Hostess| Kyoya Ootori X Reader

your soul is more beautiful ⋮ kim woonhak ⨉ reader.

wc ; 200+. genre — fluff & mutual pining(?). cw .ᐟ short, open ended

ㅤ ⠀“I knew you’d be here...”

ㅤ ⠀Before I heard his voice, I was previously sitting on top of a cliff. It had a wonderful view, and I would always come up here whenever I had something bothering me or when I just wanted to be by myself.

ㅤ ⠀Yet, like always, he’s here to add warmth to this cold night.

ㅤ ⠀“Why are you here? ”

ㅤ ⠀I say this as I separate myself from the city in front of me to look at another attraction, the most unique one out of the others. His eyes

ㅤ ⠀“I wanted to finally know what wonders you were talking about.”

ㅤ Eye-to-eye, I finally caught a glimpse of a new shining star. a smile from him, a smile I could see even if it was the dark of night with no moon helping me to see.

ㅤ All I did was laugh while he sat right beside me on the greens of the cliff. Just now, I could feel the grass beneath me tickle what it could reach. I was awake, aware of everything around me. Before it got out of hand, I looked away from him, trying numb my senses again—the main reason i was here in this cliff.

ㅤ ⠀“Beautiful, isn’t it? ”

ㅤ⠀ “Yes, but I’ve seen something more beautiful than this.”

ㅤ I could feel my eyes dilating as I averted my eyes away from the city. I was expecting him to still have his eyes on me; I wanted him to. but he looked forward. and like earlier, I could feel the wind blowing every strand of my hair now. Before some could get into my eye, I stopped it with one hand on my ear.

ㅤ ⠀ “like what? ”

ㅤ ⠀ Finally, his gaze was on me again.

ㅤ ⠀ “your soul.”

#~🎙: first drabble whatever… idk what to call it

why don’t you figure my heart out? | p. wb (prologue)

synopsis: you’re the stylist to rockstar park wonbin, your first ever job in the fashion industry. he has a bad reputation for being hard to please and getting angry at his staff. he’s cold and dismissive towards you initially but as time progresses, he tries hard to be nicer towards you despite still having his moments. you’re constantly left confused by the way he behaves, wondering what it is he wants from you. can you figure his heart out?

contains: smut (in later parts), wonbin being an asshole (be prepared to want to beat him up lmfao)

characters in this part: you as wonbin’s stylist, wonbin as a rockstar, winter as wonbin’s manager

word count: 1k

it was the first day at your new job working as a stylist for the hottest rockstar at the moment, park wonbin. you knew working in the fashion industry was tough but nothing could prepare you for working with wonbin. not only was he extremely hard to please, he was known to be rude and dismissive towards his staff and you’d hear multiple stories of him making staff cry. regardless, you were determined to stay resilient as being a stylist was your dream ever since you were a little girl, always helping your friends and family with putting together outfits. you had made significant effort to look nice today, wearing a white t-shirt with a black, unbuttoned cardigan and a denim mini skirt. you styled the outfit with a pair of black boots and silver jewellery; your hair and makeup took hours, but you still looked effortless.

you took a deep breath as you walked into the studio, your heart pounding faster than it ever has in your life. there was a woman waiting for you at the front, greeting you with a friendly smile. “hi, you must be y/n right? i’m winter, wonbin’s manager, it’s nice to meet you,” she said, extending her hand. you shook her hand, grateful for her warm welcome which calmed your nerves slightly. “yes, that’s me. it’s nice to meet you too,” you replied, trying not to sound too nervous. winter walked you through the studio, introducing you briefly to other members of wonbin’s team. she got to wonbin’s room and turned to you. “wonbin’s just in here. just remember, he can be a bit intense, ok? just try to not take it to heart,” she said, giving you a reassuring smile. you nodded, your stomach twisting in knots as she opened the door.

and there he was. park wonbin himself sat on a chair, eyes fixed on his phone, completely disinterested in your presence. “finally, you’re here,” he snapped, not bothering to stand up or greet you properly. “let’s get started. i don’t have all day.” from this brief interaction, you already knew that this job was going to be one of the toughest challenges you had ever faced, and you swallowed hard in an attempt to guard yourself against his cold demeanour. you approached him, determined to make a good first impression despite his attitude. “good morning, mr park. i’m y/n, your new stylist,” you greeted, remaining professional despite your nerves. “i’ve prepared some outfits for your-“ before you could finish, wonbin cut you off. “yes, it’s for the photoshoot, just get on with it,” he interrupted impatiently, barely sparing you a glance.

you swallowed your initial frustration while you laid out the outfits you had meticulously prepared, each one designed to reflect his sleek yet edgy persona. you could feel wonbin’s eyes occasionally flicking towards you, assessing your every move with an air of silent judgment. with almost every outfit you presented to him, he rolled his eyes, complaining that they were all too basic for him and didn’t bring anything new to the table. “i’ve worn something like that a million times,” he muttered dismissively, his tone impatient. you tried to remain calm, reminding yourself of all the work you’d done to get to this point. determined to impress him, you pulled out the final outfit you had planned: a thin, black jumper with a black vest layered underneath paired with black, baggy jeans and a pair of dr martens. you added a statement belt and a couple of accessories that you hoped would appeal to his taste. “i thought this look could be different from your usual style while keeping true to your signature look,” you explained, holding up the outfit.

wonbin eyed the ensemble with a raised eyebrow. “what’s different about it?” he challenged, his tone sharp. you took a deep breath, trying to keep your composure. “well, i noticed you always wear that necklace,” you began, pointing to the piece of jewelry that hung around his neck. “i was reading this article and found out it’s something you’ve had since childhood. i thought we could incorporate it into your outfit to give it your own personal charm.”his eyes narrowed at you, and he leaned forward, a questioning look on his face. “did you just say you did research on my necklace?” he asked, his voice dripping with skepticism and anger. “you stalking me or something?”you felt a flush of embarrassment and a twinge of fear, but you stood your ground. “n-no, mr park. as your stylist, i need to understand your personal style and what matters to you. i aimed to create an outfit that not only looks good but also means something.”his face toughened, and he stood up, stepping closer to you, his presence imposing. “that’s just really fucking creepy,” he hissed. “you’re my stylist, not my biographer. stick to picking clothes and stop pretending you know me.”

you swallowed hard, feeling the sting of his words. “i-i didn’t mean to overstep, i’m so sorry. my intention was to create something meaningful for you,”you said, stuttering over your words. he snatched the outfit from your hands, examining it with a critical eye. “this better be fucking worth it,” he muttered. “i don’t have time for dumb little amateurs.”simultaneously frustrated and determined, you helped him change into the outfit. As he stood in front of the mirror, you adjusted the necklace to make sure it was visible, accentuating its significance. wonbin examined himself critically, his expression unchanging. “not bad,” he admitted reluctantly. “but don’t think this means i like you. you have a lot to prove.”you nodded, attempting to hide your relief. “thank you, mr park. i’ll continue to do my best.” wonbin turned away, dismissing you with a wave of his hand. “we’ll see about that. just mind your business and keep out of my personal life.”

you left the room, your heart pounding just like when you entered. your hands were shaking as you held back tears, insistent on ignoring wonbin’s harsh words. you didn’t want to let them discourage you, this had been your dream for years. after this encounter, you wanted to prove yourself to wonbin that this opportunity was one that you deserved even if he was difficult towards you.

cee’s taglist ♡ @binoyu @taemyoun @wonbin-truther @scarwxrld @wonbinkisser @luvnvivi (comment to be added <3)

ANTON COMBO 2024

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐮𝐬𝐚𝐧 𝐁𝐨𝐲 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐃𝐨𝐨𝐫

Summary: He wants to be your only one... the fact that you've barely said a word to each other is irrelevant.

Warnings: Language, Humor, Unedited, Fluff, Neighbours to fuck buddies to Lovers, Leehan as his own warning, Jealous!Leehan, Possessiveness, Smut +18 (Minors DNI), Cunnilingus, Needy sex, Grinding, Premature Orgasm, Masturbation, Degradation Kink, Rough Sex

He's wrecking so very badly, Send help

Donghyun was going about his day perfectly fine until he set his foot over the kitchen threshold, and the first trickle of a moan came in from the adjacent walls. He immediately recognized the very specific, very airy octave of your voice.

The panting, the gasps, the very scheduled short exhales that ran through the conduit of your throat. He tries to stare at the fish through the aquatic looking glass in peace, hoping to alleviate the sound of your moaning that continues to bleed from the insulation in the thin apartment walls.

He finds himself quite vexed which is incredibly rare for nonchalant, unbothered Donghyun. For the longest time he thought he was broken. Never being able to forge any special connection with anyone that didn't sport a fin or gills.

When he met you though…

“No-” Donghyun shakes his head, hoping the movement might wash away all the mental images threatening to implode his head in. The memory of your passionate, albeit short history as neighbourly fuckbuddies threatens to rear its ugly head… Donghyun tries to distract himself and these new and complicated feelings of jealousy (definitely jealousy) by focusing on the underwater scavengers swimming blissfully about their makeshift prison. Every time he tries, you moan a particularly loud ‘F-Fuck’, and now he's hard and damnit, he can't focus on the fish. Your moans ascend to a higher octave, an octave that gives him unfortunate flashbacks of the night he first met you.

Then, it had been him who drew those sounds from your throat.

Donghyun didn't always believe in fate but there was no other way to describe that evening. You would have both continued on as oblivious neighbours were it not for your roommate accidentally locking you out of your apartment for the 100th time. Donghyun reminisces on how he found you seated outside your door. A tipsy, blubbering mess.

Thinking that he wouldn't like to go to hell, Donghyun decided to pick you up from off the floor after inquiring whether you were comfortable with fish (he wouldn't like to invite any stranger into his apartment that was even a little bit hostile towards the fish) and thereafter, lumbered you over the threshold.

You had been mumbling about a variety of topics that Donghyun would kill to have you relay back to him right now, but one after the other, the topics dwindled into you enquiring about more alcohol. Claiming that you couldn't wait for your roommate on an empty stomach.

"Food," he had said in a deep and dreary monotonous voice, "If you're hungry, you should eat some food,"

"Food is boring," you whined.

"It really is," he found himself agreeing almost automatically.

"I have an even better idea," it was then, that you uncovered three bottles of soju from your purse with a conspiratorial drunken smirk on your face. The evening had inevitably ended with the both of you getting inebriated under the dim blue lights shining from his tank. And under those very same lights, while Donghyun droned on about the cardiovascular system of freshwater fish, your lips met his in a sloppy, unceremonious kiss.

He did not know this when you kissed him, but he would soon become obsessed with you. That could be the only thing he could describe this as.

"Ugh, how can you stand to listen to the sounds of our neighbors fucking," Donghyun is pulled from his reverie by Sungho who strolls into the kitchen. His roommate's messy head of hair is tipped back in distaste at the scandalous sounds emanating from the next door apartment.

"Neighbour." Donghyun says, "We only have one and she lives alone," Donghyun appears seemingly unperturbed by the sound of your moaning. If not for the subtle whitening of his knuckles against the tabletop upon which his fish tank sat, anyone could've sworn he didn't feel a thing.

"I don't even wanna know how you know that-" Sungho begins to rummage for his pots and pans, all while Donghyun drones on.

"I spoke to her. Once." Donghyun says "Only once. We had sex."

A clamouring of metallic utensils ring throughout the small apartment as Sungho whips his head around to stare at the monotonous boy with amazement.

"Is there anything you ever think of keeping to yourself?"

Donghyun ignores his statement, "But now she's doing that..." he says, in that same difficult-to-interpret, monotonous voice. Donghyun gestures to the blank wall that divided the apartments, "With whoever that is..." A tense silence prolongs before Donghyun; quite suddenly, stands up. "Should I go over there?"

Sungho's shakes his head as he says, "You should absolutely not go over there-"

"I think I should go over there," He's already backing out of his chair, bidding the fish goodbye.

"Donghyun, I will disown you as a member of this apartment if you go over there-"

"It'll be quick,"

"Donghyun."

He's not sure why he'd wanna torture himself, nor did he care to know. All Donghyun is concerned with is the sound of your pleasure being caused by someone else. Someone that isn't him. And so he thinks nothing of it as he drifts towards your door stationed right next to his and he knocks.

There is a bump of furniture and a swear until you're racking the door open, the very vision of pre-orgasm jitters. Donghyun observes you in this very familiar glow. Your eyes are wide and wayward. Your hands are fumbling with the belt of your robe and there's a slight tremor moving through your entire form. You may appear disheveled to any other passerby but to him, you were the very object of his desires.

When your eyes land on him, your shoulders deflate in an unimpressed stance. You are just in the middle of scolding him lightly as you say, “No, Donghyun, I don't wanna volunteer to clean the beach with yo-”

You're not able to finish your sentence because he's rushed towards you in an instant, capturing your lips against the soft plush pillows of his own, and your words die right then and there. He cradles your face with both hands and you yelp in shock as he nips at your bottom lip, all while pushing himself into your apartment.

“I didnt-” he whispers, unable to tear his lips fully away from yours, “I didn't come here for that-”

He mindlessly kicks off his shoes at the doorway which proves to be exceedingly difficult, given the fact that he's hellbent on keeping your lips attached.

“D-Donghyun-” you try to mumble but his lanky fingers curl into your cheeks, forcefully keeping you there. He kisses your roughly. So roughly it nearly knocks out every single sliver of sensibilities you had left. His tongue is long and eager as it drift over the outside of your lips and on the inside, seemingly wanting to eat you whole.

“Donghyun-”

“What-” he whines, stomping his socks-clad feet against the wooden floorboards. “Why are you ruining the moment?” He dips his head down to try and capture your lips once more, but now that you've escaped his forcefield, you've sobered up a bit.

“Why are you, in my apartment?!” It's the only thing you manage to say, with your hand pressed firmly against his sternum. You're both panting loudly. Both caught in a very dangerous state.

Donghyun swallows thickly.

For some reason, you drop your hand to grip your robe tighter, as if not trusting yourself to keep it on in his presence. It is a baby pink robe that Donghyun finds surprisingly erotic. With the scent of sex hanging in your living room, it was difficult not to find anything erotic. He sees you watching him with wide, baggy eyes. Those were erotic too.

“Donghyun.” You begin, with a voice lowered in warning. “Why are you here?”

He swallows once again before straightening his spine and running a hand through his mid length brown locks. He fights to regain some sense of control as he racks his brain for all every plausible excuse.

“So-” he clears his throat, “I'm a father of fish,”

“Famously,” you mock with the roll of the eye. He has to stop himself from kissing you again, choosing to lift his left hand to push down his right twisting in a fist at his side.

“And I’m thinking of adopting a few cichlids.”

“That doesn't explain why you kissed me?” Instead of answering your question, Donghyun ventures to stroll towards your couch as he says, “And the males, famously, cannot be put in the same tank as other aquatic fish. They're unnecessarily hostile and territorial,” he lowers himself fo your couch, “Kinda like you are right now,”

Before you shout at him, he continues

“And I was wondering if you have a spare fish tank around here by any chance.” he nods his head, throughly please with his awful lying skills, “Thats why I'm here.” Donghyun’s eyes are still coasting around your apartment, waiting to hear the voice of the male that was making you moan so loud just a second ago.

“You expect me to just have a fish tank?” You deadpan, “By chance?”

“I don't think my question was so difficult to understand.” Donghyun watches you with a cocky open mouth smirk as he pushes his back against your couch, “This conversation would've been wrapped up so easily if you just-”

“Well, thanks for the weird nature lecture,” you're charging towards him, robe billowing. He sits up, excited. “And the kiss-”

“We could do that again if you want-”

“But I have to study, Donghyun, and you're distracting me,”

You're latching onto his forearm, hellbent on pulling him off your couch but Donghyun digs his other hand into the seat, letting it act as an anchor, keeping him there.

It is then, that your hot pink vibrator rolls out from underneath a cushion and right against the side of his hand.

You stop your pulling.

He stops his mumbling protests.

You both stare down at your vibe sitting comfortably against his hand in the dip of the couch.

“I-”

“Studying, huh?” the smugness in his voice is borderline sadistic. Now it's your turn to scan your brain for every possible way you could detangle yourself from this web of embarrassment. “I like this kinda studying-”

“Donghyun-”

“Leehan-”

“Whatever.” You sigh wistfully, “Just, get out, please.”

“So you don't want my help then?” The question rocks you to your core, a core which you unfortunately realise is still soaked and begging for release. You were just on the precipice of diving headfirst into your orgasm when the knock on the door came and you were overflowing with anxiety. Honestly, being bombarded with a kiss from the weird guy next door shouldn't have been as pleasant as it had been, but your needs evidently took priority of your senses.

“H-Help?” Your voice is barely above a whisper, “How?”

“Lemme show you,” he whispers with all the allure of a Disney prince, and the sensuality of a crimson ribbon. He wraps his hand around your forearm; twirling you quite ceremoniously into his lap.

“You must be so needy right now,” He whispers into your ear while he moves at snails pace, to lower your back against the couch, “I promise to be so good. Better than last time-”

“We were drunk,” you say, utterly captivated by Donghyun now peppering kisses along your legs. He makes his slow descent down the hill of your thighs, while everything in him craves to just attach his lips to your clit until you're riding his face dismally.

Donghyun groans then into the open air. “Fuck, I wanna eat you out,” he admits gravely. He lifts his eyes, hoping to relay to you just how badly he wanted this.

“We were drunk then, so let me do a better job now, ‘kay?” Donghyun rubs dizzying circles against your stomach, still very much covered by your robe.

“O-Okay-” You whisper your consent and it completely throws him over the edge. You yelp when Donghyun grabs ahold of your calves, almost immediately fighting your leg over his shoulder as if your weight was nonexistent.

“Don't blame me if I like… cum in my pants or something, alright?” He says, lowering his face to your exposed as he spready your legs wider.

“P-Please just eat me out, Donghyun,” you were asking him to as if you needed him. That thought solidified itself in his stomach and wrenches your panties to the side, immediately attacking your pussy with his puffy lips.

“F-FUCK, LEEHAN- NOT SO FAST-” Your hands fly to his locks. Your mouth hangs open and you watch in disbelief as he hums against your vagina.

“You called me Leehan-”

“You're- so-” A gasp steals itself from your throat as Donghyun sticks his tongue out to lick a thick strip up the length of your pussy, “s-trange.” you say, unable to chase his lips with your hips.

"You're so hot- fuck,” Donghyun immediately shifts onto the floor so he’s kneeling before you. Your cunt weeps for him and he gladly obliges.

“What a leaky little girl,” he whispers, instantly feeling your hips stutter upwards, “You like that? You like it when I call you my leaky fucking girl-”

You're moaning again, and Donghyun can't help but smirk.

“Y-You're such a pretty little slut, you know that?” Donghyun Isn't sure where that came from, but he's rutting into the couch now, at the same pace you're fucking his face and he knows he needs to say it.

“Oh my fucking God- Donghyun!” You're utterly amazed. Amazed because you didn't remember your last time with Donghyun being so visceral. You nearly see stars when he wiggles his tongue against your entrance, begging for entry.

“F-Fuck my face, baby,”

“D-D-” His name is lost in your mouth and you're lost at the sight of him kneeling for you, fucking helplessly against the couch as he kisses your cunt oh so sloppily. You slip into your orgasm with a shallow gasp and Donghyun's eyes flutter closed, smooching your pussy in pure fucking bliss. He's mumbling incoherently info your cunt, telling her soft nothings until his own hips stutter-

“G-God your pussy is so precious,” he whispers, “So fucking precious-”

You're breathing heavily, but Donghyun decides he's not done as he rises from between your legs. Through your half-lidded gaze, you can spy the wet spot against his sweatpants, and yet he still seems driven by lust. That was one thing you did remember from your last encounter. Once you had Leehan revved up, it was nearly impossible to turn him off.

“I wanna fuck you,” he says monotonously while already pulling at the drawstring of his sweatpants, “I wanna fucking merge into you, L-Like a fucking anglerfish-” he lowers himself on top of you, “D'you know that once the males find a suitable female they merge into-”

“Give me five seconds.” You beg, still in the process of catching your breath, "Or fifteen,"

© to @mphountitled on tumblr; do not repost

✶ FOCUS — p.sunghoon

사랑 tutor!sunghoon x f!r . . . 📁 warning. kissing, use of pet names ! + FLUFF ★ seiu msg: yk i had to go feral, rbs/feedbacks are appreciated

sunghoon sighed after feeling your intense stare for the the past 15 minutes “is there something on my face, yn or the stuff i’m teaching not piquing your interest” you tilt your head “why would you think that” he sighed again “because when you were assigned to me by the teacher for tutoring, i didn’t expect you would be staring at me the whole time instead of learning” sunghoon might be the heartthrob of the school but to you he was just a normal friend, in fact an unbearable one but this is all weird, why did he looks so hot all of a sudden?

“i wasn’t staring” you said as you looked down at your book “yeah sure whatever, so as i was saying this should go over-” blurry, his voice was blurry, he was so pretty, those glasses framed his face well, his long sleeves folded to show his veiny arms, his long and smooth fingers holding the pen “so if you carry this here” he cleared his throat to get your attention back at the book.

“are you getting turned on by my charms,yn” sunghoon smiled still not looking at you “shut up, it’s just the glasses” you looked at the book infront of you again “didn’t know you are into that stuff” he said smirking “it’s not that, it’s just- um new” you mentally cursed yourself for hesitating so much, it will just get to his head.

“yeah sure” he said sarcastically as he brushed a strand of hair from your face, at this point he just trying to get a reaction out of you “your cheeks are red” he said as he brushed over your cheeks, you looked at him, all weird this is all weird, why would this get you worked up? why would your best friend get you all flustered?, glasses really suited him, he looked so gorgeous “are in love yn” he said giggling “no, nothing lovable about you” you said with a pout, he leaned in as he pecked it

you were caught off guard, eyes widen but he looked so composed like all of this was meant to be “idiot” he said before kissing you again, this time it wasn’t short it was soft, his warm lips moved against yours as his hands cupped your face, smiles erupted on his face when he pulled away “you look like an idiot” he said going back to the book infront of him “OH HELL NAH! you can’t just kiss me and call me an idiot then go back like nothing happened” you pulled him back so he was facing you “do you want something to happen then” he said confused “look i know you hate me”

“who said i hate you?” you said still looking at his lips which were now coated with your lipgloss, it’s now time for sunghoon to go wide eyes “you’re making it awkward just staring at me like that” you said and before you know it he leaned in for another kiss, you smiled as he kissed you, he pulled back trying to remove his glasses but you stopped him “so you really get turned on by this huh?” he laughed as you smacked him “you just look good with it”

“i look so good that you keep messing your solution, hmm darling” he spoke softly in your ear, his breath tickling your eyes with his breath “stop making it sound so creepy” he giggled as he pulled himself back against you, his hands around your waist as he whispers against your lips “if i had known that these glasses would be the enough for you to confess your feelings for me, i would have worn them sooner” you bit his lips “ouch what was that for?”

“i didn’t confess yet” you said facing the books again “now teach me before i find your replacement”

“as you say princess”

Nineteen

Oliver Aiku x Reader

Content: You don't know Oliver's actual age and assume that he's just some creep

[2,023 words]

     Oliver casually leaned against the counter nearby, his gaze locking onto you as a mischievous grin slowly spread across his lips. After a brief pause, he pushed himself off the counter, making his way toward you with confident strides.

     "Hey there—"

     Before he could even finish his sentence, you suddenly let out a scream so piercing it could've been heard miles away, your eyes locking onto him in pure shock.

     "Ah! Stranger danger!" you shouted with a dramatic flair.

     The entire room seemed to freeze. Conversations ceased, and a few heads turned in your direction, some with looks of confusion, others with a hint of concern. In an instant, you were off like a shot, darting through the crowd with the speed and agility of a deer escaping a predator. Without missing a beat, you slipped through the back door, leaving no time for anyone to react or stop you.

     Oliver stood there, blinking in complete disbelief, his face a mix of confusion and frustration.

     "What the hell is up with that chick?" he muttered, watching as you disappeared from sight.

     Shuto, his friend who had been standing nearby, couldn’t help but snicker under his breath, shaking his head with amusement. "Dude, that’s the second time she’s done that to you. What did you even do to freak her out so bad?"

     Oliver let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his dark, licorice-colored hair. The green underlayer of his hair caught the dim party lights, adding a subtle pop of color to his otherwise dark look.

     "I literally just said ‘hey,’" he responded, his voice tinged with bewilderment. 

     Unbeknownst to him, you had recently turned eighteen and were hyper-aware of the creepy old men who suddenly seemed too interested in your ‘freshly legal’ status. It freaked you out, so you had developed a habit of running at the first sign of a suspicious-looking older guy. And unfortunately for Oliver, with his strong facial hair, he looked like he had been through two divorces and had a midlife crisis at least once.

     The problem? He was only nineteen.

     It definitely wasn’t the last time you saw him. In fact, it felt like he was popping up everywhere you went. At the café you frequented every morning, there he was, standing in line ahead of you. At the grocery store, you’d turn the corner to find him browsing the aisles, as if the universe had a strange sense of humor. Even at the movie theater, when you were just trying to enjoy a film in peace, you’d spot him in line for tickets or grabbing snacks, like you couldn’t escape his presence no matter where you went.

     He wasn’t actively following you, you were sure of that. It wasn’t like he was showing up in places you were just to make you feel uneasy. But somehow, it seemed like fate had a funny way of throwing the two of you into the same spaces at the most unexpected moments. It was as if the universe had decided that your paths were meant to cross over and over, whether you liked it or not.

     The next time you encountered him, it was a literal collision at the bookstore.

     "Oh, it’s you," he muttered, rubbing his chest where you'd bumped into him.

     Your eyes widened in recognition. "Ah!" Without missing a beat, you turned on your heels and ran once more, nearly knocking over a display of discounted romance novels.

     Oliver groaned. "Seriously? Again?"

     By the time the next inevitable encounter happened, you were at a party—one mostly filled with college freshmen and their friends. You were laughing with a friend when your eyes landed on a familiar face. Your laughter died instantly.

     What the hell was a grown-ass man, who looked like he worked a corporate job and was on his third failed marriage, doing at a party for college kids?

     Your confusion doubled when you got a good look at him. Okay… he looked really good. Like, annoyingly good. His dark hair was styled messily yet effortlessly, and those mismatched eyes were way too pretty to belong to some sketchy older dude.

     Unfortunately for you, he noticed your staring and started making his way over.

     "Hey, gorgeous."

     Oh no. That was dangerous. That was flirting. And worse? It was working.

     You stiffened. "What are you doing here?"

     Oliver blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Uh… what?"

     But before he could even respond properly, you turned on your heels and disappeared into the crowd. Again. You leaned against a wall, your heart racing. What was wrong with you? Why did he have to look so good?

     Was this how girls with older men kinks felt?

     The next incident, you stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for your floor. Just as the doors were about to close, a hand shot in to stop them.

     It was him.

     You made direct eye contact. He sighed. "Oh, for the love of—"

     You slammed the ‘door close’ button repeatedly like your life depended on it.

     Unfortunately, fate was not on your side, and Oliver casually stepped in, letting the doors close behind him.

     Trapped.

     You stiffened, staring straight ahead. Maybe if you didn’t move, he wouldn’t notice you.

Oliver, exasperated, pinched the bridge of his nose. 

     You’ve lost count on how many times this has happened now. 

     One seemingly ordinary day, everything around you seemed to crumble in the most unexpected way. It all began with something as simple as an invitation—your friend had asked if you wanted to tag along to her boyfriend’s soccer practice. At the time, it didn’t seem like anything extraordinary. You figured it would be a good way to kill an afternoon, a casual way to pass the time. Plus, her boyfriend happened to be on Japan’s U20 soccer team, which was cool enough in itself to spark some curiosity.

     You had expected to watch a bunch of talented players showing off their skills, maybe even get a little impressed by their moves. The idea of watching a professional practice session sounded like it would be a decent way to spend a few hours, and that was it.

     What you hadn’t expected, though, was to see him. The very same guy who seemed to keep showing up in all the random places you visited. The one who had somehow made his way into your life without you even realizing it. 

     Dressed in crisp white and coral, effortlessly orchestrating the field with razor-sharp precision, was the very man you had spent weeks actively avoiding like the plague. Every pass he made was deliberate, every defensive maneuver executed with ruthless efficiency. He moved like someone who had spent his entire life perfecting his craft—quick, calculated, untouchable.

     Your stomach twisted violently as the realization hit you like a freight train. The guy you had been convinced was some weird, middle-aged creep with a concerning tendency to appear everywhere you went? The one whose presence had unsettled you to no end? Yeah. Turns out, he wasn’t some lurking menace at all. He was an elite athlete in his prime—one of the country’s top young players, no less.

     And now? Now, he was looking right at you.

     Oh, shit.

     Your breath caught in your throat as he strode toward you, still glistening with sweat from the intense practice session. His damp, jet-black hair clung to his forehead, a few unruly strands falling over piercing, mismatched eyes that locked onto you with an expression teetering between amusement and exasperation.

     There was no escaping it now.

     "You’re strange," he said flatly when he finally approached you. He was half expecting you to bolt again, but was a little taken back when you didn’t. Instead, you looked up at his towering frame with doey eyes filled with embarrassment. 

     "H-How old are you?" you blurted out, because at this point, you needed absolute confirmation that you hadn’t been acting insane for no reason.

     Oliver raised an eyebrow. "Guess."

     “25?" You said so confidently he gasped.

     "WHAT?!"

     "…30?"

     "Now you’re just fucking with me."

     "Um… 29?"

     He stared at you, visibly in pain. "I’m nineteen."

     Your jaw dropped. "What?!"

     "I’m literally on the U20 team," he deadpanned. "That means I am under 20."

     "Well, I didn’t know you were on the team!" you snapped, now feeling thoroughly embarrassed.

     Oliver let out a long, suffering sigh, dragging a hand down his face. "Now that you found out I am, I bet you want me though, right? Tch, shallow women these days."

     "Hey!" You crossed your arms, scowling. "I thought you were some weird old dude following me around! Besides, I don’t even know your name—" Your eyes flickered down to his jersey, where ‘AIKU’ was printed in bold letters.

     '…Aiku.'

     He sighed, clearly exhausted. "Oliver," he corrected.

     You blinked. Oliver Aiku?

     "Yeah." He rubbed his temples. "That’s it. I’m shaving my beard."

     That threw you off. "Wait, what?"

     Oliver groaned. "I look in the mirror every day and think I look fine. But no, apparently I’ve got the aura of a dude with a corporate job and three divorces! Do you know how messed up that is? I’m still in the ‘teens’"

     "Sorry," you muttered, averting your gaze.

     "Unbelievable," Oliver grumbled. "I can’t believe I got traumatized by a random chick who thought I was thirty."

     You snorted, crossing your arms. "Traumatized? I was the one out here fearing for my life every time I ran into you!"

     "Well, maybe if you actually looked at me instead of running away screaming, you wouldn’t have this problem."

     You pointed at him accusingly. "Are you actually nineteen? Or are you a forty-year-old man who got isekai’d into a younger body?"

     He groaned. "For the last time, I am nineteen!"

     You narrowed your eyes. "That’s exactly what a forty-year-old would say."

     "Bro." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he stared at you.

     "Sorry, what can I do to make it up to you?" you asked sheepishly, genuinely worried you'd somehow messed up the vibe. 

     Oliver eyed you with a half-frustrated look, his hands on his hips like he was preparing to deliver some life lesson.

     "Give me your phone," he said, not waiting for a reply as you reluctantly handed it over. You were half scared but curious, was he going to take 0.5 pics of you and leak them to the internet?

     Oliver continued navigating your phone, asking "You busy tomorrow night?"

     You blinked. "Uh, no. Why?"

     He turned the phone in his hand and casually added his number to your contacts, tapping the screen before handing it back to you. "You are now."

     Your eyes widened in shock as you looked down at your screen. "Wait, did you just—?"

     "Yep. Don’t make me regret it," he said with a teasing smile.

     Before you could even respond, he was already walking off, leaving you standing there with your phone in hand.

     You tried to shake it off, but when you met him the next night, you were hit with a wave of surprise. There he was, standing at the restaurant entrance, his usual grin on his face. But something was different.

     Oliver had shaved. Completely. No beard. His face, which had previously carried the ruggedness of someone much older, was now startlingly smooth. And if possible, he looked even younger than you remembered—maybe even younger than his real age of nineteen.

     "Oliver?" You stammered, unable to hide the shock from your voice. You had expected some hint of stubble, some remnant of his previous ‘older man’ look, but no. Nothing. Hair really is a man’s makeup. 

     He chuckled, clearly amused by your stunned expression. "Surprised?"

     "You look... like you're actually nineteen," you managed, still processing the sight of his clean-shaven face.

     Oliver grinned, his mismatched eyes twinkling mischievously. "Yeah, well, I thought I'd give it a try for a date with a pretty girl."

     You shook your head, still trying to process the fact that this was the same guy who had spent weeks looking like someone who pays alimony and a mortgage.

white lie

ஐ ft. kaeya

ஐ summary. trying to hide an injury from him!

ஐ warnings. none, SFW. 1.3k words

•─────────•°•❀•°•─────────•

getting home to you and kaeya’s shared apartment took longer than you had wanted; getting healed by barbra after a couple of adventures found you propped against a tree, half-lucid with a bloody gash across your abdomen had really put a kink in your usual schedule.  

you breathe a sigh of relief when you unlock the front door and find that the apartment is still empty, meaning that kaeya was still in his office and hasn't been alerted of your little accident. 

you have never kept anything from kaeya but this? this was different. lately, he’s been having to take on way too much, his desk overflowing with piles upon piles of paperwork while also leading patrol tours throughout the nation. every night he comes home utterly exhausted, barely having enough energy to finish his dinner and give you a chaste kiss before he retires to bed.

if he catches wind of your injury, he'll be sure to go insane with worry and put himself on the backburner in order to dote on you, which you deem completely unnecessary. barbra’s already given you the all clear, just have to take it easy for the next few days and clean your wounds daily and you should be healed up soon enough. besides, you’re strong enough to take care of yourself, there’s no reason for you to burden kaeya with something as insignificant as a minor injury. 

you tried to act as normal as you could. tried to move around the kitchen preparing dinner for the two of you with as much stability as you could muster. and once kaeya came home, eyes slightly wide and breathing deeply like he was hiding the fact he just ran home, you put on your best smile for him. 

“welcome home, love! you made it just in time for dinner,” you beam at him, settling into your usual seat at the table.

he looks around the apartment for a moment before his clear eye finds its way back to you, analyzing your seemingly unharmed figure. he gives you a tight smile while he makes his way into the kitchen to wash up, “you made dinner?” he asks, tone slightly devoid of his usual pep but you chalk it up to him being tired. 

“mhm, just something quick. hurry, come join me,” you smile at him. 

after a moment, kaeya sits in his chair across from you. watchful eyes observing your figure as you begin to eat, his heart twisting uncomfortably as his mind clouds with turmoil. 

kaeya studies you for a moment more before speaking up, “heard you required a healer today, what’s going on with that?” 

you tense at his question, eyes wide and staring down at your food, mind racing to find a convincing excuse. 

“i, um,” you swallow thickly before looking up to meet his eyes, his expression unreadable, “i was feeling a little sore from these past few days so i thought i could just pop in and see barbra. you know, just get a little once-over is all.” 

kaeya’s uncovered eye flash with something indecipherable. confusion? hurt? anger? though, it wouldn't really make sense for him to feel any of these emotions at all, not unless-

“so, you're going with that story, hm?” he sighs out, letting his spoon clink loudly against the side of the bowl as he sits back in the chair with his arms crossed, studying you with icy eyes. 

“i…well, yes, i-” you try to come up with something quickly before he interrupts with a humorless chuckle, 

“can’t say i’m not hurt by your lie, angel.” he says quietly with a sad smile while looking at you with dejected eyes. 

you stare at him, shocked by his words, “kaeya, im not-”

“jean said that you were covered in blood. barbra told her everything, which she then told me before i left work. said you were, and i quote, ‘barely conscious enough to say what happened’.” he said, his tone of voice flat and empty, “but apparently, and this is the part that puzzles me most, it was specifically requested that this incident was to be kept from me.”

“i can explain,” you rush out, quickly moving to the chair next to him, ignoring the sharp twinge of pain that shoots across your abdomen, too desperate to save him from any misunderstanding he’s conjured in his mind.

“kaeya, i promise,” you reach over to slide your hand into his, your heart breaks at the sound of his shuddering inhale, his thumb roughly rubbing the back of your hands trying to mask the shakiness in his fingers, “i’m alright. i’m here. it sounds so much worse than it really is and the only reason i didnt tell you-”

“that's alright, my love,” he interjects looking up at you with a dim smile, “i get it, i'm glad you’re alright,” he whispers as he pulls his hand out of your grasp to stand up and clear off the dining room table.

your eyes helplessly follow his movements, “wh-get what, kae-”

“you must be tired, hm? had quite the day, princess,” his usual easygoing tone forced back into his voice, “ill clean up, you go wash up first let me know if you want help. i'll call barbra or jean if you prefer it.”

you break from your dumbfounded state as you chase after him in the kitchen. arms wrapping around his torso tightly, refusing to let him pull away as he stands in front of the sink bracing his hands against the counter.

“i know you're mad at me,” you start gently, cheek pressed snuggly against his back, your hands pressed against his chest feeling the heavy beat of his stinging heart, “but i’m so sorry, my love. i never wanted to cause you any kind of distress. you have been so overworked, so stressed out, i just didn't want to pile it on.” 

he harshly exhales through his nose as his hands slowly make their way towards yours, gently prying them loose so that he can turn in your iron hold. once he faces you, his fingers come up to brush over your cheek. 

“im not upset with you,” he whispers, his thumb lightly tracing your cheekbone, “i mean, i'm upset, but i'm not mad at you. could never be mad at you, angel.” 

you frown at his dejected expression and tone while you lean into his touch, “i just didn’t want to burden you with it, kae. it really sounds worse than it actually is, i swear. nothing bad happened, i was fixed up really quick! the cut was so much smaller than what the healers thought, it just looked way worse because i was also splattered with monster blood as well,” you hastily explained all in one breath. 

he worriedly chews on his bottom lip as he absorbs your words,  “what about how you were barely conscious-”

“i was just exhausted after the fight, kae,” you clarify, “admittedly it was a tough fight but i was back up on my feet in no time after seeing the healers.” 

he analyzes you for a moment before leaning forward to press his forehead against yours, “tell me everything,” he whispers, “good, bad, mundane or not. i don't care, just don't shut me out, please. you have no idea what-” he stops himself to exhale a heavy breath, “i didn't know what to think. regardless, it doesn't matter how busy i am, how stressed out i am, i want to know everything that happens with you. you are my number one priority, not some group of recruits i just met yesterday. you understand that, right?” 

you nod your head while still pressed against his, “i know, im sorry,” you whisper. 

kaeya pulls back slightly before cupping your cheeks to drag you into a sweet and comforting kiss. 

after a few more tender kisses, kaeya’s lips lift into his usual playful smile, “c’mon, pretty, you must be sore, hm? think we both need a relaxing bath.”

you beam up at him at his suggestion, your bright smile stunning him for a moment as his heart skips in his chest and his stomach erupts into butterflies. quickly, he turns away to lead you both to the bathroom as your giggles follow closely behind him hinting that you've caught sight of his blushing cheeks.

•─────────•°•❀•°•─────────•

masterlist

itoshi sae has no idea how you do it.

classwork, homework, midterms, exams, two jobs, and a lively group of friends? it all sounds so unnecessary to him, these things that would be distractions from his dream. but for you, it sustains you and encourages you to keep going. how differently our minds work, he thinks to himself when he has a rare day to spend on your couch and you're typing away at some assignment on your laptop.

"why do you do that?" you don't respond the first time he asks and he gently calls your name, even though you're barely three feet away. you turn to him with a tired look and something pangs inside his chest. "why bother doing that?"

"bother doing what?"

"whatever it is you're doing right now." he nods at your glaring laptop screen filled with words he can't even begin to understand, some final before your university goes on winter break.

"because it's part of my degree?" there's no malice in your words, just genuine confusion, just like there's no accusations in his words, just concern. "if i fail this class, i don't graduate."

"why do you need to graduate, or have a degree in the first place?"

"because i need a job, my love," you explain patiently. "we've had this conversation before. going to school means i can get a well-paying job to sustain myself."

"why do you need to sustain yourself when you have me?" you blink at him and his blank face. the only sign of emotion is the slight pinch between his eyebrows; he was truly puzzled why he couldn't just set you up for life. dating itoshi sae is like being an unwilling sugar baby.

"i'm not going to leech off your earnings," you chuckle in disbelief. "i'm not going to use you to make sure i have a comfortable life. i love you, and my kind of love stays whether we have money or not." he shifts awkwardly in his seat and his mouth pouts the tiniest amount. he obviously didn't like your reply.

"whatever i'm doing, it isn't enough for you," he states quietly.

without another word, you exhale through your nose and shut your laptop. you place it on the coffee table before crawling over and maneuvering your way into his arms. he gladly accepts you, sliding down the couch's armrest so that you're nearly lying on top of him. it's quiet for a few moments, not in an uncertain way but in a way that said both of you were figuring out how to articulate your thoughts.

"i just think that--"

"you don't need to--" you both begin your explanations at the same time and the huff of his laugh vibrates against your cheek. "you go first," you tell him.

"i was saying that, if you wanted me to," he inhales and tries to tiptoe around what he wants to say before deciding to just crush it with his foot, "i can take care of you without you needing a degree." a certain selfish part of him wanted you there for every single victory and ladder rung he ascended, not because he thought you owed him, but because he owed you. you, who weathered his darkest of moods and harshest of snaps. he owed you for dealing with his bullshit, so he figured, why should you need to lift a finger when you've already done so much for him? "i owe you that much for everything that you've seen me through."

"you don't owe me anything, itoshi sae. loving you is not transactional, nor have i ever wanted it to be."

"everything is transactional, mi amor," he argues and the pet name makes your heartrate increase. "give and take, it's how the world flows. shouldn't your university classes be teaching you that?" your eyes have fluttered shut on his chest, but you still hear the smirk in his joke.

"believe it or not, mister 'fame is the only thing that matters to me,' there are transactions beyond material goods."

"i know that," he says indignantly. "i also know that you're wrong."

"am i?"

"yes," he affirms. "i don't only care about fame. i care about you too, obviously."

"see, sae? give and take. i give you all i am--"

"and you take all i am."

"body and soul?"

"and everything in between," he finishes, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before settling into the pillows. "rest, mi amor. you've paid more attention to school than to me lately, and that's an unequal transaction."

My Sinful Little Angel

a short AU fic featuring secret priest! Sunday of a small village x baker! gn reader

"Thank you again, Mr. Oak," you said as Sunday, the town's resident tailor finished repairing the frayed hem of your apron. "Here," you offer him a half dozen of today's special treat, powdered sugar shortbread cookies filled with raspberry jam.

"Thank you," he gave you a soft smile that made your heart melt. "Here," he offered you up some coins, more than he should but still a paltry amount the judgmental villagers would consider good and proper.

It was part of your little arrangement. You showed up one day out of nowhere, and the town's bakery took you in. You had a roof over your head and a belly full of food, but they paid you next to nothing.

"Tomorrow we're going to be maki--" a knock interrupted your sweet little announcement. It was the baker's son. Sunday didn't miss how your gaze fell to your hands clutching your newly repaired apron, how you seemed so very bashful in the presence of your peer. Oh God in heaven, please smite this wicked fool who dare intrude upon your shared sacred peace and tempt you so.

You gave him a small wave as you headed for the door, "I have to go Mr. Oak, duty calls." You were always so polite and sweet to him, so diligent, always doing more than you should. Sunday noticed the powdered sugar you had graced him with when he paid you for your work and brought it to his unworthy tongue. An ambrosia he didn't earn, one he didn't deserve. You were an angel made flesh, and far too good for a backwater place like this. One day, he swore, he'd do something about it.

As the sun set, he flipped the sign in the window from open to closed before heading off to his second job. Every flock needed a shepherd, and who better to play the role as he? And so the town's church offered a confessional booth service where he served as the confessor.

He settled in behind the screen and prepared his heart for the service. People always had such ridiculous things plaguing them so, but who was he to deny them salvation?

"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned."

It was the sound of your voice. He held his breath. He couldn't help but hear how nervous and deflated you sounded. What heresy could you have committed to feel so low? "Speak freely, child," he spoke in an unrecognizable drawl. Sunday preferred anonymity. It was better when people didn't know who they were speaking to.

You sigh inwardly and steel your resolve, "I've been having sinful thoughts about another. One of my fellow peers."

Sunday has heard those very words before, and he didn't like where this was going. He was quite fortunate to be able to steer you away from such an unholy sin. "What sorts of thoughts?"

He listened to the sound of fabric brushing against the confessional screen, the sound of you squirming from discomfort. "Carnal ones I'm afraid. Whenever I'm with him, I pray his hands linger more than they should. Every night, I dream of clandestine meetings -- of the perverted sort."

Sunday hears how very affected you are, and he isn't going to allow some degenerate sully your pure soul and infect your mind. He was almost certain it was that baker boy with the way you could scarcely look at him, but if he were to do anything about it, he would need to be sure. "Those are quite heavy sins, my dear, but the lord forgives all who wish to repent."

"Thank you Father." He can hear the smile in your voice and he has you right where he needs you.

"To repent, it would be best to disclose the name of this wolf in sheep's clothing that assaults your thoughts and faithful heart."

Yes, give me a name. This whisper campaign to your excommunication will be as delicious as it'll be unsurprising. It'll be my revenge for whoever dares touch you so frivolously, my sweet angel.

You got quiet, the sound of conflict. Sunday's chest tightened, anguished by your misplaced sense of guilt. You were trying to shield whoever this dastard was by the kindness of your soul. He knew you needed one final push. "The lord forgives all who sin, even the serpent who tempts you so."

"Well," you swallowed thickly. Agony permeated your words as you work up the courage to oust the blasphemer, "it's Sunday Oak."