, your skirt wrinkled from where you’d hastily shoved it on, and your lipstick was more of a faint suggestion than an actual color. heewon didn’t miss a beat, though. “if i didn’t know you,” she continued, her voice light and teasing, “i’d say you actually had that one-night stand you were talking about.”

the words hung in the air, and you froze, your hand stilling mid-motion as you applied another layer of nude lipstick. your blood ran cold as you slowly turned to look at her, your expression a mask of forced nonchalance. but she wasn’t fooled—her eyes widened in realization, shock flooding her features as she stared at you. “no way,” she breathed, a little too loud for comfort. her eyes darted around the room, but most of the other students were too engrossed in their own conversations to notice. she leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “with who?”

you slapped her arm lightly, more out of habit than actual reprimand, and opened your mouth to answer. but before you could get a word out, the door to the classroom creaked open. the sudden silence that fell over the room was deafening, everyone’s attention snapping to the front as the principal stepped inside. he was a tall, stern-looking man with graying hair and sharp eyes, the kind of person who commanded respect without having to say much. he cleared his throat, and the last of the murmurs died away as he addressed the class.

“i’m sure most of you are aware by now that mister im has decided to leave us,” the principal began, his voice measured and calm. “but i wanted to personally introduce you all to your new english and philosophy professor.” there was a pause as he turned to the door, gesturing for the man outside to step in. the classroom was so quiet that you could hear the faint rustle of papers, the shifting of feet—everyone waiting with bated breath for the new teacher to make his entrance. and then he stepped in.

the world seemed to slow down as your eyes locked onto the man walking through the door. everything else fell away—the murmurs of the students, the sound of the clock ticking on the wall, even the very breath in your lungs—all of it disappeared as your gaze fixed on him. it was him. the man you had spent the night with, the one whose name you had whispered in the dim light of the private room just hours before. and now, here he was, standing in front of you as your new professor.

namjoon—no, professor kim namjoon—mister kim? whatever he was going to be called from that point on, froze in his tracks, his eyes scanning the room before they landed on you. for a moment, he looked just as shocked as you felt, his gaze narrowing slightly as if trying to make sure his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him. but there was no mistaking it—you were as real as they came, sitting there with wide eyes and a racing heart, just as he was standing there, trying to process the impossibility of the situation.

the principal, oblivious to the tension crackling in the air, turned to namjoon, his voice breaking the silence. “is everything okay?” namjoon blinked, snapping out of whatever thoughts had been running through his mind. he cleared his throat, his expression smoothing into something more composed, though you could see the faint tension in his jaw. “yes, everything’s fine,” he replied, his voice steady, but you could hear the slight edge to it, the barely perceptible waver that only someone who knew him—or had spent the night with him—might notice.

he turned back to the class, his gaze sweeping over the rows of students, but his eyes remained firmly on you as he introduced himself. “i’m professor kim namjoon,” he said, his voice carrying through the room with a quiet authority. “i’ll be your new english and philosophy instructor.” you were stunned into silence, your mind reeling as you tried to process what was happening. the man who had been a nameless stranger just hours before was now your professor, standing there in front of the entire class, his attention seemingly focused on you alone.

there was a brief moment where you thought you might faint, the weight of the situation pressing down on you like a lead blanket. but then namjoon’s gaze softened, just slightly, and you saw something there—recognition, yes, but also something else. a flicker of concern, perhaps, or maybe just a shared understanding of the gravity of the situation. and then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by the calm, composed demeanor of a professor addressing his class. he began speaking again, introducing the syllabus and his expectations for the course, but you barely heard a word of it. all you could focus on was the fact that your night of recklessness had followed you here, into the one place you had thought was safe, and there was no escaping it now.

as he continued to speak, you forced yourself to sit up straighter, to adopt the same mask of composure he had. but inside, you were anything but calm. your mind was racing, your thoughts tangled in a web of confusion and disbelief. heewon nudged you, her eyes wide as she glanced between you and namjoon, clearly sensing something was off but not daring to ask. soobin, for once, was silent, his usual teasing smirk replaced by a look of genuine concern.

but none of it mattered. not really. because as namjoon’s gaze flickered back to you, just for a moment, you knew that it was far from over. the connection you had felt the night before was still there, humming beneath the surface, and there was no telling where it might lead—or what it might cost you. the bell rang, signaling the start of class, but for you, it felt like the beginning of something else entirely.

namjoon had composed himself almost too well for someone who had just discovered an unexpected connection in his classroom. his voice was steady, professional, as he launched into the introduction of the day's topic—a deep dive into existential philosophy, a subject that would set the tone for the entire semester. his words flowed with an easy confidence, drawing the attention of the entire class, but your mind was a whirlwind, struggling to keep up with the reality of the situation. as he spoke, you found yourself stealing glances at him, trying to reconcile the man who stood before you now with the one you had been so intimately close to just hours ago. every time his eyes drifted toward you, your gaze would dart away, your heart beating too fast, too loud.

just as you were beginning to gather your thoughts, namjoon posed a question to the class, inviting anyone to share what they knew about existentialism. before you could react, heewon’s hand shot up beside you. “oh, (y/n) knows all about that,” she announced, her voice light with an undercurrent of mischief. she shot you a sideways glance, one eyebrow raised as if daring you to deny it.

you turned to face her, your eyes pleading, practically begging her to drop it. but she was never one to back down from a moment like this, especially when she sensed there was more to the story. your warning gaze seemed to only fuel her amusement. namjoon’s eyes flicked from heewon to you, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “is that so?” he asked, his tone carrying a playful edge that only you seemed to notice. “i figured you’d know it. you probably know most of the plan and program.”

his words hung in the air, the double meaning not lost on you. there was an almost imperceptible pause before he continued, his gaze locked onto yours. “why don’t you tell us what you know?” you swallowed hard, your mind racing to find an answer, any answer. but all you could think about was the night before—the way his voice had sounded in your ear, the warmth of his skin against yours. the memories clouded your thoughts, making it impossible to focus on the question he’d asked.

you opened your mouth, but no words came out. the silence stretched on, heavy and awkward, until soobin nudged you gently from the other side. his elbow digging into your ribs jolted you back to reality, and you forced yourself to speak. “sartre believed that existence precedes essence,” you began, your voice quieter than usual, barely above a whisper. “it means that we're born without purpose, and it’s our responsibility to give our lives meaning through our actions.”

namjoon’s smile widened, a look of approval crossing his face. “outstanding,” he said, his tone genuine, almost too warm. he paused for a moment, his gaze softening as he asked, “what’s your name?” the question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were silent again, unable to form a response. it was as if the world had narrowed down to just the two of you, the classroom and the other students fading into the background. your mouth opened, but no sound came out, the weight of his gaze rendering you speechless.

another nudge from soobin brought you back to the present. you blinked, realizing that you had to respond. “it’s (y/n) (l/n),” you finally managed, your voice barely above a whisper. namjoon nodded, a hint of something unreadable in his expression as he repeated your name, letting it linger in the air. “(y/n),” he said softly, almost like he was testing how it felt on his tongue. “thank you for sharing.”

you could feel heewon’s eyes on you, a mixture of curiosity and realization dawning on her face. she wasn’t a fool—she had seen the way you had reacted, the way namjoon had looked at you, and it didn’t take long for her to start putting the pieces together. but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about what she thought, not when all you could focus on was him. he continued with the lecture, but you hardly heard a word of it. every time he turned back to the class, your gaze would drop to your desk, your heart thudding in your chest. the tension in the room was palpable, and you could tell that soobin and heewon were both aware of it, even if they didn’t fully understand why.

after what felt like an eternity, namjoon began handing out sheets of paper, instructing the class to spend the next fifteen minutes writing an essay on the topic he had introduced. you barely registered the words, your mind still caught up in the swirl of emotions from earlier. when he reached your desk, he paused, his movements slower, more deliberate. as he set the paper down in front of you, his hand brushed against your fingers, the contact brief but electric. you looked up at him, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. his eyes locked onto yours, and you saw something in them—a flicker of desire, maybe, or perhaps just a shared acknowledgment of the impossible situation you both found yourselves in.

he took his bottom lip between his teeth, a small, almost imperceptible gesture that sent a shiver down your spine. the air between you crackled with tension, so thick that you could almost taste it. namjoon didn’t miss the look in your eyes, nor did he miss the way your thighs clenched together involuntarily at the sight of him. his gaze dropped for just a second before he looked back at you, his expression unreadable but intense.

heewon and soobin exchanged a worried look, sensing that something was off but unsure of what to make of it. but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. all that mattered was the man standing in front of you, the man who had somehow become both a stranger and something more in the span of just one night. namjoon lingered for a moment longer before moving on to the next student, but the heat of his touch stayed with you, lingering on your skin long after he had stepped away. you stared down at the blank sheet of paper in front of you, your mind a chaotic mess of thoughts and emotions, wondering how you were supposed to focus on anything else when the only thing you could think about was him.

you stared at the blank sheet of paper for what felt like forever, your thoughts swirling in a chaotic mess. the memory of Namjoon’s touch lingered on your skin, his presence looming over you despite him moving on to the next student. every word you tried to write felt forced, disjointed, as if your mind was too occupied with the events of the night before to form a coherent sentence. but you pushed through, forcing yourself to focus, to string together an essay that would meet namjoon’s expectations—or at least not embarrass yourself in front of him. you could feel his eyes on you occasionally as he walked around the room, checking on the other students, and every time, it made your heart race and your fingers tremble.

finally, you managed to write something—an essay that was far from your best work, but at least it was done. the bell rang, its sharp sound jolting you out of your thoughts. you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, relief washing over you as namjoon dismissed the class with a curt nod. the scraping of chairs and the shuffling of feet filled the room as everyone stood up and turned in their papers. you gathered your things slowly, hoping to blend in with the crowd, to escape without another encounter with him. as you moved toward the front to turn in your essay, soobin and heewon caught your attention.

“we’ll wait outside for you,” soobin said, a smirk playing on his lips as if he knew something you didn’t. your eyes pleaded with him, silently begging him not to leave you alone in this classroom. but it was too late; they were already heading out the door, leaving you and namjoon as the last ones in the room. you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, but you kept your eyes down, refusing to meet it. you set your paper on his desk, trying to make a quick exit.

but just as you reached the door, his voice stopped you. “i didn’t know you went to college here.” you froze, every muscle in your body tensing at his words. you slowly turned around, forcing yourself to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. “i didn’t know you worked here,” you replied, your voice barely steady.

the silence that followed was thick with tension, the air heavy with everything that was left unsaid. you could see the conflict in his eyes, the same uncertainty that mirrored your own. for a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of the situation pressing down on you both. then he cleared his throat, the sound cutting through the silence like a knife. his gaze hardened, the warmth from earlier replaced with something colder, more distant. “please only refer to me as your professor from now on,” he said, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument.

the words hit you like a punch to the gut, the finality of them sinking in. it felt like your heart was physically breaking, the pain sharp and immediate. you opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out, the lump in your throat making it impossible to speak. he paused, his eyes flickering with something unreadable before he continued. “pretend like anything we had didn’t happen, for our sake.”

you nodded, the motion stiff and mechanical, even as the nausea churned in your stomach. it felt like the ground was slipping out from under you, like you were free-falling and there was nothing to catch you. but you forced a small, tight-lipped smile, doing your best to hide the turmoil inside. “see you next period, professor kim,” you managed to say, your voice trembling slightly. without waiting for a response, you turned and walked out of the room, your legs feeling like they were made of lead. every step felt heavier than the last, the weight of his words pressing down on you. as you pushed open the door and stepped into the hallway, the noise and bustle of the other students barely registered.

all you could think about was the way he had looked at you, the coldness in his eyes, and the realization that whatever connection you had felt the night before was now nothing but a distant memory. you could still feel the ghost of his touch on your skin, the memory of his voice in your ear, but it all felt so far away now, like a dream that had ended too soon. heewon and soobin were waiting for you just outside the classroom, their expressions shifting from playful to concerned the moment they saw you. heewon opened her mouth to say something, but you shook your head, silently begging her not to ask. you couldn’t talk about it, not now—not when everything felt so raw, so real.

the day felt like a blur as you made your way through the bustling hallways, trying to shake off the weight of the morning’s events. you met up with soobin and heewon during your free period, desperate for some semblance of normalcy. the café in the student center was a welcome escape, its warm lighting and soft chatter offering a brief respite from the chaos in your mind. you slid into a booth with them, the leather seats creaking under the weight of your exhaustion. you barely registered the vibrant colors and bustling activity around you, too preoccupied with the events of the morning.

“so,” soobin said, leaning in with an inquisitive look. “what the hell happened between you and professor kim?” you took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. with a heavy sigh, you began recounting the events of the previous night—everything from the club, the fleeting connection with namjoon, to the morning’s abrupt encounter in class. your friends listened in stunned silence, their eyes widening with each detail.

when you finished, soobin’s jaw dropped, his eyes darting between you and heewon. “i didn’t expect that,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. heewon, on the other hand, was practically vibrating with excitement. “you’re kidding me,” she said, her eyes shining with admiration. “he’s like, the hottest professor ever. you did good, really good.”

you managed a weak smile at her enthusiasm, feeling a twinge of warmth despite the tumult inside. as you looked around, your gaze fell upon namjoon again, this time surrounded by a swarm of female students. they clustered around him, offering water and engaging in casual conversation. his earlier gaze had been replaced by a smile that was charming but distant, his attention firmly on his admirers. “guess you aren’t his only fan,” soobin remarked dryly, his tone carrying a hint of amusement.

you turned back to your friends, trying to mask the tightness in your chest. “i don’t care,” you said, your voice carrying a trace of frustration. “i’m not allowed to care.” heewon placed a reassuring hand on your arm, her eyes softening with sympathy. “look on the bright side,” she said gently. “you got over your ex, if anything. and maybe, in some weird way, this is a chance to start fresh.”

her words were meant to be comforting, but they only served to remind you of the painful truth. the breakup with your ex had left you vulnerable and searching for validation, and namjoon’s presence had complicated everything in ways you hadn’t anticipated. but you nodded, appreciating her attempt to offer perspective. you managed a grateful smile, the gesture feeling heavy but sincere. as you sipped your coffee, the bitter taste seemed to mirror the complexity of your emotions. the conversation drifted, and you tried to focus on the mundane topics your friends brought up, but your thoughts kept returning to namjoon.

the next day unfolded with a disorienting sense of déjà vu, as if you were trapped in a cycle you couldn’t escape. the english period began with a heaviness in your chest, a reminder of the previous day’s awkward encounter with namjoon. his presence was now a constant, uncomfortable weight, and you braced yourself for another session of tense interactions. he entered the classroom, his authoritative stride commanding immediate attention. he took his place at the front, his gaze scanning the room with a sharpness that made your skin prickle. the air seemed charged with unspoken tension as he began his lesson, his voice smooth but carrying an edge.

throughout the class, it became increasingly clear that namjoon was deliberately targeting you. his questions were relentless, designed to probe and unsettle. his piercing eyes would lock onto you as he asked complex questions about the texts you’d studied. “so,” he said, his tone casual but with an undercurrent of challenge, “can you tell me how socrates’ concept of virtue contrasts with plato’s theory of forms?” you stumbled over your answer, your mind racing to piece together a coherent response. “um, socrates—he believed that virtue was a form of knowledge, right? and plato, well, he thought virtue was tied to the ideal forms?”

namjoon clicked his tongue disapprovingly, the sound echoing through the classroom. “not quite. socrates did indeed view virtue as a form of knowledge, but plato’s theory of forms goes beyond that, focusing on the ideal forms as the true reality of virtue.” the click of his tongue felt like a stinging reprimand, and you could feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment. from behind, soobin offered a comforting wink, his eyes twinkling with mischief. you smiled back, grateful for his support, even if you didn’t fully understand his intentions.

as namjoon moved through the rows, he handed back the essays with a stoic expression. when he reached your table, he paused, his eyes scanning your paper. “you can do better,” he said, despite the high mark you’d received. his voice was flat, dismissive, and it stung more than the failing grade could have.

soobin leaned over as his eyes raked over the positive mark on your paper, a smirk playing on his lips. he whispered, “congratulations,” before wrapping his arms around your neck in a gesture that surprised you. he pressed a light kiss to your cheek, the touch warm and reassuring. “well done,” he added, his voice low and almost conspiratorial. you leaned into his embrace, finding solace in the brief moment of affection. it was partly for show, a subtle defiance in the face of namjoon’s scrutiny, but it felt genuine enough to offer a small comfort. as he pulled away, you couldn’t help but notice namjoon’s eyes flicking toward you, his expression unreadable but his demeanor tense.

the moment was shattered when soobin dropped his pencil, its clatter startlingly loud in the quiet classroom. he turned to you with a mischievous glint in his eyes and said, “could you get that for me?” you nodded, bending over to retrieve the pencil. the motion was unavoidably revealing, your short skirt riding up just enough to provide a provocative view. you could feel namjoon’s gaze on you, intense and almost overwhelming. as you picked up the pencil, you glanced up to see soobin’s eyes fixed on you, his gaze deliberate and knowing.

you handed the pencil back to him, who responded with a smirk, “thank you, sweetheart.” namjoon’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as he watched the interaction. his knuckles whitened around the stack of papers in his hand, the sheets crumpling under the pressure of his grip. the sight of soobin’s gaze on you seemed to inflame his irritation, and he struggled to maintain his composure. the tension broke when he suddenly snapped, “pop quiz.”

the sharpness of his command cut through the room, drawing startled gasps from the students. you looked back to see soobin’s smirk widening, a silent acknowledgment of the provocation. you couldn’t help but return his smirk, feeling a mix of amusement and defiance. as he began distributing the quiz papers, the atmosphere in the room shifted. the playful energy between you and soobin contrasted sharply with namjoon’s stern demeanor.

the bell's chime reverberated through the classroom, signaling the end of the period. as students shuffled to their feet, handing in their quizzes with murmurs of relief, you lingered behind, finalizing your answers and tapping the pencil against the paper. you were the last to submit your quiz once again, and as you made your way to the front, you glanced at the clock, calculating how much time you had before your next class.

with your quiz in hand, you approached namjoon's desk, determined to leave the room as quickly as possible. however, as you turned to head for the door, namjoon's voice stopped you in your tracks. “come here,” he commanded, his tone firm yet laden with an undercurrent of something else. your stomach tightened at the sound of his voice. “is everything okay, professor kim?” you asked, your voice steady despite the flutter of anxiety in your chest.

namjoon's posture stiffened, a subtle shift in his demeanor that you noticed immediately. he adjusted himself in his chair, spreading his legs slightly. as you met his gaze, your eyes flickered momentarily to the front of his pants. specifically, the painfully visible tent in his pants that had been rightfully covered by his desk. now, you were able to get a clear view of it and, fuck, was it obvious. the sight was unsettling, a realization that you forced yourself to ignore.

he leaned forward slightly, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your heart race. “did you enjoy the show you put on today?” he asked, his voice low and carrying an edge of challenge. you struggled to maintain composure. “i have no idea what you're talking about,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady and focused. your gaze danced around the room, avoiding the direction of his gaze.

his expression hardened slightly. without breaking eye contact, he reached for a stapler on his desk and tossed it lightly in front of you. “pick it up for me,” he instructed, his tone carrying a hushed command. you swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his command. his voice seemed to reverberate through you, causing an involuntary clenching in your thighs. you turned around and bent over to retrieve the stapler, your skirt rising above your hips with the motion. the fabric brushed against your legs as you reached for the stapler, the movement eliciting a sharp intake of breath from namjoon.

as you stood up and placed the stapler back on his desk, you tried to keep your gaze forward. namjoon’s eyes followed you, and you could sense the tension in the air thickening. “come here,” he murmured again, his voice softer but still carrying the same underlying authority. you hesitated, fighting the urge to defy him. but the knowledge that resistance was futile made you comply. you approached him, feeling his gaze on you as you moved closer. when you were within arm’s reach, he reached out and drew you gently into his lap, his grip firm yet careful.

you could feel it, the clothed tent in his pants pressing into the bare flesh of your thigh, it sent goosebumps all arouns your skin. his lips brushed against the side of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. “are you happy knowing that the boys are getting off to this ass of yours?” he asked, his voice a dark purr against your skin. you tried to muster a response, a smirk curling on your lips as you said, “yeah, the boys are real nice to me.” the words felt hollow, a weak attempt to mask your discomfort.

namjoon chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your neck. his hand pressed against you, and you could feel the firmness of his body beneath you. “you don’t need them,” he said, his voice dropping to a deeper, more possessive tone. “you need a man.” your breath caught in your throat, the situation spiraling beyond your control.

his hand slid up to cup your breast, squeezing it gently through your shirt. the fabric was thin, offering no real barrier to his touch. your nipples tightened, and you gasped. “is this what you want?” he murmured, his thumb brushing over the peak. “to be manhandled by some immature college boys?” his other hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling your face towards his. his lips captured yours in a bruising kiss, one that was as much about power as it was passion. your body responded instinctively, arching into him. his tongue pushed into your mouth, and you could taste the mint from his gum, a stark contrast to the earthy scent of his cologne.

his hand moved from your neck to the hem of your shirt, sliding it up to expose your bare skin. his teeth grazed your bottom lip before he pulled away, leaving you panting. “now, let’s see how wet you get when you’re being punished by your professor,” he said, his eyes gleaming with a dark amusement. before you could protest, his hand slid down to cup your sex through your panties, his fingers moving in slow circles. his touch was deliberate, almost cruel in its precision. the fabric of your panties was drenched, and you could feel the heat of your arousal spreading. “you’re so fucking dirty,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust. “gonna pay for teasing me like that.”

his hand withdrew, and before you could react, his palm connected with your ass in a sharp spank. the sting of pain shot through you, but instead of anger, you felt a pulse of desire. the room around you spun, and you bit your lip to stifle a moan. “is that what you wanted?” he asked, his voice mocking. “to be used like this?”

you didn’t answer, but your silence was answer enough. namjoon chuckled again, his hand moving to your other cheek. this time, the spank was harder, and the sound echoed through the empty classroom. you gasped, your legs trembling, but your pussy clenched around his fingers. “yes, professor,” you murmured, the words slipping out despite your attempt to remain defiant.

his hand slid into your panties, his fingers pushing inside you without preamble. you were so wet, so ready, and his touch sent waves of pleasure through your body. his thumb circled your clit, and you moaned, unable to hold back. “that’s it,” he whispered, his voice low and encouraging. “tell me how much you like it when i spank you, and maybe i’ll let you cum on my dick.”

his other hand moved to the zipper of his pants, freeing his thick, hard cock. it sprang out, and you couldn’t help but stare at it, the size of it both terrifying and exhilarating. “you want this, don’t you?” he asked, his voice a gruff challenge. “you wanna be fucked by your professor, right here, where everyone can see?”

you nodded, unable to speak, your body betraying your every thought. namjoon leaned back in his chair, pulling you onto his desk. the cold wood was a shock against your skin, but the heat of his body washed over you as he stepped closer. his pants fell to the floor, and he positioned himself between your legs. “beg for it,” he demanded, his eyes boring into yours. your voice was shaky as you whispered, “please, professor kim, fuck me.” the words were barely out of your mouth when he pushed into you, filling you completely. the sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pain and pleasure that made your vision swim. his hips began to move, a steady, punishing rhythm that had you gripping the edge of the desk for dear life.

each thrust was accompanied by a smack on your ass, the sting mixing with the ache in your pussy. “you’re mine,” he growled, his voice harsh with need. “no one else gets to see you like this, no one else gets to touch you like this.” his words were a blend of assertion and question, and you nodded, your eyes glazed with lust. your silence happened to be a grave mistake, and you realized it the minute he delivered another harsh slap to your ass.

“use your fucking words,” he snarled in your ear, hips pressed against your flesh. you could only whimper, his balls pressed against your soaking slit. but he didn't move, he was gonna make you work for it. “what happens to bad girls?” you gritted your teeth and forced out a whisper, “they get punished, professor kim.”

his hand squeezed your ass hard before delivering another spank, the sting turning into a warm buzz that spread through your body. he chuckled darkly, pleased with your response. “that’s right,” he said, his voice gruff and animalistic. “and what happens when bad girls get punished?” you took a deep breath, trying to keep the tremble from your voice. “they get fucked, professor kim.”

that was all the encouragement he needed. namjoon’s cock slammed into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin punctuating the silence of the classroom. he fucked you hard and fast, his hips pistoning against you with a ferocity that was both terrifying and exhilarating. your legs were shaking, and your knuckles were white from gripping the edge of the desk, but you didn’t care. you were lost in the feeling of him inside you, claiming you in a way that no one else ever had.

his hand moved from your ass to your neck, his fingers wrapping around it in a grip that was tight but not painful. he squeezed slightly, the pressure sending a jolt of arousal through you. his eyes bore into yours, and you could see the hunger in them, the need to dominate and control. “you’re mine, aren’t you?” he said, his voice a low growl.

you nodded, unable to form words. your breath was coming in ragged gasps, and your pussy was clenching around his cock, begging for release. another spank, another squeeze of your neck, and you felt yourself teetering on the edge of climax. “say it,” he demanded, his voice harsh. “say you’re mine, and i’ll let you cum.”

“i’m yours, professor kim,” you choked out, the words a desperate plea.

his grip tightened, and he slammed into you one last time, his cock hitting that perfect spot deep inside you. you screamed as you came, your body shaking with the intensity of your orgasm. namjoon’s eyes never left yours, his expression a mix of triumph and possessiveness. he waited, letting you ride out the waves of pleasure before he began to move again, his thrusts growing faster and more erratic. you could feel his release building, his cock swelling inside you. he was close, and the thought of him filling you up with his cum made your pussy clench even tighter. “fuck, you’re so tight,” he grunted, his voice strained. “i’m gonna fill you up, fuck. i’m gonna mark you as mine.”

you could feel your own orgasm building again, a second wave crashing into you as his words sent a fresh surge of arousal through your body. he leaned over, his teeth scraping along your neck as he reached down to pinch your clit. the combination of pain and pleasure was too much, and you came again, your body shaking violently. he grunted, his hips jerking as he released deep inside you. he held you there, his cock buried to the hilt, his grip on your neck unyielding. “you’re mine now,” he murmured, his voice a mix of satisfaction and possession. “no one else will ever make you feel like this again.”

you couldn’t argue with him, not when his cum was still pulsing inside you, not when his scent was all over your body. you were his, and as much as you hated to admit it, the thought thrilled you. his hand moved from your neck to your hair, his grip gentle as he pulled you closer, kissing you deeply. his tongue invaded your mouth, tasting the remnants of your orgasm, and you kissed him back with a passion that matched his own.

the room was spinning, and your heart was racing, but all you could think about was how much you wanted this to never end. how much you wanted to be claimed by him, over and over again. finally, he pulled away, his cock slipping out of you with a wet sound that seemed to echo through the room. he tucked himself back into his pants, his expression unreadable. “now, get out of here before someone sees you like this,” he said, his voice a harsh whisper.

you nodded, your legs unsteady as you slid off the desk. your panties were a ruined mess, so you left them where they lay. your skirt was hiked up around your waist, and your shirt was askew, but you didn’t bother to fix it. you could feel his cum dripping down your thighs, a sticky reminder of what had just happened. you stumbled out of the classroom, the door clicking shut behind you. the hallway was empty, the only sound the echo of your heels against the tiles. your mind was racing, trying to process the intensity of what had just occurred. you hadn’t meant for it to go that far, but the power dynamics had overtaken you both.

as you made your way to the bathroom, you couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes on you, his hand on your neck, his cock inside you. your body was still singing with the aftershocks of pleasure, and the sting of his spanks lingered, a sweet reminder of his dominance. once inside the stall, you leaned against the cool metal, trying to catch your breath. your pussy was sore, but the ache was a delicious one, a reminder of his brutal possession. you cleaned up as best as you could, trying to erase the evidence of your transgression. when you stepped out, you took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself.

you checked the mirror, fixing your makeup and smoothing your hair. your eyes were wild, your cheeks flushed. you really looked like you’d just been fucked by your professor, and that thought alone sent a shiver of excitement down your spine. you left the bathroom, heading to your next class, your mind racing with thoughts of namjoon. what had just happened between you? was it a one-time thing, or was this the start of something darker, something more intense? you couldn’t stop thinking about him, his voice, his touch, his cock. the way he’d claimed you, the way you’d begged for it. it was wrong, so wrong, but you craved it.

the rest of the day was a blur, your thoughts consumed by the illicit encounter. when you saw him in the hallways, his eyes would briefly meet yours, a smoldering heat passing between you that no one else could see. the tension was palpable, a silent promise of more to come. by the time you reached the evening, you were on edge, desperate for a release that only he could provide. you knew you had to see him again, to find out where this was going, to let him take you apart and put you back together in whatever twisted way he saw fit.

the next day, namjoon was crueler than ever. the moment you walked into the classroom, you felt the shift in his demeanor, an icy coldness that sent a shiver down your spine. his eyes seemed to follow your every move, sharp and unforgiving, as if waiting for you to slip up.

“miss (l/n),” he drawled, barely five minutes into the lecture, “do you even know what the word ‘competence’ means? because, frankly, i’m starting to doubt it.” his words were laced with venom, each syllable landing like a physical blow. you felt your heart sink, the heat of embarrassment creeping up your neck as all eyes turned to you. your mouth opened to respond, but the words caught in your throat, your voice betraying you in the moment you needed it most.

“answer me,” he demanded, his tone brooking no argument. “i do,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper, but it was clear that your confidence had shattered.

he scoffed, a cold, mocking sound that made you flinch. “then perhaps you should start showing it. this is a university, not a daycare. i expect more from my students.” the classroom was silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. you could feel the stares of your classmates, could hear the unspoken judgment in the air, and it made your stomach churn. namjoon’s relentless criticism continued throughout the class, his every word designed to tear you down, to make you feel small and insignificant.

“is that really the best you can do?” he sneered at one point, after you had answered another one of his questions with trembling uncertainty. his eyes narrowed, and you could see the disdain written all over his face. “how disappointing.” your patience was wearing thin, the fragile hold you had on your emotions slipping with each cruel remark. you wanted to scream, to tell him to stop, to ask him why he was being so unbearably harsh. but you couldn’t. the words refused to come, lodged in your throat like a stone.

finally, after what felt like an eternity, the class drew to a close. as soon as namjoon dismissed everyone, you gathered your things and bolted from the room, your vision blurred with unshed tears. you could hear the murmur of voices behind you, the curious whispers of your classmates, but you didn’t care. all you wanted was to get away. you didn’t stop until you reached the empty locker room, the door slamming shut behind you with a deafening echo. the second you were alone, the tears you had been holding back spilled over, your body shaking with the force of your sobs.

“how could he be so bipolar?” you choked out between gasping breaths, your voice thick with hurt and confusion. it was as if he had two completely different personalities, one moment kind and almost gentle, the next vicious and unrelenting. it was too much. the sound of approaching footsteps cut through your thoughts, startling you. you quickly wiped at your eyes, trying in vain to compose yourself, but it was too late. the door creaked open, and soobin stepped inside, his expression filled with concern as he saw you huddled on the floor.

“(y/n)?” he called softly, his voice laced with worry. without waiting for an answer, he hurried over to you, crouching down by your side. “what happened? why are you crying?” you tried to speak, but all that came out was a broken sob. soobin’s face softened, and he reached out to pull you into his arms, his embrace warm and comforting.

“it’s okay,” he murmured, his hand gently rubbing your back in soothing circles. “it’s gonna be okay. just breathe.” for a moment, you let yourself melt into his embrace, the warmth of his arms and the softness of his voice soothing your frazzled nerves. but eventually, you pulled back enough to look up at him, your eyes red and puffy from crying.

“it’s namjoon, you saw it,” you finally managed to say, your voice trembling. “he’s just, he’s being so awful, and i don’t understand why.” soobin’s expression darkened at the mention of namjoon, his jaw clenching slightly, but he quickly masked it with a soft, reassuring smile. “he’s being an ass,” he agreed, his voice firm with conviction. “you don’t deserve that, you need to stop running to him.”

his words struck a chord deep within you, and you nodded, a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over. “you’re right,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “but i don’t know how to stop.” his gaze softened, and he reached up to gently brush a strand of hair out of your face, his touch tender. “you’ll figure it out,” he said quietly, his tone full of quiet confidence. “and until you do, i’ll be here for you.”

a small, shaky smile tugged at the corners of your lips, the warmth of his words seeping into the cracks that namjoon’s cruelty had left behind. “thank you, soo,” you whispered, your voice thick with gratitude. for a moment, the two of you just sat there, lost in each other’s eyes. then, before you could fully process what was happening, he leaned in and pressed a soft, tentative kiss to your lips.

it was so quick, so unexpected, that you barely had time to react before he was pulling back, his eyes wide with panic. “i’m so sorry,” he stammered, his voice filled with regret. “i didn’t mean to—” but you didn’t let him finish. you reached up, cupping his face in your hands, and kissed him back. this time, it was slower, deeper, a silent reassurance that he hadn’t made a mistake. when you finally pulled away, you could see the relief in soobin’s eyes, and it made your heart swell with affection. “you didn’t make a mistake,” you whispered, your voice still shaky but filled with sincerity.

soobin searched your eyes for a moment, looking for confirmation, before his arms tightened around you. the kiss grew more urgent, his tongue slipping into your mouth, tasting of mint and something uniquely him. your hands roamed over his back, feeling the firm muscles beneath his shirt, and you moaned softly, the heat between you growing with every passing second. the locker room was suddenly too small, too confining, and you needed more.

without breaking the kiss, you reached down and began to unbutton his shirt, feeling the smooth fabric give way beneath your trembling fingers. his hands mirrored yours, his fingertips brushing against the bare skin of your stomach, sending shivers down your spine. as his shirt fell open, you gasped, taking in the sight of his broad chest, the tattoos that danced across his skin like secrets waiting to be uncovered. you ran your fingers over the ink, tracing the lines as you explored him, and he groaned, his hands finding their way to the hem of your shirt.

you pulled back just long enough to let him lift it over your head, tossing it aside without a second thought. your bra followed shortly after, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of your exposed breasts. without a word, he leaned down and captured one in his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak as you arched your back, a gasp escaping your lips. the pleasure was intense, a stark contrast to the pain namjoon’s words had brought you just moments ago. soobin’s touch was gentle, reverent, a stark reminder of the way you deserved to be treated.

his hands cupped your breasts, his thumbs flicking over your nipples as he sucked and bit at them, making you whimper. you could feel yourself growing wetter, the ache between your legs becoming almost unbearable. he must have noticed too, because his hand began to drift lower, slipping under your little skirt and finding your panties already drenched for him. you moaned into his mouth, your legs parting slightly to give him better access.

his fingers slid over the fabric, teasing you, making you squirm with need. then, with a wicked grin, he pulled them aside and plunged two fingers into you, making you gasp. his strokes were slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched your reactions, learning what made you moan, what made your eyes roll back in pleasure. you clung to him, your nails digging into his back as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

his other hand reached up to cradle your face, his thumb wiping away the tears that had dried on your cheeks. “you’re so beautiful, (y/n),” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent waves of pleasure through your body. “so perfect, so responsive. i want to make you feel good, really good.” and with that, he kissed you again, his tongue delving deep as his fingers picked up the pace, filling you up and stroking that spot inside you that no one else seemed to know existed.

you could feel yourself getting closer, your breath hitching in your chest, your body tightening around his fingers. “soobin,” you moaned, his name a desperate plea on your lips. “yes, baby, come for me,” he whispered, his voice full of desire, and with that, you shattered. your orgasm hit you like a wave, leaving you trembling and gasping for air, your legs giving out beneath you. he caught you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he held you up, his kisses turning gentle and soothing.

as you came down from the high, you became aware of the sound of the locker room door opening and closing, the muffled sounds of someone walking down the hall. soobin’s eyes widened in panic, his hand still buried in your panties, his fingers coated in your arousal. “shit, we can’t get caught,” he hissed, pulling away and hastily buttoning his shirt. you nodded, fumbling to put yourself back together, your heart racing.

you looked around, your eyes landing on a shower stall in the corner, and an idea formed in your mind. “quick, in there,” you urged, pushing him towards it. he looked confused for a moment before understanding dawned, and he grinned, pulling you in after him. the sound of the shower turning on masked the sound of your breathing as you kissed him again, more urgently this time. his hand found its way back to your panties, his touch no longer gentle but demanding, and you could feel his cock, hard and insistent, pressing against your thigh. you reached down to stroke him through his pants, feeling the length and thickness of him, making you even more eager. he groaned into your mouth, his hips bucking against your hand.

his own need was clear, and you knew what you had to do. you sank to your knees, pulling his pants down to reveal his erection, standing proud and thick. without hesitation, you took him into your mouth, your eyes never leaving his as you began to suck. his moans grew louder, his hands tangling in your hair as you worked him with your mouth, eager to bring him the same pleasure he had given you. his taste was new, but familiar in a way that made your stomach flip. you could feel his cock swell even more, and you knew he was close. his grip on your hair tightened, his hips thrusting gently, and you took it as a sign to speed up, to swallow him down deeper. and just as the footsteps grew closer, he came, his release hot and salty on your tongue.

you swallowed, licking him clean as you stood up, your own arousal pulsing between your legs. he pulled you close again, kissing you deeply, his hands roaming over your body. “i want you, (y/n),” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “i want all of you, right here, right now.” and before you could respond, he was lifting you up, setting you on the bench and peeling your panties off, leaving you bare and exposed.

his cock was still hard, and he positioned himself at your entrance, his tip nudging against your wetness. you could feel the size of him, the way he stretched you open even though he hadn't even slid in yet. you desperately tried not to think about namjoon, to focus on the comfort soobin was offering as a friend. his eyes searched yours for consent, and with a nod, you gave it. he pushed in, slow and gentle, filling you completely. you moaned out his name, the sound echoing off the tiles. it was unlike anything you had ever felt before, his girth stretching you in a way that was both painful and exquisite. he didn't stop, though, continuing to move at a pace that was just right, building the tension until you felt like you might come apart at the seams.

his hands cupped your breasts, squeezing and kneading as he thrust into you, his eyes never leaving yours. you could see the passion in them, the way he was losing himself in the moment, and it made you feel alive, wanted. “you're so wet,” he grunted, his voice strained with effort. “so perfect.”

his words were like a balm to your soul, the praise you had been craving, the gentle touch you hadn't realized you needed. you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, urging him to go deeper. “yes,” you murmured, your voice a whisper. “yes, fuck, soo.” his rhythm grew more erratic, his breathing ragged, and you knew he was close. your own orgasm was building, the pressure inside you threatening to burst. “you're gonna cum for me,” he panted, his voice low and commanding. “gonna cum so hard.”

his words sent you over the edge, your body convulsing around him as you screamed out his name. he followed shortly after, his release hot and powerful, filling you up without any barrier. the feeling was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and fear that only added to the intensity of the moment.

as you both came down from the high, panting and trying to catch your breath, you realized what you had done. the comfort sex had turned into something much more intimate, something that would change everything between you. but for now, you pushed those thoughts aside, basking in the warmth of his embrace as the water from the shower washed away the evidence of your shared secret.

his forehead rested against yours, his eyes filled with a tenderness that was new to you. “are you okay?” he asked, his voice gentle. you nodded, your chest heaving with each breath. “yes,” you whispered, feeling a strange mix of emotions. “i'm okay.”

you didn't know how to explain that it was more than just the physical release that had made you feel better. it was the connection, the understanding, the gentle way he had taken care of you when you felt so broken. you knew that this moment would be something you would cherish, something that would sustain you through the storm that was namjoon's cruelty.

but you also knew that you couldn't keep running to soobin every time namjoon hurt you. you had to find a way to stand on your own two feet, to face the demons that were holding you hostage. but for now, in the warmth of the shower, with soobin's arms around you, you allowed yourself to just be. to feel alive and desired, if only for a little while longer.

you could feel the pulse of his cock still inside you, a strangled moan passing your lips as you felt him grow hard inside your pussy, your eyes rolling back at the feeling of him, so lewd and filthy for your cunt, a smirk playing on his face as he began to tilt his hips upward, the overwhelming sensation bringing tears to his eyes. “you really gonna fuck me again?” you practically purred, nails scratching at his chest as his pace began to quicken.

“i have to, you're still dripping for me,” he almost whined, the feeling of your juices drenching his dick just too intense. you pulled him in closer, saving the second blissful sensation of him pulling your cunt apart as he continued to pump his dick into you. you were both unaware of just how loud you were being, as much as you were of the nearby presence, who had been listening to every word with a look of utter anger on his face.

namjoon had been on his way to grab something from his office when he heard the locker room door slam, and the sound of your sobs had drawn him in. he had been torn between leaving and walking in, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him. and now, as he heard the sound of soobin's body slapping against yours, as he heard the two of you gasp and moan, his anger grew. he felt like he had been stabbed in the back, the betrayal a cold, sharp pain in his chest.

his hand was clenched into a fist, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from storming in and tearing the two of you apart. instead, he leaned against the wall, listening as soobin whispered sweet nothings into your ear, as he praised your body and made you feel good about yourself. the irony of the situation was not lost on him; the one person who had been so cruel to you was now being the one to console you in the most intimate way possible.

his mind raced with thoughts of what he should do, but in the end, he decided to stay put. he would let this play out, let soobin have his moment of victory, and then he would deal with it. but for now, he had to listen to the sound of your pleasure, the sound of what he had wanted to be his, being given to someone else. and it made his blood boil.

the following day, tension hung heavy in the air, a storm brewing in namjoon's chest as he awaited your arrival. the echoes of what he overheard between you and soobin replayed in his mind, each word twisting the knife of jealousy deeper into his heart. the anger was sharp, intense, and the moment you stepped into the classroom, he felt his blood begin to boil.

you entered the room with a sense of calm, your steps measured and your expression serene. it was a visible contrast to the way namjoon’s heart raced and his jaw clenched in a desperate attempt to maintain his composure. as the lesson began, he made it his personal mission to nail you into the ground with questions, to strip away that calm exterior and expose whatever emotions lay beneath. “miss (y/n),” he began, his voice cutting through the classroom like a blade, “perhaps you can explain the concept of friedrich nietzsche's ‘übermensch’ to the class?”

the question was pointed, meant to trip you up, to make you falter. but to his astonishment, you didn’t miss a beat.

“the ‘übermensch’ is a concept in nietzsche’s philosophy that refers to someone who has transcended the limitations of conventional morality and societal norms to create and live by their own values,” you replied, your voice steady, almost indifferent. “it’s a cornerstone of his idea of life-affirmation, where one embraces their existence fully and creates meaning in a world that might otherwise seem meaningless.”

namjoon’s eyes narrowed, but he wasn’t done yet. “and what about the eternal recurrence? how does that concept tie into the idea of the ‘übermensch’?”

“the eternal recurrence is the idea that life, in all its events, could potentially repeat itself infinitely,” you answered, still without hesitation. “for nietzsche, the ‘übermensch’ is someone who could embrace this concept, who would live their life in such a way that they’d be willing to relive it over and over again. it’s about living with such purpose and strength that one would welcome even the most painful experiences.” namjoon’s jaw tightened, a muscle in his cheek ticking as he fired question after question at you, trying to find a chink in your armor. but you got all of them right, each answer delivered with precision and clarity. and what made his blood boil even more was that you never once glanced at him. not even for a second.

it was as if he didn’t exist to you, and that realization twisted his gut into knots. the way you didn’t acknowledge his presence felt like a slap in the face. he could feel his anger simmering just beneath the surface, threatening to spill over. but what pushed him closer to the edge was the way you looked at soobin. he noticed it—the way your eyes softened when you glanced at him, the way your lips curved into a genuine smile when you laughed at something he said. the sight made something inside namjoon snap. he could feel the pencil in his hand crack under the pressure of his grip, the wood splintering, but you didn’t even notice.

as the bell rang, signaling the end of class, namjoon watched you closely. everyone else filtered out of the room, but you lingered, packing your things with that same maddening calm. when the last student left, his resolve crumbled. “(y/n),” he called out softly, his voice a mere whisper of the authority it usually held. you paused, glancing up from your bag. “yes, professor kim?”

there was a sting in the formality of your response, a distance that hadn’t been there before. it made his heart constrict painfully. he swallowed hard, trying to steady himself. “please, stop calling me that,” he said, his voice betraying a hint of desperation. you tilted your head slightly, the smallest hint of confusion crossing your features. “but that’s what you asked me to call you,” you replied, your tone even, devoid of the warmth he had once taken for granted.

he felt the sting of his own words being thrown back at him. it was true; he had been the one to demand that distance, to keep you at arm’s length. and now he was paying the price. as you turned to leave, something in him snapped. “i’m sorry,” he blurted out, the words spilling from his lips before he could stop them. you froze, your hand stilling on the strap of your bag. slowly, you turned back to face him. “sorry for what?”

“for everything,” he said, his voice thick with regret. he hesitated, the weight of his confession pressing down on him, but he knew he had to say it. “i fell for you the minute i saw you, you know? you looked so out of place in the club, and it drew me to you. but when i realized you were my student, it pissed me off. it wasn’t supposed to happen like this.” your gaze softened, the hard edges of your expression melting away as you looked at him. “how do you think i felt?” you asked, your voice gentle, understanding.

namjoon sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “i know i’ve been an asshole, (y/n),” he admitted, his voice rough with self-loathing. “but i can’t keep playing this game. it’s tearing me apart.”

you didn’t respond immediately, the silence between you stretching out, heavy with unspoken words. you turned to leave once more, but before you could take another step, namjoon moved. he closed the distance between you in an instant, his arms wrapping around you from behind, pulling you against his chest. “please, don’t go,” he whispered, his voice trembling with the intensity of his emotions.

“namjoon,” you whispered, your voice catching in your throat as you felt the warmth of his body against yours. “you have to stop. you’ll get fired if anyone finds out.”

“i don’t care,” he murmured, his grip tightening as if he was afraid you’d slip away. “i don’t care if it means i get to be with you.”

you stood there, wrapped in his arms, the weight of his words sinking in. It was a dangerous game the two of you were playing, one that could cost him everything. but in that moment, all you could think about was the way his heart beat against your back, strong and steady, grounding you in a world that suddenly felt like it was spinning out of control. as much as you wanted to fight it, as much as you knew the risks, there was a part of you that didn’t want to let go either. the part that had fallen for him too, despite everything, despite the pain and the confusion and the impossibility of it all.

“namjoon,” you whispered again, your voice barely audible, “what are we gonna do?”

he didn’t have an answer, not yet. all he knew was that he couldn’t let you go. not now. not when he had finally admitted the truth to himself. and as you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside the classroom seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a stolen moment that neither of you was ready to end.

✧.*

a/n: this was soo ass but some sweet soul wanted more joon content so i hope they see this and if they don't like it i will def do another one

[fashionteahouse]

out of your league - paul x reader

AN: thank you so much for all of the love and support for fourteen entire parts of this story ! hugs and kisses, xoxo

Nervously biting your lip, you waited for the phone to answer your call. The wrinkled napkin was even more wrinkled and you hoped that the slightly smudged numbers were accurate to the ones that you have digitally imputed.

A man picks up the phone, asking who this person is calling him for.

"Hi. Can I speak to John?" you say, trying to rid your voice of any type of nervousness.

"This is he. Wait.. I know this voice... Let me think, don't say it. I will get it right....Y/N? Right?" he says.

You chuckle and confirm. He asks you how you've been. Fall is starting soon and your schedule was clear enough to give him a phone call.

"So, I'm really glad that you called. I really think I should introduce you to somebody that you will go crazy for." he explains.

"Mhm." you say as he then continues after he hears your acknowledgment.

"I think you both will go crazy for each other actually. Both of your minds seem to be a lot alike. I showed him your work and he found the other work that you have posted, he like went crazy." he says and chuckles as you join in.

"So. Have you been to New York before?" he asks.

"Never." you say almost in shock. That was the very place you would love to go. Art seemed endless there.

"All I need is for you to tell me you would like to visit and a ticket will be in your email inbox before the leaves touch the ground." he says and you take a moment to think.

Paul wasn't there at the moment, making his rounds with Sam.

"Yes, I would love to but-"

"Good! I'll uh.. keep in touch and I'll see you soon." he says, his voice being much lighter since you somewhat accepted such an offer. He saw so much potential and wanted to introduce you into a deeper world.

The line goes dead as you rack your brain of how this conversation could go.

As the fork clinked against the plate, Paul chuckled to himself as he swallowed his food. He finally takes his eyes that were on his plate and directs them to your pupils.

"You must have to either tell me something or you want something."

You playfully roll your eyes, "If I want something, you know what I would do." you tell him. He gives you a look that makes you blush but you quickly recoup yourself before things go too far off track.

"Don't freak out please." you tell him carefully as your held your own fork.

He glanced at the dish that you served him, it was one of his favorites. You barely cooked it because you expressed how tedious it was. He thought you found the lost time.

"I wont freak out if its bad." he decides.

Knowing you're not going to get the promise you wanted, you nod as you just let the words roll off of your tongue.

"I'm going to New York soon."

"When?" he says immediately back.

"Soon, before the fall."

Smiling a bit but no intent of humor, he is a bit taken aback.

"That's... very close." he says.

"I just found out today while you were gone." you say defensively.

He doesn't say much as he furrows his eyebrows and looks back down at his plate. He's thinking.

"What are you thinking about?" you softly ask as you place a touch on his hand.

"Nothing."

"Liar." you say in a hushed tone.

"How long are you going to be gone?" he asks.

You slowly shrug, feeling a bit shameful for not knowing the definite answer. You felt it was a bit childish.

"And you accepted- wait. Who is in New York again?" he then asks.

"The guy who bought my painting." you explain.

"Oh." he drags out as he scrapes the last remainder of food that was on his plate, bringing it to his mouth, saying it as if he pieced the final piece to a puzzle.

"Do you think Sam will let you go?" you ask as you fold a napkin, over creasing it.

"Sure he would. If hell froze over." he answers.

"Plus, you don't know how long you're going to be gone." he says with his hands out.

Looking down, "I don't know, I thought you would think this is a good opportunity for me." you voice out.

"Y/N, it is. There's just no way in hell he's going to let me go miles and miles away from La Push for god knows how long." he says, if you didn't pay attention, you would’ve missed that there was a hint of somberness in his voice.

Getting up from your seat, his head is now in your arms as you hold it against your stomach. "I really wish you could come."

He doesn't say anything for some time but his arm fits snug around your waist. Once you are about to let him go, he surprises you with, "You're going far. I know I can't go. Can you at least ask someone to go with you?"

You intake a breath for a response but he adds in, "I would feel better knowing someone is going with you at least."

"I can see but..." you say giving him a knowing look. Sam admitted to checking up on Emily while doing errands. It was comical to think they would be able to handle being without each other for long.

He laughs a little, "I know."

"The idea of someone being with me doesn't sound bad, you know. You have to promise me to come with me the next time I go back." you tell him.

He leans up as you lean down, "Deal." he agrees. Instead of shaking on it, you both touch lips on it.

Another day came around as you woke up in bed alone. Covers were tucked tight with you, Paul didn't want you to be cold due to your lack of clothing. The weather was starting to show signs of change. The summer wave is blending into an end. You really had to wear a jacket for temperature purposes and not by fashionable choice.

Sliding it on, you closed the front door as you made you way to return the rest of your checked out books to the local library. You brought the almost finished Wuthering Heights, texting Bella since it was a public place.

"I'm at the library. I wanted to give you something."

You weren't a heartless person. It kind of made you feel bad as you read previous missed texts from Bella, asking you if you can talk on the phone or if you were free.

You tried your best to give Paul the stress free mentality of not dealing with her. Knowing the danger that she was constantly around, you were a bit scared of it rubbing off on you.

She immediately texts back. Not hearing from you in a long time, made her not want to miss an interaction with you.

"Okay. I'm omw"

You waited as you looked around. She didn't take long before she pushes open the clear entry door and have her chocolate eyes searching for yours.

What surprised you was the hug that she gave you. She pulls back with a nervous chuckle, "I'm sorry. I haven't heard from you in a while, that's all."

"Yeah." you say bringing a nervous chuckle of your own. You extend the book in her direction as she softly smiles.

Her smile fades as she notices that you haven't finished it. She echoes her observation.

"You haven't finished it."

"I know. I'm going out of town and I don't want to lose it or anything." you explain.

She vocalizes two tisks as she looks back at the returned book, "Y/N, give it back to me when you’ve actually read the entire thing."

"I don't even know when I'm coming back." you say, bringing your shoulders up a bit.

Her eyebrows furrow a bit, "Did you change your mind? Are you leaving for college?"

You shake your head, "The power of art."

She smiles again, "That's good. I'm happy for you."

"At least keep it until I get back." you tell her, trying your best to convince her.

"No way. You might need it for the trip going there. Wait, where are you going?"

You hesitated as you thought of her immortal boyfriend finding out.

"Y/N?" she asks again when she doesn't get an answer, but cautiously.

She didn't have to know the exact city or place. Just the state.

Her eyes grow big, "Wow. That's awesome. I've never been."

"Really?" you ask her as you both walk out of the library.

As much as her mother moved around, you were surprised.

"Yeah." she says as a lock of hair moved with her fingers to rest behind her ear.

As you walk her to her truck, she then says, "I'm sure Paul is going to miss you like crazy."

"Yeah. I shouldn’t be gone for too long.”

You hear her sigh as you watch her open a cab door.

"What's wrong?' you ask.

She takes a moment, before continuing, "Do you think.. Never mind." she says.

"What? What is it?" you press on.

"I mean.. It would be nice if I got to get away like you. I really don't want to spend my birthday here. Then, you’re leaving." she says with gloom as she looks around.

"But, you get to spend it with Edward. Besides, I'm sure it's going to be all work with no fun anyhow." you say, trying to shrug it off.

She doesn't say anything but you could easily tell she wanted to.

She instead decides to sit in her driver seat.

"I can drop you back off if you want me to." she says, noticing you don't have car keys.

"The air feels good today."

"Y/N, get in." she says.

Your heart thuds almost out of your chest at the thought of her finding out where you and Paul lived. Afraid of the information she would tell Edward, you decide to play with flipping the script.

"What were you up to? I don't really feel like going home. Paul is out right now." you say as you close the passenger door.

"Doing chores. Fun, huh." she says with dry humor but her eyes still light up.

"Very." you say and both share a series of chuckles.

"Do you want to come over?" she offers. There was hope in her voice. Bella hasn't really made a genuine friend, let alone a human friend, enough to ever ask this question. It felt good to willingly ask this question to someone.

You nod. It was way better than explaining to Paul on why Bella Swan knows where you both live.

Driving on the highway, you both soak in the comfortable silence. For some reason, you felt like you had to get inside of this chick's head.

Sitting crisscrossed on her soft bed, your eyes wander around her bedroom.

You caught sight of the pictures that hung up, kids that definitely went to her school. A picture of her and her father. "Cool mustache" , you thought to yourself. Bella being hugged tightly by Renee as you could feel her carefree nature just by one glance at the picture. A long haired boy next to her was muddy as blush was painted on Bella's cheeks with the boy's arm slung around her shoulder. Taking an extra glance, you notice that she was muddy in the picture as well. A picture that stuck out like a sore thumb out of all of them, was the one with the Cullen boy. If you hadn't seen him in person with her, you would've thought she cut him out of a magazine and glued him next to her.

"So, that's why you were in Seattle." she says as realization hit as you tell her the full story of how this opportunity came about.

You nod your head as she chuckles, "Edward was trying to take me to something fancy, I convinced him to let me eat there."

"Wow." you say.

You then change the subject, “What was your first impression of Edward?”

“Perfect.” she says with a blush.

“You both met a school?” you ask. She nods.

“What about you?” she ask as she jerks her head a bit.

You shrug as you shyly smile, “I thought he was out of my league to be honest.”

A small laugh comes out of her throat as she says, “No, same. I still wonder how Edward finds me interesting.”

“Come on, it’s easy. You’re a pretty girl with a…Pretty guy to match. I’m sure this isn’t your first rodeo.” You say to not let herself feel low standard.

She gives you a look, “He’s my first boyfriend. Plus, guys didn’t look my way. In places like Arizona and California, I’m just another girl.” she explains.

You raise your eyebrows a bit at this. Understanding the rush, “Paul’s mine as well. I guess we’re experiencing relationships for the first time…together.”

A small smile doesn’t leave her face, “Okay, I’m shocked at you. You’re so easy to get along with.”

You shrug.

"I still haven't forgot that you told me you were going to let me peak into your sketchbook."

"I didn't forget." you say you say sweetly and a muffled knock appears at the door.

"I'll be back." she says as she gets up. Not thinking anything of it, you stretch your legs out in her spot until she gets back. Except, she doesn't come back right away.

You move closer to the cracked bedroom door as you hear voices beneath you. Almost being a pro at eavesdropping, you don't let your footsteps touch the ground hard under you as you sit close.

"They're dangerous, Bella." you hear a male voice, almost sounding like bells chiming.

"Well, Y/N's not. She's human. Like me."

"Who's dating someone dangerous, Bella. Who loses their temper faster than we do." the voice says, in that same bell like voice.

It was entrapping, it made you want to hear him speak a long speech, knowing you would never get bored. It was unnatural.

"Edward, that’s not fair. Plus, you won’t even explain why."

"What wouldn't be fair is if something were to happen to you." he says and silence fills the air.

You brace yourself to move, thinking he must've figured out that you're listening in, but luckily, he continues, "I know you're a selfless person, but Alice has been dying to spend more time with you."

Hearing her frustrated and impatient sigh, "Edward, I like spending time with people who have the same interests as me. Being Barbie Bella is tiring." she says.

"I know. You can just talk to her." he says.

"I have. I seriously don't believe for a second that you think she listens."

Silence then trickles into the air again as you give up, not even letting your position be known. It seemed like as soon as you sat on the bed, Bella came back in.

"Who was that?" you ask her.

"Just Edward. Are you hungry? I went shopping this week." she says as if nothing happened.

Wanting to know if your curiosity serves you right, you nod. Following her down the wooden steps, the perfect male is sitting stiffly in the kitchen chair.

Glancing at Bella, she opens her mouth, "Y/N. Edward. Edward, this is Y/N."

It was as if he tried to figure something out, as you kept your eyes on him. You didn't say anything. It reminded you of the look of concentration that he displayed when you saw him and Bella in Seattle.

"Hello." he says politely, but something in his actions felt like he wanted to say more.

"Goodbye." you say and you turn to Bella, "I should get going."

"You just got here. Please." she says, her eyes screaming for you not to go. Her hand even takes the extra length to be placed on your arm as you try to turn on your heels.

Sighing, you hated being in uncomfortable situations. You definitely didn't sign up to be a third wheel.

"I'll just be in the living room." you tell her. She's pleased with this.

"Cool. I can um.. Start dinner for Charlie then." she says with a small smile.

Giving her a tight smile you drop it as your back is faced towards her. Flopping on the couch, you press the buttons on the remote. Not knowing what to put on, you just let Animal Planet run its course. You didn't have to think.

The narrator finishes up the showing of the son of a lion being kicked out of the pride. The melodramatic music begins as the son has no choice but to leave and wander along the edges of established territories.

"They do it. If there's potential competition." the melodic voice speaks out, you jump a bit as you didn't hear him come in the living room. Out of you peripheral vision, you catch a glimpse of him as he sits stiffly on the other end of the couch.

You could still hear Bella tinkering about in the kitchen.

"I would say cool but.." you say as you impatiently wait for the commercial break to end.

"All it is, is nature." he says back.

You take a quick look at him. You wished you didn't. The amber eyes stared back at you with so much focus, it was uncanny.

You look away. You weren't afraid. It was just unnerving. His gaze was both pierce and intense. You weren’t used to something like this since the first time that you met Paul.

“Your eyes.” you just say as you watch the screen advertise paper towels, in a volume that you know only he could hear. You said it with such obvious clarity. The last commercial smoothly transitioned into the next animal’s day in a life.

“What about them.” he says slowly but steadily.

“They’re a bit..” you say and then smirk but shake your head.

“They’re a bit, what?” he pressed on but still coated with detectable persuasion.

“Unusual.” you say square at him and watch as his lips purse a bit at this. His eyebrows wrinkle a bit.

You then take your eyes back to the television screen. It wasn’t like he was going to do anything with Bella right in the kitchen.

“Is that a bad thing?” he asks with great curiosity as the animal’s day on the screen is paced slow.

“It’s an unusual thing.” you say as your eyes follow the vibrant colors of the safari scenery but to your surprise he chuckles a bit as he coolly says, “Hypothetically, you have something about yourself that’s unusual.”

You go silent as you just shrug him off. He then rises as Bella meets him halfway as she entered the room, her face filled with happiness to see him as she forgets her surroundings.

“Never again.” you sigh internally in your head as you rest your knuckle on your cheek as your arm rests on arm of the sofa. It almost felt more intrusive than Sam and Emily.

“I will leave you both be. Your friend is getting bored.” he says with humor but it was also as if he couldn’t wait to have something pinned on you. The smug smile that he tried to hide wasn’t unnoticeable to you. Bella just looked up to him with longing, but Edward held her close with such delicacy. It looked like a hint of a renaissance painting.

You didn’t expect the look of Edward’s face as he caught your eyes, the smugness slowly died down. It was as if he was reading or watching something in your eyes but you feel very unsettled, casting your glance to just Bella.

Bella then catches your eye and has a sign of remembrance as she then takes a shy hold of your hand as she walks you in the direction of the kitchen.

You felt safe in Bella’s grip but Edward’s eyes burned your skin. He literally watched you the entire way.

“Thank you.” you tell Bella as you politely take a baked treat of hers. She wanted you to try her dinner, but your stomach just couldn’t handle the heaviness of the food due to the lasting effects of Edward. A small desert was passable. It would let you buy time to think of responses if needed be.

She passed your welcomes and you both sit confortably at her table.

“He’s gone and I miss him already.” She says as she chuckles and nervously run a hand through her hair, “Is it like that with you and Paul?”

The fact that she acknowledged Edward’s absence, your tense shoulders dropped as you nod. It was true, you did miss him even at that moment.

Thinking of him, shuddered a wave of confidence through you. You were tired of tiptoeing.

“Do you both have a supernatural connection?” you ask.

She blinks as she looks at you with a wave of shock.

“Bella. It’s okay. I know Edward is not really human.” you carefully say as she still try to peddle through the river of denial.

She stutters out, “How? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You are so not leaving me here by myself in this world.” you say to her and it shuts her up.

Her face goes even as she then looks down and then around. She shakes her head a bit as she lets out a small breath, “So, is Paul..?”

You didn’t want to deep dive into his abilities with someone who was dating his opposition.

“Something of that sort. But promise me something please.” you say.

She nods.

“Don’t tell Edward that…I know.” you say.

She nods again but speaks, “He can’t read my mind anyway.”

You make a gesture of not knowing what she’s talking about. She makes it crystal clear. You then wondered, what did he see in your mind? It shouldn’t have been too much since you spoke out to him directly, but you just didn’t know for sure yet.

“Lucky you.” you say as she lightens her mood, feeling relaxed and at ease again.

“I feel like it’s good that we’ve met. I mean it’s nice to know someone who’s like me, a human, who just knows what it’s like to keep secrets. Especially, about stuff like this.” she says with great relief.

You give her a smile as she has her feel of gratefulness.

Her hand stayed on the steering wheel as she looked over to you. Not only did common interests overlap with one another, she liked having you around a lot. You felt bad about the idea of completely cutting her off.

“Text me.” she says as you push open her truck door.

“Okay.” you say back as your feet touched the pavement of the beach parking lot.

Sitting on the rocks, your mind wandered free as dusk began to settle in. You call Paul but there’s no answer. He’s still not home by the time you walk back.

You felt a sense of lonesome, the shower that you took didn’t soothe you. Stealing Paul’s pillow, you clutch it close to you as his faint smell of him dance in your nostrils.

It was very dark but there a luminary light that pushed your footsteps forward. Walking towards it, you felt a strong hand try to pull you back but one hand started to multiply. Soon, hands were trying their best to keep you from going into the light that you were walking in.

You woke up with such urgency, you almost didn’t notice Paul smushed into you. Sighing in relief and tracing your hand on his cheek, he stirs in his sleep. As you let your mind play a supercut of your dream, Paul’s eyes slowly but tiredly blinks open as he catches a glimpse of your unsettled demeanor.

Reaching to kiss your jawline, he makes sure that you’re okay.

You nit pick at the breakfast in front of you. Paul watched your movements without saying anything.

“I think I’m going to stay back.” you say to the silent air.

“What?” he says, as if you were crazy. You don’t say anything as you watch your breakfast instead of eating it.

“Look, you don’t have to take someone with you I was just-“ he starts, but you didn't like the way that his eyes showed how he blamed himself, you cut him off.

“It’s not about that. I don’t know. I just feel like….” you say but sigh out as your shoulders hunch a bit.

“What is it?”

“I really want you to be the one to come with me.” you just quietly say.

He takes your hand. “Believe me, I feel the same.” he says.

Your mind goes to thinking again. You really want to tell Paul that Edward has an ability. It scratches at your brain. You wondered if this was something that he knew. But, the millions of questions would come and he’s been trusting you more. If he found out that you were around Edward to know, things would go back to square one.

“I'm so fucking tired.” he comments. You look up and see that he’s telling the truth. The bags under his eyes show proof of his claim.

The hand that he still had in his, rose to up and your lips place a kiss on the back of his.

"Can we trade places?" you say to make him feel a bit better.

"No way. Let your passion be the only thing that stresses you out." he says seriously. He rises as he announces his departure. Crushing you close to him, you gladly drink him in to the point where he had to be the one to unwillingly pull away.

Sitting at the kitchen table, you doodled in your pad to blow off the thoughts in your head. Barely paying attention to the direction of your strokes. It wasn't until you reached for your eraser, is when you look at the small picture that you drew.

The eyes were very familiar and striking. You tear out the page as you crumble it tight and toss it in the trash. All it did was bring out the memories of what those eyes held. A certain face floated in your head so you tried your best to distract yourself.

Calling Emily, you find out that she’s home. You smile at this. Your smile fades when she then drops, "Kim is here."

Retracting your interest, "Okay, well, I guess I will talk to you later."

Hanging up with her, you figure fresh, cool air should help you take your mind off of things.

You walk outside, the wind blowing as you take your time with your steps. Headphones were snug on your ears as you listened closely to the lyrics. The song, you and Paul’s song, came on and soothed you. You both came a long way since then. Your mind travels as you sit on the cliffs.

As you let the piece of charcoal glide in your small booklet, a quote stuck out to you.

“Hypothetically, you have something about yourself that’s unusual.”

Whatever that means. But what did it mean? Was it just a get back for your comment? The color was unusual. But most of all, you felt frustrated that all you wanted to do was clear your head but your mind kept going back to your interaction with Edward Cullen.

You scribbled frustratedly on the page, cursing for him taking up the space in your mind. It started to slowly turn into bitterness. Even his smug demeanor that he displayed the previous day was even on loop. As badly as you wanted to shake him off, you just couldn’t.

Sliding your headphones off while they were leaking with music, you let out a deep sigh. You definitely weren’t going to stay here and miss out on leaving town.

“Can you please at least come for dinner? I haven’t seen you in so long :) “

You read Emily’s text as you made your way down the cliffs. You were there for a while. Not responding, you just walk to her home.

Opening the door, the aroma of the supper that she cooked, smacked right into you.

Her body soon followed as she hugged you tight. “It’s been so long!” she gushes, happy to see you. Hugging her back, you squeeze her to let her know that you missed her as well.

Sam says hello to you as you touch his shoulder in passing. Moving into the living room, you find Paul sitting on the same sofa as Jared.

Wrapping yourself up with Paul, Jared jokes how a hello to him would be nice.

“Sorry.” you replied with nervous laughter. You didn’t get a chance to talk much after, Paul’s finger guides your face to his as he gets a taste of you.

“The bedroom is that way.” you hear an unpleasant voice suddenly say.

Ignoring it, you didn't even notice Jared telling her silently to stop.

You rise as you take Paul’s hand with you to sit at the eating table next to you.

Thank goodness the conversation was light but you were still silent, besides laughing at Paul’s humorous remarks that he would throw out.

You stood at the sink as laughter was floating out of the living room. Taking the dish out of the soapy water, you began to scrub with a sponge as the headphones softly sang songs in your ears.

With the dishes done, you go into the living room to join everyone.

Your phone drops out of your pocket as you move to sit next to Paul.

Kim moves to pick it up, she steals a discreet look at the notification that came across your screen. This action goes unnoticed as she stretched her phone out to you.

As much as didn’t want to, you mutter out a thanks. Paul moves your body to plop you onto his lap.

“Congratulations, by the way. Paul told us about your upcoming trip.” Jared tells you with a supportive smile. You gladly tell him thanks.

“What trip?” Kim asks. You say nothing as Sam just says, “She’s been a graced a wonderful opportunity.”

“How come no one’s told me?” she questions but the looks that went her way let her know that she couldn’t have been serious.

“Because we didn’t.” Paul impatiently says to get to her to be quiet so he can focus back on the television.

She scoffs a bit as she says, “I’m sure she told Bella Swan all about it.”

“Are you serious right now?” Jared asks her. You felt a bit bad that he was feeling irritated. Noticing the slight change in his normal vibrant self, he seemed defeated and had no ounce of optimism left.

“I am. She drops me for some vampire lover. I’m offended.” she explains.

“Kim, if you’re not going to control yourself, you have to go. We’re choosing peace tonight.” Sam tells her.

Kim sits back with her arms folded like an immature child as the only thing that was left to be heard in the room was the action on the television.

You volunteer to fill the popcorn bowl to escape the tension. You missed being over here a lot and you tried your best to not let a certain someone ruin it for you.

You check your notifications and it was a proposition from Bella.

“My birthday is in a few days and was wondering if it could be just us if you’re still here. I don’t want to do anything over the top.”

You type back, seeing indeed that the month of September had arrived.

“I honestly would have to let you know.”

The microwave beeped as you pulled the hot bag out and carefully rip it open. You shuffle out the contents into the bowl and hold it as you make your way back into the living room.

You hand Emily the bowl as you let yourself fall gracefully onto Paul’s lap.

Paul’s hand had a mind of their own as the darkness hid him circling your belly. Leaning back further on him, you thought nothing of it.

His hips did one smooth shift as your body rolled with him, an electrifying feeling, shot through you.

It was a bold move as his hand never leave the spot he had it placed but you sit up a bit, still feeling him beneath you.

You catch a peak at his face when he stares back at you with audaciously.

“I think we’re going to head out. Paul could barely keep his eyes open.” you say as you watch his face slowly turns into a smirk.

“Aw? Already?” Emily asks crestfallen.

You “help” him up with your hand as he rises from his spot.

“You know the time for tomorrow, right?” Sam asks Paul.

Paul stretches his limbs out as he nods.

It was your turn to stretch the limbs of your arms. Your hands were filled with the wrinkled sheets that were tight under your grip.

Paul’s hands caressed the skin of your back as your body rocked back and forth on his sleek stiffness. It scraped deliciously in your insides as your breathe out as name. His grunts were heavy as he then whispered out, “Shittt.”

He pulls back and emptied himself on the sheets as his hand couldn’t catch all of himself.

As you fit a clean sheet on the bed, you speak out with mellowness, “We shouldn’t do it raw anymore.”

He takes a glance at you as he speaks back, “Why? You don’t like how it feels?”

A heated feeling in your cheeks scorched as you smooth out the side that you tucked, “N-no. I mean, I do.”

“Then what’s wrong?” he chuckles a bit as he tosses a pillow onto the bed.

“You almost came in me.” you tell him in a small voice, you both have been intimate many times but talking about sex with him still brought shy, fluttery feelings.

“I always pull out in time.” he says with confidence.

“It only takes one time. And you didn’t …One time.” you say as you remembered the time when you woke up to both of you still intertwined. You’ve never felt so amalgamated with him. As vice as it seemed, it felt so good.

“I can smell when you’re ovulating.” he says casually and lays back on his side of the bed, looking to you to join him.

“I just don’t.. Want any mistakes.” you tell him cautiously as you cover yourself with the large cover.

“Do you want any mistakes, someday?” He asks as he pulls you to snuggle against his warmth.

“I don’t know. At least, not now.” you tell him with gentle shrug. You then look to him to watch his face, which was full of contentment. “What about you?” you ask him.

“To be honest, yeah.” he says and you feel trapped in his gaze as the honest truth shone through. He then reached over to turn the lamp off.

Early the next morning, you decided to take it easy by staying in. It was raining hard and the wet leaves stuck to the sidewalk and the streets.

It’s been a while since you’ve used your good paint and just went to work on a wooden canvas that you forgot you had. Halfway through making the inchoate, rainy, autumn scenery, you’ve decided to give this as a gift to Bella.

After you spread clear varnish onto your work, you decided to check your email.

A subject message stops you dead in your tracks.

The name alone stopped you in your tracks.

ALICE CULLEN

SURPRISE PARTY INVITE !

Not even clicking on it, you scroll. There was just no way you were going that deep.

Clicking on another inbox message, John had sent your ticket. You check the dates and see that you’re going to be gone for an entire week. You’ve also seen that you were leaving two days after Bella’s birthday. Sitting back with your arms crossed, you look at her gift.

[babykittenteach]

Welp. Some art rambling below.

So, any time I've ever posted ink drawings here, they did not involve a pencil sketch. The reason for this being I've found time and time again that the pens I most like will smudge and smear when I go to erase the pencil underneath, so I freehand a lot. Or I do an initial drawing in a lighter ink and come back in a darker one. Yes, fineliners don't do that but they're not the kind of pens I like working with; I tend towards gel or, for a while now, fountain pens. Today for the first time in a long time, I gave a pencil sketch another go because I haven't tried it on this kind of paper, and lo and behold! I could erase the pencil with very little smudging of the ink.

But instead I wound up tearing the paper whilst erasing. *hands* Since it was ruined at this point I went ahead after taking this pic and did some experiments with alcohol ink markers --a medium I'm largely out of-- and got some odd results. The paper is Iroful, which fountain pen nerds have probably seen talk about in recent times, and strangely the alcohol ink did bleed through but not at all like you'd expect for paper this thin and not enough to touch the blotting page underneath. So that was interesting. It did make the colors much fainter though, and it utterly donked up the one non "anime girl white" skintone brown I had on hand, so that's never seeing the light of day.

I might try doing the sketch in alcohol, coloring blocks and then doing FP as liner next time, but we'll see. I would actually like to have an idea of what kind of process I wanna use for inktober this year if I'll indeed be sticking to ink instead of throwing up my hands and saying artober and doing digital.