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berry-potchy · 9 months

Text

Indulge Me

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x f!reader Rating: Explicit (18+ only please) Word Count: 7,072 Summary: You're a Spiderwoman who has ended up pinned underneath Miguel O'Hara in his lab one too many times. You're not sure what you are to him or what to call your relationship. And that would've been fine until your neediness kicked in and made you catch feelings. Surely, Miguel taking you to his room for the first time means something right? In which your lack of understanding of Spanish and denial of the hints Miguel drops are keeping you from realizing you already have what you want. Tags/warnings: pwp, p in v sex, rough sex, praise + light degradation, multiple orgasms and overstimulation, face sitting/riding, breeding kink, soft dom!Miguel, needy reader, recording, mirror sex adjacent, implied chubby reader, undefined relationship but soft feelings sprinkled in there as a treat, no use of y/n so lots of Spanish nicknames to make up for it, reader does not understand Spanish, brief sexy use of spider webs A/N: this is quite literally just a self-indulgent fic with most of my favorite Miguel x reader flavors. Not beta read but I hope you still enjoy it! (Translations are the end!)

Also on AO3

Edit: turns out some parts got messed up while I was posting here on Tumblr D: it's fine on AO3 though which is weird because I copied from this post instead of my doc because this has the correct spacing. Everything should be fixed now.

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Miguel has you standing in front of him between his parted legs as he sits on the edge of his bed. Even in this position, you were barely any much taller than him, only needing to tilt your head a bit to meet his red eyes. He looks at you from your face, down to the swell of your breast where his eyes are joined by a taloned finger on its journey downwards. You can’t help but let out a soft sigh as the sharp talon cuts through your spandex suit, fully exposing your soft chest to the cold air of his quarters. He would argue that the stretchy translucent mesh with a spiderweb lace design on your chest area didn’t do shit to cover the fullness of your tits anyway so he didn't understand why you even bothered with it. It was for style obviously but riling up Miguel O’Hara was a great bonus. You let out a shaky breath as he continued further down until he stopped right below your navel.

“Que linda,” he says in that low sexy voice of his, very different from the usual grumpy tone he uses to chastise you. He snakes his arms around your hips, bringing you closer to him and his hands find your plush bottom, giving them a rough squeeze. You are getting so worked up by how much attention you are getting from your usually sulky boss. Your heaving chest is right in front of Miguel’s face and his lustful gaze almost feels like it is burning you. The heat spreads from your chest downwards until it pools in the pit of your stomach and between your legs.

“You ruined my suit,” you pout, not really that upset about it. You think it was hot honestly but you just want to tease him “Am I supposed to go on missions with my whole chest out now? Walk around the HQ flashing everyone?”

“Of course not,” he says, rolling his eyes. He continues to take in your figure, hands gently kneading soft flesh on your sides “I’m making you a new suit. Should be done very soon. It'll be the same design but it will offer far more protection than this flimsy thing.”

“Making me a suit just like yours? What so you can control it hm? Deactivate it whenever you want to fuck me?” You laugh, wiping the imaginary tear in your eye until you realize Miguel is silent and looks like he’s been caught red-handed. You lightly slap him on his arm, flustered. “You’re a pervert, you know that?”

Instead of answering you, he brings his head forward to close his lips on a clothed nipple, his tongue flicking the sensitive erect bud. Your mouth opens as you let out a soft gasp at the sensation and you can feel the corner of Miguel’s lips twitch into a slight smirk. He teases your nipple alternating between flicking it with the tip of his tongue and giving it an audible suck. He pulls away for a split second only to give the same attention to your other nipple. You weave your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer to your tits. Your other hand is holding onto his shoulder for support as you urge him to keep going with your whimpers. His hands haven’t stopped exploring your body. His wide hands warm against your hips, ass, thighs, everywhere he can touch, squeezing your softness, committing every curve to memory.

“Migueeeel,” you whine, rubbing your thighs together to try to relieve the ache between your legs. You appreciate the attention to your nipples but your cunt was throbbing with need. You are so close to ripping the rest of your suit and panties off because the way the fabric is sticking to your wet pussy is becoming too uncomfortable.

“Miguel what, muñeca?” He pulls away, licking his lips. Those red eyes are now looking straight into yours and you feel yourself shiver. You try to look away but Miguel grabs your chin to keep you facing him. “Eyes on me. What do you want? Use your words.”

“Please,” your cheeks burn in embarrassment but Miguel just raised an eyebrow at you, unamused. “Stop teasing please.”

“Ah I see okay,” he says, taking his hands off you before standing up and walking to his closet.

“W-wait what are you doing?” you almost trip on your feet, knees feeling weak, as you chase after him. You grab his arm, tugging at it to get his attention as you pathetically look up at him.

“You said stop teasing so I’m getting you a shirt so you can go back to your world and get some rest,” he says as he looks through the neatly folded shirts in his closet. He’s stalling, pretending he was trying to choose one but he’s messing with you. There is no way he would let you go home tonight without getting at least a couple of orgasms wrung out of you. You aren’t leaving until he made sure you were stuffed full and dripping with his cum. You aren’t leaving tonight. Period. He knew you were too far gone with lust to figure that out yourself.

“Miggy, that’s not what I meant please,” you sob, pressing your body against him. Just the thought of being left unsatisfied was painful. “Please, Miggy, I need your mouth. And your cock please”

He finally looks at you and pulls you closer to him by your waist. You run your hands along his still clothed chest, feeling his heart beating with yours. You look up at him with glassy eyes, begging him to finish what he started. He coos at how desperate you were for release.

“You want my mouth and my cock?” he hums, still teasing. He easily lifts you up with one arm supporting your ass to carry you back to his bed. He’s carried you multiple times before but it never ceases to amaze you how he does it so effortlessly. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, hips bucking trying to get some friction against your still unfortunately clothed cunt. “Where do you want them, muñeca? You have to be more specific. Which one do you want first?”

“On my pussy, please. I need your mouth on my pussy. Miggy, I wanna cum on your face” you sobbed against his neck “And then- and then I want you to fuck me. I want you to fill me up with your cock. Only you can fill me up so good, Miggy. I need it.”

“Good girl,” he whispers right next to your ear, making you shudder “Now, was that so hard to do? Was it hard to tell me what you wanted?”

“Yes!” you bite his shoulder and you feel satisfaction when you hear him break character and snort. He shakes his head, smiling fondly while he sets you down on the bed.

"Qué voy a hacer contigo?" he brings his lips to your temple to whisper more softly "Qué haría sin ti?"

Your heart skips a beat at the gentleness of his tone. You’re not sure what he said but the genuine affection is evident. Intimate moments like this with Miguel are slowly becoming more and more frequent and you decide that you don’t mind it. You even crave it now. A satisfied sigh leaves your lips as you lean further toward him.

He pulls away but the fond look on his face doesn’t waver. He slaps your thigh, making the soft fat jiggle just how he likes it, as he moves to get settled in his bed.

“Put those lovely hips and thighs to use and ride my face, conejita.” He lies down, anticipating, patting his chest to encourage you to sit down.

You didn't need to be told twice. You rip off the rest of your suit, your heated skin meeting the cold air of his room making your nipples pebble painfully. You quickly take off your panties and toss them aside with your ruined suit. You squeal as you scramble to get on top of him. You position yourself on top of his waiting mouth, straddling his face but just hovering over his face, hands on the headboard to keep yourself steady. The smell of your arousal is almost too much for Miguel to bear at this proximity. The urge to lock you in his room for the next few days and not let you out until you’re thoroughly fucked and bred is getting hard to ignore. His fangs extend as his animalistic urges surface, yearning to bite you and mark you as his.

“Are you trying to tease me now? How can you ride my face if you don’t sit?” Miguel’s tone is deeper than it was just a second ago. There’s a certain roughness to it, a growl in his voice that makes your hole clench around nothing. He grips your thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh, waiting for you to sit down or he’ll make you. He’s trying to be patient, turning his head a little to mouth at the fat of your inner thigh. He licks a stray trail of your slick up your thigh, stopping just a breath away from where you both want his mouth to be. You feel him sigh, savoring your taste like he just drank the finest nectar, a promise of what’s to come.

“But Miguel–” you yelp when he suddenly pulls you down by your thighs and you immediately feel his tongue lapping at your aching cunt, his nose bumping deliciously against your swollen clit. He wasn’t going to hear your excuses. The only things he wants to hear coming out of your pretty lips are your moans and whines for more. The way Miguel is sucking and devouring your wetness so eagerly makes your head spin and your grip on the headboard tighten to steady yourself for a moment. He teases your hole, licking around the small opening before plunging in as far as he can, feeling you clench around his tongue. He grows impatient at your lack of movement and starts rocking you back and forth on his face by himself. He flattens his tongue for you to grind your pretty folds onto.

“Miggy, feels so good,” you whine, bending over to look at him from under you. He’s so pretty like this, forehead scrunched up from how focused he is eating you out, and when you get a peak of his nose and his cheeks, they’re shiny from being soaked by a combination of your wetness and his own spit. You take one of your shaking hands off the headboard to brush the hair away from Miguel’s forehead only for him to guide your hand into a fist, grabbing his hair, urging you to use it as leverage to ride his face harder. And who are you to say no to that?

You move your hips to try to match the pace he set for you, your thighs burn but you pay it no mind. Not when you feel that familiar delicious knot forming in your core. Your head lolls to the side and your eyes screwed shut as you immerse in the pleasure, grinding your cunt harder on Miguel’s tongue, nose, chin, anywhere you can get some friction, getting desperate to reach your orgasm.

“‘M gonna cum, Miggy. Gonn’ cum on your face” you whimper. You take your hand off the headboard and bring it to your tits, squeezing them, pinching at rubbing circles on your pebbled nipples. Miguel doesn’t stop lapping hungrily at your pussy, shaking his head from side to side as much as your grip on his hair allows. He groans as he watches in awe as you chase your own pleasure.

So close.

You’re so close you swear you can almost taste it.

Miguel could tell from how your hips stuttered and your pace growing frantic, rougher. He gives your clit another suck and that finally pushes you over the edge.

You feel the sweet release consume you like wildfire, your body tensing, back arching, toes curling. You can’t even hear yourself scream Miguel’s name, curling into yourself as he continues to suck on your oversensitive, pulsating clit. His hands held your shaking thighs steady, not letting you close them. It’s all too much.

“Miggyyy,” you sob pathetically, pawing at his head and his grip on you. You finally manage to pry an eye open only to see him watching you intently “Too much. I can’t-”

He doesn’t stop. He continues to lick stripes at your puffy folds and flick the sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue albeit slower this time. He takes one of his hands away from your thigh and plunges two of his thick fingers knuckle deep inside your needy hole. He manages to find your sweet cushiony spot and puts enough pressure on it to make you see stars. That burning hot coil is back just mere seconds after your climax and if you could think at that moment, you’d think it’s unfair how he seems to know your body too well, knows just where to touch to make you unravel.

He adds another finger into your cunt, stretching you out for his cock, curling them inside you, and hitting your sweet spot over and over again. You know that it’s not enough, that it’s nothing compared to what’s coming for you. No matter how much prep you do it's going to be a tight fit and you can’t wait to be stretched to your limits once more. You stop fighting him, needing to chase after your orgasm, grinding your clit again on his tongue as he pumps his fingers in and out of your slutty hole.

Soon enough, you feel your second orgasm wash over you. You spill over his face, making a mess on his pillows and bedsheets. Your limbs go numb and this time you can’t even form words, just sobbing, babbling nonsense as your body shakes on top of Miguel. You would’ve fallen over if it wasn't for Miguel supporting your back with his free hand. You frantically tap his hand as you hiccup a pathetic “no more.”

Miguel relents and lets you catch your breath for a second. He kisses your puffy cunt one more time before moving you to lie on your back on the bed. He lifts your head to turn over the soiled pillow and fluff it up before getting you settled comfortably. You watch as he catches the dripping wetness from his chin with his equally soaked fingers and sticks them into his mouth, eyes rolling back and moaning at your sweet taste. You feel your cunt throb at the lewd action and you can’t help but let out a needy whimper from the back of your throat. It’s so unfair how much he affects you.

“Ay, pobrecita,” he coos at your flushed face with fat tears running down your cheeks as he nudges your legs apart with his knee and settles between your parted legs. “too much for mi conejita to handle? I know you can take more. Your pussy is so slutty, isn’t she? So needy. I doubt two orgasms is enough.”

He cups your face with one hand, thumb wiping away a tear on your cheek, his other hand brushing your hair away from your face, knowing how much you hate the feeling of it sticking to your skin. Your lower lip is jutting out in an adorable pout that he can’t help but kiss, catching your lip between his teeth. You scrunch up your nose and push his face away as you try to steady your breath.

You can see his naked chest rise and fall faster than usual, his mouth open to catch his own breath. You didn’t even notice when he disabled his suit but your eyes are thankful as you drink in the sight of his warm brown skin, stretching across the expanse of his unfairly defined body. He looks like he was sculpted by the gods themselves, taking extra care to give him the most perfect proportions. How lucky are you to see this masterpiece up close? It would be a sin to not enjoy the view.

Your eyes trail down from his strong broad shoulders to his massive tits, and even further down to see his cock standing up proudly against his navel, the head dripping beads of precum and smearing it against his abs. Pride blooms in your chest as you realize that he’s just as affected as you are.

Your throat suddenly feels so empty. You lick your lips as you tear your eyes off his cock to look up at his face only to find his hungry gaze meeting yours. His eyes glint with danger as he takes in the sight of you in your post-orgasm haze, seemingly plotting his next move.

You didn’t have to wait long because, of course, he can’t keep his hands away from you.

He moves closer, making you spread your legs further. His hands grab at the back of your thighs to push them towards your torso, your knees almost touching your chest. Your dripping cunt twitches as it’s exposed to the cold air. Your hole clenching on nothing, begging to be filled.

“Que rico. Podría acostumbrarme a esto,” he says, his voice deep and rough with lust as his hands rub up and down your thighs, squeezing, feeling you. He drinks up the sight of you, so bare and exposed, all for him to take. “I could watch you like this all day. Maybe take a video of you right now so I can watch your pretty cunt pulsing, crying for me, anytime I want. Or…”

He takes his cock in one hand, running his thumb on the swollen tip to spread the beads of precum around, pumping his shaft with a few languid strokes. You yelp when he slaps his thick, heavy cock against your puffy folds.

“I could tie you up like this and keep you here for my own pleasure.” He starts moving his hips at a torturously slow pace, sliding his length along your wet folds, getting it lubricated by your own slick. He brings his hands back to your thighs and pushes them even further until you’re practically folded in half. “Keep you here to breed. Fill you up with so much cum and you’ll stay like this so it will surely take, yeah?”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Miggy” you hiss as the tip of his cock keeps bumping into your throbbing clit “What’s stopping you from doing so huh? You have your web and your little surveillance bots. Put them to good use.”

“Of course, you’d love that, my pretty little slut,” he chuckles, shaking his head as he lines up the tip of his cock with your hole. Your eyelids flutter as you hold your breath in anticipation, waiting for that delicious stretch of being filled by his massive cock.

“Eyes on me, cariño,” he commands and you obey, looking up at him from under your lashes “That’s it, good girl.”

He starts to slowly press his cock into your greedy hole. Inch by inch, he sinks in, knocking the air out of your lungs. Midway, maybe, you can’t tell, there’s just so much of him, you start to feel a little faint, your shoulders tense and your mouth stuck hanging open. You feel so full of him, almost like he’s going to split you apart.

“Breathe for me,” he coos as he slowly presses more of him into you, filling you up more than what should be possible. He drapes your legs over his shoulders, his chest pressing against the back of your thighs as he uses his now free hands to cradle your face. You suck in a breath as he instructed and try to even out your breathing. “There you go. Keep breathing. Relax for me. Thaaat’s it. My sweet girl. So good for me.”

You preen at his words, warmth flooding your chest and going straight down to your pussy. His hands stay on your cheeks, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your skin as he pushes the last few inches in. You put your hands on top of his as you lean into his touch. He starts to grind his hips slowly, gently, getting you used to his size. The coarse dark curls at the base of his cock tickle your sensitive clit and the head of his cock softly probing at your cervix makes you roll your eyes back and whimper from the fullness.

“Eres tan hermosa. No sabes lo que me haces, cariño,” he leans in to capture your lips into a deep kiss. Soft and gentle until both of you wanted more. One of his hands finds the back of your neck to tilt your head as he pleases as he tries to devour you. His tongue licks into your mouth and his fangs graze your lips with every movement. You hum against his lips as you feel him start to pull his hips back, letting his dick slide halfway out before snapping his hips forward to plunge himself back inside, his balls lewdly smacking against your ass. And he keeps doing it over, and over again making you moan oh so wantonly.

“Estás tan rica. Estás hecha para mí, mi amor,” he whispers against your lips. The breathlessness and the hint of desperation for release in his voice make you shiver. His pace picks up, thrusts growing rougher with it. The wet sounds of him sliding in and out of you and skin slapping against skin echo around his room. The only other sounds you can hear are your combined sounds of pleasure, calling out each other’s names.

You pull on the hand that Miguel has on your cheek to lace your fingers together, his large hand easily dwarfing yours, his talons folded back to not hurt you. Your other hand slips between your bodies, travelling downwards to feel where you two are connected. There’s a deep rumble coming from Miguel’s chest and he presses your sweaty foreheads together, looking at you through half-lidded eyes. Your tight heat is milking his cock so perfectly and at this rate, he’s not going to last long.

“Miggy,” you whine, keeping your eyes on his. His irises seem a little more brown as he looks at you so tenderly, making you feel like you are going to melt into a puddle of goo. He brings your joined hands to his lips to kiss your knuckles and you think you really just might turn into goo.

His thrusts get messier and more frantic You feel the familiar coil building up in your stomach. You lift your hand from between your legs to press firmly against the area below your navel and the sensation is electrifying. You can feel his cock pistoning in and out of you from where you are touching. You can feel him rearranging your insides, molding your pussy to accommodate him and only him, ruining you for anyone else.

“Mi niña hermosa, mi niña linda. Mía. Toda mía.” he moans into your ear, almost whiney and you know he’s near the edge. He starts peppering kisses on your neck, licking, sucking, grazing the sensitive skin with his fangs but not sinking them in yet. He takes the hand you aren’t holding to rest on your hand on your lower stomach. His thumb reaches further down to stroke your clit earning him a shaky whine from you.

“Cum for me again, hermosa,” he lifts his head to look at your flushed face. You’re sure you look like a mess but to him, you’re more beautiful than the brightest twinkling stars on a clear night sky. “Let me see your pretty face when you cum.”

And with that, you’re gone, pushed over the edge, screaming his name, squirting clear liquid up to his chest. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your hold on his hand tightens, and your legs on his shoulders shake and flail from another intense orgasm. There’s ringing in your ears but you faintly hear him cooing at you, whispering sweet words you can’t quite understand.

Miguel is still fucking into you with messy, frantic thrusts and ragged breaths but it doesn’t take long for him to follow, not when your velvety walls are pulsing, contracting on his dick. He puts a large hand on the space beside your head for support, his claws tearing through the pillowcase, as he drives his hips into yours a few more times before spilling inside you with a deep growl. He paints your insides with his cum as he rides his high with a few more shallow thrusts. You clench around him trying to squeeze as much cum out of him with your tight hole and he whimpers your name.

Both of you pant in unison, trying to catch your breath after that life-altering orgasm together. You turn your head to the side to kiss the inside of Miguel's wrist next to your head. Miguel doesn’t want to move. Everything is too perfect at that moment. You’re perfect.

But he has more plans for you tonight.

He takes your legs off his shoulders to wrap around his waist as he adjusts the both of you so he can lay down comfortably on top of you, putting most of his weight on his elbows on the bed. His dick still plugged in your hole, keeping his seed inside and refusing to part with your tight heat.

“Miggy,” you softly call him, looking at his relaxed face resting on your shoulder, eyes closed.

“Hm?”

“... pull out.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“Fine, but only because I want to,” he grumbles, clearly not wanting to pull out. He gets on his knees again so he can at least watch your sloppy hole fluttering as he slowly pulls out. A thick milky ring of your combined fluid sits at the base of his cock. His eyes darken as he sees your cunt trying to clench at air and his cum starts to drip out of you. He can’t have that. He collects the trail of cum with his fingers so he can stuff them back inside of you.

“Miggy, come back here,” you pull at his hand and when he doesn’t budge, you add “You can just cum inside me more later. I need cuddles.”

That gets him to leave your fucked out hole alone. For now. Miguel kisses your stomach up to the valley between your breasts to your neck and lingers on your lips. He goes back to his earlier position on top of you. You drape your arms around his neck as you hum in contentment against the kiss. He smiles and moves to mouth at your sensitive neck, planting soft kisses, licking and sucking as he moans and pants in your ear.

“Miggy, I’m sleepy now,” you turn to look at him. You know what he’s doing. You know that he’s trying to turn you on again. And it’s working.

“You can do one more, mami. One more for me,” he says. He’s almost pouting, almost begging “You said I can cum in you again.”

“I didn’t mean right away. I just came three times already” you whined wrapping your arms around his broad chest. you want to feel him close.

“Mmm, you can cum four times. Maybe more because you’re such a needy little whore,” he murmurs into your neck, not stopping his ministrations. “My cum slut who loves being bred. We’re not going to end the night without your tummy full of cum I promise you that, cariño.”

You roll your eyes at him but you don't push him away and instead start playing with the short curly hairs at the back of his neck, ignoring the way your pussy shivered at his perverted words. You find comfort in his warmth and weight on top of you. You inhale his familiar deep masculine scent and it almost lulls you to sleep until you feel something wet and hard poking at your thigh.

“How are you hard again?” you say in disbelief as you look down and sure enough, Miguel’s dick is erect and ready to go for another round.

“It’s been a while since we had sex and my hand could only do so much to make up for your absence, cariño,” he huffs as gets up on his knees to turn you over and slap your ass. The sound of his palm meeting the sticky wet skin of your ass is undeniably lewd. “And what about needing to get you pregnant does not make sense to you? Get on your hands and knees for me. That baby is not gonna make itself.”

You plant your knees on the mattress and present your ass to him but you don't bother to lift your upper body from the bed. You keep your face down against the softness of his pillows. You didn't want him to see the giddy smile on your face from hearing that he hasn't slept with anyone else. His cum starts dripping out of your hole, coating your clit with creamy white and Miguel almost cums again on the spot.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” His large hands grab at your ass, kneading them. His thumbs spread your puffy lips apart so he can watch your cunt try to keep his cum inside. You groan as you force your arms to lift you up. “There’s my good girl.”

He smacks your ass which earned him a yelp from you. His lips curl up as he watches the flesh of your ass jiggle from the impact.

“Get on with it,” you whine, wiggling your ass to entice him to move faster. For someone who wanted to stop at the third round, you sure are impatient to be filled again.

“You are going to be the death of me,” he chuckles as he guides his cock back inside your wet heat. “There you go, mami. Back where it belongs.”

You moan loudly as you feel him grinding his hips, driving his dick as deep as he can reach inside you. Your eyes flutter close, as you savor the stretch of your hole around his fat cock once more. You couldn’t agree more with his words.

You hear Miguel from behind you input a command on a device. It beeps obnoxiously like it’s mocking you. It’s the last thing you want to hear while he is balls deep inside you, his girthy cock stretching you deliciously and filling you up so good. You think to yourself what was so important that Miguel can't put his gizmo down and enjoy the feeling of your warm, tight pussy on his dick? Right after insisting you can go for one more round?

You are about to snap at him for being ungrateful until a hologram appears in front of you. It shows a live video feed of his very own bed and a clear view of your fully naked self on your hands and knees getting ur insides rearranged by your boss. Your hair is a mess and your makeup is all smudged from how he made you cry from all the begging and overstimulation earlier. And he looks so big compared to you, having to bend low to align his hips with yours. You didn't even notice the recording devices planted around the room until now from how your brain was so fogged by lust. There seem to be at least three around the room from different angles. Well, it turns out he wasn’t just bluffing when he said he could record you earlier.

You wonder if he always had those set up. You haven’t really been to his room before. The few “encounters” you had with Miguel happened in his laboratory on his silly little platform, both of you too consumed by lust to think about moving to a more private area. It’s rather unlikely that they’re for actual safety reasons when they all just record the same area. You entertain the idea that him taking you to his room tonight is not just a spur-of-the-moment thing, that he might have all of this set up for tonight for when he has you writhing in pleasure on his bed. How thoughtful, you think. It makes you clench around his dick.

"You really are a pervert," you quip to annoy him. Clearly, the urge to mess with him hasn’t been thoroughly fucked out of you yet. You didn't even get to laugh at your own childish remark when Miguel abruptly starts thrusting his hips without warning, harder this time, dragging out a surprised whimper from you. His tip is bullying your cervix, testing the line between pleasure and pain but you love it. Your eyes meet Miguel's intense red glare on the screen.

"You're still talking," he tuts, his head shaking like he's some kind of pet owner trying to reprimand a disobedient pet "Let me fix that, cariño.”

He brings his large calloused hands back on you – where they belong, you think to yourself, echoing Miguel’s words. His left hand is firm on the flesh of your waist, you are sure they are going to bruise once he’s done with you. His other hand fondles your breasts, the sharp talons on his fingertips lightly grazing your soft skin. You know that when you look at yourself in the mirror tomorrow morning you’d look like you barely got away from being mauled by a feral beast, evidence of how Miguel O'Hara had his way with you and how you enjoyed every single second of it.

You cry out his name, chanting it like a prayer. He’s so deep inside you that you can almost feel him in your chest, his thrusts fucking the air out of your lungs.

“Miggy, Mi…. Mig– ah, ah Mi– haaaa –guel ahhh”

Your eyes roll back at the continuous assault on your sweet spot and your cervix with every deep thrust. High-pitched whines come out of your throat as your arms give out from under you, making you fall face-first on the soft mattress. It all feels so good but overwhelming. You think you’re going to pass out.

“Que rico, mami,” he pulls your hair so you can face the screens. “Look at yourself. Beautiful. Taking my cock so well. Don’t worry. I have this all recorded if you’re too cock drunk to watch yourself now, cariño.”

You can't say anything back. You try really hard to come up with something but the only word that comes out of your mouth is “please” over and over again becoming progressively needier each time. He wraps his arm around your waist to pull you closer to him, his chest flushed against your back, allowing him to rock you back against his forceful thrusts.

“Gonn’ make sure I put a baby in you tonight, cariño,” he growls in your ear. “I can’t wait to see your tummy swell in a few months. You’ll look divine, I won't be able to take my hands off you even more.”

His eyes are back to a glowing red as they meet yours that are glazed over by tears and lust. His hand tightens his hold on your hair making you tilt your head further, exposing more of your neck for him to suck bruises on. Your tits are bouncing freely at his aggressive pace. Coupled with the high-pitched moans coming out of your mouth, it’s all so pornographic. It makes you feel like liquid fire is running through your veins and pooling into your stomach.

“You’re gonna cum for me? Let go. Come on. cum for me, mami,”Miguel grunts in your ear, his hand on your hair letting go so he can greedily grab at your tits. “I wanna feel your cunt pulsing on my cock. Can you do that for me? Of course, you can. Going to milk me dry.”

And just like that, you throw your head back on his shoulder, eyes screwing shut as another wave of orgasm crashes down on you. Miguel follows closely, filling you up with more cum that drips down your thighs and on the bedsheets. Your body slumps back against his, too tired to keep yourself upright. You don’t even have the energy to open your eyes, content with feeling Miguel’s warm body against yours.

“I got you,” he says, wrapping his arms around you and moving you to lie down on the bed. You hum in contentment, letting him care for your tired body. He bends down to plant a kiss on your forehead before he pulls away. You miss his touch already.

A beeping sound lets you know that he turned off the monitors. You feel him taking the soiled bedsheets, getting up from the bed to get fresh ones. You have half the mind to reach out to him and tell him he can clean up later so you can cuddle now. Your mouth, however, doesn’t want to move so instead you groan as you blindly reach your hands out.

Miguel chuckles at your antics, walking back with fresh sheets and a damp towel to wipe off the sticky mess from your body. He sits next to you on the bed and brings the towel to your tear-stained cheeks, gently dabbing the area around your eyes to get rid of the messed up traces of mascara and eyeliner. You take your hand to rest on your chest trying to calm your wildly beating heart.

The comfortable silence, unfortunately, doesn’t last long. You hear the unmistakable voice of Lyla cut through the air.

“Heeeey, bossman! Heeeey, girlie!” she drawls and your eyes snap open as you snatch the sheet from Miguel’s hands to cover yourself.

“Ay, coño! I thought I said no alerts tonight,” Miguel looks pissed, rubbing his face in frustration before moving to turn off his watch. “It can wait until tomorrow.”

“Wait, wait! Sorry to interrupt the big night, Miguel, but it’s an emergency. Trust me you’ll want to fix this now,” Lyla raises her hands in surrender before Miguel presses a button. She turns to you, looking apologetic and asking for help “Then you can go back to babymaking, right, dollface?”

“I–” you flush, choking on your own words. You begrudgingly turn to Miguel, your lower lip caught in between your teeth. You lower your eyes as an ugly feeling crawls up your chest.

“It sounds important. You should go,” you whisper, not trusting your voice to speak up any louder. “I’d say I can be back up but I can hardly move so you’re on your own, big guy.”

Miguel sighs and gets up, telling Lyla to send him the information and that it better be worth his time.

You are already sexually satisfied and tired – that’s what four orgasms could do to you – but you are a little upset and sulky that Miguel has to be called in for work right now. Stupid anomaly or whatever it is. It’s probably important and a universe out there might be in grave danger. But you can't help feeling like shit about it though.

You like how soft Miguel gets when he cleans you up after sex. You like it when he picks up your tired form and whispers soft words to you in Spanish. Plus, you were looking forward to cuddles. What’s the use of having sex in his room on his bed if not to cuddle afterward and wake up next to each other the next day? And then, suddenly, in the early morning light, realize that you’ve been madly in love with each other all along. Okay, you are more than just a little upset.

Miguel notices you pouting and your eyes getting glassy with tears as you try to roll off the bed. He shoots his glowing red web at you, trapping you where you are before going back to readjusting his watch.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, walking back to the bed as he makes sure his suit is all good and ready for the mission. He kneels on the bed to drag you to lie on your back.

“What are you doing? I'm going to take a shower,” you sniffle trying to avoid his eyes “I’ll take care of myself. you should go”

He hums as he takes both your wrists in one hand and forces them above your head to secure them together with his webs.

“Miggy?” you look at him and there’s a spark of mischief in his eyes. He darts his tongue across his lower lip and you feel a shiver run up your spine.

He doesn’t respond. He only keeps looking at you like he’s going to devour you once more. He brings your legs up to the position he had in before, knees to your chest, cunt fully exposed to him. You blush and your heart starts pounding in your chest. He shoots out more of his web, making sure you’re comfortable and your legs are securely tied in that position.

“Good?” he whispers and you nod in response “Words, cariño.”

“Perfect,” you moan, your chest heaving with need. He smiles at you fondly, caressing your cheek with a curled finger, and plants chaste kisses on your temple, your nose, and the corner of your mouth until he reaches your lips. He hums in contentment as he savors the feel of your lips against his. Then, he pulls away reluctantly and puts on his mask. He sets his watch to the right coordinates opening up a portal to wherever the universe needs saving.

“I’ll be back as fast as I can. I’ll make sure that anomaly regrets ever being made for interrupting my plans for our night,” he grumbles and gives you one last kiss through his mask for good luck. “And then it’s going to be all about you for the rest of the night, hm? I promise.”

He walks into the portal backwards so he can look at you until it closes and takes him away. Your heart flutters in your chest, anticipating what’s to come as you feel the webs digging deliciously into your soft flesh.

•🕷️────✧˖°˖🕸️˖°˖✧────🕷️•

Translations:

Que linda - how pretty

muñeca - doll

cariño - dear/darling

Qué voy a hacer contigo? - What am I going to do with you?

Qué haría sin ti? - What am I going to do without you?

conejita - little rabbit

pobrecita - poor thing

que rico - “[you] look good” (literal: tastes good)

Podría acostumbrarme a esto - I could get used to this

Eres tan hermosa. No sabes lo que me haces - You're so beautiful. You don't know what you do to me

Estás tan rica. Estás hecha para mí, mi amor - You feel so good. You were made for me, my love

Mi niña hermosa, mi niña linda. Mía. Toda mía. - My beautiful girl, my sweet girl. Mine. All mine.

mami - mommy (as an endearment for a partner)

coño - pussy

A/N: so many thanks to my friend who helped me with translating and giving me tips on some better Spanish terms to use 🙏

#miguel o’hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara headcanons #potchy-writes #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x female reader #chubby reader

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situationalirony13 · 13 days

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spoiler warning for monkey man?

i'm probably never going to be able to stop talking about monkey man but let's just start with the ending.

Characters who can't outlive their narrative destroy me. But here's the thing – I think traditionally we do a poor job conveying the point of the trope. It'll read more like this character, who's only ever wanted to accomplish one thing, dies immediately after they accomplish it – and what's left is a story with a character-sized hole in it. It feels mostly like despair and hopelessness because it feels like the character never got to experience peace. The character, so wrapped up in anger, fear, sadness, etc – never experiences just being on the other side of this chasm they built for themselves.

There's a critical difference between characters who can't outlive their narrative and characters who won't. Characters who won't outlive their narrative can still have dreams, plans – the heartbreak is real because they saw a life for themselves on the other side and they'll never get to experience it. But most of the time we treat characters who can't outlive their narrative in the same way, and filmmakers trust that we as the audience suspend our disbelief and hope for the characters to have an epilogue.

Bobby/Kid/Dev Patel never had plans for what's next. We saw barely-there flashes of who he must be outside of his avenging mission, enough to cobble together this idea that yes, he deserves so much more. But it was evident from the first second of this film that there was nothing waiting for him on the other side. Bobby/Kid/Dev Patel could have never survived the narrative. There was no reality of an after for him after he avenged his mother – no practical way for him to build a new life. But in those last seconds, when he turned to the mural depicting the carnage of Hanuman and he had the far-away thought that it was over, we saw Dev Patel channel this relief in this doomed character.

We as an audience exhale with the character, we feel the release from his duty the same way he does.

He falls, the camera follows his center of gravity, and the screen cuts to black. The narrative begins and ends with him. He begins and ends with this narrative.

#monkey man #dev patel #i've maybe definitely spent too long thinking about this movie #doomed by the narrative #but also dooms the narrative?#i just love this movie so much

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matrixbearer2024 · 2 months

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I Hate Mondays

Vox x CollegeStudent!Reader

A/N: This interlude was probably WAAAAAY overdue- but here it is! I was thinking of how to continue though eventually decided to let Vox kind of just deal with the whiplash of his chill downtime with you and his chaotic somewhat unhealthy workplace. I didn't want to really include conflict, just him again dealing with things he has come to realize but not entirely accept- it's Vox, when will he actually genuinely accept that he'd fallen fast and fallen hard for someone because they treated him like a decent human being? Either way, it's mostly fluffy stuff for now before I add your interlude idea requests into the story soon :)

A/N: I've also seen people sometimes write Vox with a little bit of an impostor syndrome, so a lot of his doubts and anxieties will kind of be reflected in this interlude. It'll all be okay though I promise! Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy and happy reading!

There's a saying that everyone hates Mondays.

Manic mondays, monday blues, monday's monster, etc.

And for Vox, after the weekend he's had with you?

That saying couldn't have been more true.

From a relaxed and chill two days, back into an insanely stressful and borderline chaotic work environment.

And as he stared at the stack of documents in front of him-

He didn't even want to begin.

The overlord would've repeatedly hit his head against the table if it didn't risk cracking his screen.

The last thing he needed was to worry you because of something stupid.

"VOX! I NEED YOUR HELP WITH THIS!"

"VOX! I NEED YOU TO DO THAT!"

"VOX! GIVE ME THIS THING!"

"VOX!"

Left, right and center-

His colleagues were definitely not short of any demands.

And it was slowly driving him insane from frustration.

They could be asking quite literally anybody else, but no.

They just had to bother him.

And the overlord was just in no mood to deal with the chaos right now.

With his packed schedule full of broadcasts and meetings-

Vox's patience was really running thin.

It got to the point where simply chose to ignore the other Vees after a while.

Not responding to their calls or texts as he holed himself up in his monitor room.

Was his daily life really this crazy?

It's such a jarring change from how he felt like during that weekend with you-

So much so that he was really having trouble believing it.

Still, he threw himself into work.

As the king of technology in pentagram city often would-

And he completely lost track of time.

So after a while just staring and tabulating some analytics on the many screens in front of him-

The last thing he expected to see was a notification from your chat to pop up.

"Hey, how you feeling? You seemed kinda off on your broadcast earlier."

Vox wasn't thinking of replying to you, he only noticed what he'd done after a reply was sent anyway.

"Color me surprised, I didn't think anyone would notice!"

He really had to stop reacting to you first and just think about it.

Still, his fingers were already flying across the keyboard before he could stop them.

"Vox, it's me. Of course I would notice. Did something happen?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary doll, just getting used to the grind again."

He cringed slightly reading that message over, did he really just send that to you?

You could be laughing at his poor attempt of using new slang for all he knew.

"That is how you use that word right?"

"Yeah it is lol. Can you drop by the hotel later when you're free? I know you're busy so it's okay whenever."

That made his heart skip a beat, something the overlord slightly berated himself for.

Sure, he'd come to the realization that he did in fact love you to some degree.

But it's not without clear hesitation.

He could very well be mistaken anyway.

You were just... friendly like that.

Yeah. Friendly.

"Why'd you ask? Miss me already dollface?"

"Don't be an idiot. I just wanna hang out with you."

Vox found himself needing to read your message over a few times after you sent that.

He still couldn't quite understand why you liked spending so much time with him.

Time was valuable and time was money.

At least in the literal sense when it came to his occupation.

And still you just wanted to spend yours with him.

Him.

No wonder Alastor made a jab at you having a bad taste in companions.

He was... not really the best in hindsight.

Not that he'd ever admit that fact, his pride wouldn't allow it.

But in regards to you?

You definitely deserved better than what you got.

"Besides, you need to take breaks from your work every now and then. Vel's been texting me nonstop that you already look like shit."

The overlord couldn't help but chuckle from the irony of that statement.

Velvette, though not as much as a certain moth, still contributed to his stressful day.

But it was still nowhere near as bad.

Vox dreaded having to go out and deal with the irate pimp again.

Another tantrum, maybe a screaming fest even?

His mood was souring even more just thinking about it.

"Actually, did you eat anything at all today? Or do you just skip your meals you workaholic TV demon?"

"That's pretty rude dollface."

"Am I wrong though? Anyway, answer the question Samsung."

Now how should he answer this?

It took one glance at his internal clock to confirm he'd actually skipped both breakfast and lunch.

Well, he didn't think you'd count just drinking coffee a good breakfast.

Would you really get upset enough to storm Vee tower if he replied honestly?

Actually you would- Vox wouldn't put it against your chaotic nature-

Hm... maybe he could lie to you just this once.

"I'm fine doll, seriously. Don't worry about it."

The overlord tiredly sighed.

He had another broadcast in a few minutes, whether or not he felt up to it.

It didn't help that there was this... heavy feeling in his gut that wasn't there earlier.

Was he feeling guilty...?

For lying to you?

And it wasn't even really a lie, just- an omission of some details.

A hand flew up to cover his screen, kind of like a facepalm.

You really have changed him, and he didn't catch it until too late.

"Vox, I worry about you regardless. When you throw your job into it as well, then all the more I'm concerned that you're not taking good care of yourself. I know what it's like to get lost in responsibilities, just... be more mindful of yourself okay?"

For someone who wasn't supposed to care, wasn't supposed to get close to anyone unless it had advantages-

The overlord couldn't help but feel genuinely touched reading your message.

Sure, you'd sent similar things before and even told him outright at times-

But it always had the same effect.

You cared about him, probably to the extent he unknowingly did for you.

Whether it was intentional or not, he found himself just a little bit happier because of it.

Most of the world he'd built up around himself was fake anyway, smiles and all.

So this little shot of genuine care...

Really struck him.

Though just as that train of thought went and left the station-

Vox just as quickly put a stop to it.

That fuzzy feeling in his chest had bloomed once again and he wanted none of it.

Well, more like he couldn't bring himself to continue entertaining it.

It was probably fine when the both of you were simply oblivious.

But now he felt like he needed to make a conscious effort to stop falling for you more.

Lest he risk wrecking everything just because he'd guessed wrong.

What would you see in a guy like him anyway?

"I will, thanks dollface. Anyway, I have a broadcast in a few minutes so I'm afraid I'll have to cut this short."

"It's fine go and do what you need to do, just drop by any time you need to okay? I'll be here."

Your flatscreen companion couldn't help but smile from your words.

Again, the way you treated him was just so... different from everything he was used to.

His tech empire, his company, his power and status-

It didn't matter to you.

Not at all when you were alive, and it clearly even carried over now that you were here.

How you could be so nonchalant about everything, Vox wouldn't ever understand.

Nor would he probably be able to comprehend.

But that wasn't really much of an issue compared to other things he felt towards you.

"I will. Thanks doll."

With that reply, the overlord went and got ready for his final broadcast of the day.

And it went as one would've expected.

Totally sideways off the rails and into a burning trash heap.

Fucking Mondays.

The broadcast itself would seem fine to the viewers, but behind the cameras?

It was practically a shitfest cranked up to eleven.

The cameras were rolling as usual and Vox was playing up his typical telecaster charm-

When Valentino decided to show up and throw a hissy fit then and there.

Sure, the viewers saw none of the chaos or madness-

But you knew something was up with your TV headed companion when his smile looked a little bit too strained on air.

It's not something everyone else would notice, but you would.

You always did.

And you were proven right when you heard some knocking on glass.

Ah.

There he was.

Vox was somehow sitting on one of the many ledges and railings that encompassed the hotel, it just so happens that this one was close to your room.

Didn't his broadcast just air?

You quickly shook off the surprise and confusion to open the window.

"Vox? What are you-"

"It's been a long day, wasn't in the mood to see the others. Just you."

"Then get in here, wanna talk about it?"

When your companion shook his head, that's when you knew his day was probably upside down when it came to anything going right.

Not to mention that for once, he actually dropped by and looked quite as bad as he felt.

His bow tie was undone, his shirt was untucked and messy-

Plus his coat and striped vest were nowhere to be seen.

Probably left at the tower you'd guess.

"Dude, you look like shit."

Vox rolled his eyes at you with a chuckle, moving to sit down on the floor while leaning back against the edge of your bed.

You would've told him to just sit on the mattress itself- but he probably wanted to lean on something so you just joined him.

"I've been told, almost nothing went right today."

"Guess that's why they call it a manic Monday huh?"

You both shared an odd look before laughing.

Of course it would be the stupid joke to lighten the mood.

But that was always how you both broke the ice, and if it works- it works.

"Perhaps, but I don't think it was ever this tiring before."

You simply shrugged, leaning your head on his shoulder and staring out in front of you.

Vox subconsciously moved an arm around you when he did.

He was way too tired to really care or stop himself though.

"Maybe it never was, or maybe you just got used to it. Vel did tell me that you never really took a break before you met me."

"Seriously? What else does she spill about me then?"

"Nothing too important, just that you're a whole lot different from how you were two years ago."

When your companion let out a thoughtful hum, that's when you knew he agreed.

Funnily enough, Vox wouldn't say much of anything when he was actually giving something a lot of thought.

So the fact he wasn't really talking as much as usual also spoke volumes to you about his state of mind.

Because as annoying as his comments and charming jokes could be sometimes-

It was fundamentally what made Vox well- Vox.

Which made him just shooting short replies and sentences a little bit more concerning.

"Hey, can I give you a hug?"

"What? Why would you need to ask that? You've already hugged me before."

"I know, but this time it genuinely looks like you really need a hug. This is different from the ones when we just joke around."

You almost wanted to smack your overlord companion when he just gave you a confused look.

Granted, this was hell so what the both of you shared was no short of peculiar.

But the point still stands-

Had no one ever given this idiot an actual hug before?

"Look, just tell me if something feels wrong okay?"

Vox didn't really know how to respond to any of your words.

What made your hugs from before so different from now?

Though when he'd suddenly found you straddling his lap, the overlord bit back a surprised noise.

What the fuck were you doing?!

He found himself tensing a little when you laid your head on his chest, your arms encircling behind him as well.

Oh what the hell was this-

"Just relax you weirdo, I don't bite."

You calmly laid there and listened to his pulse, it was a little faster than you'd hoped for but didn't mind.

The gentle hum of his circuits reminded you of a working desktop computer, which you found a little silly considering he was supposed to have a TV for a head.

Again with the bionic biology- you were getting more than curious-

Eventually though, Vox did calm down enough to actually live in the moment.

The smell of your shampoo, how warm and soft you were-

His arms moved of their own accord and reciprocated your hug.

His posture slackened and the overlord found himself properly relaxing with you.

It was just so... calm right now.

And he was so so tired.

What he would give to just be like this with you every day.

The next time you looked up to check on Vox, you saw his screen dimmed and a screensaver of his company logo just bouncing around the edges of his face.

Ah, so that's where he got it from.

You wondered what it was ever since he slapped it onto your laptop-

You couldn't help but smile when the reality finally hit that the tech overlord had fallen asleep during your cuddle session.

Sure, he was probably really tired-

But he trusted you enough to just let go and relax.

That made your heart swell with joy.

He didn't need to say anything about his day for you to know he needed comfort.

After all, he could tell you about it when he was ready to.

You did wonder why emotional comfort was such an odd concept to Vox-

But it was something you were more than willing to teach him.

Besides, you both had eternity down here in hell.

So you had all the time to spend giving your flatscreen companion the care he deserved.

Your pleasant thought bubble popped when you heard a weird noise from the overlord though.

When it happened again, you didn't take more than a second to connect the dots.

Especially given how late it was into the evening.

Did this idiot even eat anything today?!

No wonder he dodged your question earlier!

You'd let him sleep a little longer but you would wake him for dinner.

Seems like you were totally right to worry about this habits.

Stupid workaholic TV.

He was lucky you liked him.

#vox x reader #hazbin hotel #vox #get off my screen series #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #vox x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox x reader

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filthgarbage86 · 1 year

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@xtravrgnoliveoil "I BEG OF YOU TO WRITE MORE OF EDDIE CALLING READER BUNNY IM BEGGING "

Ask and you shall recieve >:)

Context: Eddie had been trying to figure out which nickname to call you for a while and was trying out different ones. He noticed that some did make you blush a bit but recently at a party, he had called you one nickname that elicited an interesting response from you - bunny.

Here is part two, off of my first part here, you don't need to read the first part to enjoy this part!

CW/TW: Heavy Nickname use (bunny, princess, baby, etc but mostly highlighting bunny), lets be real it's just smutty smut smut, fluff so sweet it'll rot your teeth, very angst and a lil cringe, masturbating and getting caught by Eddie (gasp), both receiving, feminine pronoun use (good girl, pretty, sweet pea, etc.), riding d!ck, just general steam if you will or might.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Ever since that party, you've been on edge.

"“hiya bunny, how’s my sweet baby doing?”

you liked it.

"“Ohhh what’s this, bunny? Do you like being called that?”

you don't know why but you need to hear him say that to you again. you had never felt something so deeply before but you wanted nothing more than just to be a good, playful bunny for him. That name made you feel warm and wanted and needed and you had never felt something more desired. You were luckily already at Eddie's trailor waiting for him to come back from band practice, getting fidgety from anticipation. What could you do? You wanted him to call you that again but you didn't want to be too needy or forward about your wants like that. It's embarrassing... isn't it?

You thought about what he said that night at the party. He mentioned "I’ll treat you like a good little bunny too. All you have to do is look at me in the eye, and say so.” you shivered at the thought, the whisper of the memory creating tingling by your ear and neck. You were already so sensitive. You couldn't wait. You needed something.

You went to his room, put on one of his shirts, and laid in his bed with nothing else on. You just laid there and took in Eddie as much as you could in his absence. His room was messy but it wasn't horrible. He was very him. It smelled like old joints and cigarettes, incense, cologne, and something sweet. It was delicious and it was making you high off of the thought of Eddie. Wanting to be good for Eddie. Wanting Eddie.

You found yourself just thinking about him so much you started reaching downwards, slowly playing with yourself and soon enough you are a dirty little mess. you are soaking his sheets already, you know it but you can't help it. You keep thinking about him holding you close and whispering more in your ear. You're thinking abut how strong but gentle his grip on you is, how he can be so kind and firm at once. You were whimpering, moaning, begging for eddie. eddie.

Eddie had walked in about 5 minutes ago and heard some noise coming from his room. He had put down all his stuff and was determined to be as quiet as possible, hoping to god you didn't hear him. He's watching you struggling to get to that one spot deep inside of you, a spot only he could get to. You were near tears and begging under your breathe. "please eddie please please please... wanna be a good bunny. wanna be good. please. please. please."

Eddie growled. Oh my gods, you wanted him to find you like this. This wasn't just accidental, no. you were hoping that he would walk in on you and that he would find you looking like a the dirty, filthy, little bunny you are for him. And there was no way he was going to disappoint you.

"Yes princess, yes baby what is it, what do you need?"

He is on his knees beside the bed, swiveling your body around to the edge so that he was face to face with your cunt. He's pressing sweet, generous kisses into your legs, your knees, your thighs, his grip unrelenting. You're looking at him through hooded lids, your pupils engulfing your eyes, you were completely taken over by lust. You were in another headspace entirely. Normally, you'd be so embarrassed that Eddie found you like this but right now, you just needed him desperately.

"I want you Eddie, I want you so so so badly. Please please please" He places a sweet kiss on your clit before sucking so intently that it ignites you immediately. You're grabbing for his head and grasping handfuls of his hair and he moans into your cunt at the sensation. "Good bunny gooooood girl you're so so good for me holy shit" you moan, obscenely. There was that name again. You needed to hear it again. "wanna be good, wanna be a good... good.. good"

Eddie was sucking and licking like you were ice cream on a hot summer day, acting like you were the most delicious treat and added a finger and was slowly just pumping into you with ease. "You're being so good baby-"

You whine. Nonono, you were not baby. You felt like you were going to cry. Eddie stops. "What is it princess, what's wrong?" you start whining and squirming more. Eddie presses down onto your hips and stills you with one hand and caresses your head with the other. "Speak to me, y/n, what's wrong?" you're blushing and crying and oh you were being such a mess.

"I'm don't want to be baby. I want to be... to be.." "You're safe princess, talk to me. You want to be..."

You sit up on your elbows, look at him for a moment and take a deep breathe. This is Eddie after all, this is the man that is so sweet to you all the time and has never, ever made you feel less than or weird or unaccepted. You knew that you were safe to be this way with him. You take one more breathe before closing your eyes, moving up from the bed, getting on your knees, and placing your hands on his thighs. His breath hitches, then you open your eyes, big, wide, and blown.

"I want to be your good little bunny"

Oh. It's all over. Something inside of Eddie switches immediately. Holy shit, how could he not when you're looking at him like that? So eager to please. So ready to be good for him, filthy for him. He's about to ruin you. He stares back down at you and gives you a wide, toothy grin and lights up with a smirk in his eye again. He's gripping onto your chin and jaw, causing your mouth to gap a little. "Oh bunny, is that what you want? Is that why I found you here? Were you preparing yourself for me to come home and ruin you? You want me to use you? Want me to fuck you like the good little fuck bunny you are? You are so fucking pretty and sexy, holy shit-"

You're stargazed by this, nodding quickly at all his words, already feeling dumbed out a bit. You stick out your tongue just a little bit, trying to lick his sadly still clothed crotch, trying to entice him before he's hissing and forcing you to look up again. "Patience bunny, you still haven't told me what you want to do. How should I ruin you first?"

"Please can I suck your cock? Please, I promise I'll make you feel so good" Good god what did he do to deserve you? "You can suck me bunny, go ahead. Suck me really good and maybe I'll give you a reward"

You are rushing to get his belt unbuckled, zipper down, and you pull down his pants and boxers to reveal him and oh my gods you really were just so needy right now. It was hard and long and pink and just so pretty. Already slightly wet from precum from eating you out and all the dirty talk and you didn't want to make him wait any longer.

You take his length in one of your hands and start giving open mouth kissing and licking circles over his slit. He is hissing and bucking already, so sensitive. You were both a mess for each other. You take him inch by inch, covering him with saliva to the point where you're drooling. You're sucking him lazily and also with intention, making sure to visit his balls every now and then, sucking, licking, kissing every inch until he can't take it anymore. "Bunny I'm not going to last long if you keep doing this." "Please cum, oh my gods, please please please eddie I really want you to cum for me" "Oh my fuckin god you're so so so good to me, where do you want it" "In my mouth, in my-" He's groaning and shoving his dick back into you and you just brace yourself on his thighs. He isn't holding back anymore, abusing your mouth over and over and over until finally he's cumming hard and warm slick is running down your throat. He pulls out and opens your mouth to see his seed still all over your tongue. He leans in and kisses you intensely, tasting himself on your tongue. "Swallow bunny. Be a good bunny and swallow." You do. You look at him dazed until you're looking below you at the literal puddle you have below you.

"Oh my gods princess, look at you. You're soaked, what's got you so riled up? You just so desperate for me and my cock? You just want to be fucked so good? It's your turn bunny. On the bed. Now."

You stand up immediately and you want to be good, you really do, but you need him right now. You stand up and you push him back onto the bed and have him in a sat position upright. You swing your leg to where you're straddling him and you're hovering over his dick. You both take a moment to quietly moan at the contact, you know you just had him in your mouth but to be sitting on him had you remembering what you came here for. "I'm so sorry but I need you Eddie, I really really really need you. I want to be good but please, I'm going to go nuts if you don't fuck me right now" You're grabbing his half-hard cock and slowly just sitting and taking him in. Inch by inch, you drop further and further down and you're groaning on the way down, you're so full. He's so big that he fills you up just right with the perfect amount of light stretch. Normally it's a big uncomfortable but because you're so wet, you are immediately moving and rocking down into him.

"Holy Shit bunny, you're so fucking filthy and so greedy, you're so cock hungry you just take my cock because you know you're mine and my cock is yours. Take it bunny, take my cock. It's all yours."

You are bouncing and rocking and clinging onto him, arms wrapped around his shoulders and your whimpering and moaning, begging "yes yes yes please please please so good so fucking good oh my god please thank you" into his shoulder while he continues to give praise after praise. He's holding onto you around your waist, hugging you tight into him and giving you kisses on your shoulders, neck, and whispering to you. "Come on princess, I know you can do it, I know you can cum for me. Take me cock and give me your cum, do it. Cum all over me and be a good little bunny. My good filthy, desperate fuck bunny. Come on, bunny"

You are silently screaming, seizing even a bit from the white heated wave that washed over you. He is thrusting into you, holding onto you and talking you through your orgasm, until finally you go limp. He continues to hug you, securing you safely in his arms has he strokes your back lightly until you're back with him. "Hi sweetheart, welcome back to earth. are you okay?" "mmmhmm" you just keep your eyes closed and lean into him fully. You're exhausted, and you cannot believe you just did all of that. "Well you definitely earned your name. Holy shit, baby, you really do fuck like a bunny." You're blushing immediately and trying to hide in his chest. "nonono i didn't mean that in a bad way, princess. I think it's so hot and so so so sexy, you have no idea"

"You don't think it's weird?" "GOD no, holy shit, are you kidding me? I've never seen something more close to heaven than what you just showed me. I love calling you things that make you feel excited like that. You were so good for me, bunny"

You're blushing, you are fully pink and you just smile at him with a hum. You were good. You were his good bunny. And you were hoping to continue that in other ways too.

"What about you?" "Hmm?" "What do you want me to call you?" You barely notice it by the time you look up, but if you weren't mistaken, it was his turn to blush a little bit. "Well sweetheart, you're gonna have to figure that out yourself, just like I had to" Oh, this was going to be fun.

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Oh my gods that was so much longer than I thought that was going to be but it was worth it because it was SO much fun to write and it definitely got me feeling stuff too. Thank you so much for asking for more and my inbox/ask box is open now! If there are any other requests or ideas, please send them my way! I'm hoping to write a bit more if I can! I hope you enjoyed!

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #softdom!eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things 4 #stranger things #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x y/n smut #eddie munson angst #submissive!reader #bunny!reader

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atzfilm · 8 months

Text

— 『 𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋; 𝐨𝐭8 』 [1] (M)

— 𝚠𝚘𝚗 • 𝚍𝚎𝚛 • 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚕, adjective. having someone who serves as a pillar in your life, who offers a sturdy place to lean in times of trouble. somebody you find yourself thinking about constantly and are completely infatuated with.

❝humans were such strange creatures. wretched in their mere existence. none of the eight were ever truly interested in them until they found you. they just find it strange that despite their status and rank, you'd rather spend time with your lover. that isn't much of a problem, though. one they can fix with ease.❞

〘ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ, ᴍʏᴛʜ, ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ꜰᴀᴇʀɪᴇꜱ〙(m.list)

— pairing: ot8 x reader (this chapter); seonghwa x reader; 10.6k

— note: this is a yandere fic. sensitive topics such as manipulation, gaslighting, murder, and other topics involved with the genre. please heed the warnings and read this work of fiction while keeping this in mind.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: murder, manipulation, blood, blood drinking, torture references, dark magic, kidnapping references, emotional turmoil

You keep your head down, grip tightening as you make your way through the marketplace. Conversations are hushed, eyes warily rolling over your figure. It's enough of an irritant for you to pull your hood over your head. It's easy to spot strangers around here. Unfortunately, you are still one. Despite your relationship with Soobin, none of them have treated you as part of the community. And it’s not as if you haven’t tried. Inviting them over to your shared apartment, greeting them each time you passed by. All of it was met with blank stares, scowls curving their lips. You're sure if you strained your ears enough to listen you'd hear side comments about you; how you don't belong, how you've brought the faeries into the city. None of it is true of course, you stepping foot into town and the sudden disappearances happening at the exact same time are just coincidences.

It's what you hope, at least.

"Hiding in plain sight?"

You step into his shop, catching him placing a book lightly on the shelf. He glances at you, a soft smile on his lips. He steps around the counter and despite the now leaning stack of books in his hands, he leans around it to press a light kiss to your lips, then your forehead. It eases your anxiousness briefly, your hood slipping off your head as you lean against the counter. In moments like this it reminds you of what you’re here for, why you tolerate the silent isolation they give you. If it weren’t for Soobin you would have left town long ago.

"Think it'll keep their eyes off of me?" You murmur. He sends you a sympathetic look, enough for you to think otherwise. You sigh, pulling at loose strands. "I know I know, long shot.”

“They will learn to love you as easily as I have,” he moves back in front of the shelf, glancing at the titles before placing them in the correct spots. “I know that their words are alarming, but you moving in with me has no effect on the town disappearances. Some people just don’t find their way home,” he shrugs, watching as your eyes narrow. “It’s the truth!”

“Bin, they won’t accept me until the people are found. You know that.”

“Then we wait until they are found, y/n. Don’t worry yourself over things like this. It’ll be fine.”

You nod only to calm him down for the moment, your thoughts otherwise. From what you hear, faeries haven’t been seen around this town in decades, most targeting the large metropolitan areas rather than cities with populations in the lower thousands. Interestingly enough, despite your move from the city to here, you have yet to spot one faerie folk. Unlikely that you would. Though, you do hear the older residents speak of them.

The Fae folk are often mischievous, luring their victims into the thickened woods with soft words, tempting sounds. The Rowan trees at the edge of town are often the type of forestry that they reside in, stealing unsuspecting people from their lives. You’ve avoided the path since you’ve learned of it. Moreso now due to the vanishings. Who would have known that the tales of the past were riddled with truth? It only unsettles you more, knowing that there’s other things out there not yet discovered. But still, the information on the Fae is limited. All you’ve found is minimal, unimportant. No human has yet to figure out a way to stop them entirely – or if they are even real at all. There’s a myth that four-leaf clovers stop them in their tracks, so you see the paintings across every part of town. It has done nothing to stop the disappearances. The attempts are all in vain.

What is known is that you do not pray in circumstances like this. The ones that will listen are not who you would like to grant your wishes. You were never religious, your upbringing leaning towards a more lax nature. But even you think that you should keep the missing in your thoughts. At least enough to hope they return safely. You doubt it's the mysterious unseen faeries, but you can't help but try and aid somehow.

“How’d the interview go?” He asks, grabbing your attention.

You slowly sink into one of the seats. “Remember when you told me Ben and you were friends? And that he’d go easy on me?”

He groans. “What did he do?”

“Told me that he’s only doing this interview for you and shut the door. Loudly by the way, then I left. I’m pretty sure he lit some type of spiritual incense to get rid of my bad energy.”

“It’s not that. You know that.”

“Well, I did,” you murmur. “Not so sure anymore. It’s fine, don’t worry too much about it. I’ll get over it.” You strongly do not think you’ll get over it, but you just hope that the thoughts don’t linger in Soobin’s mind too long. He’s insisted weeks ago that the two of you move away from this town and open his bookstore somewhere else, but you’ve convinced him otherwise. The two of you aren’t even married yet nor engaged. You wouldn’t want him to pick up his whole life just because you feel slightly uncomfortable with the stares on you. Or the whispers each time you enter a room. You can handle it. You just need to let out your grievances occasionally.

“Telling me not to worry will only make me worry more, love,” he places his hands on either side of the chair you sit on, lightly nudging your forehead with his. “I love you.”

“I know.”

“And I’m not going to leave you because some townsfolk are scared of a woman who made a popcorn bag catch on fire in the microwave.”

“Soobin!” You nudge him and he laughs, moving away from you and back to his tasks. “You’re such an ass.”

He rolls his eyes, continuing to stock his shelves and tend to customers. You’ve noticed that some are startled when they see you, so you decide to hide out in the back of his store, headphones over your ears to drown out the whispers of disdain and dread. Soobin scolds them each time they do it, but it only seems to drive their intentions. After a few minutes of hearing him argue you decide it’s best to no longer listen.

“It’s your turn, Seonghwa. Continuing to tuck yourself behind literature will not slow down time. Soon the others will come and find where you’ve hidden yourself.”

Seonghwa sighs as he listens to San’s words, peering over the stack of writings. Its grown since the last time San entered his room; piles upon piles of literature is littered around him, some of it very close to the entrance of the room. The others never really bothered to enter his personal space because of it, but San was just in here yesterday. How is it already crowded? Especially considering how neat Seonghwa is. “Must it be tonight? We’ve delayed it for longer.”

“We’re all hungry. You know what happens when it’s taken too far. I’d rather not clean up any of our messes again,” San points out, Seonghwa’s frown only deepening. “It’s our second to last one for this town, then we’re moving on. Too many disappearances will make the authorities search the Rowan. It’ll only cause more slaughter.”

“Then so be it,” Seonghwa says. He hides himself behind the stack once more. The sound of pages flipping fills the quiet.

“Hwa…” His voice drags now, whining, twisting each syllable. “The Seelies are on our backs."

“Fine,” Seonghwa places the book on the top of the stacks, stepping around it to meet San’s eyes. His sleepwear wraps around him, glasses resting at the edge of his nose. For a moment, he finds the sight endearing. “There’s a fair tonight to ward off faeries with their limited resources. Enough of a distraction to steal another.”

"Great!" San replies happily.

"It's a bit cold to have a festival, no?" You say, passing Soobin his bag. He thanks you, placing it on his back. "The harvest will be fine like it always is. And you're a bookstore owner, not a farmer. Ever think about not attending one?"

"It's to support everyone in the neighborhood, y/n. We know everyone, and they'll know I'm not around. Plus, it'll bring a great harvest of customers to the bookstore," He grins at your eye roll at his pun."Come and you'll see. It'll be fun."

That's the last thing you want to do. Be around people who hate you in the middle of the night around burning logs? A recipe for a disaster. "I don't know…"

"They said you wouldn't show," he adds, grabbing his hat off the coat hanger. "This will prove them wrong. Maybe it'll stop the weird rumors that are spreading for no reason? They'll see you're kind and pretty and safe, and have nothing to do with the disappearances. They'll love you like I love you."

You shouldn't care what others think. In fact you really don't care much at all. But Soobin cares deeply, and having you around the bookstore meant that you would have to care. So you give him a brave face, following him out the bookstore and twisting the lock behind you. The two of you have had prior discussions, most ending in a moot point. You care for each other more than anything – you'd give him the world if asked. And he consistently, without falter, told you that he would leave this all behind if you couldn't take it any longer. You've thought it over. If tonight doesn't somewhat boost your position in this town – you're not sure you'll be able to stand it any longer. There's only so many snide remarks one could take.

Soobin and you pass by closed shops and darkened porches, making your way to the gathering. You see the clovers painted on walls and doors, handing up along roofs and banisters. He catches your eyes, smiling.

"Think it makes the faeries go away?"

You purse your lips, "Probably not. They're more clever than we make them out to be." If they're real, you finish in your head. "It stumps me a bit how a formation of leaves would stop them in their place. They love nature don't they? Why would they hate a perfect formation of it?"

"A folktale," he shrugs. "That's why I keep it in my sign. People around here heard about a woman being saved because she had one in her pocket, so they think it'll save them when a faerie comes crawling around." He rolls his eyes. "Doubt it'll stop them."

You laugh along with him, meaningless conversation exchanged between the two of you. Eventually, you make it into the clearing. Most people you recognize already, all giving greetings to Soobin. Some even say hello to you, much to your surprise. You stand a bit away from the crowd, thanking Soobin for passing you a marshmallow and stick. You chat along with him for a while, until something from the corner of your eye bothers you. You don't look, at first, a creepy feeling crawling over your skin. Eventually, you decide it's best to get it over with than continue to feel uncomfortable.

A man across the fire shifts your attention for a moment. He holds a cup in his hand, sipping slowly as he stares into the flames. You’ve never seen him before. Strangers do often enter the fairs to enjoy a vacation away from their homes. Ordinary in itself, yet there seems to be someone odd about him. He wears a long, black overcoat despite the temperature, hair pulled back by darkened frames on his head. His eyes slowly move, almost meeting yours until you look away.

The air around you feels a bit colder.

“You’re going to break the cup if you hold it any tighter,” Soobin laughs, tilting his head to block your view. His smile slowly drops, concern in his gaze. “Are you alright?”

“Fine, just feeling a little chilly,” you murmur, moving a bit closer to the fire. Soobin pulls you into his side, giving you a chance to send a fleeting glance at the man. Unfortunately for you, he no longer stands there. And even more odd, it feels as if he's still there, watching you.

You’re not the superstitious type due to you never seeing faeries, a part of you doesn’t believe in them at all. But rarely did anyone ever come to these celebrations that didn’t live here. The way that the stranger stands out makes your insides twist. Him fading into the darkness – no human could do such a thing.

Perhaps you should have stayed home after all.

"It is a bit chilly tonight," Soobin agrees, tucking you closer underneath his arm. "The winds must be telling a story." You know he's trying to comfort you. You're not hiding whatever is bothering you at all. A bit comical that you're attempting to. You were never one to conceal your emotions, face as literal as a child's painting. "Are my reassurances that boring?" He teases.

You pull yourself from the grip of your thoughts, shaking your head. "I think I should go," voice barely louder than the buzzing of the fireflies. "I don't want you to freak, but something feels off."

"Off?" His brows furrow, glancing around. "Like?"

You're thankful that he always believes in your intuition. "Like there's something in the crowd that doesn't belong. I know it sounds stupid, and I know I'm the last person to believe in that stuff but I just feel it, you know?"

"We should leave then." He stands up, hand sliding into yours with ease. "We've hung around enough already. No need to stay longer than necessary."

"I don't want you to feel like you have to follow."

"I wouldn't let you walk back home alone."

He agrees swiftly and you're thankful for it. Soobin guides you around the crowd of people, exchanging goodbyes as you leave the gathering. Soon enough it's only the two of you leaving the woods. You walk swifter than him. sparing a glance every once in a while to make sure he's close.

“One.”

“Two…”

“Soobin, come on,” You try peeking through the mask he holds over your eyes, but he secures his hold, giggles echoing in your ear.

“Two,” you groan, though smiling.

“Three!” He pulls off the blindfold, stepping away from you. At first, you’re a bit confused, at least until you look at the counter. Your own eyes widen at the sight, looking between it and Soobin. A very unlike you squeal escapes your lips, running over the carpet and piles of books he has yet to put away. You grab the small journal, hand dragging over the ridges and markings. It’s one you’ve had your eye on for months now, hoping and praying (and saving) that no one would be able to buy it before you. Just a week ago, you complained to Soobin – very much on the verge of tears – that you saw it was sold and couldn’t handle it. He comforted you in that moment and told you that things happen for a reason. Back then, you were too distraught to notice the slight grin on his lips as he held you close. You look back at your partner.

He stands there proud, hands on his hips, chest puffed out. Without another word you stumble over the books and things laid about, throwing yourself into his arms. He laughs at the sudden push, steadying himself against the wall. Once he stabilizes himself, he holds you close, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“Like it?”

All you can do is nod into his chest, overcome with emotion. It might be a bit silly to other people, the way you’re reacting to a mere journal. But it means a lot to you. It’s something you’ve dreamed about holding in your hands for years, and he fulfilled your wish. You’re not sure anything else could top this. It's been a few days since the incident in the forest. Your life is as mundane as ever and you're thankful for it.

“I love you,” you whisper. “I really do love you."

“I know,” he murmurs back. “I love you more.”

“Shut up,“ you punch his chest lightly, ignoring the tears falling down your cheeks. “I can’t believe you spent so much – “

“Ah ah ah,” he presses his pointer finger against your lips, shushing you. “You’re not allowed to talk about the price. I know how you are.”

“But it’s so –“

“Beautiful, yes. It’s beautiful just like you,” he agrees, laughing at the frown on your face. His thumb wipes away your tears, “y/n, I know you’ve been trying to hide it. I know you don’t like it here. And I know you’ve been struggling with being ostracized by the townsfolk. I’ve noticed how it’s been affecting you. I’ve asked so many times if it was okay and you insisted that it is even though you feel otherwise. So, spending money on something you can enjoy is the least I can do. You’ve sacrificed a lot for me to have this bookstore. If I can make you happy, I’d do anything.”

Without another word you press your lips against his, a laugh escaping him as he holds you tight.

Seonghwa slams open the door, throwing his coat against the rack. He doesn't bother picking it up, majik floating it back to the hook. The others soon pour in, groaning at the lack of a sacrifice behind him another day more. Just as they begin to scold, Hongjoong enters first. Seeing the anger rising in Seonghwa, he tells the others to leave the room with a brief look. San looks the most worried, but Hongjoong pats him, a silent comfort. Once they’re all gone Hongjoong moves to his potions. He doesn't bother waiting for Seonghwa to speak, knowing that he would just let it brew until he explodes.

"Is it about that human again?"

Seonghwa meekly nods.

"What did you see?" He asks simply.

"A human, there was a human woman. But it wasn't like any other…" He trails off, mind lost. "I cannot explain it. But it didn't even flinch at my attempts to shift its mind. It only blinked at me, Hongjoong. I thought it might be because I haven't fed, so I tried it on another and it worked. How is that possible? Tell me.”

Hongjoong frowns, delicately balancing a glass between his fingers, “Delusions?”

“It was real!”

“Alright, no need to yell,” Hongjoong waves the steam from the glass through the air. “A human woman, you said? And you’re sure it wasn’t a Seelie teasing you?”

Seonghwa begins to pace back and forth. “There was no majik used while I was attempting to enter her head. But there was a wall, something blocking me from it. I tried to penetrate but stopped once I noticed my majik draining rapidly. No one was ever able to do anything like that to me. Never. In all honesty, I would have dragged her here to be tested but her human partner intercepted.”

“It made you out to be a fool,” Hongjoong teases, ignoring the glare he shoots at him. “It’s a human, Seonghwa. There isn’t a shield in their mind that you cannot penetrate. But it doesn’t matter now, you’ve brought the other with you, right?”

"The other…?"

"The human, Hwa. The one to feed on."

“Yes, but –”

“Then let the others feed. We can figure out this strange human later. Look in your literature if you must, but it shouldn’t be anything too odd. Perhaps it’s just an anomaly. Though it happens once a millennia, it is possible.”

“...So I shouldn’t worry?” His brows furrow, looking at his friend. Hongjoong places his glass on the side, moving closer to Seonghwa. He rests his fingers on his collarbone, slipping them beneath his cloak. Said man shivers at the touch, eyes shut. Hongjoong presses his lips against it. “Don’t distract me Joong.”

He grins into his skin, lightly pecking the skin before drawing back. “Don’t worry. After they feed, I can ask one of the others to see what’s wrong. Perhaps Wooyoung, he does enjoy mingling around humans. It might let something slip and we’ll figure out what’s going on.”

Seonghwa frowns, “He’s the last one that should go. San always has to chase after him when he does something unsightly.”

“First of all,” Wooyoung peers into the room through the crack in the door that he created several years ago (long story short: chasing after Jongho with a potion), “I am very well-behaved around humans. I haven’t done anything remotely unapproved in centuries, a millennia, even! One night out to woo the human isn’t going to cause a national tragedy.”

“Ah, do you recall Pompeii?” A voice from the hallway, Mingi probably, fading into the distance. Wooyoung glares, stepping into the room.

“That was one volcano.”

"You are a risk," Seonghwa says simply, turning back to Hongjoong. "It's fine. I’ll go. I’ll monitor and see if there is anything of concern, and I'll report back. It will be simpler that way," he glances at the pouting Wooyoung. "And much safer."

"Whatever," Hongjoong shrugs. "Not this time Wooyoung. We can't risk it. The human might already know more than we think. We have to play it safe for now."

Wooyoung frowns, "Mistake. He'll gut the human before we'll ever get the chance to meet her."

"Hey–"

"He won't," Hongjoong adds. "At least not yet. We have to convince her to come here so we can do testing. He can do it. Now let's go enjoy the feast with the others. The mood is too low around here." Seonghwa tries to catch his eyes but Hongjoong avoids them purposefully, fingers entwined with his as he drags him from the room, Wooyoung close.

Their home is rather large to house the leaders of the Unseelie. Meetings are often conducted from their parlor or garden. Maintained by the majik flowing through the air, they glide along the marble floors, vines curling around their furniture and sculptures. They can hear the music as they move closer to the others, need filling their minds. Feeding is scarce these days – humans are more wary of faeries now than ever. Balls and masquerades are rare, if ever. They've settled for one human every few weeks shared amongst them. Hongjoong encourages his friend to step forward, a sigh escaping his lips as the doors open.

The two enter the room, a disgruntled look on Seonghwa’s face, Hongjoong trailing after. The others sit in a circle as the human dances with San, twirling around in circles over and over again. Seonghwa slides in his designated seat next to Wooyoung, ignoring the grin he sends him.

“You’re tainting my good mood, Wooyoung.”

“Are you ever in a good mood? Weren’t you upset earlier that the special edition of that kit you wanted didn’t arrive yet? Before you left for that human again.”

Seonghwa widens his eyes, “It’s been over a year. They said it would ship out last week, but I never got a notification!”

“Oh woe is you,” Wooyoung teases, leaping from his seat when he sees Seonghwa’s arm rise. “Hey! You said no more flora!”

“It’s fungi this time,” Seonghwa frowns, but drops his hand. Wooyoung lets out a sigh of relief, glancing at the two dancing. The human’s feet are bloodied now, stumbling over the jagged rocks on the ground. It cries, San’s laugh in juxtaposition at the sound. The smell of blood fills the air, Wooyoung's eyes darkening at the scent. The others begin to match his expression, surrounding the human. It does not understand what's happening because of the majik. They die as happy as they live. Seelie have more morally sound ways of killing humans but it is all the same in the end. The Unseelie just like to have more fun. San pulls the human’s face close to his, breathing in its essence. The human grows paler, slowly surrounded by the eight.

The echo of a body falling to the floor surrounds them.

"Sales have gone sour," Soobin reads over the end of day report, his frown creating lines decorating his forehead "Barely hit even today. It's like everyone's forgotten we exist."

"It will get better," you say softly, nudging him with your knee. He would usually give you a reassuring smile, but he doesn't react at all, narrowing his eyes. "Bin…"

"We can't continue like this," he murmurs. "Sales just keep going lower and lower. I've been here forever and it's never been this bad. I mean… Hell, my opening day I made more sales than today. And at that time no one knew I even opened the shop. I just don't get why they're not coming around anymore."

You. It's all you. They're afraid of you.

Soobin seems to read your flattened expression, shaking his head. "It's not you."

"It's been going downhill ever since I've been around. I’m the cause of it, Soobin. We can't just ignore that."

"It's a correlation, not causation. And people came in anyway. There's no valid reason why this would be all your fault, y/n. I promise you that."

“What else could it be then, Soobin? They’ve all told you that they don’t like me. You know that they avoid me every chance they get. People see me in the shop and turn the other way. I’m the one that’s continuing to burden you, and you know it,” you rub your face. “I thought in the beginning, coming here would somehow help you, bring this shop to where we want it to be. But it seems to be the opposite. It seems like… like my presence is everything wrong about this place–”

“You can’t keep blaming yourself,” he protests. He takes a step to you but you take one back, shaking your head. He drops his outstretched hands, a sigh escaping his lips. “Then what do you suggest? If you think it’s true?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “Leave? Not you, just me. To see if the sales pick up. To see what’s really going on around here.”

He slowly shakes his head, “No.”

“Soo–”

“It’s like…” he furrowed his eyebrows. “It’s like you’re ignoring everything I tell you. I’ve told you so many times that we can leave if you’re uncomfortable. That we can leave together, but you insisted on staying here. Dealing with the people. And I know you’re doing it for me y/n, I know that. But I don’t want you to be miserable, and I don’t want you to live like this. I know we’re not at the stage of being life partners yet. I know we aren’t married. But sometimes it feels like you put your feelings below mine, and I just don’t think that’s okay you know? All it does is make me feel worse, and make you feel worse. I want us to talk about things. I don’t want you to leave the neighborhood by yourself. If you’re leaving, I’m leaving. That’s how it’s going to be. We stick together.”

“Soobin…” You close your eyes. “You love it here.”

“And I can find somewhere else I love. It’s not that hard.”

You want to listen to his words. It all makes sense. But he’s dreamt of having this bookstore here forever. In all honesty, even if you had to commute to see him every other day, you would if it made him happy. You’re just not too sure if he would be able to find somewhere else he loves as much as this small town. You’ve never seen him happier, except for right now.

“It is hard, Bin.”

The breath he lets out now feels more irritated. “You’re not even trying to compromise.”

“You love it here, Soobin! I don’t want to be the person to ruin your dream because people around here hate me and are isolating you from the neighborhood–”

“Fuck, y/n,” he slams his hand on the counter. “All we’re doing is speaking in circles. You want to leave me here alone, then what? What will happen when I thrive? Will you just never come here again? What? What’s the solution, hm?”

You open your mouth, then close it. He stares at you waiting for a response, but you have nothing. What would you do if it’s successful? Would you just leave him alone, never coming back? Are you holding him back? There’s so many questions without answers but you know one thing: everyone in this neighborhood hates you. And it’s ruining his bookstore.

“Would you break up with me?” He asks softer this time.

Without question you shake your head, “No. Of course not.”

“You mean more to me than this bookstore, y/n,” he says softly, picking his words carefully. “Plans are often disrupted when we least expect it. I can love somewhere else. We can be somewhere else, anywhere. I’d move across the ocean for you without question. That’s what love is. We compromise, we make choices for us, not just one of us. I’ll be happy with you, wherever we are,” his eyes soften as they look into yours. “Do you hear me?”

You nod slowly, letting him move closer and pull you into his embrace. His touch is comforting, despite the lump in your throat.

“We kill him.”

“He’s well-liked around town. It will be noticeable,” San points out.

“Is he really that significant?”

“Enough so that people would suspect the woman.”

Hongjoong pinches the bridge of his nose. “Maybe it’s a good thing they suspect she’s the reason. She’s upset and we use it to our advantage. Humans need comfort when something unexpected happens in their lives, much more so than us. Her mind will be more open to change. It’ll be wise to have Wooyoung enter her life then. Convince her to come with him after a few weeks of getting to know each other.”

“Wooyoung,” San raises his brow. “Out of the eight of us, you believe that the trickster would be of comfort to a human woman mourning a relationship? What happened to Seonghwa going?”

“He’s a bit preoccupied with affairs from the Seelie. And what’s wrong with Woo? He’s silly, no?” Hongjoong says. “Humans enjoy humor.”

“I doubt she would enjoy it. His silliness is not in line with a human’s. We are Unseelie for a reason.”

“He’s your mate and yet you doubt him.”

“He’s our mate so you should doubt him in this case as well.”

Hongjoong pauses for a moment, thinking. Though he does not know of you as well as the others – they’ve researched your every move since you’ve stepped foot into existence – San has a bit of knowledge when it comes to humans. Hongjoong doesn’t often meander around the outside world. And his duties prevent him from doing so anyway. “Would Seonghwa suffice? We’ll just wait until he comes back?”

San deadpans, only causing Hongjoong to sigh.

“Well I know you hate being around humans, so who else do you suggest?”

There’s a knock on the door, before it hits the wall completely. The two of them turn. Yunho holds Wooyoung by his collar, the younger glaring at him before looking at the two in the room. His grin widens when he meets San’s eyes, a sigh escaping the latter.

“What have you done?” Is all that San utters.

Yunho speaks for him. “Perhaps Wooyoung was the best choice, since he broke orders and went to see her first.” Yunho lets go of him, stepping to the side. “Mingi caught him in the act before anything else could happen. We’ll have to produce another plan.”

“What did he do?” Hongjoong frowns.

“Perhaps,” Wooyoung slowly walks around the room. “I made the decision for us. He will no longer be a problem.” Yunho glares at the shorter man as he meanders around the tables, touching things he absolutely should not be handling. It takes a moment for Hongjoong to realize exactly what he means by his shallow words, a laugh escaping his throat.

“You killed him?”

He shrugs, “It was an issue that needed to be solved quickly. We can decide how to move forward now that the human is dead.”

“Does she know he is dead?”

Wooyoung rolls his eyes, “Of course not!”

“Joong, you should be more angry about this,” Yunho interrupts the conversation. “He blatantly went against our orders and did something that we were forbidden to do without knowledge. He should be punished.”

Despite Hongjoong’s leader position, he’s had a soft spot for Wooyoung since they’ve known each other. Since this Spark began. He was the last to be bound with the others, only making the leader more protective of him. Thus, spoiling him much more so in comparison to the others. It hasn’t truly been a problem. But in instances like this, when they’re so close to human affairs, they need to be more careful. So, despite his softened heart when he gazes at Wooyoung, Yunho is right. Hongjoong had to make an example.

“No stepping foot onto human land until I say.”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened, beginning to protest until he saw how serious Hongjoong looked. He meekly nodded, shooting Yunho a quick glare before exiting the room. Just as the door closes, Hongjoong rubs his forehead, thinking.

San stands in the same spot, glancing between the two. “Was it bloody?”

“Better to not describe it,” Yunho murmurs. “Mingi is there now. He’ll fix it.”

“Great,” Hongjoong sighs. “Well, now we have to conjure up something else.”

–

Days prior

The door creaks as you slowly open it, the smell of wet plywood and a distinct musk of cotton balls fills the home. Your eyes roam over the broken furniture, smashed television and endless amounts of shattered glass across the floor. You hold your breath, stepping into the empty spaces as you make your way around. Soobin is one of the kindest men you know; it’s almost comical to see everything destroyed. He valued everything that was broken. You just can’t wrap your head around the fact that he ruined it all. Because of a silly disagreement? You’ve had plenty of those. Why is this time different from the rest?

It seemed like it was solved that day. But the pressure between you two escalated. Each time the topic was brought up, he’d get angrier. Hated your explanations for wanting to go, and didn’t like the option of you wanting to stay. Nothing the two of you came up with satisfied the other, so it just climaxed into curt greetings in the morning, silent conversations in the evening. But you didn’t think it was this bad. This terrible, for him to leave your shared apartment like this.

Between the destruction, you spot a letter crumbled up on the floor. It takes everything within you to pick it up and see what it says. His words are scrawled, almost unrecognizable. As if he wrote it in a hurry. But it’s as clear as day.

I’m done.

Your eyes begin to shake, fingers gripping the paper so tightly it begins to rip. Without another word you take out your phone, dialing his number over and over again. It sends you to voicemail immediately – until at some point it says the line has been disconnected. He blocked you? He destroyed your shared home, your things, left a crumpled-up letter on the floor and then blocked you?

“Fuck,” you drop to your knees, staring at the disaster around you. You reach for your phone, immediately dialing the non-emergency line to report it. As the operator explains the steps for you to take, your own thoughts making her voice fade. So many questions rattled in your head, one stamped in the front of your mind.

What will you do now?

Now

Mingi rests on the branch, wings tucked to his sides as he observes your home another day in a row. From where he sits, he can see how anxiety ridden you are; cabinets opening and closing, drawers overflowing with clothing, tears staining your cheeks as you try to clean the mess. The others told him that humans felt emotions differently than fae. That they mourn for months on end, possibly years. It's not something he can quite understand, but he empathizes. At least he thinks he does. His head tilts as he watches you. He surely hopes you will forget the human sooner rather than later. Hongjoong promised he wouldn't attempt to coax your mind to fall for their charms. Insisted that you'd do it on your own. But this destruction, it makes him worry.

Not for himself, of course. He feels nothing for you. What he worries about is his spark. About how much they care about you. So even if Hongjoong promised he'd never bind you to them with a spell… well.

Mingi never gave such a promise.

It’s true; he didn't like you. He didn't like that you were in his family's life without even knowing it yet. He didn't like that you were making his spark so happy. How could a human who barely interacted with them have such a pull? It makes no sense entirely. But what else would he be able to do? Coax you into leaving? The others would be angry with him, furious even. The thought of binding you to them immediately vanishes the more he thinks about it. Humans being involved with faeries only lead to bad outcomes. He wouldn’t dare make that certain with a spell.

He knew that humans felt emotions differently than fae. He knew that you were still grieving the loss of you and your partner’s relationship despite it being weeks ago. But he didn't care. He watched as you paced back and forth, your hands shaking as you swept the floor. He watched as you cried, your tears staining your cheeks. He watched as you tried to clean your destroyed home, and he still felt nothing. Well, annoyance, maybe. Having to watch you to make sure nothing strange happens.

He can remember how he came to Wooyoung, noticing the smell of blood over him mixed with majik. Mingi didn’t say a word about it at first, until he noticed the strange look on Wooyoung’s face. The way his eyes dilated, the scattered look in his gaze. Faeries, you see, Unseelie like them, feeding off a human gives them this sort of increase in energy. Makes their abilities much stronger than before. But there are times when an Unseelie feeds too much, too often. When the feeling consumes them, it makes them much more dangerous than before. Mingi hasn’t seen it in a while so it was easy to recognize it consuming his mate. The distant look. Immediately flying to your home, seeing the blood everywhere. It took him so long to fix it up enough so that you wouldn’t notice a thing. Wouldn’t notice the strong smell of death in the apartment. And just as a precaution, he decided to stay and watch you. To make sure he didn’t miss a thing.

You fall to the floor, sobs echoing around the small space. His eyes narrow for a moment, a strange thought almost escaping his parted lips.

He wonders if you will be alright.

“Did she take it well?” Hongjoong asks Mingi, lips quirked when he sees the frown on his cheeks. “It is only a minor setback. It should be over soon.”

It’s several days later when Hongjoong calls Mingi into his room. Mingi doesn’t really like entering, the mess is a bit overwhelming sometimes. But he sees that he fixed it up enough for him to tolerate it. A small gesture of kindness in a strange situation.

“She will be devastated for months on end.”

“She will get over it.”

Mingi’s brow furrows. “Though I don’t know humans well enough to make a judgment, I think it’s safe to say that her getting over it won’t happen for a while. You’re overestimating her emotional state, Hongjoong. She was crying over a photo of them together. She cried over human utensils.”

Hongjoong snickers, shrugging, “What can I do? Her human partner is already deceased somewhere along the valley. It’s not like I can bring him back to life again. Playing with Death isn’t wise, you know. Even for an Unseelie. Plus,” he wiggles his fingers. “I promised that I wouldn’t manipulate her mind to care for us. Nothing else I can do. Maybe Yunho or Jongho could cheer her up, they seem to care for her the most.”

“They don’t know her. None of us do.”

“They seem to know enough.”

Mingi could read between the lines. Hongjoong’s dance around the truth is almost humorous now. The word seem. He lines his sentences with it often, using it to twist a lie enough to be partially true. Though Seonghwa was the one who was most interested in the beginning – mostly to dissect her – Hongjoong’s interest is slowly rising. Especially since the others are focused on her more now.

What is this human doing to his spark? None of them even know you in the slightest except for some background details. What is this quite random obsession with a human? Especially one as mundane and ordinary as you?

“You look irritated,” Hongjoong notes, flipping through his papers. “Letting those emotions dwell isn’t good for you.”

“You all care for this stranger too much, it’s infuriating.”

Hongjoong grins, “Or do you just care for her too little?”

Mingi closes his eyes for a moment, a harsh gust of air escaping his nose. He pinches it slightly, eyes flicking back to his friend. “We aren’t supposed to care for humans at all.”

“And yet here we are, doing that exact thing.”

“Stop saying we,” Mingi frowns, Hongjoong’s eyes lighting up.

“So is it not true, then? Do you not care for her?”

“I care that she is affecting everyone."

"Not unlike a faerie, twisting your words," Hongjoong giggles.

"Hongjoong," Mingi sighs. "We can't continue like this. There has to be something done. I can't continue to pretend like everything is fine when it's the opposite."

This time, the giggle slowly disappearing from Hongjoong’s expression. He nods solemnly. "And it will be dealt with. It will take time, Mingi. We can't mess up. Not now when tensions are so high between us and the Seelie. If there is something different about her, majik or otherwise, we have to figure it out. It may ease the tension if only momentarily. She seems like a decent human no? I can bet that she will be willing to sacrifice her well being for an important cause."

"You think a human would care about faeries that feed on humans?"

Hongjoong shrugs, "Either that, or we take her unwillingly. It's her choice in the end."

"Not much of one."

Hongjoong grins, "Well she doesn't need to know that."

Seonghwa picks up his book, flicking through the pages. Nothing stands out. There isn’t any record of a human being that has resisted the charm of a faerie from what he can see. Not any ordinary humans, at least. But he found you unextraordinary. Nothing makes you stand out from the crowd, nothing that catches his eye. You just happened to be at the right place, right time. Interesting how circumstances led him to gloss over these pages, desperate to find a reason why you are the way you are. Is it a natural defense? Has human evolution created subspecies that are resistant to the charm of a Unseelie?

If that is so, they’re existence on this Earth will begin to fade.

His fingers grip the research papers, jaw tightening. The words running through his head annoy him, but there’s nothing else he can do. He must dissect you. But how will he get you here? How will your disappearance go unnoticed in such a small town? How will he separate your mind from that tall human you call your partner?

“Your thoughts are plastered on your face, Hwa,” Yeosang steps into the room, tailed by San. Seonghwa has noticed that they are often together, the eldest of the two ignoring San’s presence most of the time. But all of them can see through it. Despite how aloof Yeosang is, he adores the attention given to him. Swims in it, even. So, as it always is, Yeosang barely gives the man a glance, sitting on the edge of the sofa. “I heard about this human you found.”

“It’s resistant, Yeosang. I can’t have it roaming around without us knowing why we can’t charm it. There must be a reason.”

“Like in the movies,” San widens his eyes, nudging Yeosang. “The one person who has the cure!”

Seonghwa rolls his eyes, “This isn’t a zombie flick.”

“You don’t know that. We could be in one right now.”

Yeosang snorts, San puffing up his chest. Despite how irritated Seonghwa is, his lips crack into a small smile, only boosting San’s ego. He closes his notebook, rubbing his face. “I have to know why.”

“Have to, or want to?” Yeosang asks, brow raised. “We could just leave it as is. If another human found out about it, it could lead down a rabbit hole.”

“Let her go?” Seonghwa frowns. “Wooyoung already interfered. Letting it all go won’t end well.”

“You will take her then? Run tests to see why she’s resistant? It would be difficult to pull her from her life, but humans already suspect that she’s a bad luck charm in her village. It’s not like they’d be unhappy she’s gone,” Yeosang sniffs a jar, face contorting at the smell. “Rancid.”

“It’s frog intestines boiled in a rat’s tail and mermaid essence,” Seonghwa murmurs, Yeosang covering his face to keep from gagging. “But how do you know about that? Were you researching?”

San speaks up this time, “Jongho visited her at the bookstore her partner owns. Well, owned. It wasn’t long until he heard whispers of the villagers talking about getting rid of her because of the disappearances that have been happening ever since she arrived in town. And now it's her partner.”

“It’s not even her fault,” Yeosang adds.

“Humans are disloyal,” Seonghwa tsks. “But it is best for us I suppose. They will probably bask and rejoice in her disappearance.”

"That's a bit pitiful. It doesn't come as a surprise that she wanted to leave so badly. I wouldn't want to be around people that hate me either."

"But now she won't leave because she doesn't know what happened to that Soobin. The mystery of his disappearance may cause her to stay for a long time. A lot of humans aren't able to move on from partners that are gone," Seonghwa rubs his face. "It's difficult to know what to do without seeing her."

"Go," Jongho enters the room, Mingi just behind him. Both drenched in sweat from their training session, Seonghwa's nose wrinkles in disgust when he sees fluids drip onto his floor. "Visit her. I'll join if you'd like."

"Not necessary. Mingi," Seonghwa's focus moves to the taller of the two. Mingi raises his brow. "Was she distraught?"

He nods slowly. "Very much so. That was a few weeks ago though. She may have calmed down. But there is no guarantee; we all know how emotional humans are."

“You’re sensitive to emotions Seonghwa, are you sure you’re willing to go there? Humans irritate you to no end,” Wooyoung murmurs. “I can go –”

“You messed up the last time, Wooyoung. And back then we didn’t even tell you much about her. There’s no telling what you’ll do now. It’s better if you’re not interested at all,” San wraps his arm around his neck, tugging him out the room. The door closes slightly behind them. Yeosang, Mingi, and Jongho remain in the room with Seonghwa.

Idle conversation swirls around the room as they speak softly, Seonghwa gathering up his belongings. His curiosity greatly surpasses his lack of care for humankind. If there is someone like you out there, how many more are the same? He can remember the conversation you had with your partner - how you were afraid of something being off. It was Seonghwa of course, but rarely has a human ever felt the chills of faeries around them. So many things don’t come to proper conclusions in his head and he needs to know. For the safety of himself and every person in this home. Perhaps for the fate of the Unseelie entirely.

He leaves the library, book tucked underneath his arm. He enters his room, barely giving Hongjoong - who rests in his bed - a glance. He listens as he stands up from the sheets, an arm wrapping around his waist, tugging him closer.

Hongjoong presses his lips against his back, humming. “There’s no need to hold the weight of the world on your shoulders. The human probably doesn’t even know of its resistance to your lure. It may just be one in a billion.”

“I have to make sure. It’s for all of us, not just me,” Seonghwa says, pulling away from his hold. It’s something they often do - Hongjoong tries to pull him closer only for Seonghwa to pull away. It’s happened ever since the beginning. “You know that. You should be more worried than me.”

“Why worry about a silly little human?” Hongjoong snorts. “She will die in a few decades anyway.”

“It seems like I’m the only one who cares about her existence,” Seonghwa lifts his clothes and tosses them, replacing them with a more human-like outfit. He barely gives himself a look in the mirror, a scowl etched on his features. How humans have not moved past such hideous outfits is beyond him. “I would kill her if it weren’t for the unknown.”

“Everyone and this little human,” Hongjoong sighs. “Fine. Do whatever you’d like. Just be back for the council meeting. The other Unseelies don’t quite approve of the recent killings we’ve done.”

Seonghwa furrows his brows, “Since when did they care about our dealings?”

“Since they’ve begun to notice the pattern of disappearances. Humans are not exactly happy with us, even though they don’t have a method of killing us.”

“Then me interacting with her now is important,” Seonghwa quickly grabs his bag. “I’ll be back with my findings. And I won’t kill her. At least not right now.” he glances at his leader. “Don’t wait for me if I’m not back for the meeting.”

“Hwa-”

He disappears just as Hongjoong begins to speak. Hongjoong stares blankly at the place he once was, brows furrowed. Just what is it about this human that has everyone losing their minds? He purses his lips, lifting himself off the bed. Soon enough he’ll find out for himself.

Seonghwa slowly enters the bookstore. The bell rings against the glass pane of the door, his steps hesitant. There isn't anyone around the bookstore, soft music playing. He tucks his hands into his coat pocket, unaccustomed to the cold environment. His eyes roam around, books neatly stacked, signs arranged in alphabetical order. It warms his heart a bit to see organization – his own library doesn't see it as much as he'd like. The quick steps of a human running pulls his thoughts away, eyes flicking over to you.

You hold a couple of books in your hand, hair unkempt and eyes filled with exhaustion. A pen tucked behind your ear, you give him a sincere smile, placing the books in a neat stack on the counter.

"Welcome to our bookstore!" You say happily, meeting the eyes of the stranger. Just as you do, your thoughts move back to over a month or so ago. The festival. The stranger in the woods. Your smile wavers for a moment as you look at him. He looks as ordinary as a man with unreal beauty can look. Perhaps you were a bit out of it at the time. Still, you remain wary, inching closer to the counter behind you.

"Hello, I’m Seonghwa," he says softly. His voice is deep, eyes dark as he stares at you. His hair is darker than any black you've seen, even the shade of brown in his eyes more black than anything else. His clothing choice is odd as well - a thin graphic tee and slacks covering sports shoes. Completely and utterly different from the well-dressed man in a cloak you witnessed in the forest. He looks uncomfortable in it as well, tugging slightly on the fabric. You swallow slowly, forcing another grin on your lips.

"Hi, I’m y/n. How can I help you?"

"I'm quite new to venturing out into town," he steps around, fingertips stroking the top of a stack of new hardcovers. "The others told me of a bookstore and a café together in one. If you don't mind, I'd like to look around and perhaps have a drink. Whenever you are ready to prepare?"

You push the eerie feeling away, agreeing. "Of course. What would you like, then?"

Seonghwa sits himself at your favorite spot - a small loveseat situated near the front windows. The same place Soobin and you would rest after a long day, counting tills. The light shines on him as he ponders, eyes flicking over the assortment of sweets and drink displays behind you. You take a step to the side and he sends you a small thank you in the form of a smile. He leans, gazing at your open cabinets. "Anything with saffron. Or sweet, I do quite enjoy that."

You ponder for a moment, before opening your cabinet and retrieving your tea leaves. You take out the honey as well, not noticing how his eyes widen at the jar. You take out the milk as well, glancing at Seonghwa. "Milk tea with honey? I should have some cookies around…" You mumble, digging through the drawer. "Soobin usually eats it all."

"Soobin?" His brows furrow.

You pause.

"Yes, my partner. Former partner. The person who owns this place," you raise your brow. There's an unreadable look on his face, but it doesn't linger long enough for you to consider what it was. Setting the water to a boil, you slide back into your seat, humming. "There's a small farmhouse just next to the Rowan trees that I'm looking to buy. Just a few more days until I find out if I get it or not." It’s outside of the town enough that you’d still be able to live comfortably. Moving into the city right now is on the bottom of your list. And even if you do decide to leave, at least you’ll have a place to fall back on. It isn’t too expensive since it’s been abandoned for years now.

"You're married?" He asks, thanking you as you pass him his tea and the honey jar.

"No, it’s complicated right now. I’m not too sure where he is if I'm being honest.”

You see the puzzled look on his face, and quickly clear it up.

“We had a falling out not too long ago. That’s why the shop looks this way. But yeah, I planned on moving soon. At least when I found something more stable," you think. Though the two of you were friends before partners, Soobin always gave little answer or thought to marriage. In fact, he said he started to consider it only when you brought it up. That was three years ago. Now, you don’t even know where he is, or if he’s coming back.

"Are you sure about that?" He raises his brow.

“About what?”

“Finding somewhere else. I remember you mentioning that this place looks a bit…” he trails off. “But it looks fine to me. Perhaps a bit too orderly for a small town bookstore.”

You blink quickly. “Oh. Thanks.”

“Not a problem,” he shrugs, taking a sip of his tea.

You move away from him then, grabbing your stack of books off the table and going back to work. The fear of him being around you has subsided. Though there is still a mysterious cloud around him, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before in your travels through the city. You curse yourself for even mentioning Soobin, placing the books on the shelves. You probably drove away another customer in your whines to the stranger.

You glance back at him and see that he's reading one of the magazines you've left on the table, sipping his tea. How someone could look elegant while sitting in a t-shirt is beyond your understanding.

"Do you enjoy the town?" You ask, finishing your task. He looks up from the magazine.

"It's quite alright. Just like any other small town. Intrusive townspeople, curious eyes following you wherever you go. Clovers to drive away mysterious creatures of the night," his lips lift. "Ah, speaking of that…"

The bell rings, your focus on the door. A few patrons enter, distracting you. Just as you finish helping and guiding their questions away from your missing boyfriend, ex-boyfriend, whatever he is – you look over to the loveseat and see it empty. Seonghwa must have slipped away while you were distracted. Resting beneath the teacup is way too much money. With a small note wrapped around it.

Thank you for the tea.

Next to the sentence lies a small drawing of a four-leaf clover.

—

You stare at the computer, frustration growing. The webpage doesn't help you in the slightest. Lines and lines of retellings of the same old tales. Faeries are dangerous, stay away from the fae. Don't listen to the fae, don't accept gifts from them. The same things over and over. Words that have been embedded into your very being. Nothing of which is news to you. Your eyes flick to the small list you've created, summarizing everything you've read thus far and narrowing it to a few points.

How to survive an encounter with an Unseelie fae [fǣġe]:

Do not eat what they offer. Do not drink what they offer.

Majik always has a price, do not risk a deal. Do not ask for them to save a loved one. Do not ask for them to take your firstborn. Do not accept any offer they may give you.

Do not invite them into your home.

Faeries cannot lie. Because of this, they are eloquent with their words. Do not be fooled.

Do not summon an Unseelie.

If you see something strange, leave immediately. Four leaf clovers are a sign of a faerie near.

Do not celebrate with faeries. Under any circumstances.

Do not enter the forest at night.

If you are followed by a crow or raven, enter the nearest home and do not leave until it is gone. The Unseelie are following you.

Do not fall in love with a faerie, they will not love you the same.

"This is so insane," You put your head in your hands. Maybe that's why Soobin left. He saw how you'd turn out before you even did. You snort at the thought, rubbing your face. Seonghwa's drawing of the four-leaf clover could be just a coincidence. It's not like it isn't an obvious symbol painted and carved into almost every building around town. And yet, the way he's acted, the stares you felt on you when your back was turned – something was off with him. Even if he isn't a faerie, he's something.

Or you're truly just being silly.

You stare at the list again, adding one more point.

Faeries are not affected by four-leaf clovers.

#fic: wonderwall #ateez x reader #seonghwa x reader #hongjoong x reader #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #san x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader #ateez fanfiction #ateez angst #ateez fluff #ateez fanfic

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bluehoodiewoozi · 7 months

Text

Neverending

Lee Jihoon x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff with little to no plot

Words: 14k

Warnings: crying with references to an argument. a single reference to porn. hatred of philosophy. simp woozi who suffers from anxious perfectionism and self-deprecating thoughts.

[College/University AU] With the help of his friends' advice, Jihoon goes on a quest to become the best boyfriend he can be.

Note: I wrote this, had a mental break-down, then finished this, and now I'm sharing it with you in the hopes that it'll save you from a mental break-down of your own or perhaps it'll comfort you in some way. Hang in there, y'all!

It was no secret that Jihoon had little to no experience with romance. His friends often joked that his experience was limited to exactly seven rom-coms and a steamy romance novel from his mother’s bookshelf that he once read in a state of absolute boredom when he was grounded.

And Jihoon was fine with that. He didn’t complain when he made it through middle school without as much as a peck from a girl (or anyone other than Soonyoung, really – he wasn’t picky). He didn’t as much as blink when it was high school graduation day and he was still as single as that one famous whale in the ocean. He merely shrugged when his friends pitied his forever-single state while he was doing his undergraduate degree.

It wasn’t until he started working on his master’s degree that he began to feel left out. Maybe a little over 20 years of being single was just his limit, or maybe it was the constant pitying stares of his friends, or perhaps it was his mother’s not-so-subtle hints of wanting grandkids while she could still run with them – either way, Jihoon finally realised that he was lonely even with over ten friends around him.

And maybe it was this realisation that made him view the people around him differently. All of a sudden, couples seemed to surround him wherever he went. The pair of girls he always saw chatting at the café he worked at? Suddenly he was a witness to the kisses they shared in the corner seat. The guy living across the hall from him in the dormitory? Giggling and kicking his feet after his girlfriend fixed his hair as they left for their 8 am class.

Heck, even Vernon was in a relationship, buying two to-go cups of chai tea from the café every Wednesday, a love-sick smile on his face, before heading to the park to share them with a woman the rest of their friend group could only theorise the identity of.

If Vernon out of all people could find someone, why couldn’t he?

Then, as if the universe had heard the silent cries of Jihoon’s heart, he met you.

Assigned to the same semester-long group project, he quickly realised that you were the only person other than him to actually do the work. It started with looks of exasperation shared across the library table the six of you gathered at, and then the two of you had no choice but to start talking.

Talking – right, that was the first real step. At first about schoolwork – about the research questions of your project, about other courses, about complaints about your professors. Then, barely a week into knowing him, you broke the thin ice.

He could still vividly remember the way you tugged on the sleeve of his jacket just as he was about to walk away after a meeting. You smiled at him – a real smile rather than the tired polite one he had grown so accustomed to – and asked, “So, what kind of movies do you like?”

As soon as he managed to utter the words “I guess… superhero movies?” out of his mouth, you were once again tugging at his sleeve, this time dragging him in the direction of a nearby cinema. You ended up only allowing him to pay for the popcorn (and he had to beg for even that much) because it seemed you were dead-set on treating him like a prince.

That was your first date: after classes, in the darkness of the cinema, with Spiderman swinging by on the giant screen. He barely had any time to pay attention to the plot, too busy relishing in your presence and the sound of your laughter at the corny jokes. And then, as MJ and Peter Parker shared a kiss on the screen, he felt something warm on his hand – your fingers curled around his own and he couldn’t help but give them a squeeze back, his ears as red as Spiderman’s suit.

The impromptu date was followed by another, then another, and another, until you finally had enough and pulled him to the side after class.

“Do you like me?” you asked him, a little frustrated with how slow things were going and with how awkward he still seemed.

His ears flushed red again. “Of… of course I do.” (He preferred to imagine his voice hadn’t cracked in the middle of the sentence.)

Your scowl remained. “Then be my boyfriend.”

When he nodded, you smiled and took his hand again – he told himself he’d never let yours go.

But unfortunately, his lack of romantic experience made it difficult to gracefully slip into the role of your boyfriend. He was almost jealous of the way the role of the girlfriend came so easily to you, taking his hand so easily every day, when he spent hours at night contemplating whether he should kiss your forehead or not when you’d part ways on campus the next day.

On one of those nights, he decided you deserved better. You deserved a better him.

So, he grabbed his phone and texted the one friend he trusted with his life.

[i need advice.]

[how can i be a better boyfriend?]

[YJH: that’s easy! carry her bag for her! girls love that!]

When Jihoon met you on your way to a 12 pm class, he hesitated to follow Jeonghan’s advice. Countless what-ifs floated in his head: what if you thought that it was rude, what if you wanted to carry your own things, what if you tried to carry his bag instead… Did boyfriends outside of fanfiction and romantic movies even carry their girlfriends’ things for them?

Doubts hurried out of his mind soon enough, making way for worry when he saw you adjust the tote bag on your shoulder with a grimace. He inwardly panicked at the sight of your discomfort. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why?” you wondered as if completely oblivious.

“Is your bag heavy?” His brows furrowed. Before you could take another step, he slipped the bag off your shoulder and onto his own. Your grimace made sense all of a sudden. His frown deepened, but not because of your confused stare. “What do you have in here? An entire drum set?”

You laughed. “No, just my laptop and some snacks.”

Even as he bounced on his spot to test the weight, his frown remained. He glared at the bag. “Your laptop’s not that heavy.”

Your face scrunched up. “My laptop kind of broke yesterday, so I had to revive the old, heavy one.”

Jihoon’s frown disappeared. He stared up at you in surprise, and then, unable to stop himself, he offered, “Do you want me to take a look at it? Maybe I can fix it.”

“Nah,” you shrugged, “I’ll just take it to get it fixed tomorrow. My friend recommended this shop–”

“Don’t be silly,” he scolded you and continued the journey to class. “You know that the shop will take three weeks to even look at your laptop and then another three to order the necessary parts and then another five to actually fix it. You might graduate before they get it fixed.”

“Yeah?” you laughed, following after him, your hand naturally coming to rest around his own. “And you’re faster?”

“Faster, more reliable, cheaper,” he counted on his fingers before offering you a cheeky grin. When you didn’t seem too convinced, he sighed and added, “You can ask any of my friends and they’ll tell you I can do this. I’ve done this before. I fixed Junhui’s laptop just a few weeks ago; got a 5-star review.”

At that, you sighed. In the few weeks of being his girlfriend, you had learnt that he was as stubborn as he was kind. In fact, he was even more stubborn when he was being kind: you had been a first-hand witness to Jihoon physically pinning Kim Mingyu to the ground to put a bandage on a fresh cut on his cheek, all the while cursing the friend under his breath for not being more careful. You shuddered at what Jihoon might do if you continued to refuse his laptop-fixing offer.

You finally sighed again and nodded. “Should I bring it over to your place?”

“Yeah,” he agreed easily, his lips curling into a victorious smile, “I’m free this weekend so I can probably get it done before finals.”

You grinned at the thought. “If you manage to do that, I will literally marry you. You’re the best.”

He could only pray you wouldn’t mention the way his ears undoubtedly turned red again as he adjusted your bag on his shoulder and led you to your lecture room.

[YJH: help her do research for her essay]

Jihoon let out a soft huff as he placed your bag on a seat at the library before gently pulling you to sit in the seat next to it. He let himself fall into the chair across from yours.

“Thank you!” your chipper voice was almost enough to rid him of the muscle pain your pain caused.

He offered a smile and a blink so slow you began to wonder if he took you for a cat. “You’re welcome.”

Then, just like a cat himself, he just sat and watched you set up on the desk. His eyes sharply followed every movement you made, sometimes lingering here or there if something particular caught his eye (your oddly fluffy pink pen was one of those particular things). “So, what are you going to be working on?”

You groaned audibly. “Research for this mythology class I’m taking. We’re supposed to make a big wiki as a class effort. Each of us got a different topic to write about. But, like, it’s more of an actual small research paper: citations, references, quotes…” You pouted. “If you weren’t here, I’d be crying by now.”

He didn’t like the sound of that at all – the crying part, because he actually quite enjoyed mythology. Though he hesitated just a little before saying it, he offered, “If you need a hug, just tell me.”

“You’re so cute.” You reached over the table to give him an affectionate pat on his head, effectively both praising him and fixing his windswept mess of hair. “Have you gotten around to fixing my laptop yet?”

Relaxing in his chair, he began, “I’m waiting for a part, but it’s almost fixed otherwise.”

You blinked. “What part?”

“A battery.”

“I don’t think it was a battery issue, though,” you mumbled while avoiding his eyes, not wanting to insult his competence. After all, you were pretty sure the issue was with the graphics – why else would your laptop screen flicker like a rogue disco ball?

As if reading your mind, he chuckled and pulled out his phone to check the package tracking website. “I almost fixed the main issue already, but I noticed that the battery was acting weird, so I figured I might as well fix that too.”

When he looked up from his phone again, you were staring at him with stars in his eyes. His heart thumped a little louder at the sight. “... What?”

You shrugged and turned back to your work. “Nothing.”

He pursed his lips at that and put his phone away again. In his head, he went over all the assignments he had to finish for the following week. Deciding there weren’t any that took priority (a bold lie to himself), he cleared his throat. “So, what do you have to research?”

“Greek mythology.”

“But…” He tilted his head to the side in thought – maybe you wouldn’t want his help? There he went again, he realised: hesitating. He frowned and shook his head clear before smiling at you again. “What exactly?”

“Some mythological creatures. I thought that would be more fun than the usual famous characters.”

“Creatures like… harpies and sirens?”

“Yep.”

Realising you were already deep in the world of research, he decided to not bother you with any further questions. Instead, he slowly and as quietly as he could (but still louder than he would’ve liked) slid his chair back and headed further into the library.

“Mythological creatures,” he mumbled to himself as he wandered between the seemingly endless shelves. Before long, he found what he was looking for. He returned to your table barely ten minutes later, placing a heap of books on it before slumping back into his chair with a deep sigh.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him open the first book and flip through the pages like a man on a quest. You smiled at the sight before focusing back on your work. Even so, you heard the scribble of his pencil and the familiar sound of a sticky note getting ripped out of its block.

Just as you stopped paying attention to him, you felt a book being pushed towards you. When you looked away from your laptop, you found the book you had just seen him read, now laid open on your side of the table, turned to face you.

Light pink sticky notes between the closed pages and a few on the open ones: the book invited you to read. The notes carried Jihoon’s neat handwriting, retelling the contents of the page. Better yet: these were notes about mythological creatures described in the book:

‘Chimera. pg 6: Daughter of Typhon and Echidna. pg 18: lion's body and head, snake for a tail, breathes fire?’

When you glanced back at him, smiling brightly, he was already nose-deep in a different book, paying you no attention.

[Y.JH.: watch a porno together 😉]

Jihoon stared at his friend’s message for a total of five minutes. He then decided that he should stop taking advice from Jeonghan.

He turned to the group chat for help instead.

“You’re going to drive yourself insane before finals even start,” he warned you with a fond smile as you flipped through your worksheets, thoroughly checking each and every one to make sure you hadn’t missed anything.

You offered him a tired glare and turned back to your task. “I’m already halfway there, might as well commit.”

[X.MH.: take her on a walk. enjoy the weather.]

Minghao’s suggestion rang in his head as he watched you. After all, he himself often went on ridiculously long walks in the park when he ran into a metaphorical wall with his work and studies, as did many of his friends. Perhaps it would help you too: romance and relaxation in one – a win on two fronts.

“Do you—” He hesitated. Why did he always hesitate? Even he himself was starting to get annoyed by it. He shook his head to clear his mind and fix his hair before trying again, “Do you want to go on a walk?”

You froze. “A walk?”

He hummed. “To clear your mind. Some fresh air might be good for you. Resets your brain and what-not.”

You mulled it over in your head: assignments versus your adorable boyfriend?

“Fine,” you finally huffed, feigning annoyance, “but I’m going to pet every dog I see and you can’t stop me.”

He laughed at the idea, already imagining it in his head, and got up from the floor before extending a hand to help you up as well. “You’d have to try to stop me first. I’m known for attracting random dogs.”

You took his hand and stretched. “I wonder why.”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged and handed you your jacket before shrugging on his own. He tried not to think about how your jackets matched – almost like a couple’s item.

Soon, the two of you were walking side by side in the park, laughing at everything and nothing and Seokmin’s attempt to fit in a kids’ swing that you saw in the passing.

As always, your hand found Jihoon’s before he could find the courage to seek your affection. Fingers squeezing together, his skin blissfully on fire against yours – he wondered why he never dared to make the first move and reach for your hand. But if he wasn’t the one to initiate, he at least had an excuse to not let you go.

“How come I’m your first girlfriend?” you wondered, searching his face for answers.

He shrugged. “You just are.”

“You really never had anyone else before?” He shook his head. “Not even a fling?” Another shake of his head. “A hook-up?” He blushed and shook his head harder. You frowned in confusion. “How? You’re, like, perfect. Other girls must have swarmed around you like bees around honey.”

“Don’t be silly,” he denied in a hushed voice, avoiding your eyes so he could act like his ears weren’t redder than the late autumn leaves.

“I know I wanted you to be mine the moment I saw you,” you mumbled with a pout, offended on his behalf. “So, why were you single all this time then?”

Jihoon shrugged once again, his lips in a tight line of awkwardness. “I just wasn’t interested, I guess. Too busy studying.”

“Then,” you hummed in thought before turning to him again, this time eyes shining with mischief, “have you ever kissed anyone before?”

He paled. “I– Uh– Technically…”

“Technically?” you pressed eagerly.

He cleared his throat. “Technically I’ve been kissed by one person.”

“Technically?!” You were scandalised, baffled, puzzled, curious beyond belief. He could only laugh hopelessly as you stopped him and grabbed him by the shoulders to stare at him, your mouth agape. “Who was it? Was she pretty?”

“Pretty?” He grimaced. It was too late to lie now – might as well commit to his honesty streak. “In his own way, I suppose–”

“HIS?!” Your jaw dropped even more as he avoided your eyes.

“Let’s just pretend I didn’t say anything–”

“No, I need the truth,” you laughed, almost maniacal with both joy and curiosity. You gripped his shoulders, promising to not let him go until you got the answers. “Who was it? Jihoon, you have to tell me.”

He sighed deeply. His head tilted back so he could stare towards the sky, calling for an extraterrestrial life-form to abduct him. He had been doing so great so far… Why did he have to be damn honest with you?

After thirty seconds, he accepted that the aliens hadn’t found his calls appealing enough. He sighed and slumped before you, head lolling forward as he confessed, “Do you know Kwon Soonyoung?”

You burst into laughter, jumping away from him to bounce in joy (Jihoon wondered if maybe the impending sense of finals’ season doom was too much for you) as you repeated, “Kwon Soonyoung? The tiger guy?”

“Of course that’s what you know him for,” he mumbled under his breath, hand reaching up to rub at his eyes so he could avoid eye contact a little longer. “Just so you know, it was nothing serious: he just decided to kiss me on the playground in, like, 6th grade one day.” He sighed deeply at the memory, still unsure how he felt about it after all these years.

But you were too busy giggling to acknowledge his dismay. “On the lips?”

He grimaced. “On the lips.”

“Full on?”

“Full on,” he sighed.

Before he could scold you to not tell anyone else (not that it mattered anyway: Soonyoung had taken it upon himself to share the tale with every person he met anyway), you were in front of him again, still smiling brightly. His scowl melted into a gentle smile at the sight – he sucked at being mad at you.

“Like this?” You leaned forward, placed your hands on his cheeks, and pulled him in for a kiss of your own.

All of a sudden, Jihoon swore he was floating. He wrapped his arms around your waist to anchor himself as he leaned further into you, unwilling to part from your lips. Even as you attempted to pull away, he chased after your lips, unsatisfied until you melted back into the kiss.

When he finally ran out of air, you began giggling, a shy glow on your cheeks as you looked at his still-closed eyes. “So?”

“What?” he wondered, slow to open his eyes, and even when he finally did, his eyelids drooped like he was still waking up from the sweetest of dreams.

“Was the kiss historically accurate?” you joked, leaning closer to brush your nose against his.

He was unable to even laugh. Only a dopey smile appeared on his face as he whispered, “No, it was so much better.”

[H.JS.: surprise her with flowers]

[i dont know what kind of flowers she likes tho??]

[W.JH.: unless she’s allergic, i dont think it matters]

Despite still being unsure whether the group chat was helpful or just plain useless, Jihoon followed their advice like it was the law.

Flowers? He could find flowers. Easy. They’re sold almost everywhere. Surely, he could figure out something as simple and universal as flowers.

Wrong.

The moment he stepped into the flower store, he felt like a five-year-old left unattended in a new city. He hadn’t even realised there were so many options. He gulped.

“Can I help you?” an oddly familiar voice called out to him and he whipped his head around in search of the speaker. He found Wonwoo staring back at him, his eyes shining with mischief upon recognising his new customer.

Jihoon grimaced. “I– Nevermind.”

But when he tried to leave, Wonwoo grabbed him by the hood of his white sweatshirt and dragged him further into the store. “Are you going to buy your girlfriend flowers? Like Joshua suggested?”

“I– No– Why would I–” Jihoon’s resolve broke under Wonwoo’s knowing glare. He lowered his gaze to the floor and sheepishly nodded.

Wonwoo let out a small sound of victory before asking, “So, what kind of flowers do you want to get her?”

“That’s the thing,” Jihoon sighed deeply, “I have no clue what to get.”

His florist friend hummed in understanding. “Is she more of a daisy or a rose girl?”

Jihoon offered him a confused look. “How am I supposed to know? I’ve only dated her for a month.”

“Roses may be a bit much then,” Wonwoo concluded with a squint of his eyes before heading somewhere in the store, once again grabbing Jihoon by the hood and dragging him along.

Jihoon could only whine quietly in protest. “Can you stop doing that?”

“No.” The answer was plain, clear, and left no room for argument. “I think tulips are the way to go.”

Jihoon had no further complaints as Wonwoo began piling flowers into his arms. Once he was satisfied, he led Jihoon to the counter – by the hood, once again, as if he was a cat mom carrying her kitten – and began arranging them into a bouquet.

“Do you want me to tie a bow for them?” he asked but Jihoon gave him no answer. When he looked up again, his love-sick friend was staring at the newly-complete bouquet in awe. Wonwoo smiled and handed him the flowers. “There. Do you think she’ll like them?”

“I– How did you know… ?”

Wonwoo’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. “Was I right?”

Jihoon could only nod before fishing his wallet out. “I seriously owe you one. You’re good at this.”

On the way to your dorm, he couldn’t stop staring at the bouquet. The tulips were exactly the colours he associated with you, as if Wonwoo had read his mind and translated it into flowers. Now he could only adjust them a little and pray you’d like them as much as he did.

A deep breath. A soft knock on your door.

Your roommate opened the door, her eyes lighting up with excitement upon recognising him and noticing the flowers in his arms. She practically dragged him inside while calling out to you, “(Y/n), your Prince Charming arrived!”

Before he could say anything, she patted his shoulder and leaned over to whisper “She’ll love them” before all but bouncing out the front door, offering him one last cheeky wink before she left.

“Jihoon?” he then heard you call out from a distance. “Is that you?”

He called back a confirmation before following your voice to your room. Just as he often did, he found you seated on your bed, your (newly fixed) laptop in front of you, surrounded by endless pages of homework and research. He smiled at the familiar sight.

“Are you busy studying again?” he wondered, his voice impossibly soft just like his heart was for you. “Should I come back later?”

Without looking up, you shook your head. “No, no, please stay. I just have to finish this table and then–” Your gaze lifted to meet his by habit, at which point your jaw dropped. Soon, a smile forced itself onto your face. “Jihoon!”

He feigned ignorance, his lips quirking. “Why?”

“Did you–” You couldn’t even finish your sentence, unable to find the words as tears of joy gathered in the corners of your eyes. Pursing your lips to will yourself to not cry, you got up from the bed and walked over to hug him. You held him tight while he just laughed fondly.

“Why?” he asked again, his free hand reaching up to caress your cheek.

You pouted. “You got me flowers?”

When you stepped back, he lifted up the bouquet and asked, “What? This?” You nodded and he laughed again, so completely endeared by your reaction. “Do you like them that much?”

“I love them,” you said and took the flowers from his hands, already rushing to the kitchen to fill a vase with flowers. Despite not leaving your room, he could hear you mumbling, “Oh my god, you’re really going to make me cry at this rate.”

Upon returning with a vase full of water and beautiful flowers, you placed it on your desk by the window. The afternoon light hit them just right and it made you want to cry even more.

You turned to him again. “No one’s ever gotten me flowers like this before. They’re so pretty.”

“Not as pretty as you,” he spoke before his mental filter could catch it. He bit down on his tongue the moment he closed his mouth, unable to believe he let the words slip without even thinking about them.

To his relief, you didn’t seem to mind. If anything, the carelessly spoken compliment made you glow even more. You laughed in joy and pulled him to sit with you on the bed. He could barely find his balance on the soft mattress before your lips were on his.

He decided he’d gift you flowers more often if this was the thanks he earned.

On a sleepless night, Jihoon came to an embarrassing realisation: he had never once initiated a kiss with you. In fact, when it came to physical affection, he hadn’t initiated anything.

The realisation was greatly aided by Boo Seungkwan’s 2 am reply to another one of Jihoon’s cries for help.

[B.SK.: kiss her, you idiot!]

“Kiss her?” Jihoon re-read the message the next day before grimacing in anxiety. He couldn’t even hold your hand without blushing – how was he supposed to initiate a whole kiss? Knowing him, he’d probably accidentally end up kissing your nose or, even worse, ear. The thought made him want to cry so he curled up on a random beanbag on campus, hugging his backpack to his chest, and glared at the message Seungkwan had sent him.

“Who made my Jihoon upset?” your voice carried through the hallway. He looked up to find you walking towards him, a bright smile on your face. Catching his gaze, you smiled brighter before adding to your joke, “Should I go beat someone up? Who was it? Mingyu? Soonyoung?”

“Seungkwan,” he mumbled against the fabric of his bag as you approached him and pressed a kiss to his temple. He could practically feel his ears betraying him and squeezed his eyes shut to will the blush to leave.

Your hand found his hair, stroking it gently. “Seungkwan? The guy who hosts almost every campus event?” He nodded solemnly and you scoffed. “I can take Seungkwan. He should be afraid of me.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought, opening his eyes to glance up at you. He didn’t dare to move with the way you were still stroking his dark hair, looking at him so fondly. What if you were startled by his movement and never played with his hair again? No, he couldn’t risk it. He closed his eyes again, enjoying the feeling.

Without even realising it, he leaned into your embrace like a pet looking for warmth. Soon, his head rested against your chest, your fingers still in his hair while his own curled into the fabric of your blouse. He wished this moment lasted forever and then some more.

“So, what did Seungkwan do that you’re like this?” you wondered and he felt the rumble of your voice. He suddenly found he liked it even better this way.

With a small smile on his face, he whispered, “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” you wondered. “He must’ve done something.”

“He’s just annoying.” If it hadn’t been for your questions, Jihoon would’ve fallen asleep right there, pressed against you like a tired child. But instead, he came to an annoying realisation. “Do you not have a jacket today?”

“Nope,” he heard you reply.

He hissed at that, gently slapping your side as punishment for crimes against yourself. “It’s cold outside.”

“I run hot,” you made an excuse.

He scoffed. “You whined you were cold the last time you came to my dorm, even though it’s only, like, two degrees colder there than yours.”

You stayed silent at that. He basked in your warmth for a little longer before sitting back up straight and glaring at you. He then fidgeted with the sleeves of your blouse for a moment before scoffing and standing up to pull off his black hoodie. Unceremoniously, he shoved it to you, paying no mind to the puzzled look on your face.

“Put it on,” he finally told you when you made no move to read his mind. “I won’t baby you if you get sick.”

“I won’t get sick–” you began to protest only for him to roll his eyes, grab the hoodie, and pull it over your head himself.

His hands gently guided your own through the sleeves before reaching down to pull the rest of the hoodie down as much as he could. (He made a mental note to invest in a longer hoodie for next time.) As a final touch, he reached up to pull the hood over your head, tying the strings into a neat bow below your chin once he had pulled the fabric around your head – tight enough to make you look just a little bit goofy.

Surprised by his actions, you were frozen in place in front of him. With your cheeks squished by the fabric, you looked just so damn adorable. Jihoon didn’t even think before leaning closer and pressing his lips against your slightly pouted ones.

He pulled away, nodded and smiled – satisfied with his handiwork. The realisation of his actions wouldn’t hit him for another hour.

[W.JH.: i heard her class is having a big seminar this wednesday. maybe you should cheer for her?]

[how would i do that…?]

Jihoon never received a reply to his question. Odd, and incredibly annoying. But he guessed it was only fair: his friends couldn’t give him all the answers. Some things he’d have to figure out himself.

Just as he was contemplating on what to do, his phone buzzed. Hoping for a late reply from his friends, he immediately reached for his phone. To his surprise, it was a message from you instead:

[Y/N: if u never hear from me again, assume i had a heart attack in front of the classroom]

[Y/N: god, i hate seminars so much]

Jihoon paused. Is this what Junhui had meant? He took a deep breath and typed a reply.

[where are you? i’ll come to you.]

He was halfway out of the building by the time you answered.

[Y/N: linguistics building, seminar 321]

Despite never having been to the linguistics’ building before and having close to zero clue where he would even find this room, he ran to where you said you’d be. His lungs were burning from lack of air by the time he got to you and yet his heart ached even more than they did: all it took was one look at your shaky hands as you paced back and forth outside of the seminar room.

“Are you… Are you okay?” he asked through his laboured breaths once he reached you, his hand immediately reaching for yours to ease the shaking.

You sighed in relief at the sight of him. “Jihoon…”

“I’m here,” he whispered with an encouraging smile before letting you burrow into his embrace. On most days, he would have much rather dug a hole and crawled in there than let anyone show him this kind of affection in public. But he was willing to make an exception for you.

Then he spotted the familiar baffled face of Soonyoung from the corner of his eyes and cringed: he would never live this down.

“I’m so nervous about my presentation,” you whispered into his jacket and all of his attention was back on you as if by magic.

He scoffed out a laugh, unable to believe your words. “Are you kidding? You’ll be great.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve seen you give presentations before,” he reminded you with a gentle pat on your head. “You did great the last time, I doubt this time will be different.”

You wanted to cry at the memory, completely unable to see it the way he did. “I stuttered the entire time and mixed up the slides.”

“Yeah, but it was still fine.”

“It was so embarrassing.”

“It was endearing,” he argued immediately. “Besides, you laughed it off and you still got the maximum grade. Sometimes mistakes happen, but that doesn’t mean they’ll be the end of the world.”

You leaned out of his embrace to chuckle hopelessly. “I can’t decide if you’re really good or really bad at giving motivational speeches.”

“But do you feel better?” You nodded and he grinned brightly. “Then that’s all you need. Now go on in and show them what they’re missing in— What class is this?”

“Environmental Anthropology,” you answered with a sigh and he grimaced: it sounded far from appealing and he didn’t even dare ask if it was an elective or a mandatory subject.

Deciding to just go with it, he forced on a smile (his eyebrows still high on his forehead as half of his brain tried to figure out what that course even dealt with) and gave you a pat on the shoulder, “Go get them, tiger.”

You laughed at his expression and nodded, feeling a little better already. You turned to head into class, but turned on your heel at the last moment, catching his eyes. He raised a single brow in question and you asked, “Can we go out to eat after this?”

He frowned, eyes saddening. “I wish I could. I have work in an hour. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.”

However, he could never stand the look of disappointment that grazed your face every once in a while. And when it made an appearance once again, he wanted nothing more than to comfort you. “But,” he started and you seemed to lighten up already, “you could come to the café and hang out with me there. My treat,” he promised before pointing an accusatory finger at you, “but only if you ace that presentation.”

“I… I can do that,” you nodded, more to convince yourself than him. “Yeah. I can definitely do that.”

Jihoon spent the next two hours panicking on your behalf.

Even as he took orders and made cup after cup after cup of coffee, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. He couldn’t help but feel like he could’ve done more to boost your confidence. Hell, who wants to hear they were ‘endearing’ during a presentation they felt like they messed up on?

When the third hour of waiting began, he was half-sure you wouldn’t come to the café. Perhaps you had failed miserably or maybe you really did have a heart attack in front of the classroom. Jihoon was on the verge of spiralling.

“Okay, you’re going to burn your hand at this rate,” Seokmin scolded before ushering him away from the espresso machine. “Just man the register. I’ll deal with the coffee. God, what’s up with you today?”

Jihoon let out a soft whine of protest but followed the orders, waddling over to the register. It was a slow day and he was still messing up – what were you doing to him?

“So?” Seokmin asked again after delivering a customer’s flat white.

“What?” Jihoon was barely even paying attention to the fact that he was being spoken to. His eyes were constantly stuck on the door.

Any moment now. Any moment you’d walk in, a smile on your face, telling him you passed. Any moment.

Seokmin raised a brow. “What’s bothering you? Seriously, you’re not usually this aloof. Why are you staring at the door?”

“(Y/n)” was all Jihoon managed to mumble.

But it was enough for his friend. Seokmin laughed. “I’m sure she’ll be here soon.”

“What if she isn’t?” Jihoon whispered, still stuck in a dazed mix of anxiety and hope. “What if I messed up?”

Before Seokmin could even begin to comfort him, Jihoon felt like he could breathe again. There you were, practically running towards the café in your rush to get to him. He didn’t even realise he was leaning further and further towards the door, leaning against the countertop under Seokmin’s amused eyes.

“Jihoon!” you called out once you made it to the café, dashing up the counter to pull his face to yours and press your lips against his. After pulling away again, you smiled brightly. “Guess what?”

He forgot all the vocabulary he had acquired over his life. Your name was the closest thing to a word in there. He was just glad to see you again.

You rolled your eyes at his silence but still laughed. “Jihoon, I told you to guess.”

He cleared his throat and prayed his ears weren’t too red before he found his voice. “You passed?”

“I passed,” you confirmed with an excited fist pump in the air, “and the professor said I had the best presentation in the whole course.”

“Whoa, go, girl!” Seokmin cheered, bumping his fist against yours in celebration.

Jihoon matched your bright smiles and told you, “I knew you could do it. Come on, pick what you want to eat. My treat.”

As you excitedly went to check out the cake options, Seokmin stared at him in awe. Jihoon shrugged. “What?”

“How come you never treat me?” his friend sounded almost offended.

“You never asked.”

Seokmin frowned and turned to you. “Did you ask him to treat you?”

“Nope.”

He turned to glare at Jihoon again. “Favouritism. Clear favouritism. I’ll remember this.”

“She’s my girlfriend,” Jihoon argued with a puzzled frown of his own.

[W.JH.: tie her shoelaces]

Walks in the park or even just around the campus became a routine for the two of you very quickly. More often than not, your shared study sessions in the library would lead to a shared knowing look, standing up in silence, and heading out the door for a break. Always hand-in-hand, like puzzle pieces.

The weather was windier than usual that day, blowing dead leaves and hats around the park grounds. Who knows how long it would be before snow would join the items flying in the wind – the temperature of the air certainly suggested it would happen soon.

Jihoon barely managed to catch your scarf before it fell victim to the wind.

“Maybe not the best day for a walk,” he concluded with a sheepish laugh while wrapping the scarf around your neck a little tighter than before, making sure it wouldn’t fly again.

You laughed along. “Yeah, maybe we should’ve gone to the café instead.”

He sighed deeply – as a joke – before narrowing his eyes at you. “Just say you’re dating me for café discounts. Admit it.”

“Well,” you hummed, “your staff discounts are definitely a bonus.”

He chuckled and nudged your side. “Do you want to go to the café then? Maybe some cocoa could warm you up.”

“But some fresh air might be good for you. Resets your brain and what-not,” you repeated his own words back to him with a mischievous smile.

“Is that–?” His jaw dropped. “How do you even remember that?”

“It was a very memorable quote by my favourite author,” you joked and pinched his cheek before grabbing his hand to lead him to the café.

You barely made it two steps before he was tugging you to a stop, his gaze lowered. You blinked. “Did something happen?”

He didn’t reply. A message from Junhui flashed in his mind. Was he allowed to follow his advice like that? And if so, what was the best way to go about it? Crouching down? Leading you to a bench and making you lift your foot? Fully kneeling in front of you like the simp he was?

Ears burning under your questioning stare, he finally leaned down onto one knee, his fingers reaching for your shoelaces.

Your heart skipped a beat as realisation hit.

With what you could only assume was practised grace (because who knows how many times he had repeated this exact gesture for his friends – Soonyoung alone must have accounted for at least twenty), he gently pulled your foot closer to himself and gently double-knotted the laces. He decided to re-do the other shoe as well if he was already on task.

Once both shoes were undoubtedly tied and unable to come undone without permission again, he hummed in approval and stood back up, brushing the dirt off his knee before his gaze lifted to meet yours. He offered a sheepish smile at the dazed look on your face.

“Why?” he laughed.

“You’re seriously–” you began but never finished, reaching for his hand instead.

[K.MG.: give her a nickname]

Jihoon wasn’t very fond of nicknames. He wasn’t like Jeonghan who could come up with a new dumb nickname for every person he met or like Soonyoung who could react to any nickname thrown his way. Jihoon was just Jihoon and his friends were just his friends – no nicknames needed.

So, when he read Mingyu’s message, he froze. A nickname for his girlfriend? It felt like such an enormous task.

Stuck in an endless loop of processing even weeks after, Jihoon still couldn’t come up with a nickname that felt like you. Nothing sounded quite as pretty or as melodious as your name. Nothing came even close in his mind. When he thought of you, it was always just (Y/n).

And it wasn’t like you had given him a nickname either. He would’ve noticed if you had – he noticed everything you did.

If anyone saw into his brain, they would’ve seen a suspicious number of facts and quirks of yours. They would’ve thought he was a spy trying to steal your identity. But he was nothing of the sort. The only thing he aimed to steal was your heart (and maybe a kiss, or two, or two hundred).

Frankly, Vernon was sick of the sound of Jihoon’s pen rolling back and forth, struggling between gravity and Jihoon’s strength, on the slanted desk of their shared room. If having to contemplate cheesy pet names with a distraught Jihoon was the answer, Vernon was willing to sacrifice a bit of his sanity for a different background audio.

“Maybe see if a pet name would work,” he suggested upon seeing his misery.

Jihoon blinked. “Pet name? Like Fluffy?”

“No, like–” Vernon’s brows furrowed. “Dude, are you okay? Should I call a doctor?”

Jihoon only groaned and slumped over his desk, fully resting his cheek against it now.

“I meant nicknames like babe and sweetheart and the sort,” his roommate explained, brows still set in a concerned frown. “Why would you call her Fluffy?”

“At this rate, I might as well.”

Vernon was scandalised. “Call her Fluffy?!”

Jihoon sat up straight to frown at Vernon. “No, see if I find a pet name I like for her. What is wrong with you?”

“You started it!”

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. So, what do you have to offer?”

“Let’s start with the basics,” Vernon suggested, leaning back on his bed happily now that the pen was no longer obnoxiously rolling. “Babe?”

“Gross.”

“Baby?”

“Even worse.”

“Sweetheart.”

Jihoon hesitated. “I– Maybe? Let’s put that under maybe.”

“Great! That’s progress,” Vernon cheered with a smile before resuming his position. “Then, what about dear?”

“Sounds so old-fashioned. I don’t want to sound like an English grandma whenever I call for my girlfriend.”

Vernon froze before nodding in agreement. “Yeah, you definitely have a point there.”

They were both tired of the guessing game by the time fifteen minutes passed. They bid each other farewell and headed their separate ways. It was only noon.

The solution? Non-existent. Jihoon still didn’t know what to call you.

And to add to his problems, he soon realised he hadn’t heard from you all day. Your chat was no more full than the previous evening, his call history was even worse off. He hadn’t even seen you on campus.

Worry got the worst of him and now he was taking the first step instead of you. His worry won over his hesitation and he called you, lifting his phone to his ear all the while glancing around campus anxiously.

You didn’t pick up the first call. Nor the second. Before pressing on the screen to call a third time, he silently swore he’d run through all of your usual spots if you left him hanging like this. Heck, he might even call the police.

“Jihoon?” he then heard your voice through the phone and a stone fell off his heart.

He sighed in relief. “(Y/n), are you okay? I was worried.”

“Dorm,” you whispered meekly into the mic, elaborating no further no matter how much he prompted you.

His frown only grew with every passing moment of silence on your part. “Do you want me to come over?”

“Please,” you whispered once again and then he heard the most heart-breaking sound: a soft sob. You were crying.

He cursed under his breath. You were crying and he wasn’t there. “Hold on a little longer, I’ll be there.”

He wasted not a second more and sprinted to your dormitory. With his hands shaking from both worry and exhaustion, it took him two tries to get the door code right, but once the door clicked open, he dashed up the stairs and to your room.

The door of your room was unlocked and ajar when he arrived and he just about fell through it in an attempt to lean against it for a quick breath. He stumbled into your room and his heart dropped some more, so close to shattering.

“(Y/n), darling,” he whispered before practically throwing himself into the spot next to you, already pulling you into his embrace, “what happened?”

You didn’t say anything, quietly crying into his sweater instead. Jihoon almost wanted to cry with you. “Talk to me. What happened? What can I do to make it better?”

“I fought with my roommate,” you whispered eventually. “I might have to move out.”

“Move out?” he wondered. “Was it that bad?” You didn’t answer, only letting out another soft sob as you further burrowed into his arms. He sighed. “Oh, darling.”

You remained in his arms for a while, stuck between crying over a lost friendship and relishing in his comfort. “I thought she was my friend. God, I’m so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” he protested immediately, perhaps even a little too forcefully for your fragile emotional state. He sighed once again, deeper, before pressing a kiss to your temple. “Do you want me to help you find a new place to stay?”

“I could just ask to be assigned to a different dorm,” you mumbled. “It’s no big deal.”

“Didn’t you say you wanted to get your own apartment though?”

“I mean… It would be nice.”

“I can help you pay the deposit,” he offered. He wasn’t sure if he was always this kind or if seeing you so broken made him overcompensate more than usual – come to think of it: there was clearly a pattern forming.

Either way – he mentally ran over the numbers in his bank account –, he could afford to help.

You sighed. “You don’t have to, Jihoon, it’s fine–”

“Don’t argue with me,” he warned half-jokingly. “Do you want to get your own place or not?”

Still leaning into his chest, you looked up at him. “You’d– You’d do that?”

“Of course,” he shrugged as if he had only offered you a candy bar. “Besides, if you get your own place, I benefit too.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Vernon not letting you sleep in again?”

“I’ve never wanted to strangle someone so bad,” he whispered while squeezing his eyes shut. “And he’s so messy. I need a break every once in a while.”

“So, your only condition is that I let you sleep over?” you chuckled and kissed his cheek which promptly turned red. “Why not just move in with me then?”

He blushed harder. “I think it’s too early for that. Maybe in a few months.”

You pouted at that. “You’re so mean. I was so ready to celebrate moving in with my boyfriend. Tsk.”

“Give me a few months,” he whispered – promised. “I’ll be with you in just a few months, darling.”

[J. WW.: take her on a picnic in the park during your free period. i hear the cherry trees are blossoming.]

Sandwiches, cake from the café, a thermos full of your favourite tea, a blanket – was anything missing? Well, other than his courage, because he had been staring at the basket for at least half an hour now as if his feet were nailed to the kitchen floor.

Even Vernon, as patient as he was, had begun to contemplate how to unglue Jihoon so he could freely access the fridge again.

“Dude,” he finally sighed, “can you move? I’m hungry.”

“There’s food on the stove,” Jihoon mumbled off-handedly, still in a panicked daze. Vernon glanced towards the stove and found nothing on it.

Why was he so panicked anyway? It was one thing to hesitate before kissing you, but this? This was worse. He was paralysed by fear and he didn’t even understand why.

It’s not like this was your first date.

“Have you never taken a girl out on a date before?” Vernon wondered, brows furrowing as he attempted to make sure his roommate hadn’t been replaced by a faulty android or a hologram.

And just as the words left Vernon’s mouth, Jihoon seemed to wake up. His eyes widened. “I’ve never taken a girl out on a date before.”

Vernon blinked. “You’ve been dating her since, like, fall.”

“Yeah, but she initiated everything,” Jihoon whined, suddenly hyper aware of the way his knees felt like jelly and his hands trembled.

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

“First date?”

“She took me to the movies.”

“First kiss?”

“She went in first.”

“Who asked the other one out?”

“She asked me.” Jihoon let out another whine. “God, I’m so bad at this whole boyfriend thing. Isn’t there, like, a manual or something?”

“If there is, you’d probably be better off,” Vernon pointed out with a chuckle. “Dude, if she’s stuck with you this long, then she’s not going to break up with you over you taking her on a picnic.”

“But what if she’s actually busy or it rains or–”

“What’s with you and all those what-ifs? Just get out there, take her hand and have a picnic.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Jihoon whispered and hung his head in shame.

“Because it is that easy.”

It was not, in fact, that easy. Jihoon tripped almost three times just on the way to meet you at the park – that’s how nervous he was. And it’s not like he was afraid of you or your reaction.

He just wanted everything to be perfect. Because you were perfect. And if he couldn’t be perfect with or for you, what was even the point?

Still, even as his nerves threatened to make him throw up in a nearby garbage can, he braved through the anxiety and made his way over to you. He forced on a smile as he approached you, but it soon melted into a genuine one upon seeing your excited grin.

“Hi, darling,” he whispered before leaning over to kiss your cheek. “Did you have a good day?”

“It’s barely afternoon,” you joked. Jihoon grimaced: first strike. Two more and he’d pay someone to throw him off a bridge. (He noted that Seungcheol or Joshua seemed like a good choice for that.)

“So,” you rubbed your palms together after helping him set the blanket on the ground, “what are we eating?”

He breathed out shakily before opening the basket. “So… there’s sandwiches – I didn’t know which ones you’d like more so I made a bunch of everything, but if you don’t like any, I’ll run to the store and–”

“Jihoon,” you stopped him with a stern smile and a pat on his cheek – strike two –, “baby, stop acting like it’s the first time we’ve interacted. There’s no need to be shy with me. I love you regardless.”

“I’m sorry, I just–”

“Stop apologising.” Strike three – might as well decide on a bridge now.

“I just want everything to be perfect for you,” he admitted with a sad smile, “but I guess I get too in my own head about it and then–”

You leaned forward and kissed him before he could go any further. When you leaned back, his eyes were wide in disbelief.

“You– Why did you do that?”

“You were rambling too much.” You smiled at him again, sweeter this time, before kissing him once more. “Everything is perfect already. This picnic is perfect. The weather is perfect. This moment is perfect. You’re perfect. Don’t worry so much. Just breathe and enjoy.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours once again: a gift because you always knew exactly what to say.

“So,” your smile never seemed to fade, “can you stop worrying about everything now?”

He breathed out a defeated sigh and nodded, earning a cheer from you.

As the two of you began eating, he made conversation, “So, how’s your apartment search going?”

You shrugged. “I’ve found two places. I’m going to see the second one tomorrow, but the first one is very nice. Like, way too nice for that price.”

“And that’s bad somehow?” He laughed.

“It’s way below market rate. It’s too good to be true,” you told him with a soft sigh, closing your eyes as he mindlessly reached to play with your fingers. “I wonder what the quirk is. Like, why is it so cheap? The landlord seemed like a sweet woman and all, but there’s bound to be something weird about that place, right?”

“Maybe it’s haunted,” he joked, making a ‘scary’ face as he stared at you, only to prompt a laugh.

“Will you come and save me if it is?”

He grimaced. “Hell no. Ghosts are scary business. You’d have to find a different boyfriend.”

“Fine, fine,” you laughed and patted his cheek, “leave all the saving to me instead, then. I’ll protect you.”

“My hero,” he swooned, a hand over his heart.

You stared at the ceiling of your new bedroom, practically vibrating with anxiety about the day to come as well as the added responsibilities of adulting outside of a dorm.

Jihoon, having agreed to stay a few nights for mental support (and a Marvel movie marathon), gave you a weird look.

“Sorry,” you apologised and willed your body to stay still, sure you had annoyed your boyfriend into leaving, “I guess I’m just more nervous about tomorrow than I thought.”

“I think you’re overthinking this,” he chuckled and leaned over to brush a stray hair off your forehead. “It’s just a seminar. You’ve been to those before.”

“Yeah, but this one’s in a foreign language,” you whined and rolled over to hide your face in his chest. “You know my French sucks.”

He scoffed but was thoroughly amused. “I’ve never even heard you speak French.”

“Exactly. Point proven. Now let me suffer in peace.”

Jihoon sighed and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer and pressing his lips to your head. “Is there any way I can help you feel better?”

You shook your head ‘no’ and burrowed further into the comforting darkness his sweater provided. You had no interest in being comforted – what you needed was to go to sleep before 3 am and not wake up with nightmares. Unfortunately, Jihoon couldn’t do that for you, as amazing as he was.

He was just as stumped, but less in the mood to give up. In fact, he was rarely in the mood to give up.

Still feeling you shaking in his arms, he reached his free hand to get his phone and text the group chat once again, begging for help as he had done so many times before. The help came faster than ever before, as if his friends had a shared 7th sense for Jihoon’s girlfriend troubles.

[C.VN.: bro, arent u good at singing? have u sung to her?]

[but… what do i sing?]

[K.SY.: a song.]

[whaT SONG?]

[X.MH.: you’re literally a music major, i’m sure you can think of a song or two??]

[i’m a uni student, not a jukebox??]

With sleep still unwilling to claim you, you sighed deeply. There was no room to further burrow into your boyfriend’s comforting embrace. An idea hit: maybe a cup of nice peppermint tea could calm you down.

“Ji, can we go make–” you quietly began but were interrupted by a soft rumbling of his chest. And then you heard it: he was humming. You lifted your head to watch him, unable to tear your eyes from the way his lips oh-so-gracefully parted to sing to you, even as he was still searching for the lyrics on his phone.

Suddenly realising you had said something, he paused, eyes widening as he looked at you. “Sorry, did you say something?”

You shook your head no and continued staring at him.

Awkward under you gaze, his ears flushed red. He avoided your eyes and turned back to his phone, scrolling through it as a distraction: ads had never looked so interesting before.

“Keep singing,” you whispered to him, hoping he’d hear your plea and fulfil your wish.

He took a deep breath, his hand freezing on the tiny screen. And just as you had hoped, his lips parted again. This time, he really sang, lyrics and all. His voice carried through your room, echoing back from the yet-to-be-decorated walls and filling the space in a comforting manner.

As you listened to him, you realised he had never sung to you before. He had hidden this part of himself for so long. And yet you were already enamoured with it.

When he finished one song, his lips pursed back together and he hummed a mysterious melody that you could only suspect he had come up with on the spot to fill the silence. Then he began a second song, then a third.

By the fifth song, you were blissfully unaware of your daily troubles and the seminar waiting for you at 10 am. You were deep asleep in his arms, feeling the safest you ever had.

Upon realising you had finally succumbed to the call of dreamland, Jihoon chuckled and locked his phone. His newly free hand reached to stroke your cheek.

“Little Miss Can’t Fall Asleep falls asleep a lot easier than she claims,” he joked to noone in particular and craned his neck to press another kiss to your temple before settling back down and closing his own eyes.

[S.SC.: go shopping with her. i’m sure she needs some things for her new place. she might appreciate the company.]

“I still don’t understand how you don’t have a car,” you started up the topic for the third time this hour.

Jihoon had never considered you annoying before – not even to the mildest extent – but he was slowly starting to get annoyed. He sighed. “Getting a licence seems like such a hassle.”

“It’s freeing,” you argued, amused by your new-found ability to annoy him even the tiniest bit. “You don’t depend on public transportation or your friends anymore. It’s great.”

“I can get everywhere on foot just fine.” He rolled his eyes and lifted a hand to cover your mouth as you began to speak again. “Didn’t you say you needed new towels? I’m pretty sure we walked straight past those.”

Unable to form proper words under the weight of his hand, you just hummed and let him lead you back to the towel aisle. It was only once you were there that he removed his hand again, wiping it against his hoodie. “Why do you need new towels anyway? It’s not like the ones you’ve used so far are contaminated.”

“It’s the principle, Jihoon,” you told him while scanning through the options. “New place, new me – that type of deal.”

“Sounds like a trick of capitalism,” he joked and leaned his torso forward against the shopping cart you had already half-filled with baskets, blankets, cushions and pillows of all shapes and sizes.

You turned to glare at him. “Are you my boyfriend or my financial advisor?”

“Both, if you pay me well enough.”

“Whatever. What colour towels should I get?”

He shrugged. “I’m a big fan of the colour black.”

You sighed. “That’s so boring. How about blue?”

He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes in thought. “I could be persuaded.”

“I’m taking that as a yes,” you sang and picked up two of the larger fluffy blue towels – one lighter and the other darker in shade. You barely managed to fit them in the cart before your eyes lit up with a new quest in sight. “Oh, we need slippers too.”

He only hummed and swiftly (or as swiftly as one can move a shopping cart that clearly has never been maintained in the 10 years it's been in use) manoeuvred the cart to follow after you. Once he finally found you in the footwear aisle, he was confronted by two pairs of slippers – one black, the other baby pink – in his face. He tilted his head to offer you a confused look.

Without any malice behind it, you sighed and rolled your eyes. “Pick a colour.”

“Black.”

“You’re impossible.”

“I know you’re waiting for me to tell you ‘pink’ and I’m not giving you nor Mingyu that satisfaction,” he countered before nodding towards his colour of choice again. “Black.”

“Fine,” you sighed in defeat and placed the pink ones back, only to pick up a different size of the same colour and place it in the cart.

His eyebrows rose. “What are you–?”

“What size slippers do you wear?”

“Me?” He frowned. “Why would my opinion on any of this matter? It’s your apartment. Why are you making me choose the colour of the towels and the shower curtain and the–”

He fell silent, his mouth still ajar in wordless awe as the realisation hit. You tried your hardest to act cool under his disbelieving stare.

“I– I’m not moving in with you,” he whispered, his eyes softening as he reached for your arm as if to comfort you. “We talked about this. I still need some time.”

“I’m not asking you to move in yet,” you laughed sheepishly, avoiding his gaze. “I just thought it would be nice if you could visit without worrying about bringing your things. You’re my boyfriend. I just want you to be comfortable when you come over to stay the night or when you don’t feel like going back to your and Vernon’s place after a long day and–”

Your words faded to the background as he continued staring at you. He was so used to being the one full of hesitation, overthinking his actions, trying to act nonchalant when he finally committed. Seeing you do the same? His heart grew two sizes larger and suddenly he couldn’t contain himself.

Without thinking about it, he pulled you into a hug, effectively silencing your doubts and rambled justifications just like you had done for him so many times before.

“You should’ve just said so, silly,” he laughed and held you even tighter.

[C.VN.: u know, i heard study dates are popular with the girls]

[you’re just trying to get me out of the dorm, aren't you?]

[C.VN.: u cant prove anything]

Sitting across from him in the living room, you watched in silence as Jihoon tapped away at his keyboard. His fingers seemed to fly across the keys at the speed of light, typing out a word and then deleting it. He did so a thousand times before huffing out a sigh and leaning his head back to glare at the ceiling.

“Have you tried taking a break?” you asked him softly, wanting not to scare or irritate him.

His head lolled back to a normal position and he offered an unamused raise of his brows. “Have you seen me take any breaks?”

You grimaced. “Then maybe it’s time to take a break now.”

“Sorry, darling,” he sighed and shook his head, “I need this essay finished by midnight. I’ve been putting this off for too long as it is.”

You glanced at the clock. “Midnight’s still 10 hours away though. You have time to take a break.”

He rolled his eyes and glared at his laptop screen. A blank page with only the title ‘Western Philosophy 101 Final Essay’ mocked him. “A break from what? I haven’t even done anything.”

“You’ve been thinking hard.”

“Darling, I don’t think you understand how essay-writing works. There’s no use in thinking if no writing comes out of it.”

You reached over to take his hands off the keyboard. His fingers instinctively wrapped around yours, squeezing them just enough to comfort the both of you. “Writing will come out of it if you just relax and just take a break, I promise.”

Jihoon wanted to argue, he really did. But then he looked up from the screen and into your eyes, tempting him to just agree. And while he wasn’t one to give up easily, he was definitely someone who wanted fulfil every wish his loved-ones ever made.

And so, he gave up this time. Defeated, he slumped his shoulders and sighed. “Alright, what do you have in mind?”

“How long do you have?” you asked, feeling mischievous all of a sudden.

He glanced at his watch before shrugging. “An hour, maybe.”

That was all you needed to pull him towards yourself by the hands. He stumbled a little, just about falling into your lap with a whine of protest before settling exactly where he landed, too tired to care further. His eyes fell closed the moment he felt your warmth against himself.

Without even thinking about it, you reached down to play with his hair. The silky strands ran through your fingers with ease and Jihoon could only hum in appreciation at the gesture. While this wasn’t the cuddle position you had had in mind, you couldn’t say no to the rare chance to dote on your otherwise independent boyfriend.

“This is nice,” he sighed softly and nuzzled his face against your belly, happy to hide from his horrible philosophy final. He lazily opened one eye to look at you, admiring you with the same love as you did him. “We should do this more often.”

“I would love to,” you told him with a sweet laugh and he was glad that he was lying down because his knees felt a little weak all of a sudden. “See, I told you you needed a break.”

He hummed in agreement, closing his eye again. “I feel like I might fall asleep though. And then who will finish my essay? You?”

“How about I just wake you up in, like, 40 minutes instead?” you offered.

With a cheerful giggle, he hid his face further into the fabric of your shirt. His voice sounded muffled as he spoke, “You don’t like philosophy either?”

“Cried my way all the way through the midterms and swore to never take anything philosophy-related again.”

“That’s good. I should do that,” he slurred his words and before long, all you heard were his soft snores.

Jihoon liked to think he wasn’t particularly clingy. He didn’t need constant assurance from his friends that he was still loved and wanted – he knew they liked and wanted him around. He knew that you liked and wanted him around.

But when your near-hourly updates about the randomest things you had seen and done were replaced by radio silence, Jihoon grew more and more anxious. Though he knew it was silly to think so, he couldn’t help but worry he had annoyed you into leaving him.

Throughout the day, he kept glancing at his phone. Even just a single message – heck, even an emoji – would make his day infinitely better. When he wasn’t staring at his phone, begging for any notification with your name on it, he was looking at the people around him in the hopes of seeing your familiar face among them.

The day went by without as much as a sign from you.

He felt silly. He felt dumb. He felt like he was going to cry very real tears if you didn’t respond to his text before midnight.

He let out a loud sigh of relief when your nickname finally popped up on his screen. The tears gathered in his eyes dissipated slowly as he shakily unlocked the phone and tapped on your newest message.

[darling ♡: oh my god. i’m sorry for not answergi !! so sorry!!!]

Jihoon blinked away the remnants of his anxious tears and smiled at the sight of your words. You hadn’t left him just yet. He still had a girlfriend who cared for him.

[it’s okay. did something happen?]

[darling ♡: yeah hahah funny story actually…]

[darling ♡: i think i caught something and i’ve been trying to sleep it off haha]

And just like that, his anxiety was back. Jihoon straightened in his seat, one hand still typing while the other blindly searched for his jacket.

[youre sick?,??m???]

[darling ♡: a little bit…]

[i’m coming over-]

Before you could send a message of protest, he shrugged his jacket on and headed out the door. Even though he realistically knew that he wouldn’t be much help and would just end up sick himself, he couldn’t just let you suffer all alone.

As he practically galloped down the stairs from his 3rd floor dorm, he texted the group chat for help and assurance.

[L.SM.: she’s sick?! make her dinner! what’s her favourite soup??]

Jihoon paused mid-step. What was your favourite soup?

He arrived at your apartment just ten minutes later, a bag in hand. You greeted him at the door, bags under your eyes, skin dull and lips dry. Jihoon couldn’t help but pout at the sight.

“What happened to you?” he asked, reaching up to brush his thumb across the cracked skin of your lips. “Have you been drinking water at all?”

“The fridge is too far from the bed,” you told him with a defeated sigh before practically melting into his embrace. “I told you not to come.”

He scoffed out a laugh and began rolling up the sleeves of his white hoodie. “Well, I’m here anyway. And I’m making you food. How does tomato soup sound?”

“Like you don’t know how to make chicken soup,” you answered with a suspicious squint of your eyes.

He laughed at that, ears turning red at the way you had caught onto his scheme. “Alright, I think you should go back to resting.”

“You should go to sleep too,” you argued. “It’s past midnight already and you have classes tomorrow.”

“I can skip a day.” He said it with such ease and carelessness that you couldn’t help but wonder who this man was because your boyfriend hadn’t skipped any classes in the entire time you had been together.

Still, you were too tired to care. Soup sounded better than sleeping on an empty stomach for another 12 hours.

“Can I at least help you cook?” you practically begged, hanging onto his arm as he began preparing in the kitchen.

A little taken aback by your affection, he laughed nervously. “Aren’t you tired?”

“I think I’m starting to feel better actually,” you half-joked, watching with starry eyes as he expertly washed and then chopped the tomatoes. “Seeing you has recharged me with energy.”

“Yeah?” He hummed in thought before offering you a mischievous smile. “Then do you have enough energy to go and rest a little?”

Your face dropped. “Why can’t you just accept my love?”

“Because I’m pretty sure you’re feverish and standing up for long won’t do you any good, darling,” he whispered before pressing a swift kiss to your cheek and returning to his task. “So, go rest on the sofa. I can go get your laptop so you can watch something, if you want.”

“But what if I want to cuddle?”

“Cuddle a pillow.”

“You’re cruel.”

He rolled his eyes at your dramatic antics. Clearly the fever was affecting you worse than he had feared. “When I literally ran across the district to come here and make you soup at midnight?”

“Yes.”

He sighed. “Fine, you can stay,” he paused and gave a warning glare, even if it looked far less threatening with the smile playing on his lips, “for now.”

You let out a soft cheer and cuddled back into his side, resting your cheek on his shoulder as he made you soup. You marvelled at the graceful movements of his hands. You couldn’t help but wonder how many of his friends he had made food for. For now you were just glad to be one of them.

“I hope I recover fast,” you whispered. “Or maybe I should just stay sick forever.”

“Why?”

“I have a stupid presentation next week. I haven’t even started reading to prepare for it.” You buried your face into the fabric of his hoodie. He took a moment to press his cheek against your head in an act of assurance. You sighed and mumbled a final, “Stupid finals.”

He laughed at that. “I’ll get you some medicine tomorrow so you can recover fast.”

With a groan, you straightened up a little again to side-eye him. “Can’t you just leave me here to suffer? Or help me fake my death? What kind of a boyfriend are you?”

“The kind that wants his girlfriend to be healthy for our end-of-the-semester date night,” he answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

His confidence really made you wonder if you had forgotten about this clearly existing tradition between the two of you. But no, you were pretty sure he had just made this up. Or perhaps you were too loopy from paracetamol to remember.

Either way, you let yourself get carried away into a fantasy of sharing a date night with only your boyfriend and no university stress. You couldn’t help but smile at the thought.

The end of the semester came faster than Jihoon or any of his friends would have liked. It snuck up on them between the despair and sleepless nights of the exam session. And he could not have been happier about it.

Once he had submitted the final essay of the semester – the very last graded project he’d have to submit before a well-deserved break –, he slammed his laptop shut and looked at you, still hunched over your laptop on the bed, re-reading the last paragraphs of your own essay.

“Hold on,” you told him upon feeling his eyes on yourself, “I’m almost done.”

“No rush,” he replied with a sweet smile before letting out a soft giggle of relief and falling back onto your mattress, his arms spread out as if to soak in the freedom.

As if the sight of your boyfriend basking in the glow of no more exams had motivated you to finish sooner than you planned, you hurriedly rushed to upload your final assignment. A green check mark appeared on the screen to indicate that you could finally join your boyfriend.

With a loud cheer, you closed your own laptop and crawled over to where your boyfriend was lying. Immediately you burrowed into his side and sighed happily. “This semester sucked.”

“You can say that again,” he agreed and wrapped an arm around your shoulders like he had done so many times before. “But at least it’s over now.”

You hated to be the wet blanket but… “Unless one of us fails.”

He groaned and used the same arm to roll you away from him. “I hate you. Go away.”

You laughed at the way he scrunched up his face in distaste as if he had swallowed bitter medicine. “I’m just saying. We’re not safe yet.”

“We’re safe enough,” he declared and waved your negative thoughts away. “God, I hate you, now you’re making me anxious.”

“You don’t actually hate me,” you sang and rolled back over to him, settling right on top of him, your nose against his own. “In fact, you like me.”

He grimaced. “Unfortunately.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you gasped and sat up, resting your hand on his chest as you leaned upright to glared at him. “Unfortunately?!”

He laughed at your theatrics, giggling with his whole body, shaking so hard in the process that you lost your balance and fell back right on top of him. His arm came to rest around your shoulders again. Once he was out of giggles, he continued smiling and caressed your cheek. “You’re so freaking cute. It’s unfair.”

“Take back that ‘unfortunately’ and I might get even cuter,” you told him, a suspicious glare set on him.

His smile never faded as he leaned up just a little, resting his entire body weight on one arm just to press his lips to yours. “I take the word back.”

“Good,” you decided and joined in his laughter before kissing him again, “because I kind of love you, actually.”

He froze. His eyes widened just a fraction, his lips parted in a silent gasp of surprise.

He stayed like that for long enough to make you worry you had made your move too fast. He liked to take it slow – you knew that. He had been taking it slow all this time. And now you’ve confessed and he probably thought you were ridiculous and dumb and–

“Darling…” His lips curled into a smile, his eyes turning into joyful crescents, and then he leaned in again.

His hands came to rest on your cheeks, squishing them just a little as he pulled you to his lips. He kissed you again and again and again.

He kissed you until you were dumb. He didn’t stop kissing you until you were sure you couldn’t form a single word that wasn’t his name.

Then, eventually, with both of your lips swollen and eyes dazed, he leaned back and nuzzled his nose against your own. “I love you so, darling, I really do.”

It took you a moment to understand what he was saying. He had kissed you so dumb that you could’ve sworn he was speaking in another language. But finally, your brain caught up with the situation and a smile appeared on your face, bright and proud and full of adoration for your boyfriend.

“You should kiss me like that more often,” you told him, teasing, trying to see what he’d do.

He replied with a playful roll of his eyes and another kiss, a single one but much longer than the last twenty.

“I love you,” you whispered again against his lips.

His smile only seemed to brighten even more at that. “I love you too.”

But as he was about to go in for another kiss, a loud vibration sounded from somewhere in the sheets. The two of you glanced around as the vibrations continued, breaking you from the romantic daze.

“Is someone calling you?” he wondered.

“My phone’s been on silent since the dawn of time, babe,” you told him easily and helped him look for his phone. “It must be yours.”

Just when you said those words, the vibrations abruptly stopped. And then another vibration came, short and gentle this time.

You found his phone under the pillows, Soonyoung’s contact name appearing alongside the missed call symbol and a minimised text message on the screen.

“It’s your tiger friend,” you told Jihoon and turned to hand the phone to him when the phone vibrated again with a new message coming in.

It wasn’t your fault that the whole screen flashed to life with the message – what were you supposed to do? Not read it?

[K.SY.: oh, nonie said u’re with y/n?]

And then another message arrived before he could take the phone from your hands.

[K.SY.: have u told her u love her yet ??!?!!]

[K.SY.: the chat is rootin for u!!!! u’ve been good at following our advice this far. u’ve got this!!]

A mischievous smile appeared on your face as you read the message. Jihoon didn’t realise what made you react this way until he took his phone and read the message minimised on his lockscreen. He groaned as the realisation hit.

“Don’t start–”

“You told your friends that you loved me,” you beat him to it, reaching over to squish his cheeks and kiss his nose. “And you asked them for advice? You’re so goddamn cute.”

His ears got progressively more red with every word. He quickly swiped the messages off his screen and threw his phone as far away as he could without potentially breaking it. “It wasn’t like that–”

“I’m just teasing, baby,” you laughed and pulled him into a comforting hug. Poor man was mortified. “I do have to ask though: what kind of advice did you get from them?”

“Well,” he hesitated as you looked at him expectantly, “I wanted to be a good boyfriend, so… I asked them how to be a better boyfriend…”

You pressed your lips to his. “You’re a good boyfriend, Jihoon, I promise. You’re the best, actually.”

“I had to ask my friends for help just to get the courage to initiate a kiss,” he confessed, squeezing his eyes shut as the urge to cringe and hide away under the bed overcame him. “I’m a mediocre boyfriend, at most.”

“I strongly disagree,” you told him and pulled him in for another kiss, “but we’ll work on your confidence, my love.”

♡ THE END! ♡

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #svt scenarios #seventeen fluff #woozi x reader #woozi scenarios #woozi fluff #lee jihoon scenarios #woozi

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hijackalx · 3 days

Text

A PROPOSITION +18

SUMMARY: You’ll need more than a pretty penny to change this corrupt magistrate’s mind.

WORD COUNT: 3.8k

UNDER THE CUT: F!reader, magistrate!astarion, dry humping, vaginal fingering, clothed sex, slight corruption kink, reader is implied inexperienced/astarion treats them that way, D/S, maybe dubcon but not really, power imbalance

Your heels clack through the hollow hall, every step quick and determined. However, your face holds a level of uncertainty to it.

Doors lace the walls, each one with a plaque beside it. You scan every little golden engraving, repeating the names you read under your breath. Meanwhile, the briefcase in your hands is secured to your chest tightly, as if you're afraid it'll disappear.

Your spine shoots upright as you make an abrupt stop. You linger outside one of the doors, swallowing as you stare at the title it holds— 'A. ANCUNIN' reads in big, bold letters, almost like it were manufactured to wrack your nerves. Your gaze shifts to the figure through the distorted glass. It's misshapen and hardly more than a silhouette, but it's enough to make your palms sweat.

You wipe your hands off on your skirt, then quickly push any stray hairs back into place. With a reassuring breath, you knock on the door.

"Come in," a voice calls out, flat and disinterested.

Only when the latch clicks behind you does he look up from the paperwork on his desk. He gives you a once-over, though it almost feels like an evaluation. Afterward, he sits up and folds his hands on the desktop. "Hello," he greets, his tone lacking the monotony it held a moment ago. "What can I do for you?"

Your words seem to get lost in your throat for a moment, allowing the silence between you to last a second too long. "M-may I?" You gesture to one of the chairs in front of his desk, to which he gives a smile you'd only describe as amused. You curse mentally at how you've already managed to make a fool of yourself.

"Of course, darling," he says as if he's pointing out the obvious. Above that soft grin of his, his eyes blink slowly, giving away how horribly you're failing at your first impression.

His subtle criticism only makes you more timid. After all, proposing a deal like this could cost you your job, and you hoped it wouldn't come to that if you could get him to like you.

Had the magistrate working your client's trial— your friend's trial— been anyone but Ancunin, you wouldn't doubt yourself over such a small crime. It's unlike you to lack confidence in your abilities, even more so to stoop as low as bribery. For you and your friend's sake, you hope the rumors about his corrupt ways are more than just rumors.

You take a seat, impossibly rigid. His eyes glance down, and you can't tell if he's taken interest in the briefcase on your lap or something lower. You bring your legs closer together as a precaution.

"Mr. Ancunin—" you cut yourself off to clear your throat, "—sir, I noticed that you'll be overseeing my client's case in a few days..." Your words die out, eyes darting around the room as if searching for the best way to introduce your proposal. Much to your dismay, you find that there isn't one. "I... I was hoping... we could discuss the terms of your… mercy."

It feels like you've just lit a bomb, and you're counting down the seconds until you lose everything. You almost want to shield your face and take cover.

His eyes squint slightly, withholding a response as he leans back in his chair. The wood creaks under his weight. Your heart pounds in your chest, leading a tremble to your fingers you're sure he must have noticed.

After a few moments, the silence is too suffocating for you to let it go on. "I know that sounds... rough. But I promise you it is worth your time—" the sounds of the briefcase snapping open interrupt your nervous speech.

"I don't want your gold."

You freeze, and all is quiet again. "... What?" You mutter, slightly taken aback by the suddenness of his reply.

"It's not enough."

You glance down at the object in your hands, realizing that he hasn't even seen the sum yet. "This should be more than enough for a minor offense." A small crease forms between your brows, a tinge of confusion to your voice.

He laughs at you, and something about the high-pitched sound makes your jaw clench. It seems to bring you back to reality, and you finally see him for what he is— a cocky, power-tripping bastard.

"Let's agree to disagree, dear. If you wish to sway me next time, try offering something a little more..." He trails off, appearing to browse his mind for the correct word. "... enticing." He briefly chews on the pen in his hand while looking you over once more. With a sigh, he waves it towards you dismissively and sits back up to focus on his paperwork. "Have a good day now."

Just like that, the negotiation is over, and a wave of shock crashes into you. If your friend wasn't getting the death sentence before, they surely are now. Desperation weighs on your limbs at the realization, anchoring you in place. You watch hopelessly as he continues to fill out the papers on his desk, any remnants of your interaction wiped clean from his features.

You've not only failed your friend, but you've made a mockery of yourself as well.

He finally looks up again, though he doesn't give you enough respect to fully lift his head. "Something wrong?"

Your lip bobs as you struggle to get your words together. There's a glassiness to your eyes, and you quickly try to blink it away. "I— what can I do?" Your voice cracks slightly, and he seems to liven up at the sound. "Please tell me."

You try to save yourself some dignity by not crying in front of him, but your attempts are futile as the first tear slips down your face. You quickly wipe it away, all for it to be followed by another. A soft whimper escapes your throat, and you realize you're falling apart faster than you anticipated.

When you meet his eyes again, you're almost stunned out of your state. His stare is heavy, and you notice how his nostrils flare just slightly to accommodate his elevated breaths. You'd almost guess that he's angry with your pathetic groveling, but something is... off.

He appears to snap out of his trance with a bob of his throat, his lean fingers digging into the collar of his shirt to loosen it. Your gaze follows as long strides carry him around his desk.

You're surprised when he squats down in front of you, bringing himself to your level. There's an upward pull to his brows, and a strangely sympathetic pout to his lips. "Oh, you poor, sweet little thing." He tilts his head as he studies your tearstained features.

His eyes hold a level of pity that almost makes you forget that he's the one responsible for your troubles. His stare is captivating, and you find yourself unable to look away.

"You know, I feel for you. I do," he sighs. "But, gold..." he looks off to the side and does a little shrug. "It just... doesn't quite do it for me these days. What, with my job being so stressful and time consuming, I'm hardly concerned with how much coin I can spend."

He laughs and places a hand on your knee, the warmth of his palm igniting the skin through your tights. You stare down at it, sporting an unsubtle fixation on how his long index finger sneaks beneath your skirt. It remains there as if inconspicuous— as if it's an innocent mistake.

His touch slips away, though only to reposition itself on your chin as he rises to his full height. He demands your attention as he looms over you, and you're shocked to notice how his features have darkened.

You peer up through your lashes as he runs his thumb over your wet cheek. The digit stills for a moment before slyly moving toward your bottom lip, smearing the moisture of your collected tear. "What I would trade for a bit of relief, though..." he mutters with a sense of being lost in thought.

Your heartbeat skips at the implications of his words, a searing heat blossoming throughout your body. Despite it being such a horrible and perverted thing to suggest, you can't help noticing the quickening of your breaths— each inhale tinged with excitement.

You're not quite sure how to voice your desires, so you simply allow your mouth to pop open. The intensity in his gaze grows as he watches you give him access, his thumb pushing past the barrier of your lips and meeting the warmth inside. He inhales sharply as you close your mouth around him, tasting your own salty tears.

Your hands anxiously wring the ends of your skirt, rubbing your thighs together for some kind of solace. The smallest moan leaves your throat, muffled by the barricade of his thumb.

He slides himself from your clasped lips and lets out a short, inquisitive hum. You sit patiently— obediently— waiting for his next move. You focus on how his fingers unbutton the sleeves of his shirt, how he rolls them up to his elbows and reveals his toned forearms.

As he walks around you to prop himself up on the desktop, the hard-on beneath his black dress pants grabs your attention, and you swallow deeply while trying to maintain composure.

"Well, my dear, I think you have a choice to make," he starts. His tone is lower than before, as if to avoid being heard. "You can either take your things and walk out that door—" he nods to the door, his eyes flitting to it once before meeting yours again. "—... or you can lock it."

He watches you like a hawk as you stand and awkwardly brush the wrinkles from your clothes. His ogling makes you feel weighted as you move towards the door, your unsteady palm landing on the handle. You hesitate for a moment, then ultimately seal the deal with a click.

Your body shakes with every hammer of your pulse, not to mention the anticipatory throbbing between your legs. You're not sure if this is a mistake— you're not sure if you even care. In fact, you're not sure of anything right now.

You slowly turn towards him, your gaze wide and seeking reassurance.

He notices and grins at you, though sly and wolfish it may be. "Very good," he offers his approval, sending a weakness to your knees.

His hand reaches out for you, palm open and inviting yours to fill it. You step his way, allowing him to pull you closer. He grips your wrist tight as he pulls you up into his lap, the motion swift and sudden.

Your face flushes with warmth at the vicinity, your body frozen as you straddle him. He feels how you hover, promptly grabbing your hips and forcing you down onto him. You gasp as his bulge makes contact with your clit, remaining paralyzed as if afraid of the sounds you'd make rubbing against it.

His gentle yet plotting gaze glances back and forth between your eyes and lips. "Have you ever done anything like this before?" he asks, almost distracting you from the feeling of him slowly unbuttoning your shirt. The intensity of which he stares at you only makes you more jittery, and your response catches in your throat.

"I, um—" you choke, watching his dextrous fingers reveal more of your skin by the second. Is he referencing sexual favors? Or just... sex? "I d-don't—"

He grins warmly, a small laugh humming behind his lips. "I'll take that as a no." There's a strange heaviness to his eyes that contrasts with his smile; it's almost daydreamy, as if he's fulfilling some fantasy of his. "Don't you worry your pretty little head then— I know what I'm doing, and that's good enough for the both of us."

Suddenly, you place your hand on his, stilling it. He's surprised at first, but after a glance at your doe-eyed face, he knows what you're thinking.

"Just follow my lead, darling." His freehand plays with the garters connected to your tights. "You can do that for me, can't you?" He asks so sweetly it almost makes your head spin.

You nod, perhaps a little too eagerly from the way he chuckles in response. With that, he grabs your chin, bringing your mouths together. He starts off slow, accommodating you— it seems he can tell you're as nervous as you are desperate to please.

His lips are soft and malleable, forgiving any mistakes you might make. You gain a bit of confidence in turn, and he takes that as a sign to pick up the pace. His brows furrow, and your mouths join with a bit more passion. He runs his tongue over your bottom lip, then takes it in with his teeth; he bites down slightly, resulting in a dull yet addicting pain.

Once his busy fingers reach the bottom of your blouse, he pulls the fabric open, letting the air embrace your torso. His hands invade your body with an impatient hunger, cool fingertips tracing your skin as if familiarizing himself with a new toy.

You catch yourself subconsciously grinding onto his lap, stimulating your clit with the tent in his pants. It sends wave after wave of pleasure through you, your hand catching the hair at the base of his neck. He eats up the small whimpers you release into his mouth like candy, deepening the kiss each time.

He pulls away to pepper wet kisses down your neck, and you readily lift your head to give him better access. A palm slides around your back, pulling you closer as he continues trailing along your collarbone, each remnant of saliva growing cold with his absence.

Your rubbing against him gets more needy, and you stabilize yourself by grabbing the collar of his shirt. With your free hand, you pull your skirt up to watch how his cock cards through your covered folds, noticing the ever-growing wet spot he's curated.

Your cunt tightens around nothing, a deep desire for him to be inside you festering beneath your surface. You've never felt so overwhelmed with want before; he's hijacked your body, and you're not sure you'd even recognize yourself right now— giving into temptation so freely, so shamelessly.

He looks down between your bodies, his cock twitching at the sight of you using him to get off. "Does that feel good?" He asks, a slight waver to his suave tone.

You nod with haste, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you try to find the perfect rhythm, but it's not enough. You need more— to feel his skin against yours. You don't care how dirty or uncouth it might be; your hand lands atop one of his, bringing it closer to the aching spot between your legs.

Although, your confidence seems to run dry as you hesitate, your hand stilling at the halfway-point. You glance at him through your lashes, desperate yet so unsure. He's more than smitten by your uncertainty, reveling in how he's made you yearn for his touch. "Don’t be coy,” he tuts playfully.

He moves his hand without the guidance of your own, watching you closely as he ventures deeper into your underwear. You inhale sharply at the feeling of him exploring your folds, not knowing whether to lean towards it or away. The hum he lets out tells you he's pleased with you so far, and the way that makes your heart race is pitiful.

He thoroughly lathers his digit with your essence, then begins playing with your clit. Your mouth falls open at the instant relief, brows coming together tightly. Your face drops into the crook of his neck, and within seconds your breaths become ragged, allowing the occasional mewl to slip out. You hear how he curses to himself, but you can't bring yourself to focus on what he's saying— you're too lost in his touch.

He consistently changes pace, putting you on the path to an orgasm just to purposely take it away; it's a cruel reminder of who's in control, and you grow increasingly sensitive as a result.

"P-please— please—" you babble, feeling your abdomen grow tenser by the second. He winds the coil inside you tighter and tighter, your pleasure entirely at his mercy. "Please don't stop," you manage to get out, your hand instinctually wrapping around his wrist to keep him there.

He lets out a breathy laugh, one you believe he intended to sound more condescending than it did. "I think you're forgetting the details of our arrangement, dear," he states, presumably anxious to get his own and tell you to leave. Although, his fingers don't still, and he doesn't refrain from encouraging you to cum for him through saccharine whispers.

"Almost there," he coaxes. "Relax. Don't fight it." His teeth drag along your ear, directing your attention as he speaks.

Your entire body goes taut as you feel something snap deep inside you. Your breaths heighten rapidly, face contorting into a half-hearted wince as you try to hold back your moans.

He watches your climax with a half-lidded gaze, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth— if you didn't know any better you'd think he was absolutely charmed by you.

As you come down from your high, he meets your dazed expression with a grin. "Cute," is all he says before pushing you off his lap. You're shocked— and a little hurt. It's not like you forgot what this was, but you hadn't quite prepared yourself to be discarded so soon.

Then, much to your surprise, he positions himself behind you and bends you over the desk. Your chest hits the surface with a thud, and your face settles onto the papers he was working on earlier. All of your muscles are so lax from your orgasm, your knees almost buckle from beneath you while he flips your skirt over your rear.

You hear the excited exhales leaving his nose as his hands run over the curve of your body, rough and impatient. He reaches the heart shape of your ass, giving the area a sadistic pinch and smack. You gasp, curling your toes at the sharp, throbbing feeling left behind.

The sound of his belt coming undone fills your ears. Your pulse accelerates, an uncontrollable heat racing to your dripping cunt. "Gods, this is so wrong," you mutter, though it leaves your lips heavy with desire.

In seconds, your panties are pulled down to your knees, and the cold, office air emphasizes your exposure. Instead of retreating like you thought you might, you find yourself arching your back for him, searching for his touch. He lets out a sort of half-moan as you spread your legs further, offering yourself to him without hesitation.

You inhale as you feel pressure against your entrance. He relishes in how your cunt repeatedly tightens in an attempt to pull him deeper— it feels like he teases forever, though in reality you know only a moment has passed. Every adrenaline-laced touch and pulse of his cock tells you he's strung thin as well, and his self-control is running low; that much is made obvious by how he suddenly plunges himself inside you with one, quick thrust.

A shrill gasp rips from your throat, your fingers crinkling the paperwork on his desk as you try to gather yourself from the unexpected movement. He balances by resting his hands on either side of your head, and you can't help but stare at how they strain and twitch with arousal.

He begins to move, each thrust building with intensity. You find yourself covering your mouth, praying that no one overhears the noises you try to stifle— that, and the lewd slapping and squelching of your shameful tryst. You screw your eyes shut, opting to scold yourself, but each thought is promptly overtaken by 'Astarion, Astarion, Astarion—'

Soon, pleasure completely overrides your senses; it's the only thing that matters. You writhe beneath him like a cat in heat, grinding and rutting against him as he uses your body to chase a climax.

He hits a spot that makes you yelp, your mouth involuntarily falling open in ecstasy. "T-there!" You hurry to speak. "Just like that!" A few needy whimpers slip past your guard, but they seem to aid your persuasion as he abides by your pleas.

One hand grabs you by your waist, fingers digging into the flesh beneath your skirt. His breaths become shallower, and a series of short moans are released by your ear. The sounds send a chill down your spine, and you're immediately hit with the realization that you're approaching a second orgasm.

His melody of pleasure becomes more vulnerable by the second, and his thrusts roughen. The added pressure sends you over the edge, your orgasm crashing into you like an icy ocean wave. Your entire figure tenses beneath him, limbs contracting and sprawling as the feeling courses through you from fingertips to toes. It's more intense than the first, leaving you a malleable heap on the desktop.

He follows shortly after by pulling out and finishing into his hand. His quick removal makes your eyes widen for a split second, surprised by the feeling of emptiness he leaves behind.

You both remain in place for a moment, catching your breaths. Slowly, as your senses recalibrate, you become aware of what you've done. You're almost frightened by the person you just were, taken over by lust— at the hands of a man you hardly know, even.

Rising from the desk, you peel a document from the sweat of your flushed face. Turning his way, you watch as he tries to return his disheveled appearance to its original state— brushing the white curls from his forehead and tucking his shirt back into his pants— all the while carrying a weary, post-orgasm expression.

A man you hardly know, but a very handsome one at least.

He meets your eyes, and suddenly he's back to playing professional again. With a smile that reveals more than his workplace persona, he breaks the silence. "Consider your friend well and truly saved, my darling," he says while making sure you look presentable enough to leave. He buttons your shirt for you, then finishes by wiping away an ink stain on your cheek.

His haughty demeanor makes your blood boil, but you hold your tongue. You did what you needed to do— even if a minor detour was involved. No sense in undoing that by getting on his bad side already.

Grabbing your suitcase, you agree to put this past you. Although, as you grip the door handle, he calls out one last time, "Oh, and do let me know if there's ever anything else I can do for you."

#THROWS THIS AT YOU LIKE A GRENADE AND RUNS #some said it would never be done……… BUT HERE IT IS !!!!!!!! no its not a month late what are u talking about #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x female reader #x reader #astarion one shot #one shot

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