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xxsabitoxx · 2 months

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Tutoring Session

College Math Tutor Sanemi x Female College Student Reader

Warnings: raw sex, edging, praising, hair pulling, creampies

A/N: hit me like a freight train, I’ve been dying to write this idea for literal months and I just couldn’t figure out who to write it about… obviously Sanemi was the clear choice. I blame @peachdues tbh

WORD COUNT: 2.5k | NOT MY ART!! Credit to the artist!! if anyone knows them please let me know so I can properly credit them!

"There you go, that's right." Sanemi smiled as you solved the equation correctly, watching your hands tremble as you wrote the numbers. "Took you long enough, sweetheart." He added as you whined, the grip he had on your hair was the only thing really keeping your head from falling forward in frustration. "Let's try the next one."

All the while, the dull head of cock was gliding between slick folds. This was his idea of tutoring you, tormenting you with the promise of shoving his cock inside of you, but only after you finished your work. Sanemi had you stuck, literally and figuratively at this point.

Your knees were aching from where they were digging into the hardwood flooring of his apartment, and your body bent over his coffee table with all your math equations spread out before you. Nothing was on either of you from the waist down, Sanemi's knees keeping your legs from squeezing shut in protest."How would you solve this equation, sweetheart. Show me."

You let out a shrill whine as he caught on your entrance for what felt like the thousandth time that evening. You were soaking wet and he hadn't so much as pressed into you. Your hands trembled as you lifted your pencil again, reading over the numbers and letters with blurry vision as you tried to recall the first step.

One squeeze from his hand on your waist and you were focusing again, pushing the pencil to the paper as you wrote out your first line. Sanemi hummed in approval, pumping his cock slowly before sliding his leaking tip between your drenched folds.

If you got this one right, he'd get inside of you, you'd have to work through the rest as his hips slowly rocked in and out of you. It was his favorite part of tutoring you, he could edge you for hours on end but it didn’t compare to the warmth your cunt enveloped him in once he pushed inside. It was addicting, he’d never stop tutoring you just for this reason.

“You have to carry that one over, remember?” he hummed as he looked over your shoulder, watching your handwriting get increasingly sloppier as you erased your first mistake. Sanemi’s eyes glanced over the other sheets of paper, you had started off so strong, then you could see exactly when he got you into this position, the shakiness of your hand was present.

“You better hurry, it's getting harder to not push right in.” He grinned, tugging your hair just a little harder as you whimpered. The head of his cock had caught on your entrance again, but this time he kept it in place. He could feel you constricting, clenching around nothing at all and begging to suck him into the wet warmth of your sex. “S-Sanemi… sir please…”

Your voice came out in a broken hiccup, making his cock twitch in interest as you moved down the line of your equation. “You know the rules, sweetheart. You don’t get my cock until I’m satisfied with the amount of work you successfully completed.” His knees were aching too, but he could withstand it just to see you struggle. Your hair was soft in his grasp, but the mewls you made were even softer when he tugged on the strands.

You felt tears burning your eyes, frustration towards math mixing with the frustration of not being able to alleviate the ache between your sticky thighs. Within an hour of his tutoring, Sanemi had rendered you to an embarrassing, sticky mess. Your slick was covering his thighs as well as his pubic bone, and of course his cock. “Carry that one.”

Shakily, you erased, whining as you corrected your mistake. “Don’t move your hips or I’ll return to grinding my cock against you.” You stilled, you hadn’t even realized you were trying to force your hips back on his length. “I’m…mmm I’m s-sorry sir.” You hiccupped, you could feel your heartbeat in your clit at this point, and it was driving you insane. “Don’t apologize, solve the problem.”

You focused to the best of your abilities again, tears leaking down your cheeks and spotting the paper below you as the pressure built. Between the ache between your legs and the pressure of his dull cock head pressing into your awaiting entrance, you were certain you would crack under his gaze. You could feel it burning just over your shoulder, certain it was accompanied by rosy cheeks and fucked out eyes, making even swollen lips from where he chewed them.

Your entire body jerked forward, head nearly falling forward along with it before Sanemi tugged again. “Keep your mind out of the gutter, sweetheart.” Your face was burning, he was one to talk considering the position he had you in right now.

“You are two lines away from getting my cock shoved in you, I’d smarten up and focus.” Your heart lurched, the promise in his tone was undeniable. Solve this equation and you’d get what you wanted.

You scribbled the next line, earning a hum of approval from Sanemi as you moved to piece everything together and solve the equation. You waited with bated breath, looking everything over to confirm you were correct before shakily writing your answer.

After a beat of silence, Sanemi thrusted his hips forward, plunging his cock deep into your cunt. A loud cry of his name left your lips followed by a string of curses. The sting of being stretched so suddenly had you shivering, your pencil dropping from your hand as you tried to ground yourself.

“Atta girl, you take me so–ha–so good.” Your cunt was fluttering around him, your hips trying to pull away just enough to ease the pressure on your cervix. The room was filled with your breathing before Sanemi finally panted “next”. You wanted to cry, frustrated and in need of relief and yet you were being forced to start your next round equations. “S-sanemi please…”

“You heard me, sweetheart. Start the next problem.” He had regained a little bit of composure, pressing his hips flush against your own as he maneuvered his body lower. You could feel the heat radiating off of him as his front met your back, and yet again you were trying to run away from the one thing you had been begging for. “Turn the page over, we have four more to do.” His breath was hot against your ear, causing your body to involuntary shudder in response.

You did as you were told, inhaling deeply as he returned to his original position. Once the paper was flipped and your pencil was back in your hand, Sanemi let go of the grip he had on your hair so both hands could hold your waist. He didn’t care if you struggled now, if anything he wanted to see you visibly falling apart.

You started slowly, moaning softly as Sanemi pulled out half way before slamming into you again. This paper would be a damn mess by the time you were done. That was Sanemi’s intention, after all, he liked to keep your ruined sheets of math as a reward once he was done. Your body shook with the force of his hips slamming into your own, the pencil dragging across the paper in sloppy mess as you began solving the next equation.

“Oh fuck… fuck… fuck fuck…” You cried, pencil nearly ripping the paper as Sanemi’s hips rolled perfectly into you. The bulbous head of his cock grazed that one particular spot perfectly, making your back arch in response to the sensation. “Focus.” But his tone was hoarse, weak even as your slick arousal began to collect around the base of his cock. It's not like he could even focus on the math, eyes zeroing in on where your cunt sucked him in.

“Solve this one right and I’ll fill you up, you’d love that wouldn’t ya?” You nodded, blabbering out a yes as your hand shakily wrote two more numbers in the first line of the problem. You weren’t going to get that far, but you’d damn near try your hardest. Sanemi’s hips were picking up their pace, falling into a brutal rhythm that was making it hard for you to properly see the numbers on your paper. The coffee table was creaking in protest with each snap of his hips.

It was dizzying, feeling him split you open over and over as your velvety walls tried to clamp down and slow his speed. You were soaking wet, a warm gush of your arousal causing slick squelching noises to fill the small living room. “Finish the first line, sweetheart.” He could feel the sweat beading down his temple, as much as he loved to tease you, your cunt was almost too overwhelming for him.

He could fight off his inevitable release for a little while, but at the pace in which you were writing the problem out, he was certain he’d lose the battle. You were shaking as you finished the first line, eyes blurry as you tried to move the equation through your mind. You were too far gone already, cheeks burning hot as drool slipped past your parted lips. You could feel the embarrassment pushing you down, head falling forward now that Sanemi didn’t have a fistful of your hair to keep you upright.

“C’mon, Sweet–ha–heart fucking finish the problem.'' The last half came out in a low and desperate tone, you could feel Sanemi’s cock twitching violently as it embedded itself in your velvety heat. “I-I’m trying…” you pleaded softly, tears flowing freely as you lifted your head. “I.. you’re too rough… oh fuck sir, don't stop.” you mewled, back arching as your hips shot back to meet his thrusts. Sanemi couldn’t say no to that, not when you were suffocating him.

“Finish.” he restated, nails digging into the plush skin of your hips as his brows creased. He would have to pound some fucking sense into you… or maybe himself. Your pencil was scraping against the paper again as you worked through the equation, at this point Sanemi didn’t even care if you fucked it up and got the answer wrong, he just wanted to see a final result.

Though, that suddenly wasn’t enough for him anymore.

A spike of arousal had one hand leaving your hips just to sneak around your front and find your clit. A sharp gasp tore from your mouth as white hot pleasure blurred your vision once more. Your neglected clit was far too sensitive for the immediate fast and rough circles Sanemi’s fingers were giving you. That and the fact that his hands were calloused, rougher than your own and creating more friction than you ever could.

“Oh fuck… I’m gonna…” you choked on your own words, the pencil led snapping as the heat in your abdomen grew hotter. Your release was sneaking up on you thanks to the addition of his fingers. “You’re already gonna cum?” Sanemi’s tone was mocking, as if his own cock wasn’t swelling with his own impending release. You let out a garbled response that sounded somewhat similar to a “yes”, no longer able to write now that your pencil had broken.

Sanemi noticed, of course, his ego inflating like a balloon as he looked at the ruined paper and the ruined pencil. “You’re lucky that didn’t…” he inhaled, jaw clenching as he tried to stave off his release for a little longer. “You’re lucky you didn’t snap the whole pencil.” You just shook your head, cheek turning to press against the paper covered table. Your hands twitched as they found the edge, grabbing on tightly to try and ground yourself once more.

“Don’t hold out on me, sweetheart… you’ll still get my cum for trying.” A loud whimper followed his promise, no longer able to control the noises you made as Sanemi’s hips continued to piston into your sopping cunt. It hit you then, your orgasm just barely teetering over the edge as you babbled out a jumble of curses and pleas to stop. Not that you actually wanted him too, Sanemi had learned that your cries only meant you were getting overwhelmed in the best way possible.

“Come for me, sweetheart. Ruin me.”

You could feel the cord snap, your orgasm washing over you as his hips and fingers never faltered. You were positive you moaned his name a little louder than you wanted to, unable to help it as your ears rang from the intensity. Sanemi’s teeth sunk into his lower lip hard enough to nearly draw blood. Your cunt was quivering around him, suffocatingly tight as a warm gush of your arousal dripped down your thighs. The sight was unbearably hot, and just enough to push him over the edge with you.

You shivered as he came, spraying your walls with his sticky release. “Oh fuck.” It was just barely audible over the sound of your heart pounding in your ears. Sanemi was tense, too tense to acknowledge the marks he was leaving on your hips as his nails dug into your skin. It wasn’t until his hips came to a stuttering halt, burying deep inside your cunt that he was able to suck air into his lungs again and loosen his grip. “Y-you okay?”

You hummed, too tired to lift yourself off of the table. “Words, sweetheart.” Sanemi was never content with your little noises after the fact. He needed the verbal affirmation that you were okay and he wasn’t too rough. “...’m good.” You heard him exhale through his nose, something similar to a humorless laugh. “C’mon, let me clean you up.” the feeling of his softening cock slipping out of you made you both shiver, his sticky release following.

He watched your hips squirm, you were never fond of the feeling. “Sorry, sweetheart.” but again, you mumbled out an “...’s okay”. He had worn you out, there was no way he would be able to finish your lesson tonight. “How about a shower instead of a rag?” His fingers were running along your slick thighs as he spoke, carefully dragging your mixing arousal back up to your entrance and using two fingers to shove it back inside.

“You’ll have tah carry me.” you mumbled, pushing yourself up halfheartedly, your cheeks stained with drying tears. “Fine by me, it’s the least I can do.” Sanemi smiled, carefully moving to pull you into a sitting position and get your weight off of your bruising knees. “You wouldn’t mind if I stayed the night, would ya?” You nearly collapsed into him, turning weakly into his embrace so he could get you both off the ground.

“You’re always welcome, Sanemi. I still have some of your clothes in my dresser.” He chuckled at that, hauling you up bridal style as he made his way towards your bathroom “I might as well move in at this point, hmm?” this time you were the one starting to laugh. “You practically live here already, Sanemi. Why don’t we make it official?” If he knew it would have been that easy, he would have made the comment weeks ago. “I’d like that.”

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kyeomray · 10 months

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rise and go down on him

pairing: kim mingyu x afab reader

content: established relationship, some fluff, slice of life, pwp, smut (18+ MDNI!!!!)

summary: mingyu is the busiest man you know, yet he always finds time to take care of you. so on the one morning he has time to sleep in, you decide to repay the favor. (smut warnings below)

word count: 2.3k

a/n: this is the first fic i’m releasing on tumblr…kinda nervous lol. I realize this concept might be overdone but I thought it was a good place to start and hope I put my own spin on it!! let me know if anything looks wrong with the format and thank you for reading xx

smut warnings: some kissing, dry humping, handjob, oral (m receiving), pet names (baby, babe, slut one time), cum eating, some pussy touching, tbh this is filthy sorry not sorry.

you stir awake as large, warm arms engulf you from behind. smiling sleepily, you bring your hands up to softly rub along the length of them. mingyu grumbles into your hair and you let out a snort at how cute he is. you missed mornings like this.

being an idol, mingyu’s mornings didn’t typically start this freely. he was either up and out the door far before you even even woke up, or so exhausted he slept through most of his off days. you understood - with his grueling and inconsistent schedules - why intimate mornings were such a rare occurrence between the two of you.

despite his lack of time (and often energy), mingyu never neglected to make you happy and totally satisfied in your relationship. if he got food while he was out after practice, he always brought some home for you. he cleaned up after himself no matter how tired he was, knowing how much you didn’t like to do it. if he was too sleepy to dote on you, he would just suffocate you with snuggles until you both drifted off instead. and lastly, he never, ever, left you wanting or needy.

he savored every second of time you had together. his favorite was dragging you to shower with him whenever he got the chance. he would press you against the wet tiles and throw your leg over his shoulder, burying his face into your wet heat until your whole body trembled. he’d bend you over your vanity while you did your morning routine, being careful not to ruin your hair or makeup while he plowed into your cunt from behind. he would even finger you till you cried while you watched movies on the couch if he didn’t have energy for anything else. he always assured you it was okay. he wanted to pleasure you every chance he got. and you were so in love with him for it.

this particular morning, you woke up in a spectacular mood. it’s not often mingyu gets a few days off in a row and it’s definitely not often that you both get to sleep in together. the realization makes your heart flutter, and you bring mingyu’s big hand up to press delicate kisses on his knuckles.

you feel him stir behind you, the evenness of his breathing coming to a stop. he presses his face further into the mess of your hair, inhaling deeply. you giggle slightly at the action, squirming at the warmth.

“good morning, handsome.” you whisper, resuming your stroking of his forcep. he groans quietly behind you.

“mornin’ baby.” mingyu rasps. he still sounds exhausted, and your heart clenches a little. you know he probably won’t want to get up for a while, and not one bit of you blames him or disagrees. you snuggle back into him further, relishing in the way his arms tighten around you.

“missed this so much ‘gyu.” you sigh softly, letting your head fall back to the pillow. “missed waking up with you.”

“me too, angel. c’mere.” mingyu moves his arm away from you and pulls on your hip gently, and you can tell he wants you to turn around.

you do exactly that, shifting your body until you’re facing your boyfriend in his arms. you’re so close that you can feel his soft breath fanning across your face. you beam at him before burrowing your head in the crook of his neck. he smells so warm and good, and you don’t think you ever want to leave this spot.

you love mingyu so incredibly much, and now is one of those times when your whole body is buzzing with that feeling. he always does so much for you, and you want to start doing half as much. making him feel half as loved as he makes you feel (which is still a lot). you can feel the mischievous grin form on your face; you know exactly what to do and you have the time today.

you start off innocent; lifting your head up to place small pecks all over mingyu’s cheeks and nose. his eyes open slightly as a small smirk forms on his lips, and you take that as an opportunity to press your own against them. he immediately melts into you, sighing into your mouth and rubbing his hands along the span of your back.

you hook your arms underneath mingyu’s armpits, moving your hands up to tug softly at the hair on his nape while you lightly suck his lips into your mouth. he groans at the action, and his tongue is immediately prodding at your lips.

you part your mouth, his tongue quickly finding your own and swirling against it. you can’t help the small whine that escaped you when mingyu’s hands find your ass, groping and squeezing the soft flesh shamelessly (and as if he isn’t still half asleep). he chuckles sleepily at your reaction, and you pull back from him briefly.

“you’re kind of a pervert, you know that kim mingyu?” there’s a smile on your face, and mingyu decides to push things a little further, slipping his hands into your underwear and spreading your ass cheeks apart while biting his lip. you gasp, pressing your hips further into him. “forget kind of, you’re a gigantic fuckin’ perv.”

“you do this to me, baby. it’s your fault i’m so horny all the time.” you laugh a little at the pout on his face, and move up to resume kissing him. his mouth is moving hungrily against yours despite the tired state of his body, and it has butterflies erupting deep in your stomach. you yank at his hair again, rougher this time, and attach your lips to the cut of his jaw.

he sighs out when you throw a leg over his hip, essentially laying halfway on top of him. your lips continue their attack on his neck, sucking marks into his soft skin as you roll your hips against him. mingyu is groaning softly, grabbing behind your knee and hauling you even closer to him. your thigh is pressed against something hot and hard when he does so, and an evil grin spreads on your face.

pulling back slightly, you watch mingyu’s face as you slowly trail your hand down his abdomen. the sight before you is kind of hilarious, really. his eyes are still heavy with sleep and his hair is a mess on top of his head, but his cock is raging against you underneath his shorts. you giggle at the sight as your hand reaches its destination.

his breath hitches when you rub your hand over him, stroking the shape of his erection teasingly. you can tell he’s already fully hard, and you squeeze your hand around him firmly just to feel the way his cock pulses in your grip. wetness seeps past the seam of your pussy as you do, and settles on the seat of your panties. you’ve got a long and fun morning ahead of you, you already know it.

“so hard for me already, and I just started touching you, gyu.” slipping your hand under his waistband, you smooth your fingertips over the oozing tip of his cock, relishing in the broken gasp he lets out.

“mm—mhm, y-yeah baby. you make me so hard.” he grunts, and you can tell he’s already gone. already panting as you rub his cock, working him up till he breaks.

“you work so much, baby. let me take care of you today.” you purr against his neck, wetly smooching the flesh there before pushing him to lay fully on his back. his cock stands straight up in his boxers, tenting the fabric almost comically. you work down his body, kissing and licking down his stomach before you reach his crotch.

you decide to tease him further, mouthing his dick over the fabric of his underwear until the material is soaked through. mingyu groans frustratedly, but you can tell he’s still too tired to reprimand you. you continue your ministrations, sucking and licking the covered tip of him till his thighs are trembling and he’s whining above you.

“fuck,” he gasps out when you yank his underwear down just enough so that his cock springs up against his stomach. he’s already leaking so much, and you wrap your fingers around his shaft to feel the weight of him. “p-please,” mingyu manages, tears already welling up in the corners of his eyes. “please don’t tease me baby. n-need you so bad.”

“I’m gonna take care of you gyu, don’t worry. gonna suck on your big cock till you explode.” you emphasize your words by spitting lewdly on his dick, working your hand around him while the wet noises of it fill the room. his body noticeably relaxes into the bed, and that’s when you go to town.

your lips wrap around him, massaging them over his tip before dipping your tongue into his leaking slit. he cries out and his whole body jolts, making you smirk against him. you go back to work, taking him further into your mouth with each bob of your head. his cock is coated in your saliva at this point, and you know this is only the beginning of the mess you two are going to make.

you look up at him as you practically bounce your mouth on his length, taking in his fucked-out expression. he’s still panting, and small whines and grunts are escaping with his breath. squeezing your fingers around his base, you hollow your cheeks around him, slowly sucking up his shaft until you reach the tip and swirl your tongue over him.

“fucking hell…you’re s-so fucking good at that. shit.” mingyu moans loudly, and you can tell you’re gonna be so wet that your underwear stick to you like a second skin after this. you’re desperate to make him cum, feel his cock jump with each spurt, so you hasten your movements. jerking him off as you slurp around him, making spit drip down the length of him.

you unwrap your hand from his shaft, bringing it down to play with his balls instead. he practically sobs out at that, his thighs quivering with each pass your lips make over the ridge of his head. he starts babbling, and that’s how you can tell he’s getting close.

“ss-so good baby. ‘m not gonna last. so so g-good.” mingyu slurs, drool beginning to seep onto his pillow as his eyes roll back. you take him deeper, your nose nearly touching his navel with each bob of your head. he’s so big that you’re starting to gag on him, but you push through anyway. you can’t help but wonder what the room would sound like to someone else, with the way you’re choking and slobbering on his dick.

mingyu’s riding the edge at this point, just needs a little something to get him there. it’s a good thing you know his body like the back of your hand, because you practically read his mind. gripping his girth once again, you squeeze the base of him. your lips tighten around him, dragging your tongue along with them as you move up his shaft. mingyu’s balls are tightening, his cock throbbing as you suction your mouth around him. you mentally prepare to take his load as you lap at his frenulum, already feeling him twitch under your tongue. sure enough, he starts crying out, desperate and pathetic ‘ahhh’s spilling from him and increasing in pitch.

“mmh, gonna cum. shit, baby. g-gonna cum. I—I’m cumming—mmmph!” mingyu’s jaw practically unhinges in a long, strained moan, his back threatening to arch off of the bed as his cock jerks in your mouth, pulsing with spurts of thick cum that land on your tongue and the back of your throat. you swear he cums for hours, his knuckles turning white as he grips the bed sheets.

you struggle to swallow the large mouthful of his load, but you somehow manage with only a few drops leaking out of the corners of your mouth. you squeeze the last few drops out of him with your hand before laving your tongue over him one last time to clean him up.

his body jerks and he whimpers in sensitivity at the overstimulation. you place one last kiss on his tip before sitting up, knowing he’s had enough. you watch him with your hands on your knees, observing the way he’s attempting to catch his breath, his arm draped across his forehead. he manages a small chuckle as he notices you staring, cocking your head to one side.

“you’re fucking unreal. I hope you know that.” he breathes, making your cheeks blossom with heat despite the lewd acts you just performed on him. you know mingyu is spent, but honestly giving him head makes you so fucking horny, you’re worried you might have to rub one out in the shower if he has no energy left.

luckily for you, mingyu can tell exactly you need him (by the way you squirm and squeeze your thighs together), and he won’t ever leave you wanting. especially after some of the best head of his life. he motions you over to him with a lazy wave of his hand. “c’mere baby. wanna feel how wet you are.”

you crawl over to him slowly, situating your clothed, aching pussy straight over his outstretched hand. he hums in delight at the way your arousal immediately coats his fingertips, and teasingly presses them into you. you whimper shakily, practically keeling over as he immediately finds your throbbing clit.

“fuck,” mingyu groans. “fucking drenched. does sucking my dick make you that horny, dirty girl?” he teases, his sleepiness fading away with each passing second as your hips grind into his hand.

“y-yes gyu,” you whine. “need your cock so bad. please. please.” he chuckles at your desperation, pulling his hand away from your cunt and grabbing your hand instead and pulling you to straddle him.

“such a little slut. c’mere baby, ride my cock.”

***

#mingyu smut #mingyu #kim mingyu #kim mingyu smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #smut #mingyu seventeen

1K notes · View notes

ninaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa · 24 days

Text

Champagne problems

Charles Leclerc x reader

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀:language, drinking, crying, just a lot of sadness tbh..

————————

The season has come to an end, I couldn’t be more relieved. Charles won his third championship, i couldn’t be more relieved about that either.

Its been a tough couple of years for him, he’s been extremely busy. This year more than ever.. we started dating 6 years ago. From the start we had so many plans, so many things we were excited for. Those ideas of relaxing and spending long days in the sun together vanished into thin air the second he promised his father that he would sign with Ferarri. I don’t blame him, how could I ?

Charles was a man who made a promise to his passed father, it would be extremely selfish of me to bring it up. I honestly didn’t feel the need to, my life was perfect in every way. Charles was everything and more. He was caring, compassionate, funny, respectful and extremely romantic.

That brings us to today, the end of the season party. It was quite a formal gathering. With bejeweled cocktail dresses and champagne flowing.

Me and Charles walked in hand-in-hand. He was being nicer than normal, if even possible. We greeted a bunch of people, all of them congratulating Charles with huge smiles and compliments.

I settle down on a wooden chair with a white cushion, my little black dress with gold detailing working perfectly with the colour theme of the party. Carmen and Kika sit next to me, both of them staring at their boyfriends with big smiles. I take a moment to look around the boat, bustling crowds filled the deck, all of them crowding around Charles. He had won the Championship this year. It was his third, for the third year in a row. He had promised me we would start to settle after he reached his goal. We never did, always on the move and always making promises we couldn’t keep.

———— 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗲 𝘆𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝗮𝗴𝗼

“Charles you did not !” I scream, my hands covering my tear filled face. The man I would do anything for stood with a proud posture and a devastatingly beautiful smile on his face. I practically sprinted into his arms, his flannel riding up on my body and exposing my lace underwear.

Charles took me to his family’s lake house, the season was at its end and Ferarri was second on the leaderboard. He had decided to steer clear of the chaos and rather taken me away for a little vacation before Christmas with his family in December. I was over the moon at the thought of spending the whole of November in the cabin with him. What I was not expecting was him buying me a Chevy convertible. It was my dream car, I had brought it up a few times, all black with red leather seats. It was gorgeous, the interior being Ferarri red and the exterior being as black as the night sky. “Thank you Charles, I love it.” I say with a huge smile on my lips, staring deeply into his eyes, I only see my future.

“I love you, Y/n.”

————𝘁𝗼𝗱𝗮𝘆

My mind goes foggy with all the memories of what we had, I almost don’t realize that Kika was tapping my leg. I blink a few times and smile at the stunning woman in front of me. “Y/n, are you alright? You look a little tense.” Kika was an amazing friend and I appreciated her throughout the years. I look down at her hand on my leg, her diamond ring glistened in the flashing lights of the yacht. Her and Pierre were engaged, the two being absolutely perfect for each other. “Yes, I am. Just excited to go home, is that bad ?” I was happy for Charles, but I was exhausted with this whole thing. I was with him every step of the way and I wasn’t complaining. I loved Charles, more than I have ever loved anyone, I gave up everything for him. My job, my friends back home, my family, in all honesty I gave up my whole life to be by his side. I regret it now, the guilt of leaving everyone and the job I had such a passion for, it was catching up to me. I did not matter beyond Charles and his social bubble. I made new friends and I had everything I could want. but it was all so bittersweet.

“Y/n!” I snap back into reality once more. “Fuck , i’m sorry Kika, I should probably go freshen up.” She gives me a sympathetic look, offering to go with me before I turn her down and make my way to the bathroom. I use the one by the master bedroom, as I know there would not be anyone. This isn’t my first time breaking down on this yacht. It’s actually been a tradition for the last three years. Sulking in the bathroom, my mascara smudged onto my inflamed cheeks. It happens every damn year.

This wasn’t what I wanted, nor was it what I deserved. I was stuck in a loop of race after race and party after party. Charles was a natural, this was his favorite way to pass the time. Noting else really mattered all that much. Except me, i guess. He showed me love and care that I have never experienced before. Even with the back lash i received daily. And not only from fans and supporters, but from friends and family members too. His close family and I were in a verg good place. His mum adored me and his brother and I got along very well. I felt comfortable and loved around them. It was the distant relatives and friends that had their opinions. It never bothered Charles, so much so that he didn’t even think to check if it maybe bothered me. It did, a tremendous amount, actually. But I was stuck in the same loop, for I don’t know how long. I couldn’t leave, but I couldn’t bare the thought of this routine going on for decades. My chevy has stood in a private parking garage for the last three years now, only been driven once when I took Charles along with me to pack up my dorm at med school, quitting that year and deciding to move in with Charles. I would have been a doctor by now, a surgeon actually.

I hear a bottle pop and have no doubt in my mind it’s the bottle of Champagne Charles had brought. I clean myself up and walk out of the bathroom, my tears dried and my hart heavy. As I turn the corner I run into Kika who looks like she’s waiting for me. “Y/n, what’s going on?” She has a very concerned look on her face, I smile at that, appreciating how much she cares. Her hand is once again gripping onto me, her ring taking my attention. “You think he’s going to?” she whispers, a slight frown on her face. That confused me, I thought she would be excited at the idea of me and Charles getting married. I’m not even sure I was. “I don’t kn- ”

“Y/n !” I look over Kika’s shoulder to see Charles on his way over. “I’ve been looking all over for you, where have you been love ?” He exclaims gently, his hand in my lower waist. I instantly feel safe in his embrace, like the world stopped for a second and allowed me to take a deep breath. Kika squeezed my arms and walked over to her fiancé. “Sorry, I was with Kika.” I say hazy. I really needed to get my shit together.

“no need to apologize. Cmon, Arthur wants to do shots.”

I was a few drinks deep when the music switched to a slow song, Charles immediately found me, his arms wrapping around my waist. his head rests gently against the side of my temple, the same temple that was pounding and messing with my ability to stay in the present. “I love you so fucking much Y/n. You do know that right?” Charles pours his heart out. I dropped his hand that was so tightly held in mine. I pinch my eyes shut, finding Pascal looking at me with sorrow filled eyes. I was so fucking confused why people kept looking at me like that.

So i chose to ignore it, I leaned back, looking into Charles’s captivating eyes. “I do, I love you more than anything Charlie.” I smile at him. He kisses me, the kiss is passionate and soft. It almost felt as if I would never see him again. When my eyes opened I looked around and saw that it was only me and Charles left on the dance floor, everyone gathered around us. I frown, looking back at Pascal and Kika they both have worried expressions on their faces, Arthur is taking back glass after glass, with the same panicked expression on his face. But he’s not looking at me, he’s looking behind me. I turn around to be met with the Lorenzo on the other side of the crowd. His expression also mirroring the rest. Fingertips graze my leg and I look down to a hopeful Charles with his mother’s ring in his hands. The world stops, not to give me a deep breath, but to suffocate me. I felt breathless and light headed. It was dead silent, the only sound being Arthur putting the now empty bottle of Dom Perignon on the glass table.

“Y/n you are everything. I have never in my whole life been this inlove, nor have I ever imagined an angel like you to ever grace me with your presence. I cannot imagine myself without yo- ”

“Charles.” I whisper, my breath caught in my throat and my eyes watering. Everything burned, the lights the feeling of his fingers still gripping my leg, the sting in my heart.

“Y/n let me finish, baby. It would be an honor to live up to this speech every day. So if I could just finish it?” He smiles at me. Down on one knee and love circulating in both eyes.

“Charles I-” I choke on my words. “Okay I understand my love, this is a big thing, I’ll skip my shitty speech for now.” I wanted to say something but I felt as if i was going to fall faint right here and die. “Y/n I have loved you for a long time now, and I intend to do so until I die.”

“Will you marry me?”

Complete and utter silence, throughout the whole boat, nobody made a sound. The problem was, I didn’t either.

Charles looked at me with years and years of adoration and love and my heart broke a little more every second I stood still.

“No.” I whisper.

Gasps all around the room, it’s all I could hear. Kika let out a big sigh and Pascal let out a big sob. I could hear curse words being thrown and Charles’s manager saying how I could have been such a lovely bride. I next hear Carlos reply “what a shame she’s fucked in the head.”

“Fuck. I- I’m sorry, I can’t.” I sigh and sob at the same time, hyperventilating almost. Charles dropped the ring out of shock, and I could see his heart was also on the ground, although it was shattered.

I turn away in a complete state and rush towards the street. Quickly climbing into a cab and going home. I pack all the things I could need for a few days before taking off on the next train to God knows where. The train is silent and not a single person is awake. I look around the train, my phone ringing uncontrollably in my hand.

I take a seat next to an elderly woman, her window wide open. My phone goes through that same window about gen second later. As do all my worries. My heart has never hurt this much, but I have never in my life felt a weight quite this big being lifted off my shoulders.

I open my leather wallet and look at the picture of Charles tucked on the inside. That too goes out of the window.

••••••••

hope you enjoyed!

there won’t be a part 2 unless this story really takes off, but I doubt it ?

𝗧𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗸𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 !!!!

#charles leclerc #cl16 #charles leclerc x reader #chatles leclerc imagines #imagines #cl16 x reader #cl16 imagine #formula 1 #f1 imagine #arthur leclerc #pierre gasly #max verstappen #kika gomes #yacht girl #lando norris #f1 fic #ferarri

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2rats1gogh · 10 months

Text

Stop comparing Alicent to Cersei. Compare Rhaenyra to Cersei instead.

Let’s go over some similarities they share, shall we.

1. Both Cersei and Rhaenyra had several children with their lover (Jaime and Harwin) and pretended like those children were legitimate even if it was pretty damn obvious in Rhaenyra’s case that they weren’t, and somewhat suspicious in Cersei’s. Alicent didn’t love her husband either, yet her children were all legitimate and fathered by her husband.

2. Both Cersei and Rhaenyra were pretty spoiled children of rich parents that made them believe that their actions will have no consequences, so they could get away with pretty much anything since their daddy has their back. Alicent was never spoiled and never really did anything that she would regret. She always did her duty as wife, mother and queen.

3. Both Cersei and Rhaenyra always pretended like their children are perfect and could do no wrong. I’m cheating a little with this one, tbh, since Cersei kinda knew that Joffrey was fucked up but still, she never really did anything to stop him/fix him. The only time she slapped him was because he asked her “if Robert fucked other women when he grew tired of her.” She never really punished him for everything else he did and always took his side. Alicent always calls out Aegon for his behavior and don’t forget the “you are no son of mine”. Cersei would’ve never said such a thing to any of her children, not even Joffrey. Neither Rhaenyra or Cersei would comfort the rape victim of their child.

4. This one is kinda hard to explain but; both Rhaenyra and Cersei are responsible for the way their children turned out to be. Cersei was responsible for Joffrey being the way he was, and Rhaenyra was responsible for Lucerys’ behavior (i will never shut up about him cutting Aemond’s eye off). But you cannot fucking blame Alicent for Aegon being a rapist (i haven’t read the books but as far as i’m aware, that never even happened in the books, it’s just a show thing to demonize the Greens. Correct me if i’m wrong).

5. Even tho both were women, neither Cersei or Rhaenyra ever were feminists. They only cared for themselves and their own well being, as well as their children’s. Alicent has always been an altruist and although she doesn’t do much to overthrow patriarchy either, she doesn’t really have the power to do that. But again, at least she cared for others and the smallfolk, not just for herself.

6. Cersei kills or threatens anyone who dares speak to her or her children the wrong way, and Rhaenyra isn’t much different, being afraid that the truth about her bastards might come out. Alicent was not an usurper, she never tried to silence others for the truth, since she has nothing to hide.

this post is kinda chaotic, i wrote this list at like 1 am and was tired af so maybe some things aren’t really understandable so sorry about that lmao

#team black stans dni #anti team black #anti team black stans #anti rhaenyra targaryen #cersei lannister #pro team green #anti rhaenyra #hotd #house of the dragon #asoiaf #pro alicent hightower #pro alicent #team green #game of thrones

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roronoagem · 2 months

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Hi Rin! I really like your writing and since your requests are open can I ask for Law hc x fem!reader who is short and badly nearsighted/wears glasses? Thank you and I hope you will overcome your writers block soon! ✨️

characters: trafalgar d. water law

content warning: fem!reader (but can also be read as gn!r tbh), r is short and wears glasses (duh), fluff, law joking a couple of times bc he’s very comfortable w you, can be either romantic or platonic ig? not proofread.

a/n: FIRST OF ALL. thank you so much !! i’m always apologising whenever i write reqs i think you guys are gonna stop sending them lmao (i won’t blame you for it tbh). i wear glasses and i’m short compared to law, so it’s perfect for me LOL thank you for sending a req btw & i hope you’ll enjoy it even if it’s incredibly short >_< (i say this a lot too huh?)

alright, law would find you pretty but would probably take loads of time to actually tell you lol.

he would pat your head every once in a while as a way to tell you “good job”.

he helps you reach stuff and sometimes would gently lift you off the ground to move you out of his way — i repeat myself, gently.

if u don’t enjoy sudden physical contact he wouldn’t do it ofc.

he likes observing you fixing your glasses.

i also think that somehow he would check on you periodically — like to check if you need new glasses or stuff, y’know.

and whenever you actually have to change them, he would say something like “you can see me better now, right?” with a grin.

if he’s in the mood, he would also joke about your height ngl.

“oh, didn’t see you there,” when purposely bumping into you while walking.

he means no harm so if you’re uncomfortable w such jokes he would stop right away, if you don’t mind he’s up for it.

he’s attentive and observant so i don’t really think you need to say that out loud for him to notice.

psst. law wears glasses too when he’s busy reading or sum.

if you two are close, i think he would try and rest his arm on your head and act like nothing.

he’s the kind to take off your glasses if he catches you sleeping with them still on your nose.

#꒰ 🖋️ ꒱ writing #꒰ 🌐 ꒱ one piece #꒰ 💭 ꒱ trafalgar d. water law #trafalgar d water law x reader #op law x reader #law x reader #law x you #law x y/n #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law one shot #trafalgar law imagine #op trafalgar law #one piece x reader #op x reader #one piece

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in1-nutshell · 2 months

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Hello! I hope you’re doing well! So, in G1, there is an episode where four Autobots ended up briefly turning into humans, called Only Humans. That episode was fun, but sadly, there were too much actions and not enough bots experiencing common phenomenons of a human body, which would have been SO fun! So may I request a similar scenario with TFP Ratchet, Optimus Prime, Arcee, Bee, and Bulkhead? But this time the times where they stayed humans were longer than that G1 episode, and during the time these guys got to experience all kinds of human body experiences like hiccups, goosebumps, throwing up, falling inside of their sleep, strung by mosquitoes, and maybe even a cold, so on and so on. And tbh I just want to know who do you think would be the ones to freak out ant goosebumps (think that bugs are crawling under them) and who would be the one to think that a 39 Celsius fever + a nasty throw up is probably normal for human body and no cause for concern? And to make this funnier I ask for a random unlucky Autobot to actually got to suffer from motion sickness (ironic, since they used to be cars themselves, and now they can’t even ride anymore without feeling like dying), and another to be truck by a tough cold/flu and had to suffer through unfamiliar symptoms like coughing, sneezing, chills, and stomach aches, and another to find out they have nasty allergies of a random kind and effect (these can all be more than one if you are feeling evil)

but of course the three kids are there to help them through this tough time— not without occasionally making fun of them a bit tho.

you can do this either in a story telling form, where you write out a whole entire story chapter, or the bullet point list regarding how different the reactions of everyone would be.

YEEEE! This request was fun to do! The bots are going to get the 'whole' human experience.

Hope you enjoy!

Human Buddy and the Kids helping turned humans Ratchet, Optimus Prime, Arcee, Bumblebee, and Bulkhead

SFW, Platonic, mentions of puke, Human reader

TFP

Relic accident. Enough said.

The relic, as it turned out, had the capability to turn anything of Cybertronain origin into the organic version of it depending on the planet it was on.

That was how the charges found their guardians on the floor looking dazed and confused.

Thank goodness they had clothes on.

After further inspection from Wheeljack, they all got the news.

The good news this was all temporary, they would turn back when the effects wore off.

The bad news was that this was going to last for entire week.

Which shouldn’t have been a problem… if some of them didn’t get sick.

Oh joy…

Ratchet

The Cold.

Ratchet was fine for the first day, though he was constantly complaining about the work that still needed to be done.

It was the next day that the symptoms came up.

Buddy and Raf are the only ones who manage to convince him to lay down and rest.

“Please Ratchet, your sick and need rest.”--Buddy

Ratchet trying to pass Buddy but Raf steps in front of him.

“Do it Raf!”--Buddy

“Do—cough—what?”--Ratchet

Puppy Dog Eyes activated.

“Please?”--Raf

“… fine.”--Ratchet

Buddy high-hives Raf before helping him back to his bed.

His immune system was new to its surroundings, easier for illness to sit in.

Worse that he was older than the other as well.

He was much more vulnerable to catch simple things.

Most of the bots and recently turned humans are worried about Ratchet’s health when he started sleeping more. But June and the others reassure them that Ratchet’s going to be fine.

Ratchet wants to work, but the kids and Buddy don’t let him.

Jack and Buddy oversee Ratchet’s temperature and basic medical supplies.

Buddy does their best to explain to him what is happening to his body, for reassurance.

Miko plays him classical music for once.

Blame it on the pitiful sick look on his face.

He expected some loud rock music but found it surprising when Miko began playing the keyboard softly.

Its an almost foolproof way to get him to sleep fast.

Raf sat by him telling him stories and helping him eat his food.

This wasn’t his best experience, but he certainly has much more respect on human biology and for the kids now.

Ratchet now has a mini human well-care kit in his habsuite.

Optimus Prime

The Hiccups.

Optimus was just trying some of the different waters the kids had been recommending.

“And what is this one?”--Optimus

Optimus already starting to drink.

“Sparkling water.”--Buddy

Optimus stops and looks at the water horrified.

“Why are you looking at it—OH! Wait Optimus its not ‘sparkling’s’ water is a type of water with minerals!”--Buddy

Optimus puts the water down but swallows the water in his mouth.

“Human’s drink minerals? As in the deposits?”--Optimus

“… I’m not explaining this one. Raf! Your turn!”--Buddy

Then they heard the sound.

Optimus was surprised to hear it.

Then he made it again.

He looks a bit disturbed.

He wasn’t voluntarily making the noise it was just coming out of him just like that.

Jack and Miko try to explain what hiccups are.

He gets a bit more disturbed yet intrigued.

This wouldn’t be so bad… if that noise would stop trying to interrupt him from talking and making his chest go bump!

Raf suggests ways to get rid of them.

They all go through the list until they reach the last one.

Scaring him.

They knew it was going to be a tough one, Prime wasn’t scared easily.

But Buddy had an idea.

A very dumb idea.

Optimus was talking to Jack when he noticed Buddy leaning on the railing.

He was a bit on edge seeing them so casual near the ledge.

They sat on top of it.

Then began tittering backwards until half of their body went to the other side.

Optimus is running to Buddy’s side trying to stop them from falling backwards.

Buddy just hung from their ankles looking up at him with a smug smile.

No more hiccups.

Problem solved.

He does try and scold Buddy for the recklessness… but he is also glad the hiccups are gone.

When Optimus turns back to normal, he insists to Agent Fowler to have better rails in the base.

Arcee

The Mosquito bites.

Oh, Jack had warned her about these little guys.

And now she knew why the kids were complaining about.

She wanted to eradicate every single one.

Arcee trying to squash some of the mosquitos with her hands.

“Why!”-Arcee

SMACK!

“Won’t!”--Arcee

SMACK!

“These!”--Arcee

SMACK!

“Things!”--Arcee

SMACK!

“Die!”--Arcee

SMACK!

Buddy and Jack already dosed with repellent.

“Felt that.”--Buddy

“Yep.”--Jack

The two humans fist bump while watching Arcee fail to smack another mosquito.

With some heavy rain, some had managed to get into the base. There weren’t many, maybe four, but they were enough to leave Arcee’s arms and legs littered with little bites.

The kids did get bitten too, but not as much as she did.

Arcee did try to use the repellent, it didn’t do anything for her.

Buddy and Miko help put anti itching cream on her, but she wants to scratch them all so bad.

When she thought they weren’t looking she would begin to scratch furiously.

Arcee didn’t know that her skin would show that she had scratched. She freaked out a bit when she scratched a bit too hard on one and it started bleeding.

Raf and Jack clean and disinfect the scratch which welcomes her to the pain of antibacterial spray.

She swears that it was the most painful thing she had to endure yet.

Raf decided to decorate the little scratches with band aids so she would scratch them.

When Arcee turns back to her normal self, she is relieved.

She has much more respect for the things humans have to do daily.

Will never tell Jack to suck it up when he has a mosquito bite again.

Bumblebee

The Motion sickness.

Oh, the Irony.

Bumblebee was a fast muscle car before!

He shouldn’t get sick when going over 15 miles per hour!

Now he was getting queasy in riding with Smokescreen and Buddy.

He feels awful.

Sweaty

Clammy hands

And something feels like something is trying to crawl out of his throat.

Bumblebee looking a bit pale as Smokescreen makes another sharp turn.

Buddy looks at Bee.

“Hey Smokes, you mind rolling the windows down a bit?”--Buddy

“Why?”--Smokescreen

Bumblebee groaning.

“Unless you want to see what the inside of a humans stomach holds, I suggest you open up the windows.”--Buddy

Windows immediately roll down.

Bee sighs with a bit of relief as the wind rolls past his face calming his stomach.

At first the two thought it was Smokescreen crazy driving that was making him sick.

But that wasn’t the case.

Buddy Bee and Raf were inside Ultra Magnus and he got queasy there too.

Magnus was one of the safest and slowest drivers on the team.

It was just him.

Bumblebee refused to leave the base after they came back.

He’d rather hang out with the kids on the couch and play games with them than go outside in another vehicle.

When Bumblebee returns to normal, he is so thankful the queasiness didn’t follow him.

He is now much more attentive to the kids when he is driving now.

His subspaces now have barf bags, just in case.

Bulkhead

Throwing Up.

All Bulkhead wanted to do was have the full human experience with Miko.

He went with her to a monster truck rally that Buddy had managed to get tickets to.

“Wow! I can’t believe you got us ticket to the rally!”--Miko

“Me neither!”--Bulkhead

“No problem, guys, just enjoy yourselves.”

“I mean I tried booking these babies in advance, but everything was booked or too expensive. How did you get the tickets?”--Miko

Buddy simply starts drinking their soda.

“Buddy?”--Bulkhead

“What you don’t know, don’t hurt.”--Buddy

“What?”--Bulkhead

“What?”--Buddy

The trio bought all sorts of junk food and sodas.

He found himself enjoying the time at the rally.

Everything was good.

Until he got back to base.

He suddenly became pale and sweaty.

The next thing Bulkhead knew, he was staring at a trash can with a bunch of mushy stuff with Buddy and Miko on either side of him.

Buddy had some of the mushy stuff on their arms, while Miko was rubbing his back gently.

The mushy stuff did stink a lot.

He felt something come out of his mouth and spew it into the bin, once again getting it on Buddy’s arms.

Bulkhead tried to apologize but it was hard to catch his breath.

Turns out a whole lot of junk food and soda was not good for you after all.

No matter how good it tasted before.

He doesn’t want to touch food while he is like this.

The kids try introducing him to lighter foods so he can at least eat something while his stomach recovers.

He likes the different kinds of broth they bring in.

When Bulkhead returns to normal, he asks Miko to stash barf bags in his interior.

He wants to have them just in case the kids need them.

Has so much more respect for them.

Will slap someone in the head if they mention to the kids to get it over with while their stomach is not feeling good.

#transformers x reader #maccadam #tfp #tfp x reader #human buddy #tfp optimus prime #tfp optimus x platonic reader #tfp ratchet #tfp ratchet x platonic reader #tfp arcee #tfp arcee x platonic reader #tfp bumblebee #tfp bumblebee x platonic reader #tfp bulkhead #tfp bulkhead x platonic reader

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euovennia · 1 year

Note

I am yet again requesting headcanons for the 141 (or whoever you want <3) with a reader who has an angry resting face. And to add onto that, they are very expressive with their love but it comes off as aggressive (not on purpose) because they always look, you know, mad. Like when reader says "I love you," it sounds like a threat and really, they look like they wanna kill them, but they don’t.

whew, i'm so sorry for the wait on this! i took a small break from tumblr so i could focus on finishing some assignments i had for my classes, but they're all completed and turned in so i should be good for now! also i wasn't 100% sure if you wanted this to be platonic or romantic, so i tried to write it to where it could be interpreted as both. thank you for requesting and, as always, i hope you enjoy :)

warnings: none other than the fact that i don't know how to stop myself from typing more than i need to

summary: the 141 learns to adjust to life with their newest recruit; you.

john 'soap' mactavish

when price first introduces you to the group, he can't help but feel like he's done something wrong

and honestly no one can really blame him for feeling that way

the expression that paints your face when you make eye contact with him practically screams, "sleep with one eye open"

and while it is mildly terrifying, he only sees it as a challenge

because in his mind, if he can get the mighty ghost to warm up to him, he can get anyone to warm up to him

so as soon as price cuts you loose from the brief introductions, he's already right by your side pestering you with various questions

and while it was a bit off-putting, you weren't really surprised because price had already told you all about soap before he decided he wanted you on his team

so you just kinda stood there and let him fire off his questions while answering them with that angry expression and bored monotone voice that he can't help but love

like you're standing there, arms crossed with perhaps one of the most pissed off expressions he's ever seen in his life but all his mind can think is >:(

needless to say, he doesn't take your prickly exterior too seriously and it's because of this he's able to get closer to you a lot quicker than the other members do

and it's because of this he tends to vouch for you a lot more to the other members when it comes to getting to know you

"they're not that bad, i swear!"

"johnny, they look like they wanna rip your arm off every time you're near them."

"but they don't, that's the funny part!"

best believe this man is fighting for his life whenever your rbf gets brought into the conversation

and i imagine that one day you actually manage to overhear one of these little debates/conversations (tbh they could go either way with how divided they can be over it, especially when it's gaz vs soap)

and you can't just ignore the way your heart warms as you hear soap valiantly defend your honor

it's one of the few times you're genuinely thankful for his big mouth

after listening in to the conversation for a few more minutes you eventually decide to walk away, heart full and the smallest of smiles pulling at the edge of your lips

i think it goes without saying that you go a little sweet on him after that encounter

well

as sweet as you can go when you're the human embodiment of >:(

at least in the opinion of soap

you don't really see the resemblance tbh

anyway

you start doing little things for him

things like offering to take watch for him when you're both on a mission because you noticed that he hadn't really bothered getting any rest

sitting by his side and letting him ramble on about his family, especially how he always begged his parents to let him stay with his nan over the summer because she owned a little family farm that he absolutely loved to run around on

and even the time you learned how to make scotch pie using his mom's recipe he had tucked away in his room

no matter how much he may deny it, that last one had him tearing up as soon as he took a bite

but honestly, can you blame him?

the man barely gets to visit his parents back home because of his work and it crushes him

honestly, it was probably one of the first few things he confided in you when you first started talking

so naturally when price announces that the 141 has been approved for a two week leave, you don't hesitate in logging onto the computer and buying him the first tickets back to scotland

what you do hesitate with is actually giving them to him

so you decide to gloss over that part completely and instead opt for shoving the tickets inside an plain envelope with his name scribbled on the front and a small note that simply reads, "go." before sliding it under his door the night before everyone is scheduled to depart from base

the moment soap gets his hands on those tickets he can't help the way he runs through the halls and bursts into your room to give you the biggest hug you've ever had in your life

unfortunately for you both, you'd already left base by the time he discovered the tickets

and so with a heavy heart, soap makes his way back to his room before packing his bags with a new vigor

the plane leaves in six hours, but he's so excited he can't help but want to arrive early

needless to say those are probably the best two weeks of his life

and while the others are interested in hearing all about his trip, he simply brushes them off in favor watching the door so he can be there for the exact moment you walk in

and after making him wait more than what he felt was necessary, you finally walk in

and this man

the way he shoots up from his seat and runs over to hug you

it's almost enough to send you both flying to the ground

but luckily you've got some stellar balance and manage to save yourselves from being teased by the rest of the team

but with the way soap is squeezing onto you while repeatedly whispering, "thank you," into the nape of your neck, you don't doubt they'll make fun of you for that

even with the mild embarrassment you feel, you simply wrap your arms around the scottish man and offer him a few pats on the back

and as sweet as it is for the other men to witness such a tender scene, they can't help but notice how upset you look

it's almost laughable

and as much as they want to step in and tell soap to back off, they can't help but notice the way you cling onto soap with that soft look in your eyes

so they remain quiet as you and soap hang onto each other, hearts full of warmth

kyle 'gaz' garrick

i'm gonna say it now

out of anyone in the 141, he was probably the one most intimidated by you

he's the youngest out of everyone and so it stands that, naturally, he has less experience than others

it's for this reason i think he's so keen on staying close to price

i mean the man practically plucked him off the streets and said, "you're mine now," so i think it's reasonable that gaz grows a tad more attached to price than the other members

so when he catches a few glimpses of you around base barking orders at the recruits and slamming them into the mats during sparring sessions, he's not exactly dying to meet you

even so, he finds he's not too worried about the possibility

with how often the 141 departs base to go on various missions and how you always seem to be too caught up in whatever you're doing at the time to be bothered to even glance his way, he eventually comes to the conclusion that you'll never meet

until one day price strolls into the common area where he and the rest of the team are minding their own business with you trailing right beside him looking aggravated as ever

he's already a bit uneasy with the fact you now know where the team goes to relax, but that unease slowly shifts to downright horror when price reveals that you're the newest member of the team

now gaz is usually a pretty easygoing and friendly guy so any chance to meet and bond with new people is always bound to be a good time in his book

but he can't help the shiver that crawls up his spine whenever you're around

seriously, who or what made you look so pissed off all the time?

anyway

because he's so hesitant of being around you, he tries his hardest not to bother you

which basically means he tries not to be in the same room as you

and while you may not really notice or care, the rest of the team certainly does

especially price

he's the type of man who prides himself on having a team that knows they can all rely on one another on and off the field and so he'll be damned if you and gaz are the ones to ruin his little streak

so guess who gets assigned to accompany you and the recruits on your morning workouts from now on?

gaz!

and while he's not necessarily thrilled about the idea of being forced into such close proximity to you, especially first thing in the morning, he respects price enough to not question his decision and just ends up going along with it

and at first he doesn't really pay you much attention in an effort to not do anything to accidentally make you even more upset than he already assumes you are

but then he starts to notice something

he notices the way the recruits light up whenever they see you, whether it be during the morning workout sessions or when you're walking around base

and it baffles him because you just look so upset, he can't possibly imagine why they're all so keen on sending you wide smiles or enthusiastic waves

but one day he looks just a little bit closer and he can see the faintest hint of amusement on your face as your lips showcase the ghost of a smile

that's when he really starts to pay attention

and suddenly he can't help but feel a little ashamed of himself

because now he can practically feel his heart melt every time you interact with the recruits

like how you would bring extra ice-cold water bottles to the morning workouts for the recruits who'd forget to bring their own

or the way you wouldn't hesitate to slide them some money if they mentioned being hungry while you were around

and especially how you don't hesitate to lend an ear for them if they seemed to be troubled by something

it's in those few little moments that he can see just the tiniest cracks through your annoyed expression and heated glares

you're not angry at all, he decides, just real shit at expressing yourself

and upon deciding this, he realizes you're not so scary anymore

so now instead of avoiding you like the plague, he actively seeks you out

at first it's to help you out with carrying the extra water bottles for the recruits in the morning and planning the workouts for the week

but then it turns into him asking to sit with you at the mess hall over dinner and keeping each other company in the commons area

and as much as he tries not to, he can't help the giddiness that floods his body when you start to show him that aggressive love he sees you dish out to the recruits

shoving snacks into his hands when you notice he hasn't eaten in a while

quietly sitting with him while he goes through paperwork because you both know he has a tendency to get distracted

and his personal favorite, draping your jacket over him when you walk in on him sleeping anywhere that isn't his room

he always wakes up with a smile tugging on his lips

and despite how cold and distant you may look while doing these things, he doesn't give it much attention anymore

not when he can see the love and care that's reflected in your eyes

simon 'ghost' riley

despite you and ghost having similar exteriors, it becomes more and more apparent to gaz and soap that you're actually quite different

which isn't a bad thing, of course! just a bit unexpected

but it's because of this striking difference that you and simon tend to keep a majority of your interactions on the field

and you both are more than happy to keep it this way

gaz and soap however, are not

so naturally they put together a plan; a plan that consists of soap giving you his most treasured tactical pen so you can use it to write away in that little journal of yours on the ride back from missions just so he can later "confront" ghost and admonish him for stealing said pen

and during all this, gaz simply remains on the sidelines just looking pretty

anyway

after laying into simon for a good ten minutes, soap walks away from the encounter with a small smile before walking up to gaz and saying something like, "now we wait"

and they do wait

patiently

but after a full two weeks pass by and neither gaz or soap can find any evidence of their so called "master plan" working, they can't help but feel a little discouraged

unbeknownst to them, it totally worked

just not in the way they envisioned

you see, by the time soap came up to simon to lecture him about stealing his pen, ghost had already come to notice you scribbling into your notebook with it

so once soap had finally decided to leave him alone, he immediately confronted you about framing him for such a crime

but you just kinda stare up at him with that annoyed look of yours before revealing soap had willingly given it to you

and things just kinda click into place for the two of you; soap wanted to get you talking

and while you and simon had to admit it wasn't a bad plan, you didn't want to give the scotsman the satisfaction of knowing it had actually worked

so whenever you and simon find yourselves in the company of the rest of the team, you decide to remain distant

but when it's just the two of you?

you're straight chilling

especially when you visit him in his room or vice versa

like just imagine the two of you drinking tea that simon was nice enough to make and watching war movies while bashing all the inaccuracies and bad calls the characters make

or when the two of you are out and about on base free from the prying eyes of gaz and soap because they're out doing their own thing

you and simon love finding random groups of rowdy soldiers just to intimidate them

i don't know about you, but i can definitely see simon just standing there with his arms crossed and eyes narrowed while you rest your hands on your hips with your lips pulled into a frown

price definitely gets complaints about the two of you

he does nothing about them

and for a while that's pretty much the gist of how you and simon spend your time together

but i like to imagine that after a particularly rough mission, simon would seek you out just to sit with you

and i can see him as a stress smoker so when he finally does manage to find you and take a seat beside you, you slide him a pack of cigarettes and a lighter

he doesn't ask how you know his cigarette preference, but instead gives you a small nod of approval before pulling up his mask over lips and taking a drag

and that's how you spend your night

just sitting beside each other as you watch the evening sky gradually begin to fill with stars

i think it would depend on how bad the mission went in order to determine exactly how long the two of you stay sitting under the stars, but it doesn't matter because it'll end the same way; you reaching over and giving simon's hand a quick squeeze with a small, "get some sleep, simon. you need it," before you walk away

and he finds himself confused to two reasons

reason one: why did you grab his hand why did he like it?

reason two: how can you say such sweet words but still look so mad?

as much as he wants to play that moment over in his head just to make sure he was remembering things right, he decides against it in favor of heeding your words and getting some sleep

but it's after that moment he can't help but notice how your mannerisms have changed

not only are your words of reassurance more apparent than before, he's also noticed you have a tendency to give his hand/shoulder a reassuring squeeze every now and then

he can't help the small smile that threatens to pull at his lips when you do

but he also can't help but notice how distant and reserved your face looks when you do all of these things

he doesn't really mind it though

but he eventually does bring it up to you one day

it's probably after he tells you one of his god awful dad jokes

like he'll look over at you and notice your sour expression and say something like, "don't look so pissed, they're not that bad."

and you'll respond with a tilt of your head as you tell him, "i'm not pissed. i like your jokes."

then he'll nudge your shoulder before telling you, "with that face? coulda fooled me."

and you'll roll your eyes in faux annoyance as you brush him off with a simple, "that's just my face."

and then he'll look down at you, thankful for his mask so you can't see the small smile making its way onto his face

he might even say something dumb and cheesy like, "i know. i like it."

and you give him one of your rare smiles

and i could end it there and say the two of you are bffs

or i could sprinkle in something about soap running up on the two of you chanting, "my plan worked, my plan worked!"

that's for you to decide

2K notes · View notes

whatifyoulivelikethat · 1 year

Text

don't hold hands, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: You're fucking your ex-boyfriend's ex-best friend. You also now own a condo with him and owning this condo has made you house-poor. Yeah, it's not the usual love story and it's not going to be one. Not until you paint the walls black, that is.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; mostly conversations and feels tbh; minor smut (fem reader, marking / scratching, m-receiving oral, doggy, penetrative sex); non-idol!AU; guitarist!music producer!Yoongi x novelist!reader - fwb / roommates-to-lovers

just a story about two people who shouldn't fall in love falling in love, I have plenty of nasty smut so this is a different beat for ya lmao

“Is it fun being tortured?”

“Not really, no.”

It wasn’t fair to be this critical but, as long as you didn’t let these words travel outside this room, it was fine, right? At least, you kept telling yourself that. Delusion at its finest.

“It’s so stupid that people enjoy sticking their nose in drama that doesn’t involve them only because their lives are too boring to have any,” you sighed, tossing your phone across your desk, letting it skid into a pile of post-its covered in scrawled notes. “All because I deleted some photos.”

Notifications were now blocked.

“Some people mistake privilege with right.”

You glared at your phone even though the contents were the offender and not the device. Rolled your eyes, knowing you would be coming back to a shitstorm, but you couldn’t take it anymore. There had to be a limit. And the voice beside you had been telling you to put the damn thing down and stop deleting comments one by one, but the stubborn ram in you thought you could just headbutt through the bullshit.

And that imagery was gonna end there, thank you very much.

Your forehead found the palm of your hand and you sighed again, suddenly feeling the weight.

“I’m never doing that again.”

“You don’t have to.”

Minutes passed.

Silence never felt so serene.

Then it was cut through by steady, slow acoustic guitar, the notes drifting out from behind you. It almost made you feel more guilty. Almost. How fucked was that? You, sitting here right now, staring at nearly bare walls and a table covered in notes and your trusty laptop, almost feeling guilty for the guy that had backed out of the joint loan for this condo in the city that you didn’t even fuckin’ want, but you had been too far into the process to not lose a whole lotta money and too angry to let yourself lose.

How ironic, feeling guilty for the guy who cheated on you.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” was the guitar player’s response. “And you shouldn’t be either. For anything.”

You knew you shouldn’t apologize. It just felt like the thing to do, because you hadn’t been wholly right either and, even if you weren’t more in the wrong, you were still wrong, and wasn’t that fucked, putting levels of blame on a situation that, at the end of the day, was all said and done and left everybody bitter and full of scars.

The shitty part was everyone was on your case now and blaming you.

This was what you got for dating the lead singer of a punk band that skyrocketed to popularity on social media. Looked all elegant dark romance on TikTok and Instagram, just screaming and hate-fucking behind closed doors. Constant content to cover up the toxicity. And maybe it was your fault too, letting it get to your head that maybe you really were the beautiful, mysterious muse that the followers painted you out to be. You glossed over red flags – late nights, drugs and drinking, sleeping in rooms of girls that called themselves fans – all part of the industry. Nothing happened. Honest. But the greatest mistake was letting him tag you on Instagram. How cool was it that you were an author?

This bastard.

Not only had you given him some of your best quotes for his lyrics, but now you couldn’t publish those words as your own because this bastard would fuckin’ sue you for plagiarizing.

The guitar continued behind you, on the mattress on the floor.

So, not only were you getting crucified on social media at the moment because he had called you a backhanded bitch in his Instagram stories but also because you had deleted all photos of him on your profile and said fucking nothing. Silence to be polite and all that. He cheated on you, he was leaving you for some whore you had plenty of suspicions about, and, worst of all, he waited until you and him were finalizing the down payment for this expensive-ass-fuck high-rise condo – that money was out of your own pocket, not his, how convenient – and backed out of the loan for the mortgage. His reasoning?

You cheated on him first.

Hello?

With his former guitarist.

Hello?

Your ex-boyfriend had fired his former guitarist ages ago because you and him had gotten too friendly.

Alright, man.

You liked the guy, sure. Talked to him when he was in the studio and found you had a lot in common. Plus, he was crazy talented. Made most of the melodies, self-produced a lot of the songs for the band so they could save money, even contributed to lyric writing so they didn’t have to spend on that either. He even had a good voice, although sadly the band rarely used it. Your art of words paired with his knowledge of music made some viral hits. But then tensions rose between him and your ex when they started butting heads for no reason (there was a reason and it was ugly jealousy). Then arguments rose between you and your ex, but instead of breaking up, you buried yourself into writing your next novel to let the situation cool off.

Sigh, okay, call a spade a spade.

You were avoiding the confrontation.

He fired his guitarist and got a new one.

Then things were good.

Until they weren’t.

Of course, they weren’t. You didn’t solve shit, and he was fucking every girl that threw themselves at him behind your back. Good thing you had strict rules about condoms, otherwise you would probably have some lasting consequences right now. So, when the ground cracked and split apart from under you, what did you do?

Yup, this was the part that made you no better.

You found that former guitarist and fucked him.

Word travelled around. Word also travelled around that somehow you got someone to be part of that insane loan you got talked into. And, oh, shit, did things get messy once a certain someone knew who it was.

But here you were.

Feeling guilty.

You probably couldn’t publish for at least six months to a year because, harrowingly, your demographic was young adult – you had even relied on social media for self-marketing, fuck – and the half of a novel you had now had to be scrapped considering that so many of the quotes were now distressed in dark venues by the lips of an egomaniacal dick that you allowed into your pussy far too many times. Once was already too many.

Fuck.

You didn’t even want to live in the city.

It’ll be so much easier for me to get bigger opportunities. Don’t be a selfish bitch and only think about yourself.

You wanted to scream.

You wanted to throw your laptop into the wall and break it into smithereens, but you didn’t because this piece of technology was currently your only chance of making money. Fuck. Me. Always talking about himself like he was only important member of the band, even though it was the other guys who wrote most of the music and lyrics. No one sided with you, obviously. This was their job and technically not their romance. They were sympathetic but not empathetic to the point of jeopardizing their jobs. Obviously, you hadn’t signed any contracts for royalties or credit. This was supposed to be your soulmate.

Soulmates weren’t so generous to give you pennies.

You’re being greedy and self-important. Oh, so you’re only in the relationship for the money? I’ll give you money once we make it big. Once we get it all, I’ll buy you everything you want. But you gotta help me out now. We’re starving artists, ya know?

You should have asked your parents for monetary help, but you didn’t. Your pride didn’t want to hear the told-you-so speeches for dating a guy they didn’t choose for you. You also didn’t want the arranged marriage appointments back in your life either.

So.

Trapped in white walls, post-its of false starts, and impending doom.

Dramatic, but you were a writer.

“Come here and sit down with me.”

Some part of you didn’t want to face him. It was really dumb. He was your new roommate now. You were fucking him when you were too sad to avoid it, and it was pretty obvious he knew. You were living off his money. Sure, he only paid for half the rent but then food mysteriously appeared in the fridge, bathroom necessities were stocked when they were running low, cleaning supplies neatly sorted into the closet, and all that other shit. None of that wholesale stuff either, but the nicer things normal households could afford.

It wasn’t an exaggeration that you cried into the soap during your shower last night.

All because you finally acknowledged it wasn’t one of those shitty bars that made skin feel like plastic but actually fragrant lathering liquid that you could put on the dense, not-falling-apart-in-one-use loofah that you hadn’t bought. You would have been satisfied with cutting coupons and living on the dregs of the bare minimum, but someone cared enough to not let you do that, and you currently couldn’t do anything to contribute and probably couldn’t for a while.

And that made you feel undeserving.

Maybe you were only fucking him because that was all you could offer.

Pathetic.

The guitarist called your name softly.

Like a beaten dog, you got up and sat down beside Min Yoongi.

He continued to play a melody you didn’t know on his black acoustic guitar. He hadn’t moved in all his instruments and equipment yet. You had told him he could have the whole living room for his studio. He had asked if you were sure and you responded that you were sure that you weren’t going to have anybody over ever so, unless he wanted a living room space, you didn’t want one.

“Shit always happens, you know,” the deep voice reminded you.

“This happening was of my own doing and now I’ve ruined my own life,” you muttered, bitter over a boy and hating that you were bitter over a boy.

A small chuckle. “You have to admit you had help.”

Stupid boy.

“Can’t be helped. Humans are animals of regret.”

It stung to regret.

The guitar playing stopped and now you were met with silence.

Don’t cry.

But it was so tiring to be angry. So easy to be sad. So easy to think, my fault, for being swept up in what he was but not who he was, for believing that you knew what was best when clearly it wasn’t, for being spiteful on purpose. For avoiding looking at Yoongi in the face because you were too ashamed to acknowledge what was going on here.

For being too afraid to ask what he thought of it.

“I regretted not stealing you from him sooner. Thought you were too fuckable for that loser from the first day we met.”

A strange feeling.

Skin prickling, glancing the that pale hand of graceful, callused fingers simply resting on the neck of that guitar, not looking at Yoongi’s face even though you knew it quite well in profile.

“That’s one way to make me feel better,” you replied.

“I’m not trying to make you feel better. Just being honest,” he replied, tapping his fingertips on the wood. “You are ten times too talented and a hundred times too pretty for a guy like that.”

You twitched. “Are you shitting on my standards?”

“Back then? Yeah, I am.” A calm hum, setting aside his guitar and placing his elbows on his sweatpants-covered knees, charcoal gray and worn. “Pretty clear you went full desperado for a guy that didn’t deserve it. Also, he ain’t hot shit like he thinks he is.”

Ow and what the fuck. “Fuck off.”

You felt movement and tracked his hand raising, spinning a finger around his temple. A brief glance and the details sank in. Long, windswept black waves, light cream skin, pointed gaze directed forward and not at you, pensive slight frown of pink lips. You looked away again, past his loose white t-shirt and to your hands.

You used to be proud of them.

They used to be able to type prose like no other.

Now they were twisted in an oversized, olive-green sweatshirt that you picked up from the sale bin of the convenience store for dirt cheap and they didn’t write jack shit.

You also hated olive-green.

Nothing personal. It just wasn’t your color.

“You’re a psycho bitch to put up with him,” Yoongi commented.

He wasn’t wrong. “I’m a psycho bitch all the time.”

“Yeah, and I don’t date crazy.”

You thought you would feel insulted, but you were past the point of caring. Also, there was something about the way his calm voice said it. Like he knew what he was doing. Huh. That was a silly thing to think. Of course, Yoongi knew what he was doing. He did it. He let you in his studio when you tracked it down and camped out until he showed up. He had listened to your psychobabble and didn’t back away when you pinned him to the wall.

This wasn’t dating.

“At least, I thought I didn’t,” Yoongi added, not touching you.

He fucked you too. He wasn’t a starfish in bed, that was for sure.

“I wanted to get back at him too, you know,” that deep, hazy voice murmured beside you. “That bastard turned my friends against me, stole my mixes, and cut out all my connections. Made me start from the ground up, alone.”

Yeah, you did know that. You helped badmouth Yoongi. In the name of love.

Shit.

“Sorry.”

“You’re not sorry.”

Ouch.

“And you shouldn’t be, ‘cause what’s done is done and being sorry isn’t going to change anything.”

You untwisted your hands from each other, realizing your knuckles were white from anxiousness, and relaxed them on your bare knees. Best you could, anyway.

“Yeah,” was the best response you had. This fucking boy ruined your life and stole your eloquence too, apparently. Motherfucker. “You’re right.”

Neither you or Yoongi said anything.

Minutes passed.

Another night in the condo and both of you were sitting on a mattress with a single blanket, deflated pillows, and a box of condoms on the floor.

You touched his forearm the same time his hand moved to grip your thigh.

And then it was the don’t-look-him-in-the-eyes challenge, and he was doing the exact same thing, eyes averted, black hair over them, lips grazing your jaw. Breath against your ear. Hot. His neck under your lips, flexed, fair skin with remnants of bruises, and your teeth sank in, making new ones, listening to his hiss and feeling his hands slide under your sweatshirt. Weighted palms and blunt nails. Digging in.

“Harder.”

He scratched you up as you climbed into his lap, tasting flesh.

Those firm hands gripped your hips and forced them down. Grinding. Softness to growing hardness, unhooking your bra, hands all over like you had lost your mind, your thighs squeezing his sides, yanking his shirt collar down and licking up his collarbone, dripping spit, shivering as you saw it glisten over his marred skin.

Clothes coming off, thrown aside. Guitar sliding to the hardwood floor as bodies tumbled. Your hands on his chest, your hard nipples pressed into the sheets as Yoongi slipped his hand into your hair and shoved your head down. Mouth open, tongue curling around. Moan striking the air, echoing in the nothingness.

Hard, hot, now wet.

Up, down, hitting the back of your throat, unable to choke in the adrenaline of lust, in need, in desire for pain, rubbing your tongue all over as Yoongi face-fucked you hard and fast, thick cock swelling in your mouth, your lips grazing the swollen head and making him shudder, saliva slipping down your chin that was smacking into his balls.

Was it shameful that you were good at it?

Sex solved nothing but you sure had a lot of it as if it did.

A sharp gasp and salty cum filled your throat, drinking, swallowing with effort and the burning sensation of your locked jaw, maintaining the soft tightness. Tongue tracing the contours, keeping him hard, hearing the rip of a foil packet above your head.

You hadn’t even realized that Yoongi had let go of your hair, letting you lick him all over at your own pace.

“What position?” Yoongi panted, husky and breathless in the mostly empty bedroom.

Mattress, chair, desk, laptop. Oh, and guitar.

Bodies on the floor.

You didn’t say anything.

You just turned around and slid down, elbows on the bed, knees spread, ass up.

“Alright then.”

You bit your lower lip.

You almost turned your head, almost looked back, just to check, right, just to check he was okay with it, and then strong hands gripped your hips, lifting them, sliding in, condom on and stretching you out right away, his knees pushing your knees apart and forcing you to arch your back for the angle.

No chance to look back.

You gasped, gripping the sheets, blinded by pleasure and the fading resonance of pain.

Hard.

Deep.

You pushing back, deep not deep enough, hitting your preferred depth and letting your eyelids flutter, veins burning with the repeated ecstasy. One of your hands lifted and reached back, squeezing his hand on your hip, and the grip became tighter, fingertips digging in, smacking his hips into your ass, and your body threatened to throw him back, carnal power meeting his every thrust, clenching around his hard length, and you could hear Yoongi growl your name, low and deep and voracious.

Somehow, his name fell from your lips too.

Rough and sinful, no better than an animal.

His nails dug into your back and dragged down, burning lines into your skin.

Your head tipped back and you moaned, a clear, shameless sound that would become familiar to this ceiling. Pooling wildfire, tightening muscles, wasted nectar sticky between joined thighs, surge after shivering surge of orgasmic apex stinging your veins as you barely registered Yoongi’s shudder and blissful groan, feeling the pulse inside you made than hearing the sound.

The rush of blood roaring in your ears was far too loud for you to hear anything.

Your face felt hot, so hot.

Gripping the sheets, twisting them, pulling them off the edge of the bed.

This moment.

Very few things were as intense and exigent as an orgasm. Fleeting, but a violently memorable. Pure nothingness of soaring high. You chased it. Again. And again. And again, your fingers tangled in Yoongi’s dark hair, pulling it over his face but he didn’t look at you anyway, eyes closed and teeth trapping his lower lip, breath trapped in his chest, driving his hips into yours again and again.

You both kept going until the limits were reached.

The darkness willingly swallowed you up.

Min Yoongi always considered himself a rational person, which was precisely why he found himself entangled in the break-up between his former best friend and the only woman he ever considered committing a felony for.

Yeah.

He also didn’t believe in love at first sight.

She was still way too hot for that idiot though.

His eyes could communicate well enough with his dick. The short skirt and exposed thighs didn’t really help either. Still, Yoongi had let it be. Respect was keeping his distance despite racing heartbeat and keeping calm despite shaking hands. He got used to it once the late-night talks about music and wordplay became a regular thing. Sometimes they talked about general life and were surprised on how well they aligned. Still, she never spoke poorly about her then-boyfriend even though there was plenty to talk about.

Scorched earth was their sacred ground.

It was painful to witness.

Yoongi regretted valuing the friendship, mostly because it didn’t mean jack shit at the end of the day. He regretted believing in the elegant, age-old saying.

Bros before hoes.

Tch.

But mostly, Yoongi regretted pretending like nothing was wrong.

He would see the pain in her expression and not say anything. Watch her pack it all away and greet him with warmth that he didn’t deserve because he had a racing heart and shaking hands every time they met. He would watch his former best friend disappear into hotel rooms without explanation and Yoongi knew damn well it wasn’t right, but he kept his mouth shut because he was a coward, something he figured out later.

He could have washed his hands clean of that shitshow, but instead his hands had held her shaking shoulders and watched her struggle not to cry on that cold night.

Yoongi considered himself a rational person, but never a good one.

Too many ways to judge, and her lips had already connected with his as soon as his shoulder blades hit the wall. He didn’t stop it. Maybe it was bitterness. Vengeance. Hate.

No, it wasn’t any of that, actually.

He didn’t know exactly what but, in that moment, Yoongi knew that he would murder that asshole if he saw his former best friend’s face right then, ready to commit a felony all because those beautiful eyes couldn’t look at him, closing instead to blink back the tears that bastard didn’t deserve.

That meant something, all right.

He knew it could take a long time. He knew it would almost certainly be hopeless. He knew he would probably end up with a broken heart and broke as hell. He knew it was a bad idea and he knew it was going to tear him up, this spiral, but when he found himself looking up to the ceilings of these mostly empty rooms, this condo he now half-owed with the woman that was formerly his best friend’s girlfriend, and Yoongi found he didn’t know and he didn’t care what the future held.

She had trouble sleeping.

Less trouble after exhausting themselves.

He had trouble sleeping too, but that was because he was staring at the ceiling and wondering just how rational he really was. One hand behind his head, under the pillow. The other resting on the blanket, on the curve of her hip, feeling the steady hum of her breathing.

She never cried in front of him.

He knew she did cry, because he heard her in the bathroom sometimes. But never in front of him. Showed anger, yes, but never acted helpless even though it was perfectly reasonable to feel that way after everything that happened. Living on the least for his sake, even to the point of skipping meals and spending all her time trying to write, trying to get back to her livelihood, trying to get past all the false starts. Personally, Yoongi felt that she should give up for now and heal herself, but he also knew how it felt to feel stubborn and useless.

Hah.

It was weird, being so close and yet so far away.

He felt it most in the nighttime, even though that was when he was closest to her.

He was never going to be the same. He knew that. He already wasn’t, surprising himself with his own recklessness, and for what? He didn’t even know what she was capable of reciprocating after receiving all those scars. Didn’t even know if he was the right one, if he was better or worse, if…

If he was believing in something that wasn’t there.

Yoongi closed his eyes and went to sleep.

Livid.

It was weird. Feeling it. In the past, you buried it, numb, and promptly lived in delusion. But now you could feel it. What was more, you let yourself feel it. There wasn’t anything to stop you except for the occasional mental peanut gallery of you’re a bad person if you feel jealousy, but anger could overtake anything if you let it.

You stared at the scene before you, several meters away.

Seething.

It felt good.

Mostly because it was honest.

It surprised you. You hadn’t expected to feel anything. Sad, maybe. You had already been cheated on, so naturally you assumed the cycle would begin anew, just with less promises and in the gray area of uncertainty. But, no, instead of being distraught and delusional, you felt maddeningly, viciously, nearly on-the-edge of making a fist and dislocating Min Yoongi’s jaw from his skull because he was speaking to a female-presenting human at the entrance of the building that housed his and others’ music studios.

Did you lack context? Yes.

Would that get you arrested? Yeah, probably.

Would that probably not get your laid anymore and label you as an unhinged psychopath? Without a doubt.

But would it feel good?

Don’t know.

You had never punched someone before, although maybe you should have practiced on your ex-boyfriend. He was probably a more deserving candidate. In any case, you remained frozen in perplexation at your willingness for violence because you were pretty sure your… relations… with Yoongi were nothing more than a lonely bitch and a spiteful silver tongue executing revenge, so the amount of fucks you should give about Yoongi speaking to any human being – other than the obvious health and safety precautions – should be zero.

None.

Basket of fucks empty.

And yet.

Clearly wasn’t since you were mentally calculating the angle and force for jaw dislocation while having zero experience in doing so. In any sort of non-virtual manner, that is.

Hm.

Your hands were firmly in the pockets of your black cargo pants. The hip ones, although you had plenty of choice. You kept them there for the safety of passerby or, maybe deep down, yourself. This caused your jacket to fall open, the outlines of the sew-on patches and thick, bunched-up black denim crowding the space between your forearm and waist, your black cropped tank exposed to the chill evening air. You used to wear a plethora of band t-shirts, but, well, those were probably in a landfill or rotting in a secondhand shop.

You figured you would be cold. Unsurprisingly, the anger kept you warm.

Huh.

You thought about turning around and just straight up leaving, petty and picturesque of course, and then Yoongi seemed to sense your projected violence, looking up from the conversation. Dark waves over his cheeks, striking body line, backing away, hiding his eyes for a moment, not that you could see them that well from this distance. You twitched.

The girl reached out.

Yoongi simply bowed, out of reach, and pushed the glass door open.

Honestly, her role in this moment was so miniscule that you completely ignored whatever she did or possibly could have said to Yoongi’s retreating back. Sharpened gaze, and then he crossed the street with the crowd, walking past oblivious bystanders who may or may not become the harrowed audience of the next thirty seconds.

He stopped before you. Bomber jacket, white shirt, black track pants. Monochrome elegance.

You looked up at him, saying nothing.

Over one shoulder was his usual guitar bag that held said instrument and his yellow notepad sticking out of the pocket. He used it to jot down whatever came to him. You almost said something. Almost. Then you remembered that if this, this between you and Min Yoongi, if this was supposed to be nothing, then weren’t you supposed to do nothing but voice your casual annoyance for making you wait rather than, well.

Admit insecurity?

You looked away quickly.

No, it did not matter how reasonable it was, you didn’t like knowing that somehow you had been weakened by an ex-boyfriend, barely a man, no, a mere locust at best, so it was better to not say anything and accept that this was–

“Sorry, I got caught up with the staff about ending my lease.”

Compromised.

You didn’t look at him. “What?”

“Gonna end my lease this month and move my studio stuff to the condo. I can’t afford both.”

He had told you this already. It had been your idea. You already knew you were overreacting to a situation that you created in your head rather than reality. And, yet, the best your mind would allow was uh huh, a plausible explanation, sarcasm included.

“Ah. Right,” was your sharp, mildly frigid reply.

“I can’t read your mind.”

Do you intend to be exhausting?

Your mental peanut gallery was super annoying.

You breathed in. Cool, crisp air. The sound of cars and people bustling in and out of stores. You breathed in again. Did you really intend to be exhausting, irrational, and, worst of all, dishonest? Really, after all that had happened? After getting here, standing here, arriving to pick up Yoongi at his request to do the grocery shopping together?

You turned back to look right into black-brown, piercing orbs.

“I just realized that I have the ability to be jealous,” you exhaled, draining your lungs. “It’s unpleasant and not nearly as delightfully pivotal as the media makes it out to be.”

Something fluttered in those orbs.

Or maybe it was the wind catching his bangs, drifting black strands over his eyes shadowed by dark circles.

Yoongi half-smiled.

“Makes for good songwriting material though.”

There was an air of helplessness to his words. A tone you couldn’t define, except for the understanding, which left you both baffled and with a sense of guilt. There were emotions in that barely-there smirk on those familiar lips. Relief. Maybe a slight bit of shame. A shadow of guilt too. You realized people were glancing at you and him as they walked past, wondering why you both were at a standstill on the sidewalk. Yoongi seemed to not notice them or care.

You pulled your hands out of your pockets.

“Come on. We should go before it gets dark.”

Before you noticed it, your hand was rising.

You pulled it back, but not fast enough.

Yoongi’s free hand reached out and grasped around yours, strong fingers enclosing. Sliding up, calluses on your palm. Your hand lowered, slowly, your eyes moving in the opposite direction. Lips parting. His hand was colder than yours.

You stared at Yoongi.

He looked back, expression unreadable.

“I don’t hold hands,” you said, suddenly breathless.

You tightened your grip.

“Neither do I,” Yoongi replied, taking a step, on the cusp of walking past you, his hand around yours. “I simply just don’t like the idea of yours getting cold when I can do something about it.”

Previously, when you held hands, it was always with a purpose of showing public affection. The look-how-real-this-is-because-there-are-clear-witnesses show. Front row tickets nobody asked for. But this.

This.

You blinked hard and the sting was inside.

The sting of wasted time.

Your name in that raspy, soft voice. Familiar. You looked up, not saying anything and hoping the eye contact was enough. All Yoongi did was smile lightly and tug your hand.

“Let’s get take-out and shop tomorrow. We have plenty of time to eat healthier.”

“You can cry in front of me.”

Min Yoongi heard her breath hitch and still.

Seconds that felt like hours ticked by. It was the dead of night. Or maybe one could call it the time when honesty came to life, if the conditions were right. He knew this time well usually with a drink in his hand, but this time he was laying on his side with bruises of bites and carnal memories lingering on his fingertips.

“I wasn’t crying.”

Her voice was thick and strained from trying to keep it even. Her moment of jealousy had happened days ago. He had recognized it right away. Call it personal experience. He also recognized that she didn’t like to feel that way. It was obvious from her torn yet furious expression. It confirmed a lot of things for him. Still, she seemed pleased to help him move and set up his things in the bedroom. They found the living room to be a bit too echoey due to the large space so they switched the two, pulling the mattress to the living room and setting up his equipment in the center of what was formerly the bedroom.

He told her to paint the condo.

She had mentioned in passing that someday she would like to paint her entire living space black. Not this place, because he owned it too, and you probably think I’m crazy for wanting a dark space, huh, Yoongi? He asked her, why wait? No one lives forever. We’re just passing through.

She had given him a weird look.

We own this condo. Paint it.

There were cans of black paint waiting.

Yoongi had intended to go visit his family over the weekend. His parents and his brother who had recently been promoted to head chef at the classy restaurant he worked at. Someone in the family needed to have prestige. Well, that was his own personal feeling. Surprisingly at this point his parents had even up on telling him to get a higher-paying job. They told him to simply be happy.

And get married.

Yeah, about that.

He was still trying to get used to the music producer thing, for fuck’s sake.

“Are you afraid I won’t understand?” Yoongi let himself say, not turning around yet.

Sometimes, people didn’t want you to see them weak. He could understand that.

Call it personal experience.

A shuddering sigh. Deep breaths. Words bogged down, drained.

“I can only be so pathetic before I lose my mind recalling the past,” she mumbled. He felt her weight deepen on her side of the bed, as if she was trying to melt into the mattress. “I made things hard for myself. For you. It’s pointless to cry about it anyway. In the end, it only makes me look ungrateful.”

Yoongi thought about it.

“It’s true that you probably shouldn’t have involved me.”

He shifted, laying on his back now.

“But I’m not a good person either. I agreed, after all,” he murmured, his skin tingling with bruises and carnal memories. “Hm, to be honest, he was always a dick though, from high school till now. Always will be, I fear.”

“You’re easygoing enough not to be affected by his asshole behavior.”

“Not my job to change people. I leave that to parents and clueless fools.”

A pensive silence. Surprisingly not an irritated one. She seemed to accept it.

“Why did you become his friend?” she asked, staring at the ceiling with him.

“We just happened to like the same thing. Music.”

“I’m lucky you decided to become his friend.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, “I’m lucky that somehow he managed to bamboozle a hot and clever girl, two things he’s obviously not.”

She almost laughed. Almost.

“Who the fuck uses the word bamboozle?”

“You had to admit you were bamboozled, because you sure as hell weren’t dick-drunk.”

“Oh? You think you’re that good, huh?”

“No, I just know he’s that much worse.”

The faintest of chuckles.

“You… You get better every time,” she admitted. “I think I just caught you off guard the first time.”

“Firstly, I don’t like wasting time and, secondly, I had given up for a while before…” I met you. “Romance seemed like an expensive, worthless distraction when I could be using that time and money trying to push the band forward,” he pivoted, running a hand through his hair to push it out of his eyes. “Then that went to shit.”

“Sorry.”

Automatic.

He chuckled darkly. “I’m confident I got the better deal.”

A trembling pause.

“Why do you think that?”

He reached over and placed his palm on the top of her head, lacing his fingers in her hair. Messing it up.

“Tell me the truth. Was he good at sex?”

A burst of laughter. “Really? Alright. No, he wasn’t. He sucked. Thought he was a piston of a muscle car instead of a human being. Oh, and once he fell asleep on top of me.”

He cocked an eyebrow. Turned his head and forced hers to turn as well.

She was smiling.

Yoongi found his chest tight and breath shallow.

“And you didn’t leave him then… why?” he pressed.

She winced, albeit playfully. “I yelled at him. A lot. I don’t know, maybe he was tired.”

“Not an excuse.”

“I know, I know…” Sigh. “I… I didn’t want to believe I made the wrong choice.” Her eyes shifted, but her body was still turned to face his. “I… It made my entire family angry, dating him. Especially my parents. They would never forgive me and hold it over my head forever. I had to make it work. I thought, if only I worked hard enough…” Another heavy breath, squeezing her eyes tightly. “I know it was pride, but I wanted to prove to them and myself that I could do anything. Bad choices? Maybe. But they were mine. I don’t want my life decided by what is best for me. If I suffer for it, those are my consequences.”

Her eyes opened, but barely.

Yoongi kept his hand on her head, running his fingers through her hair.

“I… I feel like shit because now you’re stuck in my mistakes,” she breathed.

He liked to touch her hair. It felt comforting.

“You know what your problem is?”

She glared under lashes and dared him.

Undeterred, he continued. “You blame yourself for shit that hasn’t even happened.”

A disapproving frown. “Hah?”

He tapped her forehead. “You think it’ll bother me if you cry, but what truly bothers me is that you cry alone.” Pushed back the strands, and now he was closer, sharing breath. “You think I’m stuck in your mistakes. Mistakes don’t inherently have only negative consequences. They almost always exist in a gray area.”

“I... I know that,” she grumbled, face against his chest.

“I did say you were clever.”

A drifting, drowsy silence.

“I’m not clever,” she whispered to his skin, pulling her body closer. “I just like you.”

Yoongi felt himself losing to sleep.

“I’ve always liked you, since the moment I saw you,” he muttered into her hair, breathing in the familiar scent, so quietly that he wasn’t sure if he said it at all.

“Ah? Yes? Sorry about that. Oh, yes, uh, I’m painting. Everything. Yes, I’ll be sure the keep the windows open. Thank you.”

You closed the front door of the condo. Well. You had expected nervousness, but somehow the conversation between you and the downstairs neighbor had been very calm. Apparently, he worked from home and wasn’t expecting the loud crash of the ladder from your unit.

In your defense, you hadn’t expected it either.

Thankfully, you hadn’t been on the ladder, only trying to figure out how to set it up. It was one of those compact ones that saved space but required some innovative thinking to get the taller height you needed. One crash and a YouTube video later, the ladder was now secure, and then came the knock on the front door.

The thoughts flew by – I don’t belong here, I can’t do this alone, they’re going to scold me and I haven’t even done the upper half yet – but the guy just seemed curious and confused. Didn’t even comment on your awkward outfit of navy boys’ basketball shorts and ill-fitted gray sports bra. Both on super sale. You were still wearing your bra because of the incorrect size, so the gray blob was bordering on ugly-ass tank top.

Look.

Some people had clothing they didn’t care about to paint in and some people had to dive in sale bins because they left behind most of their wardrobe and, with the clothes, their bad memories.

That was the intent.

Things rarely go as intended.

For instance, you thought you were going to feel imposter syndrome for a neighbor knowing that you were painting your own goddamn walls. You turned away from the door after you locked it, frowning. That’s right. Like it or not, bad decisions and minus an ex-boyfriend later, these were your walls. You looked up, out the large, floor-to-ceiling living room windows, and saw the sunlight sparkle over the sprawling city, walls painted half-black and half white surrounding you, and you could say that you never wanted to be here, but.

It was a sick view.

We own this condo. Paint it.

Your muscles were sore from the repeated swiping motion of the paint roller, but there was still this inexplicable energy coursing through you.

“What if it doesn’t look good?” you had asked Yoongi.

He had shrugged. “Then we paint it again.”

“It’ll be dark.”

“Wow, really? I thought black was supposed to be bright and cheerful,” was the sarcastic quip. “Just believe you have good taste and paint the damn walls.”

This condo was an investment that made you poor.

That was the truth you needed to face.

You have good taste.

You scrunched your face slightly as you remembered Yoongi’s facial expression. Was he… praising you or himself? You squinted. This guy. Picked up the paint roller again and saturated it with ink black, making crispy crinkly sounds as you shuffled over the plastic. Good taste. Well, that was relative, wasn’t it? Everything was at the end of the day. You climbed onto the ladder and began the repetitive, monotone motion once more but at a higher elevation. You should have put your music back on. Your phone was on the plastic-covered mattress and you were not about to go back down until you finished this section or ran out of paint. This was going to be a long process, but you had several days and too much time as Yoongi had already left to visit his family.

Now you were alone with a lot of paint and mind-numbing fumes.

Shit, you should have opened the window.

You would have to paint a second coat anyway. Who cared if the first coat was shitty?

Sigh.

Climbing down and doing your due diligence before returning to your post.

You had forgotten once again to put your music back on. Hah. Well, that was fine; you had yourself. You didn’t mind being alone. Heh, sometimes it was better to be alone. You continued rolling away, hardworking in the consistent rhythm. Thinking about it now, this might have been the first time in a long time that you were okay with being alone. Before, you had felt guilty whenever you weren’t thinking about your relationship. Huh. Odd. Was it some kind of mental self-reassurance when you knew something was off? It was hard to tell, but possible.

Everything was off about that relationship. You just had too much pride to admit it.

You sighed, climbing back down to reload.

Wait a second. Was this why there was that wider step towards the top of the ladder? You poured some more paint in the tray and carried it up with you. Oh shit. Wow. Innovation. You coughed and went back to a different patch of wall. No one saw that. See, perks of being alone.

Well, you didn’t hate Yoongi being here.

You stopped painting.

You didn’t just think that.

You went back to painting. Shut up, nagging feeling. You furiously painted on, ignoring your soreness, telling that little voice in your head to shut up, because there were plenty of reasons not to think stuff like that. Firstly, you weren’t ready to think stuff like that. And what if it was only hopeful transference rather than genuine feeling? Asshole or not, your ex-boyfriend’s betrayal of trust was not something so easily overcome. It wasn’t fair to Yoongi either, pretending to like him if you weren’t sure.

You liked Yoongi before you broke up, too.

Wasn’t that fucked up?

You sighed and came back down, careful to scoot the ladder without spilling and causing a mess. Back up and at it. Of course, it was fucked up. And you knew it was, which might have been why you let it get that bad. Might? Was why you let it get that bad. Two hypocrites were meant for each other. You huffed, puffing your cheeks. It wasn’t enough to hold the ticking grenade; you had needed confirmation it was a, in fact, a bomb.

Maybe even hoping it would end you.

It didn’t.

For some reason, you thought Yoongi could see that in you.

Damn, he’s really living in your system, hm?

You frowned.

Your phone rang.

You almost jumped, startled at the sudden sound of an old song you used to enjoy. Back when you were a teenager, and the memories came back as you climbed down. A kid who just really liked rock’n’roll, and parents who did not, but that kid didn’t care, annoyingly setting it as her ringtone on her shitty flip phone. Couldn’t you be her again? Before you had time to ponder, you checked your hands for paint and picked up your phone, answering it.

“Hello?”

“Did you eat?”

You blinked, sitting down on the crinkly plastic upon hearing that deep, raspy voice. “Uh, no. I was gonna stop by the convenience store when the first coat was done.”

“No, you weren’t. You were gonna skip a meal,” Min Yoongi tutted. “Because you don’t want to be a nuisance and use the money I had left you.”

Damn. He knew you, all right.

“If I forget, I forget,” you grumbled.

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, pick up the food order from the front desk when it comes. They told me about thirty minutes.”

“You don’t have to order food for me. I’m not a kid,” you hissed.

“It’s the pho spot you like and if I don’t put food in front of you, you won’t eat. You intend to do all that hard work without some fuel?” A pause. You made a disapproving noise. “And I know you’re not a kid. By the way, what’s your waist measurement?”

You remained a grump. “Why?”

“I’m here, so I’m going to buy you some clothes.”

“Don’t buy me clothes. Don’t spend money–”

“You need things,” Yoongi cut you off. “Unless you want to come with me? You don’t trust me?”

“That’s not it and you know it,” you snapped back. “It’s not worth–”

“Of course, it isn’t. It’s vain and silly and superficial. And I’m still going to buy you things, so tell me your waist measurement.”

“Yoongi, this is your hard-earned money,” you puffed out, exasperated.

“Yeah, and I make money to provide you with a good life because I think you are the most important person to me. So, do you want me to guess with my hands or are you going to meet me halfway?”

Dead silence.

He called your name, softly.

You told him in centimeters.

“Got it. Don’t forget to check the front desk in thirty minutes.”

“I love you.”

His hair was stuck to his face due to sweat. “What?”

“I said I love you,” she said, staring right at him, their chests shuddering from exertion.

Yoongi couldn’t believe it, but also he wasn’t surprised. The room still smelled faintly like paint. The windows still had no curtains or blinds. They were still fucking on the mattress in the center of the living room and he was holding the used condom when she said I love you.

The walls and ceiling were all black, covering them in darkness as the city below glimmered with light.

“I love you,” was his reply.

It startled him, the suddenness of his response. He knew he did. Of course, he did, and he turned away quickly, making his way to the kitchen and throwing away the condom, skin tingling, cheeks aflame, and he was startled by the feeling that remained. He hadn’t expected those words to come out of her mouth even though he was sure of his own feelings. Yoongi had resigned himself to not hear it from her lips. He also didn’t need to hear it to know that it was true.

He saw her head to the bathroom.

Time was funny sometimes.

Suddenly they were both staring at each other on the mattress, the usual ritual completed, and the moment suspended.

“You didn’t have to say it,” he finally said. “For my sake.”

“I didn’t.” Her hair curled over her shoulder, caressing her curves. “I said it for my sake.”

Blankets and pillows and questions.

“I wondered about the validity of it,” she admitted to him. “Been wrong before and all that. Might still be wrong. So, I said it just to see if I regretted it.”

“Ah.”

They stared into each other’s eyes.

“Do you?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No.”

He half-smiled. How very simple yet complicated. He understood. “All the paint fumes really got to your head, huh?”

She looked up at him and he realized with a start that she, too, was half-smiling.

He reached out, smoothing her hair.

“You have a pretty face, Yoongi,” she teased, eyes sparkling.

He raised an eyebrow.

“I thought it would be too cliché, you and me,” she continued and the tone was different now, softer and more serious. “I thought you would get tired.”

She meant, of me.

He had thought this was cliché too. Cliché didn’t mean worthless though. His hand fell, and rested over hers without a second thought. Warm and against the sheets. “If I felt that way, I would have stopped speaking to you long ago. You could take care of yourself too.” Not safely, but could. “Except for money.”

She smirked.

“So you’re saying I need a suga daddy.”

Yoongi twitched.

“Part of me wanted to sell the condo as soon as possible,” she went on, casually glossing over the comment. “But the realtor said it would be a bad idea. I wouldn’t have any buyers without a minimum of six months or a year. Too many superstitions. Part of me thought I should…”

She looked up to the ceiling.

It was a high-rise, after all.

“All the reasons to move here were his. More convenient, better opportunities, owning rather than renting for the investment… I believed in it, more than myself.”

He didn’t say anything. Couldn’t because all those things had benefitted him already. He didn’t only agree to move in help her out. He was still a working music producer. But she didn’t seem to be saying it to condone him.

“I didn’t really think this place was mine until I painted the walls.”

Yoongi thought he should at least confess this part. “That’s why I told you to paint them.”

A small laugh. “You don’t like it, huh?”

“Don’t you remember the walls of the old studio were dark gray? That was my doing. I always resented the last place I rented because they didn’t let me paint the walls.”

“Ah… He painted over the gray.”

“I bet he did.”

They had fallen to the bed now, side by side.

“I didn’t think this would work out,” she breathed.

“I thought it might,” he hummed.

“Why?”

“You’re hot and clever and I wanted you from the first day I saw you.”

A warm chuckle. “Just like that?”

“Well, you had to give me a chance. Couldn’t make the first move due to the circumstances.”

“It was a convoluted and confusing one.”

“Eh, life’s unfair.”

“Your husband already paid.”

Your what?

“What?”

The cashier waved you away. You shuffled back, dazed, seeing Min Yoongi emerge from the bathroom in the corner of the restaurant, tucking a bit of his long black hair behind his ears and finding you in front of him.

“The cashier just called you my husband,” you declared.

He shrugged.

“Surprise.”

You blinked at him.

Patrons chatted and laughed as if this was a normal day. The music was horrendous covers of cheesy 2000’s pop. It was very strange, but the pho was good and well-priced, which was why Yoongi and you came here often after his meetings with music companies. Popular talent was in high demand.

He ticked his head to your outfit. “I know you like this dress I bought you, but you’ve left your coat at the table.”

“Oh, shit.”

“You’ve been scatterbrained ever since you started writing again.”

“Shut up.”

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #bts smut #yoongi smut #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you

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