#i might continue this after Puppy Eyes is finished | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bi-writes · 3 months

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so idk where i got this idea but mercenary!ghost x fem!reader because he's scary and mean and dangerous but then he sees some girl's ass in light blue denim.

notes about reader: as always, i tend to write readers described as curvy because im curvy and we deserve attention from 6'4 beefcakes who are soft only for us. reader is a civilian.

mercenary!ghost (part 1/?)

cw: mature language and content, suggestive language and content, dark!ghost, mentions of ghost's past canon trauma (domestic abuse + violence), mw3 spoilers, violence and gore + mentions of murder and extortion, mentions of reader + domestic abuse, protective!simon, size kink (reader is described as much smaller than simon, easily manhandled by him), pet names (luv, bunny + rabbit, puppy, angel face), reader learns she has a dark side and she likes it, nsfw thoughts about reader, suggestive touching (fem!receiving)

the sound of the burner phone pings on the desk in front of him. when he picks it up, he narrows his eyes as he reads the message displayed across the screen.

DEPOSITED.

when he opens his laptop, his eyes scan over the balance on an offshore account, and he relaxes when he sees the hefty balance climb just a little higher. he closes the device once he's satisfied with what he sees; and like always, he tastes the warmth of that satisfaction. it's a nice high, but it won't last, and then he'll need to feed the gaping hole that lives in him.

it remains hungry. he has never been able to close it--it has only ever gotten wider, ripped at the seams and torn at the edges every time another body close to him drops.

the high is poison. but even if it kills him, no one will miss him. so he picks up the handgun that lays haphazard on the bed, and he tucks it into the back of his jeans.

he passes by the mirror as he fits a dark denim jacket over his shoulders. he stares back at himself, a recognizable beast of a man staring right back. he pulls his hoodie up over him, and in the shadow of it, all he can see are his dark eyes, pale skin peeking through the eyeblack that has lightened up with the wear of it throughout the day.

he craves something strong and warm tonight. he itches for something soft, too, something that makes him forget the red on his ledger, even if for only a few hours.

there is nothing quite strong enough to wipe that kind of stain away. he is nothing if not a reaper, and he buries bodies with the same tenacity that he had when he wore his country's flag on his chest. this time, however, he does not take orders--he names his price.

he thinks something is wrong with him. some used to say that it was his courage that brought him back from the dead--that his heart is too strong, his will to live too much, and that is how he continues to open his eyes and live another day. but he doesn't agree with this thought, because he doesn't really think he feels anything at all.

he doesn't feel human. he doesn't feel alive. the only thing that makes him feel any sort of vulnerability is how red his own blood is when he bleeds. when his scars heal jagged and crooked, it is because there is something underneath the skin. but he feels nothing inside--no remorse, no guilt, he is not sorry.

he does not check to see if those men are innocent. he does not care about the names that end up on his list. he doesn't ask questions. and he thinks something is wrong with him because he sleeps at night just fine now; the nightmares have gone. he is alone, and it is peaceful.

there are no voices. there is only silence. and there is something wrong with him.

the pub is quiet. it is a weekday, and the only patrons are here after a long day's work, and they all look into the depths of their half-empty glasses hoping to find relief there. there is none, but they will finish their glasses hoping it might be dissolved in the alcohol.

he asks for two fingers of bourbon. it stings when it goes down, but then it settles warm. he is poured another two fingers of it, but before he can pick it up, someone else grips the glass and tips it back to swallow it down.

the glass hits the wood of the counter with an echoing thud, and you cough out a fuck as you settle into the seat beside him. you run a trembling hand over your face, and he notices immediately the red of your knuckles and the splitting of the skin there. they are fresh; the bruising is still new, and the blood is just barely beginning run down the back of your hand.

he leans over the bar, swiping the whole bottle of bourbon, and he silently pours more into the glass, hitting it towards you before picking up a new glass and filling it generously.

"who's the lucky bastard?" he asks, and your eyes flick to the cuts on the back of your hand before going back to the dark swirling colors of the drink.

"i'm sure he'll be coming in here any second to introduce himself."

the pub doors slam open, and there is a man coming in, chest heaving, dark hair falling over his forehead in sweaty curls that do nothing to hide the clear bruise on his face the split of his lip. his eyes move over the room before they settle on you, and his boots fall heavy as he makes his way over.

ghost sees his intentions clear immediately. the way his hand twitches at his side, the angry glare, the uncontrollable urge to hurt and to take and to control coming off of him like steam.

he has seen this kind of man before. this man was the one that kept him up at night as a child. this man was the one that scared his mum, that drove his brother to chase vices, that tore apart a house that should've been filled with something warm and sticky and kind into one marred with teeth, rotten and putrid and forgotten.

his hand goes for the back of your neck, and you close your eyes and tense in the anticipation, but it never comes. a strong hand grips his outstretched one, and the man cries out as ghost twists it behind his back and uses his other hand to slam his face into the wood of the bar, trapping him there.

the bartender does not even flinch, just continues to wipe down glasses. the patrons continue to stare into the abyss of their sorrow.

you jump a little, your head snapping to the side where the man squirms and sputters, his face going pale from the paw of a hand gripping him by the back of the neck and shoving his face into the counter. if he pushes any harder, you wonder if it'd splinter and fray, dig into the bones of his bruised cheek.

"this man botherin' ya, yeah?"

your eyes finally flick up. you do not know what you expect, but it isn't this. you can only see his eyes; they scare you. you do not lie because you aren't entirely sure how far his kindness will go.

"yes," you whisper, and when the man tries to spit at you, a rough gloved hand grips his curls and positions his head against the edge of the counter, forcing his mouth open until the top row of his teeth bite the wood.

"y'keep talkin' to her, n'it'll be the last time you talk, hear that, mate? y'talk to me, n'me only."

you swallow hard, and the man trembles. a strong boot hits the back of his knees, and then he's crumbling to the ground, his jaw straining as the counter is still forced against his mouth. hot, pained tears come down his face, and then he addresses you.

"what did he do?"

"bad first date," is all you can manage to sputter. he grips the man by the scruff of his neck before pulling him off to speak, tilting his head to the side as he observes the begging man on his knees.

"y'try to put your hands on'er?"

"i-it wasn't...like that! i-it was just a mis...a misunderstanding, please! please--please tell him--!"

"don't like fuckin' liars either," is the only warning given before his mouth is forced to bite the counter, and then a sharp elbow comes down on his head. you jump in surprise at the suddenness of it all, and you close your eyes when you hear the crunch of teeth being broken. his scream is enough to rattle the pub, but when you look around, it's as if nothing at all has happened. it is quiet, and all the bartender does is shake their head.

when you open your eyes, he's crawling on his hands and knees out of the pub, and what he leaves behind is a mess of blood and teeth and fluid that are splattered against the floor at your feet. you shake as you look up at him, stiff in your seat and soft tears coming down your face.

he towers over you. you have to tilt your head back between your shoulders to look at him face-to-face. you cannot see his face; he hides it behind dark fabric, but his eyes talk loud. they are dark, and they are dull, and you realize as you stare up at him that he is not phased in the slightest by what he had just done. in fact, he steps into your space, and the squelch of blood under his boot doesn't seem to bother him. he wears black, and you wonder, momentarily, if he wears such a color to hide the red hiding between the threads of the fabric. the red he can't wash away.

"let me look at ya, little rabbit."

you flinch when he knocks your knees apart, spreading them to make space for the width of him. he reaches up with one gloved hand and grips your chin, tilting your head to either side to see if you are hurt anywhere but your hand. when he is satisfied with his observations, he cups the expanse of your throat, smoothing those big fingers along the pulsing vein there and feeling the way you swallow.

so alive. so soft. a pretty little bunny, dropped into his waiting hands.

his eyes fall, and he takes you in. wide hips that take up the seat you're sitting in, hugged so nicely by light blue denim jeans. they curve over the swell of your ass, and he wonders how much of it would fit in his palm--he thinks about how it might feel to spread them apart and taste the succulent sweetness that he knows exists between your thighs and how your mouth might look slack jawed and wide open for him.

you look like a good girl, even with bloody knuckles.

then he follows the line of your shirt. it's a simple t-shirt tucked into your jeans, but the neckline gives a nice peek of you and the curve of your tits--they sit so nicely there, all perky, and ghost thinks they look lonely. they would be better off in his mouth or squeezing his cock between them or pebbling between his dirty gloved fingers.

filthy. disgusting. he is scarred all over, and you look so soft and sweet, with those tender puppy eyes and the way your lips tremble, and he bets you kiss all soft and slippery. he bets your cunt is tight and with enough coaxing, he could make you drench his skin with something decadent and slick, with whatever drools into your panties. he imagines it is there now, even as you tremble and shake and plead with your eyes for him to let go of your throat.

but ghost is not a good man. he does not feel; he is not a man at all. he is a beast in the shape of one, disguised, and he brings misery to everything he touches. he knows he will do it to you, too--touching pretty girls, he leaves them with burns. they are not the same after they are with him, and he wants to feel bad about it, he wants to feel something, but he does not. he feels nothing.

"you olright, luv?"

you nod frantically, putting a hand over his wrist that holds you, and he almost laughs. your hand is so much smaller than his own. if he squeezes his hand just a little harder, he figures it would not take much to break what lies beneath it. he leans in, and you gulp when your thighs trap his hips. he is warm, a furnace that burns, but you relax when the side of his mask nuzzles against your face.

he is a dog, and he is fond of you.

you should run. you should hit him like you hit your wretched date, and you should run, far, away from him, swear off men for good and never allow one in your space again lest they be as beastly as this. you should run while you can, but you are a bunny not yet in his trap, and you still have time to escape.

but then both of your eyes open at the same time, and his eyes meet your own, and then--oh.

the cage snaps shut. it rattles around you. it is small and confined, but you don't realize what it is yet because you can still breathe, and it is still warm, and you are still soft and alive and here.

your face softens, and his eyes flicker down to your lips as you lick them. maybe he was right. liars are bad. men like the one you were with before were scum. you had been with men like that before, you had seen the destruction they brought to those they thought they loved. when they wrought fear and made others bleed, they never got in trouble. no one cared to do to them what they deserved because they silenced their lambs and slaughtered the light out of them.

it is biblical--an eye for an eye. if they take from you, why can't you take from them?

it is brutish men like this one that do what others are too timid to. your thighs close around his hips, and you feel something digging into your leg, something metal and heavy tucked into his jeans. a weapon, but you imagine it is a mercy because you have an inkling that what he does with his hands is so much worse. bullets are clean and fast; his hands are not.

johnny would tell him to let you go. he does, over his shoulder, spitting at him to leave, to let you slip through his fingers and find your way out, to open the cage.

the wee lass--look at 'er angel face. let 'er go--not meant for this, LT. she scares. 's in 'er eyes. won't last.

but he does not feel. he is not human. there is something wrong with him, he knows it, but he doesn't care. he will ruin you, and he should feel bad, but he can't, he doesn't. and then there it is--your eyes are flickering low, eyeing the mask, and you are wondering how much effort it would take to push it up and lick into his mouth, taste him, suck the warmth of the bourbon from his mouth and replace it with your own.

he will kill again. the cage is shut, it is locked, and he is watching the bunny in its cage, watching as it becomes aware of its surroundings, takes in what is new. but just like he figures, just like he knows, this little bunny has no idea what this cage is. she has no idea she is even in one.

fuck what johnny says. if johnny was like him, if he was not skin and bone but steel and reptile, he would not have died. he would have come back. he would have moved his head, shaken the blood off, and gotten back up, but he didn't, and he's not here, and he's not real--so fuck what he thinks, fuck what he says, fuck him because he left me, and i'm all alone, and if i don't devour and eat and tear apart, i will wither away because i am not me, i am something else--

he smiles under the mask. you notice it, the slight movement there, and you smile, too, suddenly. his hand falls, and the back of his knuckles graze over the swell of your breast, down your stomach, and then he's gripping your waist. that hand slips behind you, and you brace yourself with both hands on his chest as he cups one side of your ass. possessive and suffocating--you think maybe you should run again, but you don't want to.

you want something more. you want something a little rough, something a little sharp. you want something to tell you that a little blood is good sometimes. that answering blood with a little more blood was exactly how it should be. that we don't have to be docile, to back down. you want to be told that it's okay to bite.

there is something wrong with you.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #dark!ghost #dark!simon riley #dark!simon

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chuluoyi · 6 months

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drunken angel

- nanami kento x reader

shibuya? what shibuya? nanami's picking me up right now!

genre/warnings: fluff, comfort

note: they did say... delulu is solulu

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

You giggled uncontrollably as you were seated in the backseat of a cab.

"Kentooo," you gripped his necktie with this ridiculously wide grin on your face. The world was a really happy place for you now, even if it was a little spinning and you felt a bit foggy.

Nanami sighed, resigned. It wasn't typical for you to get drunk, but when you did, you became quite a handful. “Come now.”

You let out a whine, and as he himself took a seat beside you, you wrapped your arm around his waist, nuzzling your face into him.

—and clingy. You became at least thrice clingier than you usually do.

"Love you, mwah!" you slurred with literal hearts in your eyes, batting your lashes at him. Nanami maintained a deadpan expression while looking at you.

Still, he couldn't deny the thumping of his own heart when those words slipped from your sweet lips, thinking how absolutely adorable you were while at it.

He had been scheduled for a mission near Shibuya, anticipating a night of exorcising curses and returning to find you asleep in your shared apartment. But no, something seemed to have irked you tonight as you went and got wasted, and he found it out only after you called him in your drunken stupor, asking to be picked up.

Of course, he would come to get you. Finishing off those measly curses swiftly, he hurried to your location in no time at all.

You looked up at him with watery eyes, frowning at his lack of reply. “Kento, y'know that… right? Riiight?”

"I do," he gruffly replied, mindful of the taxi driver's amused chuckle. "Don't talk too much now. You're drunk."

"But I want to talk, Kento!"

Nanami shot an apologetic glance at the driver through the rearview mirror, and adjusted your position so that you could rest your head more comfortably on his shoulder.

"I love your smile," you sighed against the soft fabric of his suit. "You look most handsome when you do..."

“Hmm?" Nanami watched you, feeling his face getting warmer despite himself. Okay, you were a clingy drunk, but you were sweet.

"And I love... how considerate you are..."

"Mm-hm."

"But... I just wish... you would take care of yourself more."

Your words caught him off guard. "I already do, love."

"You don't," you spat petulantly, your gaze dropping with dejection.

"How so?"

You were no longer bubbly—you looked like you had been awake for three days straight and it finally caught up to you, as you finally succumbed to exhaustion. You had the appearance of a kicked puppy and Nanami swore you were the cutest girl he knew while being drunk.

"You're always rushing headfirst into danger. You'd do anything for kids. Especially that… Itadowi kid!" you pointed out with a deep crease on your forehead, clearly dissatisfied.

It wasn’t the first time. Nanami knew better—he didn’t miss the worry in your eyes as you saw him off, and the evident relief on your face as you hugged him whenever he came back. It was just that you didn’t voice it as much.

“I’m just… worried that…” you mumbled with a pout, totally heartbroken, “one day… you might…”

And the fact that you still felt like that even in your half-conscious state… his heart broke a little inside.

He waited for you to continue with somewhat of a bated breath, when suddenly you leaned back on the seat and pressed your eyes together, wincing, “Ah… my head’s spinnin’”

Nanami’s face flashed with surprise and then understanding as he clasped your hand in reassurance. “Soon. We’ll arrive at our place soon. You’re going to bed then, okay?”

Even when he knew that getting drunk warranted your current state, it still made something inside him churn with concern. Nanami never liked seeing you in any kind of discomfort, no matter how trivial it was.

Upon returning to your place, Nanami took charge. He helped you change into your sleepwear, and gently removed your makeup as best as he could (he confused cleanser with micellar water). Even as your vision swayed and blurred, you recognized the way he lifted you and carried you to the bed, carefully tucking you in to ensure you were settled in as comfortably as possible.

You had this dopey smile on your face as soon as he slipped beside you in his own pajamas, blearily looking at him.

“Kento, you’re…” you whispered, still under the alcohol’s influence and yet sounded so incredibly sincere. “You’re s’good to me…”

Gods, so endearing, Nanami thought to himself. It felt nice to hear you say that, but more than that, you were completely vulnerable, trusting him entirely with your essence, and you were his—his cherished angel.

“Don’t go…” you added, the smile vanished into a sad frown. “Don’t ever leave me…”

"I won't," he replied firmly, cupping your cheeks and pressing his lips on your temple. "I'm not going anywhere, yeah? You have nothing to worry about."

It was never in him to to say much, but when he did, he meant every word of it.

“Mmm, but…”

"Sleep now, love," he muttered, enveloping you in his embrace. He pulled the covers around both of you. Nestled in his sturdy arms, you fit perfectly. His hands rubbed up and down your spine, and you sighed.

“Mmm, wuv you so, so much,” you slurred for the nth time tonight, eyes closing and a step away from going to dreamland.

In that moment, Nanami made a silent vow to do whatever it took to ensure you remained safe and happy like this always.

You were the reason—the only person for whom he would set the world ablaze, even at his own expense.

Ah, but he wouldn’t let that happen now, would he? How was he supposed to put a ring on your finger if he was gone?

“I love you too… my dearest.”

. . .

and you thought then, that you just had the most beautiful dream—one where you were right where he was.

#nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #kento nanami x reader #nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami kento fluff #kento nanami #kento nanami x you #nanami fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk fluff

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coldfanbou · 1 month

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I'm a...

Here we are with the Viviz fic. We have a threesome with something special involved for Eunha.

Eunha X Mreader X SinB X Umji

Length 2.5K

Previous part

Wondering why Eunha had let you have sex with SinB and practically threw you at Umji, you needed to talk to her. You woke up on Saturday thinking about that, and as you looked to the other side of the bed, Eunha was gone. The sizzling sounds from the kitchen told you where she was. You got out of bed, put on your slippers, and headed toward the kitchen. You spotted her moving back and forth from the fridge to the stove, occasionally flicking through the cookbook on her tablet. “We need to talk Eunha.” The small woman spins on her heel, her apron swinging along with her.

“What do you need?” She says, leaning forward and sticking her tongue out. “Don’t tell me you want to do something before breakfast.”

“Why did you have me have sex with SinB and Umji?” You say bluntly.

“Well, SinB wanted to thank you, and Umji was our tiebreaker.” She replies blankly.

“Okay, I get that, but why did you let them?” You ask, reiterating your question.

Eunha’s face turns bright red, and her hands rush to her cheeks as she turns around. “I don’t want to say it’s embarrassing,” she says.

“What can be so embarrassing about it?”

“Well…” Eunha began as she spun a tale that explained why she let SinB and Umji have sex with you. “A while ago, I was coming home late from work, right? When I got to our bedroom, I saw you watching one of our old videos.” The video Eunha was referencing was one of your sex tapes. “I was watching you…uh, jerk off to the video.” She said shyly. Eunha fiddled with the stove, turning the heat off as she tried to think about how to continue. “I liked watching you and got turned on…I fingered myself. I thought about what it might be like to watch you fuck someone, and it made me horny.” Eunha says, looking at the ground with her fingers pressing against each other as embarrassment fills her body. Her eyes shoot up toward you as she realizes what she’s said, “But I didn’t want you to have sex with any stranger, so I asked SinB and Umji to do it!” Eunha blurts out. “I thought it was hot,” Eunha follows in a whisper. “I, uh, guess you could say I’m a cuckquean,” She says with a shy smile. “And I may have pushed SinB to have sex with you.

You sigh and rub your forehead, “And why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought that you would say no.”

“So you forced them on me?”

“Yes,” Eunha says sheepishly.

You take a deep breath and pat Eunha’s head. “Listen, I have a lot of questions, but next time you have some fantasy like this, just tell me.” You raise your hand off Eunha’s head, turning it into a fist before softly smacking her head. “You’re so dumb sometimes, Eunha.”

“Does this mean you’ll fuck them again?”

“You were too quick to ask that question. Let’s have breakfast,” you say, wanting to move past the conversation. From the corner of your eye, you spot Eunha pouting. We’ll finish this talk after.” Your breakfast goes by fast, with Eunha giving you puppy eyes the entire time.

Once you’re done, she opens her mouth, ready to bring the subject back up. “I know it’s weird, but I like to watch.”

“So does this mean I’ll never get to touch you again?”

“What if I let myself be free use for you? Would you fuck SinB and Umji again?”

“That’s not an answer to my question, Eunha.”

She pouts again, her cheeks filling with air. It made her cute, but you couldn’t let that distract you. “I still want to have sex with you. It feels like I’m in trouble.”

“I just want to clear things up.”

After a lengthy discussion about limits and boundaries, Eunha stuck out her hand. “Let’s shake on it.” She said with the biggest grin on her face. You shake your head and smile. Eunha’s silliness has always been charming to you. You shake her hand and watch Eunha do a little dance out of sheer excitement. “I have the best thing planned for you. I have to make a few calls.”

She runs off to your bedroom, throwing her apron on the floor as she shuts the door. You let out a deep breath and drop the dishes in the sink, washing them as a way to relax. The day goes by calmly, with both of you relaxing at home.

A knock on the door interrupts a movie you’re watching with Eunha; as you head to answer it, Eunha grows a sly smile. At the door were Umji and SinB. You look back to Eunha, who plays dumb and looks at the ceiling. “Alright, come on in,” you say before making your way to the couch. “Eunha, what did you do?”

“I did nothing wrong.” Eunha stoutly replies

“You called them to have sex, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Eunha says, meekly accepting your way out for her. She grabs your arm, pulling on it to get you to stand up. “I want to watch! Come on, let's get to the bedroom.” You go along with it for her sake. Stripping off your clothing, you toss yourself onto the bed. Umji and SinB seemed shocked at your willingness and look at each other. Eunha walks into the room, pulling a chair along with her and placing it in the corner. As she pulls down her shorts, she looks at her friends. “What are you two waiting for? I want the show to start.” Eunha sits in her chair, her hand diving into her folds as she waits.

Umji is the first to make a move. She grabs the hem of her shirt, lifting it up and over her head. Her lack of bra was apparent as her modest tits bounced freely. She crawled onto the bed slowly, leaving her skirt on. She placed her head on your thigh, warm body rubbing against your leg as she reached up and wrapped her delicate hand around your shaft. It glided up and down the length of your soft cock. Umji met your eyes once before focusing on the appendage before her. She positioned herself over it, spitting on the head and using her hand to cover your cock in her saliva. You groan weakly as your cock grows hard in her hands. Her hand moves quickly across your slick cock, and Umji’s grip gets a little tighter.

SinB watches Umji take control of the situation and turns her head to see Eunha absolutely entranced by the sight, her friend's fingers moving in small circles around her clit as she pulls on one of her nipples. Looking back at you and Umji, SinB pulls her sweater over her head, drops it to the floor, and follows that with her shirt and pants. After stripping off her underwear, SinB climbs on the bed, glancing at Eunha over her shoulder before getting right next to you. Gently placing her hand on your cheek, SinB turns your head toward her, “I’m only doing this for Eunha,” She whispers to you. It seemed like she wasn’t being completely honest, but that would be the subject of another time. SinB presses her lips against yours and lets go of your cheek. She moves the arm under her and places your hand on her ass. You squeeze the soft piece of flesh, making SinB moan into the kiss. Your squeeze becomes rougher as you feel a pair of lips on your cock.

Umji had gotten hungry stroking your cock. She kissed the tip and slowly spread her lips, allowing you inside the warm and wet cavern that was her mouth. Her tongue swirled slowly around the tip, and Umji audibly moaned as she savored the taste of your cock. She bobbed her head slowly, dragging her plump lips along your shaft as she stuffed herself. Eunha watched, her fingers moving quickly as she saw Umji and SinB submit to you. Eunha’s light moans momentarily attract the attention of the three of you. Her thighs glisten from her nectar as she rubs them together. As you focus on each other again, you slap SinB’s ass, making her break the kiss with a yelp. “Help Umji out,” You command. SinB nods and moves down to your cock where Umji backs off, letting the other woman share in the delight. Their lips meet with your cock sitting in the middle. The sensation sends shivers down your spine as you feel their lips move around your cock. You place your hands on their heads, guiding them along your shaft.

You began to want more; you pulled their hair, moving the women away from your cock. You tear Umji’s skirt off her before placing SinB on top; both women face Eunha. Eunha pressed her thighs together as she met their eyes but continued to finger herself, her face flush. You got behind the pair of women, aligning your cock with Umji’s cunt first. You grabbed her hips and pulled her onto your cock without warning. You both filled the room with a great moan. Umji’s walls wrap tightly around you, practically pulling you deeper into the young woman. Umji’s feels your hard cock kiss the tip of her womb, and her arms give out, sending her face into the bed. She arches her back and pushes her ass into your pelvis. “Fuck me. Fuck my pussy,” She moaned. You begin thrusting into the small woman’s tight cunt, listening to her moan your name.

You move your attention onto SinB, noticing her wet thighs. You move your fingers along her slit. She shivers and looks over her shoulder; as you meet your eyes, you push your fingers inside her cunt. You press against her walls, rubbing them as you move in and out. SinB whines, the pleasure hitting her hard. The two women’s moan mix as Eunha watches you fuck the two of them.

Eunha was nearing her climax; her fingers pistoned in and out of her. She sat back roughly, squeezing her tits, her head rolling back as she moaned. SinB and Umji were turned on watching Eunha. You could feel their walls tighten around you whenever they looked at your girlfriend.

Approaching your first orgasm, you pulled your fingers out of SinB. You held onto Umji’s waist, her soft flesh moving between your fingers as you squeezed it. You sped up your thrusts, slamming your cock into Umji’s cunt without care. The young woman’s moans became ragged, “Oh god, fuck me!” Umji looked up, meeting Eunha’s eyes. “Thank you, Eunha!” Umji cried out as she came. Her walls squeezed your cock tightly as she backed her ass into you. Burying your cock in Umji, you paint her womb white, flooding it with your cum. Umji shuts her eyes and lays her head on the bed. “I’m so warm,” She mumbles. You feel her walls gripping you tightly, fighting you as you pull out. Cum drips from Umji’s cunt onto the bed below. She collapses onto the bed after.

Rolling Umji out from under SinB to give you more space, you lay SinB on her back. You come face to face with her, with Eunha watching on. As you glance at your girlfriend, you see her breathing heavily, her hands coated in nectar. You kiss SinB’s chest, planting more of them as you move from breast to breast and then up her neck. “Just fuck me already,” She whines. You align yourself with her cunt, prodding SinB’s entrance. “Don’t make me beg. Not in front of her.” You plant your lips on SinB’s as you drive your cock into her pussy. You break the kiss as her moan comes in and let Eunha listen to her long-time friend’s cries of pleasure. You feel SinB’s legs wrap around your waist. You grab her hands, holding them by her head as you begin thrusting. You kiss her neck, listening to SinB moan your name as you drive her crazy. “Why are you so big?” She mutters.

“Why don’t you thank Eunha?” You groan, “She knows you like it.”

“Shut-ahh,” SinB’s words are cut short as you deliver a powerful thrust, forcing her body to take every inch. You lean down, taking one of her nipples into your mouth and gently biting it. SinB’s gasp turns into a moan as you pull back on it. You continue your thrusts, watching as SinB gets closer to her climax.

“Where are you going to want it?” You moan into her ear. Only moans come from her mouth.

You repeat the question, this time earning yourself an answer. “Inside, do it inside.” She said. SinB almost sounded like she was begging for it. You continue to thrust, feeling your orgasm coming. With each thrust, you could feel Sinb’s walls rubbing your cock, covering it in her nectar.

“I’m cumming,” You groan as you bury yourself inside SinB. She feels your warm cum pour into her. Her walls clamp down on your cock, milking you for more cum. You fill SinB’s cunt before pulling out, leaving her like Umji, tired and full of cum. You sit back at the head of the bed and beckon Eunha. Eunha stands from her seat, her lower half drenched in her nectar. Crawling past her friends, Eunha stares into your eyes.

She comes to a stop at your cock, pressing her lips against the cum covered tip and swallowing your cock as she makes her way to the base. Eunha’s tongue slowly swirls around your cock, cleaning it. Eunha drags her tongue along the underside of your cock as she pulls away. “I can taste SinB and Umji on your cock,” She says before kissing the tip. “My turn now.”

Eunha straddles you, aligning her slit with your cock and lowering herself onto you. The familiar sensation feels nice. Eunha’s pussy holds you snuggly as she takes inch after inch. “I hope you know I’m sensitive. I’m not going to last long.”

“So am I. Watching you fuck them was so exciting. Thanks, Honey.” Eunha gives you a soft kiss as she begins to ride you. She softly bounces on your cock, taking every inch with ease but refusing to let a single one go. You hold her close, enjoying the feeling of your cock rubbing against her walls. You give one of her tits a squeeze, feeling the soft flesh jiggle as she bounces on your cock. You focus on each other, giving each other soft kisses as you enjoy each other's bodies. You can feel a tightness in your core as you near your third climax. Eunha pushes you onto your back, giving herself more space to work with. Each bounce from Eunha feels heavenly as her pussy swallows the entirety of your cock each time. You hold her waist, guiding her slightly. “Honey, I want you to cum inside me. Cum in pussy.”

“I’m going to cum.” You groan. Eunha’s walls tighten around you, sending you over the edge and forcing you to cum. Feeling your semen shoot into her, Eunha drops her weight on your cock, impaling herself on you and letting your cum fill her.

Eunha rests her head on your chest as your bodies begin to relax. “Can we do this again?”

“Not for a while.”

“That’s fine. As long as we do it again in the future.”

#kpop smut #male reader #m reader #gfriend smut #viviz smut #eunha smut #sinb smut #umji smut

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tarot-archives · 1 month

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please imagine laios who just came to the island. no connections. no background. he has his sister, a few coins in his satchel, and a dream. but it wasn’t easy. finding a job is tough. most of the time, it’s falin the other parties want, not him. they don’t have money to spare for extra weight.

laios the big brother. laios the supposed provider can’t even feed his sister proper food. he does odd jobs outside the dungeon for a good meal then they sleep under the stars. feeding was hard enough so a room was out of the question. they eventually joined the wanderers who sleep in tents and was kind enough to spare him a blanket.

in his job hunting, laios can’t help but be distracted from the inviting smell from one of the inns. his nose leads him to a dark alleyway, thinking that maybe if he ate his hard bread while smelling the aromatic food, his meal might be better mentally.

laios spots a dog from the back door. the puppy was had a rope on its neck as a leash to keep it tied. he couldn’t help but smile. laios squats down and plays with the puppy, a reminder of his past with having so many dogs and a cat. the black puppy enthusiastically barks and barks. it’s happy to have someone to play with after a while of staying in the cold. laios had the urge to steal him away. no one should leave a small thing like him in the dark.

the frequent barks caught your attention. it might be an intruder or your puppy was causing trouble so you had to go and check. your eyes land on a man, thin and possibly malnourished, playing with potchi, your dog. you don’t miss the way this strangers shined once the light hit his eyes at first. he quickly stood, towering over you in fact. despite being a tall-man yourself, your smaller height doesn’t testify your race.

this man was apologetic at first, then enthusiastic as the conversation continues. he talks about your dog, then about his experience with dogs, then he lectures you about dogs. needless to say you were interested. he was a walking archive, knowledgable and charming in his own way. he seemed harmless compared to the men who frequent the inn. big, burly guys with a bad attitude just because they can enter the dungeon and kill monsters.

his eyes however doesn’t meet yours. you followed his stare to the plate of food you had at the table. and on cue, his tummy rumbles.

“are you hungry?” you asked. he doesn’t deny his hunger and immediately says yes. his actions were like potchi during his meals. he’s cute, endearing, and excited. if he had a tail, he would be wagging it. “here, as thank you for the dog information.”

you bring him a plate of hot food (a bit of extra from todays pot) and he gobbles it up. save for a good portion he says it’s for his sister.

cute, endearing, excited, and thoughtful… he has this appeal. and goodness! don’t you know not to entertain men who play with puppies and have bright eyes. too much of those heart felt romance books warn about men like him. but you shoo your thoughts away.

“listen, you can finish up your plate. i can give you another serving for your sister,” you offered.

“thank you. you’re so kind… er…” i scratched his head. “i don’t even have your name.”

you tell him your name as he told you his. laios… you test it on your tongue. you don’t know why your heart is at ease just speaking his name out loud. you say it again with an offer this time, “come to the inn tomorrow, at 4 am if you can. we need extra hands to bring in new items. i’d pay you with food though, will that be fine, laios?”

he smiled brightly for a man previously starved. a new excitement bubbles within him with the promise to meet you again tomorrow.

“bring your sister too okay? food is better served hot after all,” you smiled. laios took you hand as he shakes it. his energy seeping into you through his hold, but the coldness of his fingers concerned you. “tell me if you need anything okay? us tall-man have to stick together.”

laios wanted to hug you. wrap his arms to show his appreciation, but he knows when to stop. he’s not that clean after all. so he settles with a hand shake, noticing how warm you are body wise and not just through your personality. “thank you! i’ll be here on time! i promise.”

soon after, you waved a final good bye to laios. excitement blooms within you as you wait for tomorrow to come as quickly as it could.

requests? open.

#laios x reader #laios touden x reader #dungeon meshi x reader

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hopelessdazai · 1 month

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✿ 》I'll have you muzzled and caged, ill put you right in your place, you want it.

╰⧼ 🪻 note.. ⧽ ; this was in my drafts for a period . I actually finished it tho so be proud of me ( reblogs appreciated !!! )

╰⧼ ☀️ features.. ⧽ ; beast dazai x gn!reader x beast chuuya ( reader is afab but only a cunt is mentioned ) WC : 1.5k

╰⧼ 🌙 contents.. ⧽ ; smut, petplay, buttplug (but it isnt used), handcuffs, chuuya is soft and dazais a little of a dick, it kinda gets right into it so be warned, actual smut begins after the divider.

“..puppy ears?”

the velvet headband was clutched between your fingers. a gift box on the table in front of you from the boss of the Port mafia. Dazai, your personal trainer. He didn't reply at first, simply smiling down at you - before stepping beside you and taking a layer of crinkled tissue paper off.

“There's a tail in there too.”

and that there was. your eyes caught specifically on the glint of a metal plug on one end. He would pull a stunt like this, you thought. to the side was a bone gag, a crystal white with a pink ribbon to tie around your head. shit, and there's matching handcuffs? How much was in here? You look up at him for a moment, your mind reeling.

he'd said you worked like a dog before this, but wasn't this a little self indulgent?

“..is this a joke?” You look up at him. wishing for some resemblance he was holding back a laugh. hoping this was some gag to mock you, that you don't have to actually wear these things. but there was nothing but a smile.

“a joke? I don't think so.” he hummed, taking the headband out of your hands and gently placing it into your hair. “I picked colours that would suit you, you know? it'd be a shame if you were to waste my money and not make use of them.”

you scoff, picking out the tail and holding it idly in your hands. It was soft. nothing you would've been into, nor what you'd wear for your boss when you're in the damn mafia. and for a moment you found yourself wondering if quitting without a notice was allowed here.

“I can help you put everything on.”

a laugh escapes your throat, one which you couldn't stop the bubble from popping. He had to be kidding, there was just no way someone like him had the nerve.

But he wasn't laughing, he wasn't even smiling anymore.

shit, he was serious.

“I discussed it with chuuya beforehand,” He begins, walking around the desk to sit himself down, one leg crossing over the other. “He wishes to see you in the getup too, if you don't mind.”

“This wasn't in my contract.” You frown, placing the tail on the table - the plug end making a small clatter. “When i signed up to work here, there wasn't anywhere that said I needed to prance around in sex wear.”

“Did you not read the fine print?”

there was a fine print?

you hesitate, shaking your head. “I don't see how that matters. this has to be some human rights thing ..” your voice trails as the door to the office opens, familiar ginger hair in your peripheral vision as he strolls over to stand beside you, giving you a smile. you smile back.

“Chuuya, it seems we're having some obedience problems..” Dazai begins, his hands coming to rest in his lap. “the outfit we so carefully chose for them, they refuse to wear. isn't that cruel?..”

You glance at Chuuya, and he looks back for a moment. no words are shared. but there's a mutual understanding of why you might be hesitant - a human response.

Dazai continues, “You've always spoken about wanting a dog, haven't you, chuuya? and you've certainly spoken more than once about wishing how (name) was with us during our sessions.”

Chuuya chokes on his spit, there's a strange silence afterwards.

“..I suppose.” He mumbles, crossing his arms and looking away from the both of you. Dazai stands up, walking around the desk to where you are. His hand rummages in the box for a moment, taking out a collar and clipping it around your neck.

“It suits them. don't you think, chuuya?”

he turns to look at you, mumbling something under his breath as he steps forward to twist the collar to suit your neck better. you mentally thank the fact you're stuck between two people who even each other out, at the least.

Chuuya gently pulls you close by the waist, holding your hands behind your back as he nuzzles himself into the crook of your neck. you feel dazai clip the handcuffs around your wrist, all happens without a word spoken.

The gingers lips encase a small area of your neck, gently sucking as you let out a light whine. you feel dazai slip closer behind you, his hands on your hips and an unmistakable bulge pressed against the curve of your ass.

shit, what have you gotten yourself into?

you would've done more if your hands weren't tied, and if you could do anything but let out a guttural moan as chuuya's tongue collected the slick off your cunt, you're sure you would've asked them to be gentle.

you blinked a hazy eye open, met with dazai's tip smearing precum against your cheek. a smirk on those lying lips of his. bastard. the clasp from the bone gag in your mouth clicked open, dropping to the floor with a thud. It almost made you flinch.

“Now, do you promise to behave?” The brunette hummed, his voice an almost patronising sing-song tone. You felt Chuuya grip your hips from behind, pulling you back onto his face. it prevented you from having any response but a whine. Dazai simply scoffed, slapping your cheek before forcing your lips apart with his thumb ; resting it on your molars. your drool escaping the side of your mouth.

“I expect a response when I speak to you.”

you did try, but with chuuyas tongue deep inside you and with dazai's thumb in your mouth, you could barely even think straight, let alone make any stupid promises.

“you're giving me the silent treatment, hm?.. bad dog ..”

you let out a whine, shortly cut off as the back of your throat was blocked by Dazai's cock. your nose pressed against the bush of pubes he hadn't even bothered to shave. He stayed deep as you gagged and your throat closed around him, your eyes tearing up.

“there we are..” He muttered, gripping the back of your head behind your faux puppy ears, forcing you to take his cock into your mouth as he practically used you as a human fleshlight. you could barely even let out any sound, your airflow practically fully cut off as your throat was rammed full.

chuuya’s thumb swiped your clit, rolling gentle circles that contrasted the brutal pace dazai used your throat in. it was just too much, letting out sounds you didn't even know you were capable of making. drool glossing your lips as tears run down your cheeks. your mascara had to be ruined.

“hah- look at you. pretty little thing .. the sounds you're making now ..” Dazai whispered, a low rumble of a chuckle leaving his throat. “It’s the smartest I've ever heard you be, you know?.. keep making noise for me, just like that..”

the rustle of fabric behind you as chuuya laid himself down under you, gently rubbing circles on your ass as your thighs shake from keeping yourself up.

“sit down f'me. be a good pup.” you hear him mumble. and you can feel his temper grow as you hesitate, dazai tugging on your hair hard enough for you to look up at him, eyes glazed over from tears.

“You were given an order, were you not? sit. down.” you gradually obey, feeling chuuyas mouth enveloping your wet cunt again.

it's too much, everything is too much. dazai’s pace on your throat increases, the gasps leaving his throat become louder. as do the shaky grunts against your clit as chuuya makes lewd slurping sounds, obviously to provoke the room further. you can barely even fucking breathe, the knot in your stomach is so tight. so close.

“swallow.” Dazai mumbles, letting out an involuntary whimper as he buries himself deep in your throat, the bitter taste of his cum of which you had no choice but to swallow down. and you swear you might drown in it, almost blacking out as you cum on chuuyas tongue.

everything is quiet for a while, save for the sound of heavy panting coming from both you and dazai. chuuya crawls out from under you, wiping his mouth from your fluids and leaning back slightly. you can see the wet patch on his slacks, he came untouched from taste alone?

“That's better..” dazai mumbles, pulling his cock out of your mouth and letting go of your hair, not sparing a shred of sympathy as your front half hits the ground. your body stings, the exhaustion hurts. you can't process anything other than chuuyas warmth as he gently tugs you into his lap, your head to his chest with his hand running through your hair.

he's always been gentle with you, anyway.

“well, I think that was a rather productive usage of our time, no? wouldn't you agree, chuuya?” dazai looked down at the pair of you, a smile on his lips. You couldn't speak, your throat hurt. But chuuya pressed a gentle kiss to your temple and nodded.

“I certainly enjoyed it.”

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dinogoofymutated · 11 days

Note

I absolutely adore how you write Kurt,

Could you write something for Kurt being concerned for an overworked reader?

And or a reader that struggles with sleep?

SFW!Nightcrawler/GN! Reader The amount of comfort that this man gives me UGH! He's just so caring and sweet, but I worry about him :( He's been the therapist friend in basically every episode in 97' and he deserves some comfort too so I added basically the reverse version of these headcannons at the end as well! Sorry I didn't end up writing anything for sleep, I've written a fic with some sleep struggle themes here but I might end up writing some seperate headcannons for that later! TWs: Themes of burnout/exhaustion. Mentions of the Genosha attack and Remy's death/funeral, religious themes. As always, reader written while picturing Fem! But no pronouns mentioned. I'm doing my best with adding German dialect while Kurt speaks but I'm not super knowledgeable, so let me know if there's something I need to change!

Kurt makes it his absolute mission to make sure you're always taken care of. Food, emotional support, laundry, dishes, Hell, he'd give you the sun and stars if you needed them. He just cares about you so much, and he never wants you to feel like you're alone in this world.

This being said, when he feels that you're overworking yourself, he's not afraid to let you know.

When he first starts to notice it, He'll check in on you more often. He'll pull you into a hug and give you kisses and he'll only leave when you reassure him that you're perfectly fine.

If you're still overworking yourself after this, he will outright tell you that he loves you, but you need a break. You can't go on like this and he's concerned about you. He doesn't purposely give you the sad puppy eyes, but seriously, how could you think about saying no to that face?

He really likes to brush his hands through your hair when he's trying to help you relax. He'll move your head into his lap on the couch and hum you softly to sleep. He might take you to bed, but he won't wake you up unless he absolutely has to. He won't go as far as to turn off your alarms, but he just wants you to rest.

However, if you know you're overworking yourself but still refuse to let yourself stop, or take a break, he's going to be a little more "aggressive".

Your computer screen is giving you a migraine, you feel like you want to tear your brain out of your head, and plainly? You just can’t sit still. You had been in this spot for about six hours straight. The last time you actually got up was to eat dinner, and even then you had only relaxed for what, thirty minutes? You can’t really remember.

You sigh deeply, leaning back in your chair as you massage your temples. Working for the budding country of Genosha was certainly not for the weak. You needed to have this paperwork finished and faxed before the end of the week so that talks of Genosha entering the U.N. could continue. It was such a hefty amount, but it was necessary. Everyone else had done their part, and all you had to do was make corrections, edit, and make sure everything was in top shape. You’d been working on it for about three days straight, and with the finish line in sight, you didn’t want to stop now.

Oh, but your head hurts so bad, and you feel like you're starving. You look from your computer to your copy machine and the huge stack of mostly finished paperwork on your desk. You just want it to be over with, you decide it’s best if you just push through.

“You haven’t moved from that spot since lunch,” You hear Kurt state. He comes around the side of your chair to brush some stray locks away from your forehead, and you do your best to give him a smile, although it’s obvious the expression is pained.

“I didn’t hear you come in.” Your voice comes out a little gravelly from being silent most of the day. Kurt’s hands begin to gather your hair and caress the back of your neck lovingly. His hands feel good, grounding. You close your eyes to appreciate the feeling and miss the sight of Kurt’s frown.

“Let’s get you to bed, Liebchen. I can tell your head hurts.” Kurt’s tone is gentle, although displeased, and it makes you feel guilty when you shake your head and pull away, leaning forward as you restack the paperwork on your desk.

“I can’t. I’m almost done with this whole U.N. thing and the sooner it’s over, the better.” You mumble stubbornly. Kurt shakes his head at you, pulling your rolling chair away from the desk before you can get your hands on something else. You don’t even have the energy to express your shock as Kurt takes the papers out of your hands, using the table to straighten them before placing them in their proper place. He tuts at you as he does so, and continues to save your files and power down the computer despite your protests.

“My apologies, love, but I won’t let you rot in this room for another moment. I understand how important this work is to you. Giving Genosia a voice that the world can hear is a very noble cause, and yet it is still a cause that can wait till tomorrow, Ja?” You open your mouth to attempt to protest again, but your head hurts so bad, and you are so tired. Kurt takes your hands to help you out of your chair, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he pulls you into a gentle hug.

“Okay. But-” You don’t finish your sentence before Kurt is tucking your face into his shoulder, sparing you the view as he Bamfs you away. When he lets you go, you’re standing in your bedroom. You’re thankful that he spared you the sights, knowing that it would have just made your head worse- but it didn’t change the fact that you hadn’t been remotely done in the office.

“-I still need to lock up, Kurt.” You start to say, but he’s gone in a puff of smoke before you can even finish the sentence. When he makes it back a few minutes later, Kurt sends you a cheeky smile, lifting his tail to show you the keys he must’ve snagged from your pocket earlier.

“Did you-”

“Lock the file cabinet? Yes. And I turned off your lamp, and closed the curtains before I locked the door.” Kurt kisses your temple as he sits you down on the bed, beginning to take your shoes off. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you taken care of.” You feel like your heart might explode with the overwhelming fondness you’re feeling right now. When he’s done with your shoes, he carefully helps you undress and change into pajamas, something he knows you struggled with when you were as exhausted as you are now. He makes sure to tuck you into bed before he himself goes to change. It doesn’t matter how much pain you felt at this point, when he crawled into bed you couldn’t stop yourself from curling up close to him, pressing tired kisses to whatever part of him you could reach. Kurt simply chuckles, pulling you into an embrace as he whispers sweet encouragements for you to sleep.

“Kurt?”

“Yes, Meine Liebe?”

“ ‘Think you could Marry me?”

Now just because Kurt will do everything in his power to keep you from reaching the point of burnout, doesn't mean that he himself will stop from reaching that point.

Kurt is a genuinely good person, right to the core. He likes helping people, he likes to care for others, but he doesn't always ask for help when he needs it. It's not that he doesn't have emotional intelligence for his own feelings, he just tends to soothe himself by assisting others. Even then, to an extent, that's not healthy coping. There is only so much someone can carry alone.

After the attack on Genosha, there was a lot of work that had to be done- and Kurt, being a familiar and dependable face in the many religious communities, was needed constantly in a tumultuous time when many turned to religion.

It's been a struggle for the two of you, much of your time together being cut short in one way or another, and the longer you spent away, the more worried you became.

It all came to a head after Remy's funeral.

Remy’s funeral was… Rough. To say the least. No one was coping very well, especially not Jubilee. You had walked out to the cars with the group after the last of the dirt had been laid, making sure to give her a tight hug. The X-men were the only real family she had ever had, and now she had lost a brother. You had let her sob for a moment, listening to her cries and the sounds of doors, opening and closing.

When everyone had loaded up and was ready to head out, you noticed that Kurt wasn’t there. You told everyone that you would catch up. You had a feeling you knew where he would be.

You find Kurt in an empty church. He’d shed his outermost robes at some point, and was sitting silently on a pew. His eyes are closed and his hands folded, praying. You don’t disturb him as you sit down, simply reaching a hand out and placing it on his knee, squeezing it to let him know you were there. When he finishes, he places his hand over your own, opening his eyes as he looks down. His tears are flowing freely, and he leans into your touch when you wipe them from his cheeks.

“I’ve been told that there is strength in a man that freely mourns, but… It’s silly. I can’t help but wish that I was stronger.” Kurt’s almost whispering as he speaks. You feel a lump form in your throat, your stinging eyes welling with tears for the countless time today. It hurts so unbelievably to see someone you love hurting so much, knowing that there is so little that you can do to make the pain go away, even if the loss is shared.

“It’s not silly. I think that a lot of people feel the same- especially right now.” You say. You take hold of his left hand, tracing the cool metal band on his finger. You compare it to the one you wear, and find yourself thankful that the hand that bears his is still warm. You think of Rogue and Remy. The life they could’ve had together, if only they had been given more time.

You lean your head on Kurt’s shoulder, and he rests his head on top of your own.

“You don’t have to carry it alone.” You whisper eventually. Kurt says nothing, lacing his fingers between yours. “I know we haven't had a lot of time together lately, but as long as I’ve known you, you’ve carried so much on your shoulders- but you don’t have to do it alone. That’s what I’m here for, remember?” Kurt laughs lightly at your words, squeezing your left hand before lifting it to his lips and kissing your knuckles.

“You are a gift that I’m not entirely sure I deserve, my love,” Kurt says. You scoff at him, frowning now as you look up to meet his eyes.

“Lying is a sin, Kurt.” You say playfully. His smile is blinding, and you gasp as Kurt Wagner of all people rolls his eyes at you.

“Even if it was a lie, which it isn’t, as long as I have you near, Schatz, Heaven will be in reach.”

#x men 97 #x men #x men comics #x men headcannons #x men 97 x reader #kurt wagner #kurt wagner headcannons #kurt wagner oneshot #kurt wagner imagine #kurt wagner x reader #nightcrawler fic #nightcrawler xmen #xmen nightcrawler #nightcrawler #nightcrawler headcannons #nightcrawler x reader #x men nightcrawler #nightcrawler x men #x men kurt wagner

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okwonyo · 3 months

Text

when you pout because you want attention.

ᙏ̤̫ 엔하이픈 ♡ female reader & requested! gamer au fluff established relationship + cw. not-proofread skinship kissing mention to crying (as a joke) 0.7k | ( bookshelf )

heeseung would be helplessly fond of your pouty face; an arrow would be sent right in his heart whenever he’d sees your soft lips getting more and more pouty as you ignore him, even though that part of the movie breaks his heart. when you decide to leave the room to go watch something on the television instead, he’d grab your wrist and pull you on his laps so effortlessly— it’s almost ridiculous. laughing at the cute yelp you let out, he’d rest his chin on your shoulder and continue to play.

jongseong would drop the game in a millisecond. the sight of your pout makes his heart melt and when you look at him with your puppy eyes; he is ready to give you the world and way beyond. “guys,” he’d call his friends in the his mic, eyes too focused on your adorable face to think properly, “i have to go..” then, he’d jump on the bed next to you, mirroring the wide smile drawn on your beautiful face and he’d give you a quick peck before asking, “what do yo want to do, princess?”

jaeyun would try to resist as much as he can— avoiding to make eye contact with you at all costs, claiming that he just needs to finish that level and he’d be ‘all yours’. but the thing is, you’d not want attention after he’d finish this level; you want attention, right now! unfortunately for him, you’d not need a lot to make him drop that act.. just, nudging his shoulder slightly and calling him by your name, with that sweet voice of yours, then just as him for some attention. he’d be all snuggled to you in bed three seconds after!

sunghoon would feel his heart drop to his stomach as soon as you stop to call his name and go sulk in the bed behind him; fear taking all over his body and a million of thoughts traveling in his head. there would be only two possibilities: continuing to play and, perhaps, ending the day with a girlfriend that does not want to even look a him or.. turning off his video game, begging desperately on his knees for forgiveness and spending the whole night with his, heaven sent, breathtakingly beautiful girlfriend? oh, the choice would be quickly done.

seonwoo would, in my opinion, not be the type to remotely care that much about video games that much to leave you begging— and thus, whether he is a game or not. there would be are times where he forgets a bit about himself whereupon he absolutely needs to beat one of his friends at a game; there would be very rare though. he’d have a ‘pouty-girlfriend’ radar in his chest that’d tell him when you are about to get a bit sulky, so he’d be able to know when he needs to give you attention.

jungwon would find you so, so cute, he’d have to stop the game immediately just to come baby you a bit. cooing a soft “does my baby want attention?” before kissing your pout.. then he’d have to bite down his lower lip when he sees your flush because he’d find you beyond adorable. he’d start having a intern dialogue with himself; why would he even think of playing video games when he has such a cute girl, he can spend his time with? i can picture him poking your cheeks and leaving soft pecks on your pouty lips until you let out a “you are so annoying” with a soft laugh..

riki would panic instantly, stuck between the immediate need to kiss you and the fear that you might stop talking to him really soon. he’d be that type of boyfriend that doesn’t like being ignored and he knows that you tend to get non-verbal when you get pouty. he’d power off his playstation in the middle of the game just to lay on you because he does that when he doesn’t want you to get mad.. :(( he just needs some reassurance, given the fact that he gets worried about these kind of stuff quickly.. and you’d just laugh it off and pat his soft hair, because he is just so cute, you might cry.

wrote all this back to back with the moot game and also pathetically tried to not make it too similar with another one of my works.. oh i need a nap ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´Д｀ﾟ)ﾟ｡

taglist open! @manooffline @ibsysbsfsunsbs @nwjws @lilriswife4life @alaezasmystery235 @teddywonss @tyussday @cholexc @flickqr @yuviqik @wvnrqs @strawberrywonz @y-ves @isawritesss @filmofhybe @ikeucakes @gweoriz @yunabi436 @ashtxrie @soul-is-a-strange-kid @jaelaxies @jwonsluvr @lynniebearrr-blog @bobabunhee @sunghoonsarmpit @ynsvnte @wonifullove @luvieden @shalkeren @thesunoosshining @smouches @the-swageyama-tobiyolo @sulkygyu @byhees @jwnghyuns @sleepyxxhead @baevsxii @nxzz-skz @who-tf-soddhi @armydrcamers

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inou-ie · 5 months

Text

RAHU BIRTHDAY SPECIAL 12.28

giving rahu a special treat because she's been a very good puppy. i didn't get to finish it in time but here it is.

warnings: transfem rahu, oral, breeding, implied anal, just spoiling rahu because she deserves it

nsfw under the cut | men and minors dni

In eager anticipation of Rahu's return, you brainstorm ways to make her day extra special. Rahu deserves nothing but the best, she's been a very good lover to you, after all.

You've readied delicious dishes and put up some cute decorations, even got a thoughtful gift all set for her. But what you really desire is to create a day she'll never forget, filled with happiness just for her.

As the door swings open, you dart towards it, eager to greet her. "Welcome home!" you exclaim, beaming with a smile, and Rahu's expression instantly softens. "I'm home..." she responds with a faint smile before swiftly wrapping her arms tightly around you, her larger frame enveloping your entire body.

You reciprocate her tight hug, finding solace in her warmth. "I'm hungry..." Rahu mumbles, prompting a soft chuckle from you. "I've prepared a lot of food for you." you assure her as you guide her toward the dining table.

Rahu's eyes widen at the sight of the small decorations and the spread of food. "You didn't have to make an effort..." she sighs before pulling you into another embrace. "Thank you." she murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

Aware that such gestures might be unfamiliar to Rahu, you aimed to indulge her, if only for the day. "Mhm, you're welcome." you reply with a smile, gently encouraging her to take a seat.

"Eat a lot, okay? I'll prepare the bath for you." you say, giving her head a tender pat. You notice Rahu's eyes gazing at you lovingly, acknowledging the care and affection you've bestowed upon her.

Swiftly heading to the bathroom, you arrange the candles, scatter petals, and set everything you've gathered to create a romantic atmosphere for the bath.

Satisfied with your work, you return to find Rahu engrossed in devouring the food you prepared, looking utterly adorable in the process. A smile spreads across your face as you watch her indulge herself.

Rahu notices your presence, her mouth full of food, and you can't help but chuckle softly at the sight. "I'm glad you like it." you say warmly as you walk over to the table, taking a seat beside her. Rahu simply nods, unable to speak with her mouth stuffed full.

While Rahu continues eating, you engage in light conversation, sharing random thoughts and stories as you watch her enjoy the meal. She listens intently, gazing at you affectionately. Before long, she finishes everything, occasionally offering you bites along the way.

After allowing your lover a moment to rest while you tidy up the table, you guide her towards the bathroom. Another surprise awaits Rahu's eyes as she enters: roses scattered in the bath, ambient candlelight, a sweet aroma filling the air, and a bottle of wine set out.

"You really... prepared a lot." Rahu remarks, looking at you, her eyes appearing teary, but she quickly takes a deep breath to compose herself.

Your eyes widen in surprise as Rahu immediately begins to remove her clothes, displaying an eagerness to relax with you in the bath you've prepared.

As soon as Rahu finishes undressing, she moves closer to you, gently removing your clothes one by one, planting tender kisses on your shoulders as she does. "You're spoiling me too much today..." she murmurs against your skin before guiding you into the shower.

The sensation of the water cascading over your skin creates a soothing ambiance as both of you stand together, gently caressing each other's bodies and stealing affectionate kisses. It's a routine you share with her every day, but today it feels exceptionally romantic and intimate.

After enjoying a few more moments in the shower, you and Rahu transition to the bathtub. Usually, it's you who leans against Rahu's larger frame, but tonight, you want to switch things up. You gently guide Rahu to lean her back against you, allowing her to relax while you provide the support and comfort she deserves.

Feeling Rahu's broad and sturdy back against you, you can't resist wrapping your arms around her, pressing your breasts against her tightly. As your hands reach to feel her abs, you notice Rahu sighing deeply.

"Let me sit behind you instead..." Rahu suggests, turning her head to look at you, but you playfully shake your head. "Nope, just stay there. I'm trying to spoil you, okay? Let me..." You give her abs gentle pats, offering a smile as you encourage her to remain in the relaxed position you've arranged.

Rahu sighed in defeat, seeming to search for something to distract herself. Her gaze falls upon the bottle of wine, and she slowly reaches for it. Carefully opening the bottle, she pours herself a full glass.

As your hands glide lower, you can't help but smile as you feel her hardening length. You gently cupped Rahu's erection, causing her to flinch slightly before slowly releasing a soft sigh.

"Relax and just keep drinking your wine, okay?" You whisper softly and Rahu nodded obediently in response. As your grip becomes firmer, she begins to relax further, leaning her head back against your shoulder and closing her eyes.

The warm water surrounding you both feels like a caress as you slowly stroke Rahu's cock. Your free arm pulls Rahu closer, wrapping around her hips as you continue to pleasure her.

The sound of water splashing against the tub combines with the soft sounds of Rahu's deep breathing made your heart swell with love and comfort.

Rahu takes a sip of her wine, the vibrant flavors dancing on her tongue as she savors the taste. A soft groan escapes her lips as you rub your thumb against her sensitive head.

"Feels good?" you ask her with a smile as you lean to kiss her neck. "Feels amazing..." she whispers, her voice hoarse with need and her hips bucking forward, instinctively seeking more of your touch, the sensation making her entire body tense. You smile against her shoulder as you stroke her a bit faster.

Rahu's free hand finds its way to your thigh, squeezing gently. The warmth of her touch sends a shiver down your spine as you continue to pleasure her, making her breath heavier each passing second.

She takes another long drink of her wine before setting the glass aside, her full attention turning back to the feeling building deep within her core. "I'm close..." she whispers hoarsely.

Rahu starts to grip on your thighs tightly as you stroke her cock with both hands, the soft sounds of pleasure escaping her lips as she nears her peak.

Her hips roll subtly against your touch, desperate for more stimulation to push her over the edge. As you focus on pleasuring her head and shaft simultaneously, her breathing becomes ragged, each exhale sending ripples through the water around you.

As you continue to stroke Rahu's cock, she begins to shudder and twitch, the muscles in her legs tensing as her body prepares for the release of her cum.

"I-It's coming out..." She lets out a low whimper, her voice thick with desire, her throat bobbing as she swallows nervously. With a loud groan, her body stiffens and her cock twitches, sending thick streams of hot cum shooting out over your hands and into the water around you.

Her hips buck and her stomach clenches as wave after wave of cum is released. Rahu's breath comes in ragged gasps as she leans against you, her body trembling as the aftershocks of her orgasm wash over her. She lets out a soft groan, her voice still thick with desire as she nestles against you, your bodies entwined in the warm water.

It didn't take long for you and Rahu to move into the bedroom, with you kneeling in between her legs, your head lowered as you suck her cock, moving smoothly up and down.

"Y-You don't have to– mhm..." Rahu leaned her head backward with a soft moan as she held your head, careful to prevent any deeper intrusion, knowing her size might cause some discomfort. She wished for nothing more than for you to enjoy her pleasures, yet at the same time, she wanted to protect you from any unnecessary pain.

You persisted in sucking her, your eyes fixed on hers as your tongue danced around her delicate head, savoring each flavor that she offered you. Your soft moans mingled with her groans, the sound filling the room.

As you sucked her deeper, Rahu's body started trembling, her throbbing becoming increasingly apparent, signaling her impending climax. The sensation of your mouth surrounding her, along with the wet, suckling noises, sent shivers down Rahu's spine, urging her closer to bliss.

As Rahu's hips jerked forward, you sensed her restraint, and in a bold move, you decided to deepthroat her cock, causing Rahu to sigh with sheer pleasure at its penetration.

"Gonna cum..." she couldn't help but let out a gruff grunt as your throat accepted her size, triggering an intense surge of her seed that flooded your mouth. Her orgasm washed over her like waves, leaving her breathless as she filled you up with her thick cum, her cock twitching within you until her release began to subside.

You managed to keep it together, swallowing her release slowly to show her the respect she deserved. It was an overwhelming feeling that made you shiver, and you felt honored to receive such an intense climax from her. Rahu's body slowly relaxed as she caught her breath while her cock slowly slipped out from your mouth.

"It was an honor to have a taste of your delicious meal." you teased playfully, looking up at her and grinning. She blushed lightly as she wiped your mouth clean gently using her thumb. "You didn't have to swallow it..." she whispered faintly.

You felt warm affection in her arms as she pulled you up to sit on her lap, her fingers gently caressing through your hair. "You've spoiled me too much... thank you." she murmured, savoring the warmth enveloping her.

"It's too early to thank me, we haven't done the most important part." you whispered, gently cupping her face between your palms and planting a quick kiss on her lips.

You then ground against her, causing her cock to grow rigid once more as you leaned in closer to her ear. "Won't you fill me up?" you whispered seductively into Rahu's ear, sending a thrill down her spine.

She could barely contain herself now and pulled you closer by your ass with a low growl. "I... want to..." she whispered back, giving your ass a gentle squeeze.

And just like that, Rahu effortlessly pinned you down on the bed. Her large cock bulged on your stomach, stretching you wide open as she drove herself deeply into your welcoming body.

Every thrust made you whimper in pleasure as you felt her filling you completely. "Don't hold back..." you urged her on with soft breaths. Your words sent Rahu into a frenzy; she responded to your desire by speeding up her pace and pushing deeper inside your core, filling you to the brim.

The room filled with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and your gasping breaths as Rahu continued to pleasure you uncontrollably.

As Rahu lifted your leg, placing it over her shoulder, you moaned deeply at the new angle and intensity her thrusts had brought. Her large cock filled every corner of you, stretching you further, and you could barely hold back a cry.

"You're so tight..!" she grunted huskily, running her fingers over your breast. Her touch was electrifying; she squeezed your breast firmly and your whole body tensed at the sensation.

You gritted your teeth in pleasure, unable to contain the wave of desire crashing upon you. Rahu continued to fuck you mercilessly, her movements becoming more forceful by each second, driving you closer to the edge.

You were breathless and overwhelmed, your body quivering, "You're so good... please don't stop!" you begged her with tears in your eyes.

In a deep groan, Rahu obeyed your plea and shifted your position, taking hold of your legs, spreading them wide before folding you in half. She held onto your ankles, anchoring your body as her hips pushed relentlessly into you, stretching your opening in ways that you had never experienced before.

Every thrust drove you further into bliss as your body screamed in ecstasy. Rahu's movements intensified, each slap of flesh against flesh reverberating through the air as she brought you even closer and closer to your limit.

You cried out in pleasure as your muscles contracted tightly around her, milking Rahu's thick cock as her climax erupted inside you with a grunt. With every spurt, you whimpered, your body shuddering from the intense pleasure that flooded through you.

Rahu was relentless in her orgasm; her hips continued pumping, pushing more of her hot cum into you as if she wished to fill you entirely.

You were still catching your breath when Rahu pulled out, her impressive length still standing proud. "...more..." she suddenly flipped you over, pushing you forward on all fours, eager to claim your body once again.

As you braced your arms on the bed, Rahu stepped up from behind and slid back inside you in a single stroke, making you gasp from the intense feeling.

She grabbed your tits and squeezed them tightly, a low rumbling growl escaping her lips as she pounded into your welcoming flesh. Every thrust was filled with raw hunger, and she drove herself deeper with every movement, her hips slapping against your ass.

Rahu's mouth moved down your back, kissing every inch as she pinched your nipples, sending a wave of desire through your body. Her hand wandered between your legs, circling your clit, causing waves of pleasure to spread through you, bringing you ever closer to the precipice of orgasm.

At the same time, Rahu's cock pressed against your cervix, creating an intensity that made you moan deeply, your hips swaying in time with her rhythm. Her movements became harder, faster, and the combination of everything made it almost impossible to hold back any longer.

You could feel your orgasm building, your walls gripping Rahu's cock, begging for release. "I'm so close..." You whimpered with pleasure, knowing that you wouldn't last long now, as Rahu's fingers continued their teasing caresses, her kisses becoming more insistent, until finally, you erupted in pure bliss, crying out as waves of ecstasy consumed you, making your body convulse around Rahu's hard cock until she, too, groaned loudly, releasing her own orgasm deep inside you.

But Rahu didn't stop there, her cock was still hard inside you, filling you up and making it impossible to move. She leaned in close, her breath hot against your ear as she whispered, "I'm not done with you yet."

With that, she lifted you effortlessly into the air and carried you over to a nearby wall. Before you could even process what was happening, Rahu slammed her hips forward, impaling herself deep inside you once more.

Your eyes widened in surprise at the sudden change of position, but you couldn't deny how incredible it felt to be pinned against the cool surface of the wall by Rahu's powerful body. Her thrusts were deep and forceful, driving you wild with pleasure as she took control of the situation. You clung to her shoulders, moaning loudly as each powerful stroke sent waves of ecstasy coursing through your body.

Rahu continued filling you up again and again until there was a pool of your shared cum forming on the floor beneath her.

As Rahu stopped, you pulled her face closer, capturing her lips in a deep kiss. When Rahu finally broke the kiss, she carried you back to bed and resumed her passionate fucking until it was near dawn.

By then, your bodies were slick with sweat, and the air was heavy with the scent of sex. Both your holes were stretched and leaking Rahu's cum.

"Can't move..." you sighed deeply, you were exhausted, your muscles aching from being stretched and filled for hours on end. Rahu was no different, her body weak from the effort she had just put into making sure you were knocked up.

As she collapsed onto the bed, Rahu pulled you into her embrace, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment. "Forgive me," she murmured softly, her voice hoarse from the pleasure you had shared. "I had to make sure your womb was completely filled."

You let out a soft chuckle as you wrapped your arm around her. "I enjoyed it." you murmured, snuggling closer to her and Rahu did the same.

"Get some rest... I'll clean up later." Rahu whispered as she ran her fingers through your hair gently, making you more relaxed.

You gave her a nod, pressing your face against her chest. "I hope you enjoyed your day..." you gave her a squeeze before closing your eyes.

"The best day... thank you." Rahu sighed contentedly, smiling at the sight of you starting to drift off to sleep.

#inou works #rahu x reader #ptn smut #rahu smut #ptn rahu #HAPPY BIRTHDAY RAHU

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hannie-dul-set · 5 months

Text

HOME FOR THE BITCHLESS [8].

SYNOPSIS. wherein your friend offers a room for you to crash in while your dorm is being renovated, but fails to mention that your new housemates don’t know how to talk to women (oh, and they also have an ongoing bet about you, too).

PAIRINGS. choi soobin, choi beomgyu, lee heeseung, park jongseong, sim jaeyun, park sunghoon x female! reader. GENRE. housemates! au, rom-com, sitcom, reverse harem time baby. WARNINGS. swearing, vomit, heeseung is sick, tormenting said sick man, sex jokes, and loser hee backstory reveal. WORD COUNT. 3.8k.

NOTE. merry christmas. my gift for u all is the heeseung chapter. let's pretend that it's still summer for the sake of the fic yes thank u hope u enjoy.

MASTERLIST | NEXT >

CHAPTER 8 — hot, drenched, and sweaty.

“I THINK HEESEUNG IS IN A FIGHT CLUB.” That unprompted statement catches the interest of all the four boys currently in the living room. Soobin looks up from his half-finished crocheted bonnet, Jake and Jay pause their game of scrabble, and Sunghoon drops a rubik’s cube on your face because you gallantly decided to use his lap as a pillow on the lounge sofa.

“Oh god, I’m— I’m sorry,” he sputters out an apology. You take this as a sign to stop invading his space. “What do you mean though? Fight club? Heeseung?”

“Listen.”

You spring up from your position, sitting with a very determined look on your face which simply prompts their attention further. “Heeseung leaves the house at exactly 10 p.m. every Saturday night and comes back at like two in the morning. I asked him about is once, and all he said is that he’s doing ‘business,’ whatever the fuck that means. It’s suspicious as hell.”

The only reason why you were up at 2 a.m. to catch him in the act in the first place is because one time, you challenged Beomgyu and Jake to a no-sleeping contest and those two are the most gullible and have the most money from the lot. Little did those suckers know that you slept for fifteen hours prior to challenging them. They dozed off at the thirty six hour mark while you were still awake enough to catch Heeseung sneaking into the house at the devil’s hour.

After that, you had more money in your bank account, and a new curiosity that’s begging to be satisfied.

“I think he’s in an underground fighting club,” you declare. “There’s no other reason.”

“No, no,” Jay contends. “It might be something else. He could be a stripper.”

A silent moment of consideration.

Then you all release a unified, “Nah.”

“Maybe it’s private,” says Sungoon. “What—whatever it is, it could be none of our business.”

He has a point, but you’re nosy and bored. So are Jake and Jay because turns out, today’s a Saturday, and you have nothing to do, and you’re acquitted from any charges of instigating things because it’s Jay who announces, “Should we follow him?”

You grin. Sunghoon doesn’t approve of your expression. “We should follow him.”

“I’ll keep a lookout.”

“Text us when he’s about to leave.”

“You got it.”

Thus starts your mission of finding out whether Heeseung is secretly an underground fighter or a stripper. Sunghoon refused to be a part of it, but Soobin wasn’t strong enough to deny your puppy dog eyes, so it’s you, him, Jake, and Jay who might be charged for stalking and invasion of privacy because the moment you get a signal from Jake that “the target is out of the house, over,” the four of you, willingly or otherwise, start to tail him.

It’s disconcertingly easy to follow Heeseung without him noticing the four not so discreet people lagging behind him. When he takes off on a bus, you quickly hail a taxi for the four of you to jump inside of and continue the trail.

“I think—I think we should head back,” says Soobin, squeezing his arms against his torso because there are three of you cramped in the backseat. “The sky is glum. I think it’s gonna rain.”

“The sky is glum because it’s the fucking night. Mr. Sun has died. Wait, he just got off the bus. Let’s go, let’s go before we lose him!”

As you stalk down the sidewalk, you can’t help but feel a sense of deja vu because you swear you’ve crossed this same path before. You’ve been here before. You’re sure of it, and it’s not just because this area is just around your university, of which you haven’t stepped foot on since the beginning of summer and since living with Jake and his friends.

“Hey, he’s over there, he’s going to that cafe.”

Your deja vu is answered when the familiar facade of The Lounge shows up right before you. Heeseung enters the building. Sunghoon knew all along, that fucking rat. That’s why was so against this plot, that’s why he refused to tag along with you. “I’m going in,” says Jay. You postpone your revenge plan against Sunghoon for later and quickly follow behind Jay into the cafe. Once you enter however, it starts pouring.

The clear glass windows of the place get stained by an assault of raindrops. Crap. None of you brought an umbrella. “I knew it was going to rain…” Soobin laments, and you pat circles against his back to apologize for doubting him, further telling him that he has a knack for weather prediction and if he’s considering switching career paths.

“What now?” Jake asks.

“We can wait for the rain to stop or call Sunghoon to pick us up and bring us umbrellas,” you tell them. “For now, let’s find out what the fuck Lee Heeseung is up to here. This wasn’t part of any of our calculations.” The calculations being either violence or promiscuity. You didn’t make a lot of calculations.

The problem is, Heeseung is nowhere to be found. You end up ordering some drinks and food and decide to settle in a booth at the corner of the place so that you guys can have a full and complete view of the cafe’s entire interior, yet you still can’t find him, so you end up reminiscing the time Sunghoon dumped your lemonade on you which catapulted your hobby of messing with these guys because they become so nervous around you it’s funny.

“Did we enter the wrong building? Did he catch us tailing him and left through the back door?!”

You doubt Jake’s presumptions, and you’re correct to doubt him because right at that moment, Heeseung finally shows his stupid fucking face.

Not only does he show his stupid fucking face— he shows his stupid fucking face on the mini stage in the other corner of the cafe with a freaking guitar. What? So he’s not an underground fighter? Heeseung leans into the mic and a singular “ah,” resounds from the speakers mounted on the walls, muting down the muffled sound of the rain outside in that single instant.

When Heeseung starts to play the instrument followed by the sound of his voice, the rain is forgotten entirely.

This is a surprise. This is unexpected.

“This is disappointing,” says Jay, and you snap your head at him with eyes wide in alarm and disbelief because what does he mean disappointing? Disappointing where? You’ve been living with an angel all this time and you didn’t know?

“Yeah, it’d be cooler if he was in a fight club,” Jake adds, as if their friend isn’t putting the Billboard’s Hot 100 to shame right now. What kind of bullshit are they saying?

“Did you guys know he could sing like that?”

The three look at you, even Soobin, and respond with a yes, a nod, a hum. Your mouth gapes. But you don’t get why you’re surprised when these guys have known each other for years prior to you barging in unannounced— so, of course they know, of course you don’t, and in the midst of all this, your thoughts are interrupted by the sharp screech from the speakers, because Heeseung has stopped singing, and is instead now looking at your table, looking more alarmed than you.

You’re pretty sure your eyes met before he decided to bolt out of the cafe.

“Oh, he’s getting off stage. Maybe he’s going to greet u— why is he skipping our table? Why is he running outside? Hyung, wait!”

None of you end up chasing after him because it’s still pouring outside, and you can already predict what the aftermath of this is going to be. Thus concludes your mission of finding out whether or not Heeseung is secretly an underground fighter or a stripper, with the answer amounting to neither because Heeseung is a performer during The Lounge’s open mic nights, and you don’t get why he’s been acting so secretive about it all this time.

Heeseung wakes up feeling like shit. And not the regular kind of shit. He feels like Satan just chewed him up, only to spit him back out— slobber and the inferno’s of hell included because he’s sweating through his shirt, his blanket feels like a prison, but if he kicks it of, he gets attacked by cold flashes, so he’s in a sticky and uncomfortable limbo between overheating and freezing to fucking death.

His throat is dry. The only thing that escapes his throat is a guttural and inhuman rasp. He wouldn’t be this sick if he didn’t run out in the rain last night.

Rather, he wouldn’t have ran out if you weren’t there last night.

Heeseung rolls to his side with a groan of pain and anguish, muffled against the pillow as a different kind of fevered heat washes over his face. Seriously. Why the fuck were you there last night? He could give less than two shits if his roommates find out that he sings Taylor Swift every weekend at The Lounge, but you— you’re a different story. Because he knows you’re gonna use this information against him somehow, just like how you like to fuck around with his friends.

Too much. Heeseung has always thought you were a bit too much for him. The time you chased Beomgyu around the house in the dress(?) Jay made is the only evidence he needs to affirm that.

Then again, maybe he shouldn’t have bolted out like that immediately after meeting your eyes. You already suspect that you gross him out (which, by the way, couldn’t be more wrong) for always running away from the threat of skin-to-skin contact with you. Why was it raining when it’s still summer, anyway? It’s like that night was a curse made especially for him.

He curls up further into a ball, hoping you just forget about it all and don’t question him about it.

Yet the very opposite happens because what interrupts his spiraling thoughts is the sound of your voice— already threatening a wave of torment.

“Oh, god. You’re in a worse state than I thought.”

Heeseung regrets springing up from his bed because his head immediately gets slammed by the recoil of a headache. “Why...why are you here?” he barely scratches out. You’re by the doorframe, arms crossed and eyes laced with pity. He didn’t even hear the door opening.

“Jake told me about your illness,” you say, walking over to the side of his bed and Heeseung flinches back the moment you set yourself down on the mattress. “He said you have a chronic case of bitchless syndrome.

He looks at you. Your face is dead serious. Heeseung feels a drop of sweat trickling down his neck, then you break into that devious smile of yours and laugh out a grin.

“Kidding. Jake would never say that. He told me you were sick and needed someone to nurse you up, so here I am.”

Holy shit. Heeseung lets out a breath, nearly teetering off his bed to maintain a comfortable enough distance from your overwhelming presence. “Why—” some throat phlegm cuts him off. He lets out a violent cough before reclaiming his voice. “Why you? I—I mean, why did Jake ask you?”

“Ouch?” you remark. “No one else is around. Jake’s out hiking, apparently. Sunghoon’s covering someone’s shift. Beomgyu’s obviously still at his parents. Jay says he’s out on a mission, and Soobin left the house with a giant backpack. I was too afraid to ask. Anyway, I know my very physical presence disgusts you, but deal with it for now, you goober. You look like hell.”

“That’s— that’s not—” You take this opportunity to pull his sweaty blanket off in one swift movement. “That’s not it! You don’t— don’t disgust me, I’m just— you know—”

“I know, I just wanted to fuck with you.”

You’re grinning. You haphazardly fold the sheet before throwing it down to the foot of the bed, sitting over it. Heeseung feels the blood drain from his face— “Anyway, sit up and let me feel you up,” —only for the blood to shoot right back up and nearly knocks him out unconscious. “Feel your temperature up, perv. I’m not taking advantage of a sick man. C’mere, let me see how sick you are.”

Heeseung, however, still has enough marbles to quickly evade your incoming hand. He swerves to the right. You blink at him, arm reaching out to thin air, before trying again, only for Heeseung to swat your hand away with gritted teeth and fearing for his life. “S—sorry,” he chokes out. He sees the glint in your eyes. Crap. He shouldn’t have done that.

“For fuck’s sake, just let me check your temperature— Heeseung! What the hell?!”

“Just—just leave me alone!”

Earlier, Heeseung thought he was about to die. He didn’t think he had enough strength to fight for his life as he squirms underneath you on the bed, driven solely by the desire to protect his fucking pride because there’s no way in hell he’s letting you touch him when he’s all gross and sweaty and gross from the fever. There’s no way in hell he’s letting that happen.

“What are you—”

He yanks out his blanket from underneath you, causing you to roll of his bed and he throws the sheet over his red, hot, and burning face because holy fuck. Holy shit. That was a close call.

When he peeks out from the blanket, Heeseung instantaneously feels a threat to his life.

You’re glaring at him. You look like you want to skin him alive and he gulps and nudges himself away, ass nearly falling off the bed when you get up from the floor and dust yourself off. “Okay,” you huff. “Fine. Have it your way. Die from a heatstroke, or whatever the fuck. I’ll be downstairs if you need me, and if you do, I’m expecting you to get down on your knees and beg because every time you’ve swatted my hand away was an additional jab at my pride.”

Okay, damn. You leave his room, not without slamming his door close to emphasize your anger, and on top of feeling like absolute crap, Heeseung now also feels guilty as hell.

“Fuck,” he rasps out. It’s not like he’s doing it out of malice, or hate, or because he thinks you’re a germ that he cannot touch, like you always accuse him with. Heeseung still remembers how his whole no touching quirk started: sixteen years-old, when Heeseung finally mustered the courage to hold his first girlfriend’s hand, only for her to laugh and joke and pull away while saying, “ew, gross. Your hand is all sweaty.”

Twenty-two year old Heeseung has been traumatized to this very day.

Especially now when he’s all disgusting and icky and very much ew and gross because of his fever. Stupid, he knows, but the last thing he’d want to see is a disgusted grimace from your face the moment the back of your hand presses against his damp and sticky, sickness-induced forehead. However, it seems like he’s been inflicting to you the very injury he’s been trying to protect himself by constantly avoiding the threat of contact of your skin against his.

Stupid. It’s really stupid.

But he can’t avoid dehydration by simply ignoring the dryness of his mouth. With much struggle, Heeseung forces himself out of the bed, despairing the amount of stairs he has to climb down— and the suggestion of calling for you help does tease his brain for a split second, but decides against it with a shake of his head as he continues the awful trip to the living room, body weighing thirty times heavier, and skull feeling like it’s about to crack itself open.

The problem is, his skull does almost end up getting cracked open. Because as he’s finally nearing the bottom floor, he misses a step, causing him to hit the ground with a harsh thud.

“Ugh,” he grunts, pushing himself with his forearms, but he stops, nearly face planting into the floor once more because you’re there, you’re walking up to him, looking down at him, and holding a cold and refreshing glass of water above his head like some sort of fucked up display of powerplay against a sick and thirsty man.

“Need any help?” you hum.

“I’m fine,” Heeseung tries once more to get up only to feel the nausea rise up to his head, and he stops, pauses, and decides that the floor is more comfortable after all. He looks up at you. “Can I...can I get a sip from your glass?”

There’s a glint in your eyes. You crouch down. “Sorry, what was that?”

Are you enjoying this? Do you like watching him in pain? (Likely answer is yes because you yourself have admitted that you enjoy their suffering and torment). “Water,” he rasps out. “Can I drink some of your water?”

“This?” You swirl the glass in your hand, ice clacking against the crystal, before taking a long, tortuous sip on the straw (why does it have a straw?) Heeseung swallows down his spit. “Say please,” you say with a smile. Heeseung chokes on said fucking spit and hacks out a cough because you’re fucking insane.

He feels his face grow hotter. And it’s definitely not just from the fever.

“P—please, give me some of your water.”

You don’t prolong his agony any further and hand him over the glass.

“Need any help getting up?” you ask as you watch him agonizingly sit up against the bottom steps and toss down the water into his throat in one shot as if it was at a company dinner. He wipes his lips with the back of his hand and feels your disappointed stare pricking his conscience. “I can’t help you unless you ask me to, Heeseung.”

He frowns, deflating. “But I’m all gross and sweaty.”

The last thing he expects you to do is to roll your eyes at him and stand up with an arm stretched out.

And the next thing he knows is that you’re lugging him over to the couch, an arm around his waist, his around your shoulder, and you set him down the cushions with a grunt. “Jeez, I’m not made for manhandling men,” you say, very dubiously. “Lie down.” And when he doesn’t lie down, wide-eyed and unresponsive, you poke his forehead and he tips back, falling into the couch.

What…what is going on...

“You know, I’m very tempted to ask you to take your shirt off just to laugh at your reaction, but you actually look like you’re about to die, so I decided against it. Aren’t I sweet?”

You’re back with a basin and some towels (when did you disappear?) and Heeseung’s brain starts malfunctioning, growing dizzier and dizzier by the second when you touch his jaw, damp towel wiping off the sweat coating his face and neck and he feels his throat tightening. “Christ. I think your temp is over forty degrees, my guy,” you say, squeezing the towel over the basin. “Hello? Heeseung? What the hell, did you catch Sunghoon’s disease? Are you unable to talk to me now, too?”

“It’s—it’s not that,” he chokes out. He’s about to justify himself, but you press your palm against his forehead, cutting off all the oxygen pipes leading up to his brain, and he feels like passing the fuck out.

Shit. Shit. Holy shit.

“Ah,” you say. “You’re not running away.”

He’s not. He’s not running away. But he feels a different sort of problem coming up.

“I think I’m gonna throw up.”

You blink at him. This doesn’t help his case at all.

“Wow, this is an upgrade,” you say from the other side of the bathroom door while Heeseung pukes his guts out into the toilet. Heavy metal playing from his phone is trying to block the noises out. He’s heaving over the bowl and wants to kill himself from embarrassment. “Now my very presence makes you vomit. I’m sorry for everything so far.”

There’s a flush. The music stops. Heeseung cracks the door open and you pass him a glass of water without some bedroom-esque powerplay this time. “Seriously, why did you run off into the rain last night? Look where it got you.” It’s a shocker that you haven’t told him he’s gross yet. You’re standing there in front of the bathroom and in front of the mess of his post-vomit presence, and all you’re doing is looking at him in worry.

“I wasn’t expecting you guys to be there,” he says, still sounding like death, and you take the now empty glass from him and head over to the kitchen, pointing at his makeshift deathbed on the couch.

“I wasn’t expecting you to give Mariah Carey a run for her money, either.” After you place the glass into the sink, you’re back to the living room. He’s down on the sofa, eyelids heavy, unable to say or do anything when you push back his hair to place a damp towel on his forehead. “Like damn, I knew you guys have known each other for a while now, but I totally felt like an outsider when I was the only one surprised to hear you sing.”

You’re not making fun of him. You don’t make a comment about how sticky his skin feels or how gross his sweat-drenched shirt is.

“I like your voice. Too bad it sounds like shit right now, but you should let me hear you again once you feel better.” The doorbell rings. “Oh, right, I ordered some porridge. You can feed yourself, right? Hold on, let me get it.”

He hears your footsteps padding across the floor, unable to find the strength to open his eyes as the coolness of the cloth seeps into his forehead. Heeseung has always thought you were a bit too much— case in point, everything that just happened and all the other times you’ve teased, tormented, and actively tortured to the point of tears all the inhabitants of this god forsaken house.

Yet it is also your excessive nature that has let Sunghoon speak more than five words around you, that has stopped Beomgyu from hermitting in his room twenty-four-seven, that has helped Soobin and Jay in two very important instances this summer, and has allowed Jake to offer you a spot in their lives after leaving that room on the third floor empty for a good two years.

“Fuck, I can’t believe they left me behind with a sick man when I can barely even take care of myself.”

You’re back. He opens his eyes and tries to lift himself up but his body is way too heavy. “Uh,” he says. “Can you…please…open the container for me?” He doesn’t miss your amused fucking grin when he mumbles out the please.

“Ah. Open up.”

Heeseung has always felt you were too much. Maybe it’s his fever talking, maybe it’s not, but maybe too much exactly what he needs right now.

HOME FOR THE BITCHLESS. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

#lee heeseung x reader #heeseung x reader #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #tomorrow x together x reader #txt x reader #heeseung x you #txt scenarios #enhypen scenarios #choi soobin x reader #choi beomgyu x reader #park sunghoon x reader #sim jaeyun x reader

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adventuringblind · 16 days

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Entitled To You (3.6K words)

Norstaptri x Reader

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: An incident with Lance sends the boys into a frenzy. She just wants to do what she loves.

Warnings: Explicit depictions of r@pe, injury descriptions, panic attacks, Oscar plots a murder, Lando throws hands, Car crashes, Author doesn't know legal stuff, Head trauma and blood.

Notes: This one is a request from @Lily234566 I know this wasn't the original pairing but I was struggling to fit the Ferrari boys in there so I had to scale it back... I'm sorry and I hope you still like it! T_T

Side Note: Sorry to the Lance girlies reading this. AND obligatory message of I don't know these people and this is purely FICTION! HEAD THE TAGS! DONT LIKE THEN DONT READ!

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

“Max!” She peeks her head into his driver's room. The bright beaming smile she receives in return after their 1-2 nearly kills her. “They want me for a media thing, apparently.” HIs smile drops into a pout. The sad puppy eyes might convince her to stay.

“Again? Don’t they know we have plans!

“No, and why would they care anyway?” She looks him up and down and whines because he’s standing in front of her with no shirt on. “Just - I’ll meet you guys back at the room. It’s something to do with being a female in F1… again.”

“I’m starting to think they have nothing else to talk about.”

She shrugs as she walks out of the hospitality, waving to Christian on her way by. The goal is to get past the Mclaren garage without seeing Lando because otherwise she is not going to the interview. His pout is worse (better?) than Max’s.

To her pleasant surprise, Laura is the one conducting the interview. “I’m sorry about this being last minute! They said they wanted you to do it with someone else next week and I offered to do it now.”

The interview passes with ease and thankfully doesn’t take long at all. The banter in-between is also entertaining.

She’s exhausted when they finish. Ready to go back to the hotel and fall into bed with her boys. Hopefully They’ve ordered food - and dessert.

The paddock is nearly empty as she makes her way through. Maybe, had she been paying more attention and not focussed on her aching body, she would’ve caught on to the footsteps behind her.

They are heavy, she assumes possibly a mechanic still packing up to continue on their way to the next circuit. That’s what she still thinks when the hand on her bicep yanks her around the corner.

If she weren’t as exhausted, then fighting would’ve been a possibility. However, that seems out of the cards as he pins her against the nearest wall. Her forehead hitting the surface hard enough to make her dizzy.

“Not so confident now, huh?”

The fuck- “Lance? What are you?-” He slams her head again and cages her body against his own. She flails, only to be slammed again. “Would you stop doing that please?”

“Not after that stupid stunt you pulled today on track.”

“You mean the one where you showed you don’t know what brakes are?-” Again, her head is sent into the hard surface. She can feel her nose starting to bleed. “Must you?!” She decided to shut up when he does it again and everything starts to go fuzzy.

His fingers dip beneath the waistband of her fireproofs. The cold evening air hits her bare skin and she panics more than before. Her head is too cloudy to fully comprehend what’s happening.

“I feel like I'm entitled to a bit of compensation after that stunt.”

“You’re entitled to nothing. You took yourself out!” She hisses through gritted teeth. Still, Lance continues to get her clothes lower. And slams her head again harder - you know - because she wasn’t disoriented enough already.

“Would you shut up?” She doesn’t say anything this time. Her mouth feels numb and her ears are ringing. Her exposed lower half is met with the bare hands of someone she doesn't want touching her.

It's - well - it hurts. He's groping at her thighs, ass, even her tits which she isn't sure how he's managing. His hands are everywhere they shouldn't be.

And then nothing.

A vague awareness of what's happening seeps through her veins and invades her senses. She tries to scream. Attempts despite the sheer pain of the snap of hips she didn't ask for.

His finger beat her to it. A hand encloses around her throat and cuts off her oxygen. The black spots dance around her vision. She wants them to stop moving; they are making her dizzy. Or was she already dizzy?

“See, it's not so bad. Don't you feel less guilty for ruining my race now?” No, she doesn't. She wasn't guilty before.

She blacks out.

~~~♡~~~

Waking up with sore limbs and a killer headache is not how she pictured this night going. She tries to yell for help, but a mere creaky rasp escapes.

When did she lose her voice? The thought makes her panic more. The sob she lets out hurts more than there is sound.

Her face and hair is sticky. At least Lance had done her the courtesy of not finishing inside of her.

Still - what the fuck even happened? The fragmented memory is trying to come back to her slowly. Each small piece remembered is another broken cry.

She can't move.

It's dark again.

~~~♡~~~

The anxiety between the three boys is certainly not something they are used to. Oscar can pinpoint the exact moment Lando started overthinking and Max had to bear hug him so he didn't pace a hole into the cement of the parking lot.

The fourth seat in their car remains empty and their messages have gone unanswered. It's getting more concerning with each passing minute.

“Max, she always responds.”

“I know Lando.”

“She always calls if she's going to be longer.”

“Lando?”

“Yes?”

“Would you feel better if we went and looked around for her?”

The Brit nods his head in a fashion that might give him whiplash. It's better seeing him feel helpful then sit helplessly. Though Oscar can't help but agree with Max's original point. that they should wait there at the car just in case since that's where they were supposed to meet.

Granted, it's only been twenty minutes. It's still long enough to be murdered.

They Methodically peer around corners and wave at the mechanics who give them skeptical looks. They were supposed to be out for post race celebrations by now.

Oscar freezes when he sees it. The human shaped lump lying on the ground. He rushes over with long strides. The closer he gets, the more familiar the person on the ground becomes.

“Max! Lando! I found her!” The other two boys come sprinting in his direction. He's on the ground trying to clear her hair from her face only for it to get stuck in the sticky substance coating her features.

“What the fuck?”

Her fireproofs are still on, but it's obvious what happened. The handprints on her neck, the blood trickling down the sides of her face. “We need to bring her to a hospital.”

Max hoists her up in his arms. Mainly because Lando is on the brink of tears and struggling to breathe through his panic. He loves deeply and with his heart on his sleeve. Oscar just hopes he can keep the Brit calm until they find more help.

“Can we at least clean her up?” Lando pleads with him. Big Hazel eyes brimming with tears.

It's always a struggle to tell him no. “We can't, not if it can help us figure out who did it.” The tears start right after that.

“So that’s what happened then? Someone really-” Oscar has to maneuver the puddle of tears that is his boyfriend into the passenger seat of their rental car. Max tosses him the keys, opting to be with her in the back and keep her comfortable.

The tricky drive to emergency is more because Oscar is too far in his own thoughts to pay attention to the traffic lights. He can hear Max moving her around, attempting to put pressure where blood still flows freely.

Oscar doesn’t bother with parking. He pulls off into some empty area and helps Max shoulder her weight inside the doors while Lando runs ahead to find help.

It’s fast after that. They take her away and start patching her up while the three of them are forced to sit in the waiting room. Oscar and Lando are left to their own devices while Max paces about on the phone with Christian.

He feels like a knife is being driven through his chest each time his mind tries to come up with what could’ve happened. Who would do something like this? Unfortunately, a lot of people. The question is more of who could’ve done it and gotten away. Someone with access to the paddock this late. Security, perhaps? Maybe even a sleazy mechanic? A driver wouldn’t make any sense… right?

“When will they let us see her?”

“When she wakes up, most likely.”

He’s not sure when he falls asleep. The exhaustion finally hit him like a truck despite his persistence. He’s awoken by Max’s constant shaking and aggressive whispering of his name.

“-She’s asking for us.”

He’s up faster than Lando when Jon threatens an ice bath. They follow the nurse down the halls with an uneasy anticipation. They creep inside the sterile room and find her staring at the wall.

Lando doesn’t hesitate to move further into the room. Always having been more in touch with his emotions then the other two boys. “Hey love, can I come closer?”

She looks at him. The bandages plastered over the sides of her head and around her face now visible to them. She returns Lando’s gaze with glassy eyes. It’s damn near shocking when she tries to pull things off her body in a desperate attempt to reach for Lando.

Lando gets to her before she can get everything off, specifically the IV, and catch her arms. Oscar and Max finally pull themselves together and manage to get her to lay back down with some coaxing.

She’s shaking violently. Her grip on Lando’s arm is sure to leave bruises. “Who - who f-found me?”

“We did, schat. We got worried when you didn’t respond.” Max drags the two chairs in the room closer and pulls Oscar down into one. Lando, against all odds, manages to wriggle his way into bed with her.

“I know who it was. I - well - does anyone else know?”

“Just Christian and us.” Oscar can feel the fight Max is putting up to not ask her more questions. The way he’s grounding himself with a hand on Oscars knee instead.

“You don’t have to tell us.” He attempts to reassure. Maybe calm her mind by giving her an option. “Just know we’re here, alright?”

“I don’t want it to be a big story. It’s already going to be since I can’t be in the car for the next four weeks. Oh fuck - everyone is gonna know-” Lando hushes her; gets her to somehow hold him tighter.

“Christian said it’s up to you, whatever happens.” Max nods at her encouragingly. “We go at your pace.”

“They did a rape kit. They’ll know who it is. It was all over so it couldn’t have been hard to get DNA - oh fuck”

Her heart rate picks up. The nurses rush in. They send her back to sleep.

~~~♡~~~

Max wants to know who it was who touched her. The rage simmering underneath her skin is almost too much to keep contained.

On the more fortunate side, they were allowed to stay since she wouldn’t let go of Lando. Then when he did have to get up, they rotated.

The doctors and nurses learned to approach her like she’s a scared animal. The heavy footsteps seem to set her off and there is now a sticky note on the door saying to tiptoe when entering. It’s endearing to see her doctors and nurses trying so hard not to startle her. But seeing as they’ve now had several incidents where she’s panicked, they are taking more caution.

Oscar and Lando have meandered away in search of food. Max opted to stay put and made the promise to bring him back cheat foods. He’s too stressed to not eat something of comfort.

Her physio is supposed to come by today with the stuff she left at the track and get an update from the doctors themselves instead of Max’s botched attempts at repeating back. It will also be nice to see her comfortable, as the one blanket that travels with her everywhere will also be dropped off.

“Max?” He tightens his hold to show he’s listening. “It’s not fair… You, Lando, and Oscar make a mistake on track and nobody does that to you. I - It wasn’t my fault.”

The thing is, Max is smarter than people give him credit for. The only incident on track was with Lance. An incident that was his own fault. “He’s at fault, not you. None of this is your fault.”

“They are going to say I was asking for it or something.”

“In those fireproofs? The only ones asking for it are me and Oscar… for obvious reasons.” He chuckles proudly at his little self compliment.

It also manages to get her to crack something of a half smile. “Are you complimenting your own ass?”

“And what if I am?”

She doesn’t eat anything despite it being sat in front of her. Soft foods are the only thing she’ll be eating. Her throat, albeit not as bad as it could've been (thank you F1), is still damaged and needs to rest as much as possible.

They had to keep her for observation due to where the head wounds had been. It’s been a rough thirty-six hours, but they are managing.

Despite the hectic situation, Max has come to learn that the female lying in the hospital bed is a better person then the rest of them. Oscar was detailing a full proof murder plan while she was telling him not to make it a bigger deal then it is. To which Oscar politely put his ten step plan with four contingencies down and told her that it’s ‘what he had coming to him’.

Max has not had to stop someone from assassinating a rival before, but Oscar seems like a reasonable guy. “Death is too good for him.”

“Mm, you’re right, I’ll just make sure he doesn’t die then and can’t see my face.”

“Or, we make his life a series of inconveniences! I feel like daddy’s money could get him good therapy. It can’t solve every minor problem.” Lando has a gleam in his eyes.

Him and Oscar start pouring over ideas once more. The girl simply shakes her head and goes back to eyeing her pudding like it’s assaulted her. “I don’t want to leave here, Max.”

“Why not? I’d assume you want to go home? Sleep in a comfortable bed?”

“Out there, they can get to us. Here is safe.”

He considers how to reassure her. Only, there is nothing he can think of. The truth is that outside of this hospital room, there is no guarantee they won’t run into trouble.

“I can’t promise that we'll never have something bad happen again. But-” He looks to the McLaren duo brainstorming ways to make the Aston Martin garage regret existing. “We’ll be there for each other. We’re here for you. When you want us and when you need us, yes?”

“Pinky swear?” She extends her pink to him.

Max accepts and curls his pinks around hers. “Pinky swear.”

~~~♡~~~

It’s not fair really, that they had to leave to go do things. Lando would prefer he at least stayed with her so she isn’t alone. Alas, they are preparing for her discharge and he had to run around getting things together for their trip back to Monaco.

He comes back to a partially opened door and smiles at the other two boys being able to get back before him. Then again, as he gets closer he can hear the angry tone. One that Max uses when he’s pissed off about something.

Lando panics and rushes inside. Only to be met with the sight of the last person he wants around right now.

Now - he wouldn’t say he’s prone to violence. Lando prefers to keep the peace when it comes to conflict unless he’s trying to piss someone off on purpose to get a reaction. This is not one of those times.

Lando’s knuckles collide with the Canadian’s jaw faster than he can fully become aware of what he’s doing. Lance stumbles backward and holds his jaw, glaring at Lando like he’s the one in the wrong here.

“Get out!”

“We were just talking-”

“I said. Get. Out.” He’s seething. The thudding in his chest becoming louder with each second Lance remains in this room.

He’s not prone to violence.

Really, he’s not.

Yet the second crack of knuckles into Lance's chin gives him some sick satisfaction. Isn’t there something about equilibrium? Can he pin this on restoring the balance or something? Regardless, he isn’t going to dent the fact that it feels good.

The nurses come running and start asking questions. Max and Oscar have to drag Lando away kicking and screaming.

Worse is when they try to tell him that there are pictures out on social media. Christian has been calling Max non-stop. Oscar has been dealing with Zak. Their relationship isn’t a secret and neither is their current location.

“They're sending us a different car to see if we can’t get out discreetly.”

“What happened with Lance, Lan? Are you alright?”

Everyone is panting. Their eyes trained on the door. “I punched him. I restored the equal-brey-um… thing.”

“Equilibrium.”

“Yeah that!”

He’s not sure how they get on the plane. He’s still amped up about the whole punching thing and running purely off adrenaline.

They’ve been sitting in silence, mulling over their options. Creating statements they can put out. It’s hectic and they keep trashing them because nothing fits.

The female has been apathetic. The last thing she wanted was for this to get out and now it has. Seemingly everything is flashing before her eyes. Her career will be gone soon enough, so what’s even the point?

“Don’t post anything. We don’t have an obligation to confirm or deny the rumors. If anything, we can say that you were just driving me to the hospital and being good friends or whatever.” She won’t look at them. Still - Lando can hear how upset she is, the waiver in her voice. “I’m going to be kicked out anyway.”

“Christian said-”

“Damn what Christian said! He knows this isn’t going to get any better and if I say who it was then Daddy’s Money is just going to pay his way through.” She's hyperventilating now. Her body collapses against her seat and Oscar makes an effort to get her to lean against him. “It’s not fair!”

lando Can’t help but share her feelings.

~~~♡~~~

She stays holed up in the Redbull garage the next weekend. The appearance is hard, people want to ask her questions. Her boys had been caught in the middle of the riptide and haven’t come back to shore yet.

At least she’s here. She’s trying her hardest to look stronger than she is. On the inside things are falling apart.

The team knows to give her space and not ask about the ordeal. She takes refuge in Max’s room when things are too much and the other drivers keep their distance.

They know it was one of them. She’d been adamant on not saying who it was, but it’s obvious there are sixteen who it could have been, given her partners insistence that none of them go near her garage for the time being.

She just wants this whole thing to blow over. She wants to lay in bed with her lovers and not flinch when they go to touch her.

She knows, however, that until she deals with things that healing can’t happen like it should. Or at least, that’s what her therapist says. The one she is now required to see.

Things get worse when she’s back in the car. Her media duties are limited so she can focus on driving and ‘listening to her body’ as her physio likes to say.

She can’t hear her body over the sound of her mind going staticy as Lance closes in on her. The catalyst for everything. She panics and ends up in the wall. Not the worst crash ever, but certainly hurts her pride more than it has already.

The thing is, it keeps happening. Even as she’s able to let her boys back in. As her podium finishes start to come back. Her fireproofs (which they’d gotten her all new ones) start to feel comfortable again and she doesn’t feel the need to be out of them the second the race is done. Still, Lance is using this to his advantage.

Finally, after he almost killed her on track (again), she’s had enough.

The trial goes better than she thought it would. Despite the money differences, Lance won’t be able to race anymore. It’s not some grand spectacle either, just an announcement like usual. It’s more the closure she needed versus the publicized drama it could have been.

She wins the next race.

“If I ever see him again, it will be too soon.”

“It’s been over a year now, Lan. I’m getting better.” There is a genuine smile on her face. The car awaits to take them back to the hotel. It was here that it happened. She almost considered not racing because of it.

“Lando got a taste of blood and now he’s feinding for it.” Max has a comforting hand around her waist. A grounding presence.

“I mean, I never threw away my murder plot…”

“You’re a genius Oscar!”

She shakes her head. It’s not like any of this has been easy. It never is. Still - her boys are here and they’ve been so patient.

“There’s her smile.” They all beam at her.

She smiles back.

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neoneun-au · 2 months

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CAN'T HELP MYSELF; CHAPTER III: WHO WAITS FOR LOVE?

―PAIRING: wonwoo x fem!reader, mingyu x fem!reader ―GENRE: love triangle au, fluff, mild angst, romantic comedy, suggestive, smut ―CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 11.2k ―CHAPTER WARNINGS: angst, mild language, alcohol consumption, masturbation (explicit female, implied/mentions of male), 18+ only ―STATUS: ongoing

―AUTHOR’S NOTE: i cant link them here, but please find the series masterlist and other chapters on my blog. i would love to know your thoughts on the story so far, this is really only fun with interaction and it helps keep me motivation to finish !

iii: who waits for love?

“You didn’t mention one of my roommates was basically a fucking model,” you complain, sinking into the absurdly massive grey sectional next to Jeonghan as he sits scrolling on his phone, attention removed from the drama providing background noise on the shared TV.

“Who? Mingyu?” He tosses his head back with a bark of a laugh at the suggestion, “he’s a model idiot.”

“Idiot or not you should have warned me he’d be so…so,” you toss your hands in the air, a dramatic display of frustration completed by the furrow in your brows. The image of Mingyu’s bare chest from your initial meeting (new and improved version 2.0 of hot roommate: now accompanied by a soundtrack of bed squeaks and the joy of someone else’s orgasm!) assaults your senses and you scrub it from your mind’s eye as best as you can before fixing your weary gaze back on Jeonghan, “so hot.”

“Oh please,” Jeonghan rolls his eyes as soon as the word falls from your lips. “Yeah he’s easy on the eyes, but once you get to know him his looks are much less impressive, trust me.” He shakes his head, raising his coffee to take a sip before pursing his lips and fixing you with a concerned stare, “I didn’t take you as the type to pine after tall, dark, and stupid. You’re not thinking of using him as a rebound are you?”

“What? Absolutely not,” the reply comes out perhaps more fervently than it should have because what was intended to deny the suggestion only serves to deepen the crease settling in between Jeonghan’s manicured eyebrows. You clear your throat and take a sip from the mug of tea growing cold in your hands as a cover.

“Rebound,” you scoff at the word, trying to play off the twisting feeling in your gut with derision but only managing to dig the knife in deeper. “Definitely not. I have no plans to start dating anytime soon. Not after this breakup.” You’re aware that you’ve begun to ramble but as per usual, your mouth runs away with your words. Try as you might, you cannot scramble to retrieve them as they spill forward like a damn breaking open. Jeonghan stares at you with a slight frown as you monologue, “I barely even want to look at men full-stop. Don’t get me wrong, I mean, you’re okay, we’re friends and all. And Seungcheol is fine I guess ‘cause he lifted all of my heavy shit up the stairs like some kind of bodybuilding angel sent from protein-heaven,” a stray strand of hair falls in front of your eyes and you blow it away with a short puff of breath.

“But dating? No. No, no, no,” you continue unabated, “absolutely not. I’m taking this time to get to know me. If anything, I’m dating myself. Mingyu might be hot but he won’t break my resolve, that’s for sure. I am determined,” you finish the speech with a single, firm nod–agreement with yourself clear and solid and in no way capable of breaking at the threat of warm brown puppy eyes flashed in your direction.

“Right,” Jeonghan drags out the word, unconvinced by your impassioned declaration of independence. “Well, if you get bored of dating yourself and do end up wanting someone to mess around with for a bit, I can hook you up with some people. Serious or…less serious. Your choice.”

“I will be just fine on my own, thank you.” You nod once. Firm. Decisive. Not at all embarrassed by the display.

“If you say so,” he sings, shaking his head and pushing himself off the couch before flicking the TV off. You sit in silence for a moment, sipping the last of your lukewarm tea, and listen as Jeonghan’ footsteps fade into the kitchen. The slight lingering guilt and shame from the night before stains your thoughts. A ring of liquid left on the surface of a coffee table, encircling the memory of Mingyu’s moaning and the keen sense of desire that burned a pit in your core at the sound.

Jeonghan returns from the kitchen a second later and sits down on the arm of the couch. He clears his throat to speak, more serious than you had seen since graduating university. “Listen, I’m not going to tell you how to live your life,” he begins. You inhale to laugh your disagreement of the statement but he holds up a single hand to silence you so you bite it back just as quickly. “I’m not going to tell you what to do, but I will just give you a warning, if I may” he lets his hand fall back down to his lap, “as your friend. And as someone who has your best interest at heart.”

“Fine,” you allow, buying into the sincerity, “I’m listening.”

“I said that I can hook you up with people both serious and not so serious,” he says, pausing to take a deep breath, “Mingyu is not serious.”

The image of the man in question pops up in your mind once more. An observable object–lips locked with the mystery brunette, hands roaming the expanse of her body as they flutter like a pair of dragonflies locked in a mating ritual towards his bedroom. The chorus of “ohs” and “ahs” that chorus in your ears like the audio from the old Italian softcore porn films you used to sneak out of bed to watch in your adolescence. The squeaking of the bed frame, and even the eventual abrupt departure first thing this morning, project themselves across the walls of your brain like a feel of film. All fleeting images and experiences serve as firsthand evidence backing up what Jeonghan is saying to you at this moment in the harsh light of day.

“If you’re in it for a quick, no strings attached hookup then, well,” he sighs, brushing his bangs out from in front of his eyes, “you’re a grown woman, I trust you can make your own decisions. But I’ve never seen Mingyu with the same girl more than once. So just…be careful. Because if you want something substantial, you would be barking up the wrong tree with him.”

You nod and the previous image of Mingyu–all roaming hands and bucking hips–dissolves pixel by pixel into the knitted brows of concern and the serious expression his classically handsome face held barely an hour ago. The warmth of his hand as it pressed ever so lightly against the skin of your forehead–an act so painfully tender and familiar it made you yearn at the intimacy of it. While your logical mind does believe what Jeonghan is saying, another part of you (a deeper and much more foolish part) can’t help but feel like there has to be more to Mingyu than the rest of them give him credit for. That maybe there is something to be taken seriously there.

The thought dissipates into vapour as Vernon strolls down the stairs–bleary eyed and dazed with the lingering sleep still clawing at the corners of his eyes. He nods lazily in silent greeting, clad in tie dye and baggy jeans, and walks past the pair of you and disappears into the kitchen.

“Just,” Jeonghan hesitates a moment, waiting for the sound of the fridge opening in the next room to disrupt the strained silence that had settled between you, “be careful, okay?”

“Don’t worry,” you smile, genuinely grateful for the advice and care from your long-time friend, despite the bells of disagreement ringing out inside of you. “I’ll be fine.”

“Do you think I need a rebound?” The question comes after an hour of banter and conversation over way too expensive cocktails in the dimly lit corner of the bar you used to frequent when you were still going to university with Seulgi. Her insistence that you get out of the apartment and stop stewing in your own thoughts had finally paid off and truthfully the distraction was not entirely unwelcome. But you were still stubbornly refusing to admit that she was right. The status quo of your friendship since the very beginning.

“Didn’t you say you were swearing off men or something?” Seulgi asks, tapping a manicured fingernail against the side of her nearly empty manhattan.

“That was before I saw the reality of the men I was swearing off,” you sigh, mourning the loss of your already weak resolve. Solemn regret for the poorly timed declamations you had given voice to in the past. “And the reality is that they're pretty fucking hot.”

“You mean one of them is pretty fucking hot, right?” she emphasizes, ever observant, and you grimace at her over the lip of your own half-empty glass.

“One of them looks like a Greek fucking God for no reason,” you grumble, turning to wave the waitress over for another round, “like Adonis or something. It’s not my fault I have functioning eyeballs.”

“Adonis wasn’t a god, he was the mortal lover of Aphrodite.”

“Well whatever he was, I’m now stuck living in an apartment with him.” The young waitress walks up with an expectant look and Seulgi orders another round of the same while you drain the last of your drink, savouring the bitterness of the gin as it lingers at the tip of your tongue. You watch the waitress as she walks back towards the bar, brunette ponytail swinging behind her like in rhythm with her steps, and wonder vaguely if maybe she’s the girl you saw Mingyu with.

Seulgi turns back to you with a slight roll of her eyes, “I’m sure it's not that bad. Just ignore him, you’re mostly working or asleep when you’re not just hanging around bugging me anyway.”

“Pretty hard to ignore him when he’s so openly hooking up with some random girl in a condo with 4 other people who can clearly hear him.”

“Well put some earphones in or something, listen to a podcast,” she laughs, shaking her head. You bite your tongue, reluctant to mention the fact that you had willingly listened in as they fucked. That maybe you had enjoyed it a little more than you were letting on. You didn’t need the inevitable teasing that was bound to come if you told her any of that. “Do you remember our one roommate? From second year?”

“Oh god,” you balk at the memory, “Johnny?”

“He was so loud,” she grimaces. So many late nights spent huddled together on her bed watching movies, joined in mutual avoidance of the self-proclaimed playboy and his rotating roster of girls. “And then you went and hooked up with him which was just the worst. He was so insufferable after that.”

“Hey, in my defense I was desperate and not exactly in my right mind,” you bristle at the thought of your pathetic, erstwhile crush. Surely, you had thought in the throes of your youth and naivety, someone who pulled that many girls knows exactly how to make them feel good. Yet by the end of it, as he lay open-mouthed snoring on the bare mattress next to you, you were left with a clear idea of why you never seemed to see the same girl more than once. “Anyway, from the sounds coming out of her, Mingyu seems to actually know what he’s doing in bed.”

“So you did listen,” she smirks.

“The walls are thin,” you let the paltry excuse fall from your lips as she tosses her head back in laughter. Gulping down a mouthful of water in a vain attempt to swallow some of the embarrassment boiling like hot lava in your bloodstream.

“What do you think they were doing?” Seulgi leans forward with a conspiratorial gaze–brown eyes full and bright and filled to the brim with a hint of evil. There have been a few moments throughout your years of friendship where she has fixed you with a look like this, and most of them led to some of the worst decisions either of you have ever made. Breaking into the community swimming pool after dark, stealing the neighbouring houses’ lawn ornaments, making out with dudes that may or may not have been married. Her desire for intrigue terrified and excited you in equal measure.

“Pretty sure they were fucking,” you respond and she sits back, disappointed at the bland reply.

“Yeah, I got that part. I mean details. If we’re gossiping, we should do it right.”

The cacophony of the bar consumes you. Chatter and laughter from nearby tables floods your senses, drowning out the roar of guilt that knocks at the door of your mind as you consider your next words carefully. Whether to completely dive off the deep end and betray your new roommates privacy (in more ways than you already have). If you had been a little more sober and a little less intrigued by the man in your own right, you might have shut the topic of conversation down before it even began. You might have left the apartment for the night and slept on a chair in the lobby and avoided the entire tryst to prevent the memory of his moans from carving themselves into your temporal lobe.

But you did not and now you are just as invested in the situation, and Seulgi’s complete lack of shame about asking for details further strangled any lingering guilt you had left. “Well,” you start and she leans in closer, eyes alight with anticipation, “they started in the hallway. I thought they were going to have sex right against the wall while I was trapped hiding behind the couch.”

She laughs, head tossed back in mirth, “bet you would have loved that. Mingyu, bare ass out in front of you,” she jeers and you bristle at the accusation (even if you know she’s right). The waitress returns with your drinks and you mumble a brief thank you to her as she sets the glasses down. Seulgi continues to laugh, pleased with your reaction, “it would have been your wet dream come true.”

“Okay, that’s it. I’m not saying anything else,” you grumble into your fresh drink, wincing at the bite of the liquor. Cocktails were never your thing but Seulgi had offered to pay so who were you to refuse.

“Aww,” she whines, “fine, fine, I’ll stop teasing you. Please give me the play by play. I am so curious.” She claps her hands together in mock prayer, pleading for your cooperation, and you think she might make an excellent lawyer or serial killer if she weren’t so normal most of the time.

“Fine,” you relent after a beat, already too wrapped up in reliving the night to abandon the story anyway. “Obviously,” you stress, “that didn’t happen. They were making out there for maybe like 5 minutes but it felt like hours. I was so worried she was going to see me but thankfully I managed to stay pretty low.”

Seulgi takes a sip of her darkly coloured drink, you can tell she wants to interject but she manages to hold true to her promise.

“So they stumble off to his room,” you continue with a sigh, “and I go to mine, which, mind you, is right next to his. We share a wall.” She winces and you give her a knowing nod, steeling yourself against the all too vivid memory. “I crawl into bed, trying to block out the noise for a while, which at this point isn’t too loud. It’s just like…some muffled talking and moaning and the occasional slap of like…skin on skin. Maybe he spanked her…” you trail off, shaking your head along with the words, fully invested in the theatrics of the storytelling now. “But, through some cruel twist of fate his bed, just like mine, is also right up against our shared wall. So as soon as they really get going, I can feel it.”

“What, like…” she thrusts in her seat, a quizzical slant to her eyebrows, “like shaking?”

“Yup,” you pop the ‘p’ for emphasis and she lets out a low whistle.

“For how long?”

“I don’t know,” you shake your head, “felt like forever. I was just clutching my sheets like it was an earthquake or something.” You do conveniently leave out the heat of desire and curling of toes, but she didn’t need to know that part.

“Did it start off slow?” she asks, voice conspiratorial. “Fast? Do you think he ate her out first?”

“Seulgi,” you hiss, keeping your voice low. You glance over at the table of college guys next to you but they don't appear to have been listening.

“What, I’m not allowed to ask?” She balks, hand on heart, and appears offended for a moment before the usual mischievousness settles back in and she leans forward with a glint. “Did Wonwoo ever eat you out?”

“We are not discussing the details of my sex life right now.”

“No of course not,” she rolls her eyes, “we’re just discussing the details of someone else’s.” You grumble at the inability to argue with this statement. “How long has it been since you got laid anyway?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh, dropping your head to the table and then regretting it immediately when you realise how sticky it is. “Like five months maybe?”

“Five? Didn’t you break up with Wonwoo like…” she fixes her eyes on the ceiling for a brief moment, calculating the time passed in her head before turning back to you with frown lines creased into her forehead, “six weeks ago?”

You shrug, sinking your embarrassment into another sip of alcohol, “so we hadn’t had sex in a while, so what?”

“Do you think maybe that was a contributing factor in your dissatisfaction with the relationship?” She leans back in her chair, crossing her arms.

“I don’t need a therapy session, Seulgi.”

“On the contrary, I think you would benefit greatly from therapy,” she laughs, “but that’s not what this is. You’ve just been sort of distant lately.” You open your mouth to protest but she stops you with a glance, “don’t start, I know we’ve been hanging out, but over the last few months you haven’t been as open about your emotions and stuff. You used to tell me everything, even things I didn’t want or need to hear, but for a while it feels like you’ve just been…hiding. Internalizing.” She leans forward and taps the center of your forehead with one, manicured finger. “Stop that. It’s not good for you to be in your head so much.”

“I hate to say it but, you’re right,” you sigh, begrudgingly agreeing with her observation. The skin where she had poked you tingling in the aftermath of her touch like a beacon of truth.

“I always am,” she nods, “but seriously. We’re friends. I want to hear how you’re feeling. I know I make fun of you a lot, but that’s just ‘cause you’re so easy to make fun of.”

“Hey!”

She laughs and you’re reminded of why she and Jeonghan always got along so well. “Seriously though,” she says, expression sobering, “maybe you wouldn’t fixate so much of your loneliness and desperation onto random guys if you got out of your head a bit more regularly. Just a thought.”

“It's not desperation, I just…” you trail off, unsure of where to begin. Unsure even of what your own internal landscape was trying to tell you. You wanted to confide in her, to be more open and transparent, but it was hard to do that when none of you couldn’t even sort out your thoughts and feelings from your anxieties and worries. It was hard to be clear when everything just felt like mud. She waits, expectant, as you sift through the much for some clear strand of thought. “You’re right, about the loneliness anyway, I know you are.” She nods, dark hair spilling over her shoulders. “But it’s not desperation.”

“So then what is it?” she asks and you try to place it. Try to tug on the thought to follow where it was leading you. What was it about Mingyu that made you feel like you were chasing something? Clawing at the walls of some well of yearning like a prisoner of your own desires. What was it about him that was making you want more? More information, more contact, more, more, more.

“I think,” you start, hesitant to speak the word lest it be wrong. “I think it’s curiosity.”

“About Mingyu?”

“Yeah, him. And about myself,” you shake your head. Ruminating on your spiraling thoughts was one thing, but vocalising them for someone who knew you oftentimes better than you knew yourself was another thing entirely. Your thoughts held more weight now that someone else was bearing witness to them. They had more consequences now than just 15 minutes of anxiety or a few hours of doom-scrolling.

“What about yourself?” she asks, unraveling the mess as you present it to her.

“I feel like…I’ve been in this strange place between needing people for everything and also trying my best to not need anyone at all. I can’t do my taxes without help, I can’t change a tire without help, I can’t even move apartments without it! But when it comes to emotions or vulnerability…I would rather just deal with it on my own, you know?” She nods, attention focused completely on you. Despite how long you’ve been friends, the direct attention still flickers a switch of shyness inside of you.

“That’s what it was like with Wonwoo, too. He was never the most emotionally available person and I think I just got used to dealing with things on my own because of it. I didn’t want to burden him with my thoughts or feelings cause I know I have a lot of them. Don’t get me wrong, though, it wasn’t like he refused to listen or anything I just…he just wasn’t really open with his own feelings or thoughts so I sort of started to feel guilty about dominating those conversations all the time with mine. Like I was using him as some sort of emotional punching bag. And then I just got used to it, and it took so long for me to realise that I needed something more than that…”

Any hesitation you had felt before dissipates as you talk, little by little. You feel like you’re back in your dorm room together, laying on your floor and just letting yourself pour out every thought, every feeling, every worry you had. Stream of consciousness–your lips to Seulgi’s ears. That open vulnerability you shared before life and work and everything else got in the way and left the door open for inhibition, shame, and guilt to move into the space between.

You feel lighter as you speak, like you had been needing this–craving it. Waiting for her invitation to come to let loose the torrential downpour of your mind to a willing listener. To a friend.

She was right. She always was.

“So what is it about this Mingyu guy, then? You don’t think he would just be the same?” She asks, shifting the focus, and you purse your lips in concentration.

“I’m not sure…” you trail off. And you really weren’t sure. Was he just an idle fascination after all? Did you just find him hot and that smoke screen of good looks was blinding you to the fact that he was just some guy like everyone before him? Or was there actually something there, in spite of it all? You mull it over while Seulgi takes a leisurely sip of her drink. “I was talking to Jeonghan the other day, and he said something that sort of made me think–”

“That’s a surprise,” she laughs, unable to resist the opportunity for a jab at your mutual friend.

“He said ‘Mingyu is not serious’ and I don’t know,” you continue, unabated by her comment, “I get this feeling that that’s not the full truth.”

“What, like psychic intuition?” she laughs and you shake your head.

“No, no…well, maybe. I don’t know. Obviously I don’t know the guy very well yet, and I have seen him do exactly what Jeonghan was warning me he does but…” you sigh, trying to collect your scattered thoughts of the man that is currently plaguing your mind. “He has also been very thoughtful, and he seems to notice such small details that the others don’t. I don’t know…I just think there might be something more to him than that, you know?”

“And you think you’re going to be the one to discover that side of him?” she asks, eyebrow quirked. Astute as ever.

“No,” you start, but catch yourself in the lie immediately. “Well, yeah, I guess. I just want to see if my hunch is correct.”

She fixes you with a withering gaze, dark brown eyes boring into your own for a moment before she laughs again, “Oh I get it now, you want to fix him.”

“I can’t help it, I love a project,” you sigh, resting your cheek in your palm and tracing idle circles against the wood grain of the table top.

“So take up crocheting or something! Stop throwing yourself at every man who looks like a kicked puppy.” You groan at the accusation but can’t deny the truth in it. You did have a track record. “Look, if you want to do this. Really want to crack that big beefy chest open and see what’s inside, I’m not going to stop you, but I’m warning you now that I do not think this is going to end well.”

“You sound like Jeonghan,” you mumble, eyes closed as you listen to the lecture.

“Good, at least someone you live with has some brains.” She shakes her head, pausing to hand her card to the waitress as she walks over with the bill for the evening. Silence stretches out for a moment, the din of the bar enclosing in to envelop you in its swell as you wait for the transaction to finish. The waitress returns and Seulgi slips her card back into her wallet before turning back to you, “I’m not saying this to be mean, but I really think you should take some time to be with yourself before you end up repeating the same mistakes you made with Wonwoo.”

“Harsh,” you mutter, feeling the sting of it spear through your heart and settle there. Slow poison.

She softens, eyes warming as she slides off her chair. You follow suit and walk with her out into the chill of the night. The bitterness of winter was starting to seep slowly into the air, you can feel it biting at your skin as you step outside with her to wait for the Uber she ordered to pull up.

“I love you and I want what’s best for you, and if you think that there might be something there with this Mingyu guy then I hope you’re right, I really do,” she says, a smile softening her expression. “I just want you to be careful, ok?”

“Okay,” you sigh, hugging your arms tight against your chest to fight off the wind as it blisters through your thin jacket. “I love you, too. And I will be careful, I promise. I’m not really too keen to repeat my last relationship either…”

“Good,” she nods, eyes roaming to the curb as a slick black sedan pulls up. “I’ll see you soon. Try not to throw yourself too big of a pity party before then.” She waves goodbye as she strides towards the car. You roll your eyes, returning the wave, before starting your brisk walk the few blocks back to the condo.

Time passes slowly in the new stasis of your life. You take the new opportunity in the wake of your hangout to bury yourself in work and get through some projects that had been building up untouched while you were feeling sorry for yourself. You kept up with regular jogs with Seungcheol, largely at his behest, and they were starting to become an enjoyable break in your days. A way to clear your mind and focus your attention on your body. It also did not escape your notice that the route he was taking you on now steered clear of the street where you had seen Wonwoo a few weeks ago. You use your commitment to the new routine as a silent thank you to him for somehow knowing what you needed when you needed it.

Vernon was becoming a favourite of yours as well. A quiet denizen of the condo; he showed up at random hours, taking a seat near you but not too close, reading through scripts or scrolling on his phone in companionable silence as you worked. It was like living with a cat that took care of itself and had an impressive collection of beanies.

Mingyu you tried to avoid, for the most part. He still plagued your thoughts on a daily basis, but out of respect for your friends’ concerns you wanted to give this budding infatuation time to settle into shape. To give yourself time to try and figure out what your real feelings on the matter were. You tried to find a delicate balance between roommate and acquaintance, figuring out his general schedule and adjusting your own accordingly so that you weren’t caught in any more awkward situations in the middle of the night or without anyone else around.

All of these measures were helping to make you feel more at home in the condo. Less like an interloper disrupting their days and more like a part of the makeshift family–even if that part for now was cousin, twice-removed.

As a result you were spending less time doing your work from the cafe and much more of it huddled over your laptop on the coffee table in the living room. Projects were getting done quicker, though it did mean that you were seeing Seulgi less often.

“Why aren’t you answering my texts?” Seulgi’s face blinks to life on the screen of your phone as you finally accept her FaceTime call. “Are you still moping?”

“I’m not moping!” you defend, raising the phone to hide the view of the pajamas you’ve been wearing for the past 24 hours as you were locked in a death-match with an upcoming deadline.

“Well how many more projects do you have left to do before we can go out? It’s been two weeks since I saw you now that you’re actually working from home,” she sighs in exasperation. Judging by the smoked out black liner defining her eyes, she was heading out tonight with or without you anyway. “Yerim is in town and she’s been asking about you.”

“Yerim? Wait, since when? I thought she was still in England?” you straighten up at the mention of your distant friend’s name.

“She’s back for now to get some visa renewal stuff done,” Seulgi answers, “and we’re going out tonight so you should come if you’re not still buried under a mountain of work.”

You glance at the screen of your laptop, folders stacked on your desktop in a messy landscape of the digital mountain you created for yourself. The thought was tempting but you knew Yerim and you knew what a night out with her always entailed. Read: getting black out drunk in a club and stumbling home at 6:00am the next morning. You had made a lot of progress scaling your workload, but you weren't sure that even without work you would have the energy needed for a night out like that.

The front door clicks open behind you and you spin your head to spout a quick greeting. Mingyu nods a quick hello, arms loaded with bags of groceries, before disappearing into the kitchen.

“Who was that?” Seulgi asks, noting the interruption in your conversation.

“Mingyu,” you answer, mindlessly pushing yourself off the ground and bringing her with you as you walk into the kitchen behind him in search of a glass of water. He smiles at you as you enter but says nothing as Seulgi’s voice rings out through your phone.

“Ah,” she smirks, “the one with the nipples?” You roll your eyes at the clear attempt to embarrass you but nod—pointedly ignoring the man in question as he sputters next to you at the comment. You fill a glass with water from the filtered jug in the fridge. “So are you coming tonight or should I tell Yerim you’re too depressed?”

You give it a moment of thought. You haven’t seen Yerim since she moved to the UK in the middle of her third year of university, after the rest of you had already graduated. She sent some odd gifts here and there—chocolate, snacks, a figurine of Shakespeare wearing heart print boxers—but communication had dwindled as you all found your footing in your adult lives, far removed from the heady days of hedonistic college life.

“Well first of all, don’t tell her I’m depressed, ‘cause I’m not,” you emphasise and Seulgi laughs at the bitter defense, “but I don’t think I can make it tonight. We should make plans for dinner or something before she leaves, though. Something a little more lowkey than the club.”

“Fine, be boring,” she sighs. “By the way, Yerim brought a friend back with her. He’s apparently cute and not completely useless. She thought you might like to meet him, just as a distraction. Or a rebound that’s not going to jeopardize your living situation. He’s also coming tonight”

You groan, settling down in a kitchen chair—opposite to the one Mingyu had sat down in with his reheated leftovers. He watches you with mild interest out of the corner of his eye while you try to think of a way to convince Seulgi that you don’t need Yerim’s charity date. “I would, but I already have plans tonight,” you lie, hoping she buys it without question.

“Oh?” she asks, eyes narrowed in cautious suspicion. “Do you have other friends?”

“Very funny,” you roll your eyes, “but no, actually. It’s just with my roommate.”

“Which one?” she probes, digging you deeper into the grave of your own lie.

“Oh uh–” you stutter but your eyes flicker above the screen of your phone, locking in on Mingyu’s own wide brown gaze. “Mingyu. We’re going to dinner tonight.”

He opens his mouth to speak, clearly confused by being dragged into your mess, but you shake your head lightly—willing him to just roll with it. He clamps his mouth shut and returns to his bowl of stew.

“Mingyu?” Her surprise is genuine and you can tell she’s starting to believe you. A flicker of concern shines in her eyes. “Is it like…a date?”

“No, Seulgi,” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose between your thumb and forefinger. She was edging dangerously close to that ‘jeopardizing your living situation’ territory on her own. “It’s just dinner. With a roommate.”

“Okay,” she drawls, “but if you end up against a wall with his face between your thighs—”

“Goodbye, Seulgi,” you end the call with a panicked stab of your finger and lean back in your chair, eyes shut tight against the rising tide of anxiety. You feel lightheaded. Hopefully Mingyu didn’t catch that last part.

“Did we—” He clears his throat. His voice, hesitant and low, floating in and dispeling your faint hope that he hadn’t been paying attention. “Did we have plans I forgot about?”

You want to laugh, he sounds so genuinely worried. It forces a bitter bubble of bile to rise up into your throat. “No,” you shake your head, clearing it with a sip of water. “Don’t worry you don’t have to go out to dinner with me, I just really didn’t want to go out tonight. Yerim is sort of wild sometimes and the thought of meeting some stuffy English guy in a club was making me feel ill.”

“Oh,” he smiles—also hesitant, but you can see a hint of his canines poking out behind his lips. “Well, glad I could be of service, then.” His smile widens and you can’t help but return it with one of your own.

“You have been most helpful,” you laugh. “Sorry for using you as a scapegoat. Also sorry about the nipples thing, Seulgi has a selective memory.”

“I don’t mind,” he shakes his head, the flush of warmth in his skin betrays the hint of embarrassment he’s trying to mask. You smile at the grace he’s giving you in what could have been an exceptionally awkward moment (especially after weeks of avoiding being alone with him) and push your chair back–wooden legs sliding against the tile. You stand up, preparing to turn around and hunker back down in front of your laptop screen, but Mingyu calls out your name before you get the chance.

“Yeah?” you reply, half-turned towards the living room.

“If you do,” he pauses, clearing his throat. “If you do want to go out to dinner tonight though…I could do that. I would uh…I’d like that.”

Your eyes trail from his still slightly pink face to his nearly empty bowl of leftovers. “But you already ate?”

“Yeah,” he laughs, hand rubbing the back of his neck. A gesture so familiar to you from spending so much time with Wonwoo, but it looks different on him. Less like an anxious tick and more like a bashful habit. “I can eat again though,” he drops his hand from his neck and pats his stomach twice, “I’m a bottomless pit.”

You should say no. You know you should say no. You shouldn’t dig yourself any deeper into this hole than you already have. But looking at him now, eyes so wide and genuine—freely offering you this tether of kindness—you can’t seem to bring yourself to summon up the word.

“Okay,” you reply, deadpan. Numbed with the confusion and surprise of this sudden change of plans so easily agreed to. So easily ruining weeks of careful avoidance and the cooling off of the one-sided tension you felt when you were near him.

“Great,” he grins, white teeth glistening in the bright lights of the kitchen. “I need to grab a shower first and make a quick call, but how about we head out in an hour? What kind of food are you in the mood for? Do you have any favourite spots?”

“I uh—” you stammer, unsure of the answer to the posed question. “I’m fine with anything. I don’t go out for dinner a lot so I don’t really know that many restaurants…”

“No problem,” he smiles again, standing up and grabbing his bowl. “I know plenty, I’ll bring you to a good one. Promise.” He winks before turning around to rinse out his dish and your heart skips a beat at the expression. One you would so often find lecherous and off-putting seems somehow so endearing coming from him. You scold your brain for the thought before stalking back to your room to change out of your pajamas and attempt to appear somewhat presentable.

The lights of the city cast their soft glow over the water of the slow moving river. A hypnotizing dance of yellow and gold against the backdrop of the night sky. It lulls your thoughts–quietens them to a dull roar–as you sit next to Mingyu on a park bench.

You had finished dinner a half hour ago; a mouthwatering feast of flavour grilled by the deft hands of your roommate himself. You watched as he took to the task with an almost reverent disposition—ushering the food through the cycle of cooking as you sat across from him, absorbed in the aroma and savouring each morsel he placed in front of you.

You had worried that he was going to take you to some uptight, fine dining restaurant where each dish was somehow the size of your pinky finger while costing more than you made in a day (Mingyu did have a vibe of luxury about him); but when he opened the door to the small, hole-in-the-wall barbeque joint in a random side-street you felt the tension in your shoulders ease and you were finally able to let yourself relax.

He ordered–a generous selection of high-quality but reasonably priced beef–and you sat and ate and talked. It was normal and nice and the old wood-planked walls of the restaurant leant the entire dinner an air of casualness that your anxiety-addled brain desperately needed. Just a nice normal dinner with a roommate who you did not have any romantic attraction to at all.

Conversation continued after dinner ended. He was easy to talk to, easy to listen to, and you lost yourself in it, completely forgetting about your previous plan to avoid him, as he paid the bill. You continued to talk as you left the restaurant, stepped back out onto the street, and as you continued to walk together until you saw the Han River stretching out in front of you.

You hadn’t been paying attention as you walked–just let your feet move under the vague assumption that you were just heading back home–so reaching the river had come as a surprise. Mingyu’s face remained impassive as he led you past the numerous couples dotting the riverbank, each splayed out on grass and blankets, bathed in the soft amber glow of the city. You followed him for a few hundred feet until he stopped at a small hill and sat down on a bench, draping his arm casually over the back as he leaned against the sun-faded wood.

You hesitate a minute before sitting down. The mirage of purely platonic companionship had dissipated step by step as you followed him downstream, watching the way his jacket moved against his torso–loosely fitted but structured enough to hint at the firmness of his shoulders underneath, swelling as his arms swung idly at his sides. Your mind blaring a fire red warning in Jeonghan’s voice: be careful. Mingyu notices you hesitate and offers a warm smile, just touching at the corners of his eyes. He moves over an inch on the bench to give you more space and your heart takes that moment to consider itself some sort of acrobat in your chest. You silence the warning, washing it out with your own self-soothing lies, before taking a seat next to him and focusing on the night skyline.

Living in the city always felt isolating. Like the loneliness of existence was only amplified by the millions of other lives that played out parallel to your own. Millions of other people with different thoughts, feelings, and experiences existing right next to yours–there, but never touching. Lines crossing and converging but rarely intertwining for longer than a heartbeat.

Wonwoo had been an anchor in that sea of loneliness. Something solid to hold onto as you were buffeted by the waves of life. Stabile, grounding. You never realised how much you needed that stability until it was no longer there. Until you were cast adrift once more, alone in the deep blue.

Seulgi was there of course–as well as your other friends and family–but it wasn’t the same. They were islands of reprieve to visit when needed, and to offer the same when they did, but it wasn’t the same as having that one person to tether yourself to. To merge your life with and create a new island on solid foundations. Unshakeable, until it’s not.

Maybe you were pathetic, relying on a partner for so much support. Needing someone to rescue you from your own life. Maybe you needed to save yourself for once.

“Do you ever get the feeling like you’re going to end up dying alone?” you ask the question, half expecting it to dissolve into the air in front of you and go completely unanswered. Unsure if you even want an answer or if you just needed to remove the thought from your mind.

Mingyu scoffs, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he glances at you sideways–evaluating. “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem for you.”

“Oh?” you raise an eyebrow, a twinge of offense scurrying up at the comment. “And what makes you so sure of that?”

“Well, what makes you think you would?” he counters and you let a small laugh slip out at the seriousness of his expression.

“I don’t know,” you shake your head, dismissing the thought and turning your attention back towards the view. Bitterly regretting altering the mood so seriously. You should have remained flippant, joyous. Unserious. But when did your mouth ever listen to you? “I was just thinking out loud.”

“Oh no you don’t,” he laughs, “you brought it up and now you’re avoiding the question?” You feel the heat of his body warm the air around you as he adjusts on the bench, angling away from the river to better face you and pry the answers free under the weight of his attention.

“You avoided mine!” you bite back in defense, turning in kind to face him, but realising the trap too late as he flashes you a wolfish grin.

“Ah-ha, so it was a serious question!” he cries, pleased with himself. “Listen if you want my honest answer, I will give it to you but I want an answer in return as well.”

You hesitate, not for the first time tonight—wavering at the edge of the offer and cursing your propensity for sticking your foot straight into your mouth at the drop of a hat.

Do you really want to open up to him like this?

It had been such a nice evening. Good food, good conversation, and a nice walk along the river. It had been a while since you had felt so at ease in someone's company. And yet, despite all of that, you had to go and get lost in your self-sabotaging, meandering thoughts and open your big dumb mouth. Did Mingyu even really want to know? He seemed friendly and open enough but you can’t help but hear Jeonghan’s voice as it bounces off the walls of your mind: ‘Mingyu is not serious’. Did he know what Pandora’s Box he was willingly opening by asking you? Did he care?

You fix your gaze on him, evaluating, searching his eyes for any sign of ambivalence or even trickery. He stares back, waiting patiently for you to mull it over, and you come up with no discernable ulterior motive. Nothing lurking in the clear brown of his eyes other than open curiosity and a slight glimmer of amusement.

“Ugh, fine,” you relent, falling back against the bench with a huff. You forgot Mingyu’s arm is resting against the back and you feel the pressure of it against you as you settle deeper into the bench. “Why do I think I’m going to die alone…” you repose the question, willfully ignoring the shiver that ripples out from the spot where his arm is pressed against you. You can feel the warmth of it even through your jacket. “Maybe because I’m a bit of an anxious wreck and that can’t be easy to deal with. Or maybe because I’ve managed to fuck up every relationship I’ve ever been in.”

“I don’t think so,” Mingyu replies, assured in his denial of your reasoning.

You let out a mirthless laugh and glare into the middle distance. “Don’t think so? Don’t think what? That I’m not an anxious wreck? You clearly don’t know me that well.”

“No, I believe that part, though anxiety can be treated to a certain extent. I have this psychologist friend, Minghao, he talks a lot about it. I could get you his number if you want.” he offers and you furrow your brow at the suggestion.

“You want to set me up with a psychologist?”

He laughs, “not like a date. Like if you wanted to book an appointment to see him about it. You know, like a therapist?”

“Oh,” you mumble, immediately feeling stupid. “So what did you mean then?”

“Just that it takes two to fuck up a relationship most of the time. You can’t fuck up something that wasn’t ready to be fucked up, you know? No one is perfect, we all have issues so no relationship is ever perfect and that’s not the fault of just one person.”

“Wow,” you exhale. His words sink in, a stark contrast against the internal monologue of shame and blame you had callously constructed. A differing perspective roaring in to shake your foundations. You try to reckon with it, the thought that it might not be all your fault, and it clamours and clangs against your brain in the worst way. In a way that you know it might be true but you’re not ready to accept it yet.

“Did I say something wrong?” Mingyu asks, momentarily rendered insecure by your plunge into melancholic silence.

“No, no,” you assure him, distantly amused by his immediate assumption that it might have been him that did something wrong. “It’s just…” you hesitate, unsure of how to word it. “I wasn’t expecting you to be so insightful.”

He snorts out a laugh, “thanks, I guess. I have my moments.”

“No, no, I don’t mean that I think you’re like…incapable of insight, just…” you pause, trying to reformulate the thought in a way that doesn’t sound like an insult. “I’m just not used to getting reality checks like that from people I don’t really know that well.”

“Oh, okay,” he laughs again, in relief this time, and you feel the edge of tension you had been holding in your body ebb away. “Well, I mean it though,” he affirms, “I don’t think it means you’re going to die alone.”

“Okay, well,” you sigh, unsure where to follow this new proffered perspective, “thanks, I guess.”

“No problem,” he grins. “Your turn.”

“My turn?” You knit your brows in confusion, eliciting another laugh from your seatmate. “For what?”

“You answered my question, so it’s your turn to ask one,” he explains.

“I didn’t realise we were playing 20 questions,” you tease. The words leave your lips with a little more edge than you had intended and you wince. Why did you always sound so defensive? You glance at Mingyu and feel a slight sense of relief at the fact that he seemed not to have noticed the tone.

“Well, if you don’t have any questions, I’m fine with being the hot, mysterious one in the house,” he winks and again you find yourself not hating how he looks when he does it.

Still, you snort derisively in response. If only he knew how deeply not-mysterious he already was to you. “Hardly,” you reply. “Okay, fine. I have a question for you: why does The Notebook make you cry so much?”

Wide-eyed surprise ripples across his face, a tinge of red embarrassment colouring the tips of his ears, “who told you that?” he asks in a nervous half-whisper.

“Jeonghan might have mentioned it when I was moving in…”

“Traitor,” he seethes, running a hand through his hair as he considers this revelation before answering you. “It’s sad,” he states plainly after a moment’s hesitation and you ‘tsk’, refusing the easy answer.

“Lots of movies are sad, Mingyu. Why does this one in particular make you cry so much that I was warned never to watch it in the living room?”

He sighs again, heaves his chest in and out like an exasperated dog settling down for bed. You watch as he stares out over the river, wide brown eyes shimmering with the lights of the city, and wait for him to respond. You had never seen Wonwoo cry during a movie. You had barely seen Wonwoo cry at all. He kept his emotions held tight, whether for self-protection or because he really was just that steady you didn’t know, but Mingyu’s upfront expressiveness was a breath of fresh air. Seeing someone so open at every moment with how they were feeling made you feel a little bit less alone with your own rapid shifts in mood. Maybe you weren’t the broken one.

“Fine,” he relents, “honestly, I know it’s corny. I know it’s a corny movie and it’s lame and dumb that an adult man with a job still bawls like a baby while watching it but I can’t help it. Seeing those two old people dying in bed together after reliving the tale of their love just gets me every single time. It’s a confusing mixture of sadness and hope and I have never been able to get through it without weeping.”

“Wow,” you remark and he shakes his head.

“Happy?” he huffs, again with an air of a disgruntled dog and you laugh.

“Very happy, thank you for sharing.”

“Okay my turn,” he grins, leaning back against the bench once more, the wood groaning slightly under his weight as it shifts.

“Good luck, movies don’t make me cry often.”

“Well you’ve gotta have some embarrassing secret. Otherwise we’re on uneven ground, and I don’t like that.”

“I’ve already told you something embarrassing,” you start to defend yourself but he shakes his head. Resolute.

“What? About thinking you fuck everything up?” You nod and he laughs, “that’s not embarrassing, that’s normal. Everyone thinks they’re more fucked up than they are.” He shrugs and you again marvel at how casually he accepts the very thing that feels so earth-shaking to you. “Tell me your most embarrassing secret.”

“That’s not a question, it’s a demand.” you point out and he nods, considering the rebuttal.

“Too broad? Okay, then what’s your favourite song?”

“How is that supposed to be embarrassing?” you ask, aghast.

“It’s not, I’m just curious. Not every question needs to be so heavy, you can get to know people through simpler things. Happy things,” he smiles again, coy, and your heart betrays you again with a flutter of wings against your chest.

“I’m not sure,” you muse. He starts to protest but you cut him off before he can begin, “there are too many songs that I love to feel like I can narrow it down to just one all–time favourite. Too many things to consider.”

“Like what?”

“Like, what am I doing when I am listening to it? Is it a song I could listen to anytime, anywhere? Does that make it a favourite or just an easy listen? Is it a song that fills me with a swell of emotions? A favourite from high school that still makes me nostalgic? Or a recent song that I’ve played on repeat too many times to count? You see…too many things to consider.”

“Wow, you’re right,” he laughs again, “you really are an overthinker.”

“Gee, thanks,” you scoff, rolling your eyes.

“How about you just make me a playlist with all of the above and we’ll consider it answered?” he winks and you blink back at him, stunned to silence. Wonwoo never really got through the songs you would recommend to him, was Mingyu really going to go to the trouble of listening to an entire playlist? For his roommate?

“Oh–okay,” you answer, unsure of what else to say.

Silence descends for a moment, settling comfortably between you, and you glance around in surprise to find that most of the people that had been here when you arrived have since departed. How long had you been sitting on this bench talking?

As if reading your thoughts, Mingyu clears his throat. “It’s getting late,” he feigns a yawn, forearm flexing as he brings his hand up to cover his mouth, “but you have one more question to even it up before we start walking back home.”

You sit still, contemplating. While teasing him had been fun, an overwhelming part of you wants to really get to know him. To know what makes him tick. What thoughts and desires lurk in the depths of those puppy brown eyes. To find out exactly what it was about him that was drawing you in so much despite your (and Seulgi’s and Jeonghan’s) better judgement.

“What did you want to be when you were a kid?” you ask finally. It feels like a silly question as soon as you ask it but you can’t take it back once it’s been spoken. And you do actually want to know the answer.

“Is that your final question?” he asks and you hesitate but nod. You’re curious about what kind of kid he was. What his dreams had been before the demands of adulthood had set in. “Alright, but it’s silly,” he warns and you wait silently for his response despite it, “I wanted to own my own bakery.”

“You wanted to own a bakery?” you parrot the response, surprised by his answer. “Really?”

“I told you it was silly,” he smiles, voice a slight quiver. You hadn’t expected the answer, true, but it’s the nervousness around it that is really taking you by surprise. Like it’s kid Mingyu answering the question and not the 20-something year old adult you had bought you dinner.

“No, no, it’s not silly, I just didn’t expect it,” you reassure him and the expression of embarrassment on his face melts back into neutrality. The wave of nerves slipping away into the ether. “Why didn’t you do it?”

He shrugs, “my parents didn’t think it was a suitable career path for someone like me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You bristle, feeling defensive on behalf of the kid he once was.

“I never asked for clarification,” he laughs. “Just went to school for business like they suggested. Jokes on them, though, I can still make a mean sourdough.”

“What can’t you do?” you mumble, intending the comment to be unheard but clearly failing as Mingyu throws his head back with a laugh before getting to his feet.

“Well, what about you?” he asks as you join him and you both head back down the path towards the main road. “What was your childhood dream?”

“I always wanted to be an artist,” you say, “and I sort of am doing that now just in a more corporate-friendly way. Career was the one aspect of life that I always felt I had a handle on. There was no guesswork. It was just me involved.”

“Your parents didn’t have any different thoughts as to what they wanted you to do?” he asks, a slight note of surprise colouring his voice.

“Not really, no,” you shrug, “they were pretty supportive, honestly. I think the only things they really cared about was that I got an education and was able to pay for rent and food.”

“That’s lucky, it’s nice to have such supportive parents.”

“Yeah, I guess it is,” you nod. It had never been something you had actively thought about, just taken for granted and assumed it was sort of the same for everyone. You make a mental note to call your parents soon and catch up as you and Mingyu leave the park and the river disappears behind you.

“Would you ever bake something for me?” you ask, matching Mingyu’s stride as you take a turn down the block towards home.

“That depends,” he replies, amusement clear in his voice.

“On what?”

“On whether or not you want to hang out again in the future,” he shrugs, feigning nonchalance. You see a hint of blush reddening the tips of his ears again and it makes you wonder. Was it just the slight chill in the air causing it?

“Well, we do live together so I think that’s almost inevitable,” you laugh, trying to brush the niggling feeling off with an assurance that you did not feel.

“True,” he concedes, “then I guess I will. Are you more of a sweet or savory person?”

“That depends,” you reply, a small grin turning up the corners of your lips.

“Overthinking pastries now too?”

“No,” you laugh, all lingering feelings of defensiveness gone from you. “It depends on what you’re better at making.”

“Oh, I’m good at it all,” he replies, voice smooth–silk slipping over mahogany–as he holds open the door to the condo complex for you. You glance at him, eyes meeting his in the dim light of the lobby, and study him for a moment. He’s smiling, cool and casual, but there’s a seriousness hiding in the depths of his expression that you can’t quite unravel. It draws you in, curiouser and curiouser, until you find yourself face to face with a crossroads. Two paths diverge in the yellow woods of your mind and the only thing that remains is to choose.

“Then I’ll take it all,” you reply after a breath, thoughts slipping into place. Threshold crossed, decision made. You step into the lobby and head towards the elevator leaving Mingyu to trail behind.

The condo is blessedly quiet when you arrive upstairs; everyone else scattered throughout the city with Friday night plans. The absence of Jeonghan in particular is a relief, you knew that no matter what the context was, if he saw you return with Mingyu at this time of night you would be primed for some form of lecture or another. Whether verbal or simply that knowing stare he likes to give you when he thinks you’re being stupid.

That silent cloud of judgement would have been especially intrusive tonight as you step in through the front door barely clinging onto the tenuous air of bravado you had conjured up in the lobby downstairs. It would have shaken your resolve to follow this thought of intrigue towards Mingyu and thrust you right back into your torrential thoughts once more, spinning haphazardly between mourning over what was lost and what might not ever be.

Instead you stand with shaky confidence and a pounding in your chest as you bid Mingyu goodnight, savouring that look of intrigue you’re sure is mirrored in his own expression as you close your bedroom door for the night and bar any doubt from creeping in behind you.

You listen through the walls as his own door clicks shut before rummaging through the unpacked duffel bag in the corner of your room. You dig through unsorted paperwork, unopened mail, random knick knacks you had found no home for yet until your fingers grasp the object you were seeking.

Sleek, black silicone emerges from the bag and you glance behind you as if Mingyu might be standing there, ready to chastise you for your impure thoughts.

You stand up, hesitating, evaluating the vibrator as it sits like a brick in your palm. You had only used it once, years ago, after buying it at a convention with Seulgi before it ended up buried deep in the recesses of your drawer. At the time your sex life had been consistent and satisfying–it was early days for you and Wonwoo and the excitement and novelty of having each other at your fingertips for the whims of the moment had kept you too busy to even remember that you had the toy stored away in the first place. It wasn’t until you were packing to move out that you rediscovered it.

You hesitate for a second before thinking ‘fuck it, I paid like $200 for this, I’m gonna get some use out of it’ and slipping out of your clothes and into your bed.

You try to set the mood in your mind, fingers swirling idly over your bare skin as you flip through mental images of celebrities, movie scenes, fantasies that you used to use to get in the mood. Anything to deepen that pressure that burned quietly inside of you. None of your old tricks produce results and you sigh, ready to give up on the activity completely, before you feel the distinct thud of Mingyu’s headboard against the wall.

You imagine Mingyu: what is he doing? Maybe sitting on the edge of his bed, scrolling through Instagram, or maybe he’s under his covers too. Maybe he’s having the same thoughts as you?

You follow this thought where it takes you, back to that night the other week. Back to the low sound of his moaning carried through the drywall and plaster, the thudding of his headboard against your wall, back to that yawning pit in your stomach that felt like it might swallow you whole at any second. Your hand traces the path of the scene playing out in your mind, blazing a trail down your chest, stomach, and finally to the aching space between your thighs.

You recall the weight of Mingyu’s arm pressed against your back on the park bench–steady and solid. The sound of his voice and laughter muffling your gasp of surprise as you flick the vibrator on and jump at the sudden noise filling your room.

You flick it back off immediately, worrying that the distinctive buzzing sound would carry itself through the cover of your blankets and body and make it through the proven-thin walls towards Mingyu’s ears. He would know for sure you were in here thinking about him, fantasizing about his lips on your neck. The thought of discovery adds a confusing stab of guilt to the knotting in your guts but you do your best to squash it as it pops up. What exactly were you doing wrong? You were tired of denying yourself pleasure out of fear of other people’s judgements or shame. You flick the vibrator back on, this time prepared for the noise, and dig the object deeper between your thighs.

Maybe part of you wants him to hear you–wants him to know what you were doing alone in the dark in the bedroom next to him. Maybe, in this alternative timeline, he knocks softly on your door. His brown eyes rake over your naked body, bared to him like a gift prepared just for him. His sweatpants strain with the pressure of his bulge as his blood travels lower, and lower. Filling him with the desire as it fills you now. He steps forward, wavering at the threshold of your bed and asks, voice so low it plucks at the strings of your core, to join you. To help you release this coil of tension that had made its home inside of you, growing bigger and hungrier every single day since running into him half-naked in the kitchen that first night. Maybe he’s been running through this same scenario every night before bed, hand gripping his cock as it pulses in his hand, sweat beading his brow.

Alternative timeline or not, the thought itself is all that you need to push you over the edge as you move the vibrator against your clit, finding the right rhythm of pressure, the right balance of relief, to feed the beast of desire crying open-mouthed inside of you. To have your legs shaking and your core pulsing with waves of pleasure no longer denied. You cry out, muffling the sound with the back of your free hand, and for the first time in years it isn't Wonwoo's face clear in your mind as you reach your climax.

―AUTHOR’S NOTE: i cant link them here, but please find the series masterlist and other chapters on my blog. i would love to know your thoughts on the story so far !

#caratlibrary #svthub #mingyu x reader #wonwoo x reader #mingyu smut #seventeen smut #seventeen angst #mingyu angst #wonwoo angst #seventeen fluff #svt x reader #chm updates

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