#come up with a good reading tag and replace this one with it later

[spursthatjinglejanglejingle]

Babe are you crying over the 1600s sailor's description of what it feels like to lose a fellow sailor again

#god. does this count as poetry #the wager #come up with a good reading tag and replace this one with it later

[ceilidho]

prompt: IKEA soap/reader fic. PART 2. (read part 1 here) tags: dubcon

-

There’s a photo of you taped up on the inside of his locker. 

The glimpse you catch of it is quick. Not like you aren’t meant to see it, but more like Johnny’s so unconcerned with whether you see it or not that he doesn’t bother to make a show of it. Just reaches into his locker to grab his lunch and shuts it while you’re still gaping at the polaroid of someone that looks suspiciously like you in your store uniform. You hear someone clear their throat and you glance up, flinching when you meet Johnny’s eyes.

“Missing me already?” he teases, winking. “I’ll be back on the floor as soon as possible. ‘Promise, hen.”

“It’s not—” 

He’s already out the door and on the way to the lunchroom before you’re able to get the rest of your sentence out. 

Johnny seems to have a sixth sense for when you’re about to spurn his advances. Any other day he would have stuck around to listen to the rest of your sentence, but when he has an inkling that those words will be tinged by the flavour of rejection, he’s quick to book it. You privately have to admit it’s not a terrible strategy. It’s not often that you’re able to get the words out. 

It’s one of those rare shifts where you’re clocking in later than Johnny, missing his lunch break. Small mercies. It doesn’t mean much because your schedules still overlap a significant amount, but it does mean that you won’t be forced to choke down your lunch while Johnny sits opposite you at the lunch table and stares you down the entire half hour. 

“Wait, that was so fucking cute,” someone says from behind you. You turn on your heel to find a coworker staring at Johnny’s locker, properly enchanted by whatever she saw. Practically swooning. 

“What is?”

“Didn’t you see the picture he has of you? In his locker?” She says it with emphasis, giving you a significant look. 

“Yeah…I…don’t you think it’s a bit…like, weird?” you ask her, making sure to keep your voice low in case Johnny is still around the corner. You can’t help the way you glance down the hallway.

She frowns. “It’s cute. He’s like, smitten with you. I’ve never seen him with a crush on anyone before and I’ve worked with him for over a year. I think it’s kind of nice. Do you not like him or something?”

“Well, I just…we aren’t even dating and I think…I think he even has a photo of me as his lock screen—”

“Because if you aren’t interested in him, you should let him down now. It’s not fair of you to just string him along, you know. He’s a really good guy.”

You’re not sure about the whole good guy thing. Johnny acts like a nice guy most of the time, but you’ve had the unfortunate luck in getting to experience the other side of him.

The problem lies in the fact that Johnny is, you think, a genuinely likeable guy to everyone else. It’s not like your coworkers are all collectively wrong in their opinion of him—he really is an excellent coworker. A good sport, a funny guy; he lends a hand whenever someone needs help. He helped Jeff move two weeks ago, drove Daryl to the airport last Saturday, and looked after Sonya’s cat while she was away on vacation that one time. 

It’s with you that his good-time nature evaporates; his lazy, drawled predilection for joking around and indulging himself and others in a good ribbing replaced by a weird, manufactured kindness. Almost sickly sweet. He lays it on so thick around others that they think you experience the same friendship with Johnny that the rest of them get to enjoy. 

Not so.

None of them catch the way he’s always hovering, always staring at you. Eyes half-lidded; bedroom eyes in the middle of your shift, in the middle of the workplace. 

None of your coworkers are around when you’re at the register one day and Johnny takes his break to make a couple purchases, coming to your cash with a basket full of chocolate, wine, condoms, body butter, and batteries. No one except him notices the way you pause at the last item.

“Dinnae ken if your vibrator was rechargeable or not,” he says when you look at him funny, a big grin stretched across his face. Blue eyes gleaming almost feverishly. “Thought I’d be prepared either way.”

You scan his items in silence. When you hand him his bag, you try not to shudder when he purposefully glances his hand over yours. 

Worse are the days when Johnny comes in as a customer, the days when he’s off the schedule. When he shouldn’t even be at the store at all. No one notices the way he pesters you the entire time he’s in the store, insisting on you helping him with his purchases. If a coworker does happen to notice his presence (and how could they not when he’s such a formidable presence in any room, when he almost glows from the energy stockpiled in his body with nowhere else to go), he’ll make polite conversation, just long enough to not seem rude, before shifting his attention back to you. 

His conversation borders on interrogation. He asks you about your childhood and your friends and whether you have a partner or any previous partners. He makes you follow him to the bed section where he tries out all the mattresses and then asks you increasingly inappropriate questions like what mattress you have, what it feels like, how you sleep at night, what you wear to bed. 

When you rebuff him one too many times, he’s not shy about telling you off. 

“Ye just need a good fuck ta sort ye out,” Johnny snarls when you brush off another invite out to lunch one day. It’s not often that he loses his temper with you, so his anger makes your eyes widen, your pulse pick up. During morning shift assignments, he’d corralled your manager into pairing the two of you up on curbside pick-up orders, meaning that you’ve been stuck with him for hours, nowhere else to go. 

“Excuse me?” you say, voice going up a decibel. 

He leans across the front of the cart loaded with flowerpots and gardening tools. “I get it, hen. No one at home ta play with your pussy, huh? No choice but ta come into work all pent up and frustrated—”

“This is in like, the outer Hebrides of ‘none of your business’—”

“—clit’s probably all swollen too. Fuck.” He breathes out heavily through his nose, eyes darkening. “No wonder you’re always pissed off. I’d be too if I dinnae have a little replacement pussy at home.”

“You’re the reason I’m upset in the first place, Johnny.���

“Aw, I ken, bonnie,” he says with a pout, eyebrows slanting down like he really, truly pities you, the gesture immediately contradicted by his next words. “Promise I’ll make it better. Wanna meet outside my truck in a half hour?” 

You storm off before it comes to blows. Not that it’d ever be a fair fight. Johnny would probably hold you away with his palm against your head while you swung at him uselessly. You try not to think of that too often. Of him toying with you. Most of your interactions feel like that these days. Like he’s a big cat holding your tail down when you try to scramble away. 

When you beg your manager to switch shift assignments, the look you get could wilt flowers. It’s not completely your fault, even if your request is a bit inconveniencing. Johnny has your coworkers and management so wrapped around his finger that no one can even hazard a guess as to why you might be uncomfortable around him. 

It’s the only reason you haven’t complained to HR yet. There are channels and protocols for dealing with his behaviour, but watching people practically trip over themselves to please him reminds you that the likeliest outcome would be them transferring you to another store. It just doesn’t seem worth it.

You don’t think about how frazzled his words leave you for the rest of your shift. You don’t think about it because there’s nothing to think about. 

You know from the second that your manager reassigns you to women’s apparel that you’ve probably made a mistake. Customers buzz around you like gnats, like swarms of flies, and it’s only natural that you’d be compelled to swat a few. You hold on to the fraying edges of your patience with little finesse. About halfway through your shift, you get a stern talking to from your floor supervisor and put on an extra long break. You’re no less irritated when you get back though, somehow still agitated and snappy. 

Big hands clamp over your shoulders and squeeze like he’s giving you a massage, thumbs digging into the grooves of your upper back. He ignores the way you tense up.

“Hen, you’re making the customers uncomfortable with all your huffin’ and puffin’,” he whispers into your ear, a light chuckle falling out with his words. Amused by your attitude this time instead of ticked off. “If ye want, I could take ye ta the back room ta loosen ye up a bit. Make your day a little better. Dinnae think anybody will even notice if we dip away for a bit—’sides management will probably send me a gift basket if ye come back perky after a good shag.”

You shrug him off to go clock out, ignoring the way he chuckles as you storm off. No one knows if you go home and wear out the battery in your vibrator while thinking about Johnny’s words. Thinking about Johnny guiding you to his truck with a palm flat on your low back, pinkie teasing just under the waistband of your pants, before laying you out across the backseat and climbing on top of you.

You come when you think about how he’d have to keep the door open to fuck you in his car.

Unfortunately, you’re more than familiar with his sweet side as well. 

On your birthday, he comes in early with a sheet cake and organizes the employees so that the breakroom is dark when you come in. The entire staff is there when you switch on the lights, shouting your name and happy birthday, decked out in party hats and blowing into noisemakers.

It catches you off guard. Hits you right in the solar plexus and leaves you winded. You stand in the middle of the room like you’re under a spotlight and that spotlight is Johnny’s stare burning a hole in your head. For once, it doesn’t rankle. It leaves you feeling light, feathery, like floating down to earth. A coworker hands you a noisemaker and you smile until your eyes crinkle when you blow into it. 

You’re in a good enough mood that you don’t argue when he insists on sitting beside you. He got you the cake after all. Maybe it’s the least he deserves. Your goodwill lasts until Johnny tries to feed you a piece of cake with his fork; he winds up getting cake smushed all over your cheek when you turn your head away. 

“Johnny, ‘m not a baby,” you complain, wrinkling your nose when cake and icing slide down your face. “I can feed myself. This is so gross.”

“Shucks, hen, lemme get that. Shouldnae have turned your head,” Johnny curses, leaning over to scoop it off with his fingers. He holds them out to you, an offering. “Here ye go, kitty.”

You stare, horrified, until he shrugs like ‘suit yourself’ and pops them into his own mouth. Then drags the same spit covered fingers over your cheek again to keep cleaning you up. 

You can tell that it’s hopeless to complain by the way your coworkers giggle and gossip, eyes drawn to the two of you. Maybe it would be better if you were transferred. You only have so many ‘I’m not his work wife’s left in you. Something’s bound to give. You have a sneaking suspicion that it’s going to be you. 

On the walk to your car after your shift, which Johnny insists on doing like he does every time the two of you work a closing shift together, he jokingly asks if you’ve gotten your birthday spanks. He says it in that same awkward joking tone, just a bit too excited, staring at you too eagerly. Unblinking. Tuts his tongue when you tell him you’ve never heard of that before. 

You jolt and squeak at the pop on your ass when he insists on opening the door to your car and helping you in. The betrayed look you shoot him hardly penetrates through his shit-eating grin. 

“See ye tomorrow, kitty,” Johnny calls out, walking backwards away from you to where his truck is parked just a few spots away from yours. You think he would’ve parked right next to you if you hadn’t chosen a spot conveniently between two other cars. “More where that came from.”

Your hands shake against the steering wheel your whole drive home. Dreading tomorrow’s shift.

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #soap x reader #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #soap mw2 #soap x you #soap/reader #ikea soap #soap cod #john mactavish #x reader

[jhdyuiee]

Late Sesh

*ೃ༄

*ೃ༄

: ̗̀➛ pairing: IDOL!taeyong x PRODUCER!Y/N

: ̗̀➛ warnings/tags: smut!, dirty talk, co-workers, name-calling (baby & slut), protected sex, semi public sex (studio sex), fingering, breast play, secret relationship, friends w/ benefits

: ̗̀➛ wc: 1k

: ̗̀➛ a.n: hii again! this is the 2nd fic i’m releasing today 😆, i hope yall enjoy this short one since i did enjoy coming up with the story! anyways i will release more in the future before i go back to school, i promise !! anyhow i hope u enjoyed yutas & taeyongs stories, thank uu to u all who read n enjoyed it i rlly appreciate it!! i love u all && see u next time, jiji out 🤍 [link to yuta’s story: YUTA.]

ೃ༄

It was already past 12 in the morning when I sat here in my studio waiting for him to arrive.

The infamous Lee Taeyong.

It was scheduled for us to record the last B-Side off his 2nd Mini Album. Taeyong actually was the one to suggest we record late “to better set the mood.”

I had no problem with it actually, in fact I enjoyed late-night recording sessions. As the minutes passed there was still no sign of him and just when I was about to call him, there was a knock on my studio door.

I got up, opening it. Speak of the devil.

“You’re late,” I reminded the male as he plopped down on the couch I had in my studio.

“I stopped by the bathroom,” he shrugged.

“Just get inside,” I replied, handing him the lyric sheet to 404 Loading.

He took it, pecking my cheek before stepping inside. My face felt hot, probably even visibly redder than a tomato. ‘He’s too flirty.’

A couple hours later we wrapped up, and he decided on a “celebration.” So here I am in my recording studio straddling his lap and our lips colliding with each other. His hands traveled my body, and mine stayed placed on his nape.

I moaned into the kiss when I felt his hands grope my ass, causing me to start grinding on his semi-hard cock. His hands then traveled to my hips, urging me to grind harder against him. The sensation of his hard cock on my now sensitive clit made everything unbearable. It felt like I would just cum from dry-humping the male.

“Take off your shorts,” he whispered. I got up from his lap and shimmied out of my shorts, leaving me in nothing but my lace thong which was now soaked. Taeyong pulled me by the string, sitting me back on his lap. I faced the other way, his breath on my neck and his hands cupping my sex.

“Wet all for me,” he whispered into my ear again.

His hand then went under my underwear, teasing my clit and my slit. He played with them for a while until I kept squirming at his touch. “Yo-your fingers, pl-please,” I pleaded.

Taeyong scoffed lowly, before plunging in two of his fingers inside my cunt. He kept a steady pace, slowly increasing it the louder I got. “Don’t hold back, let me hear how good I make you feel,” he said, kissing my cheek.

His fingers went in and out of me, while his mouth worked it’s way on my neck, and his thumb worked it’s way on my clit. His thumb teased, circled, and pinched my clit. I was growing overstimulated from everything. He was everywhere. I loved it.

“Cumming already? Cum for me, cum on my fingers baby.”

His words triggered the knot inside my stomach undone, like a command with no hesitation of abiding by. He took his fingers out, licking them clean inside his mouth as he looked down at me. I was already a mess and we haven’t even gotten too far yet.

“Shirt off. Everything off,” he said, tugging at the material on my top.

I took it off along with my bra and underwear. I stood naked in front of him. I saw as he licked his lips, eyeing me like his next meal.

“Your body’s perfect, so fucking beautiful,” Taeyong said, as he took one breast in his hand. His other hand followed along until both hands fondled and played with my breast. Slowly then he brought me closer, and was back on his lap.

He took his hands off my breasts, his mouth soon replaced them. I watched as his mouth sucked on patches of my skin and his tongue swirled and flicked my nipples until they were hard. He let go with a pop, taking off his shirt. “Get up for a bit, I’m gonna grab a condom.”

I stood up, sitting down next to where he was and watched as he grabbed a condom from the “secret drawer” he made in my studio. He brought his sweats and boxers down, until his hard aching cock stood proudly against him.

Taeyong slid the condom down, and walked back to the couch where I waited. “Come sit on it,” he said, grabbing onto my hips. He guided me down on his cock, as it stretched my insides out. I know we’ve done this multiple times before, but I still can’t get used to his size. I moaned out his name repeatedly the more he went inside, and once it was all in he whispered into my ear. “Ready?” I nodded.

He started thrusting into me, and I soon joined in when his thrusts got faster. I bounced on him, feeling as he reached deep inside me. “Look at you, you’re doing so well.” There he goes, his praises. His praises have always turned me on even more, pushed me a little bit more.

“I lo-love it!” I yelped when he suddenly grabbed my hips and thrusted me even more.

“You feel so fucking good, so warm, so tight, so wet.”

Yes.

“You love it when I praise you, don’t you? Makes you clench around me.”

Yes.

“Fuck. Hold it in baby, wait until I’m ready to come, okay.”

“Yes, I-I will wait,” I whimpered.

“I wonder if someone will come in, and see how much of a slut you are,” he teased.

I turned to the door and saw it was unlocked, shit. Taeyong then suddenly grabbed my jaw, making me face him again. “Eyes on me slut.”

“Sorry,” I said softly.

He thrusted into me even more, the pace increasing. Taeyong’s hand then went down into my clit, playing with it. He edged me even more. “Pl-Please let me cum already,” I said with watery eyes.

Taeyong smiled, kissing my lips. “Cum with me baby.”

One brutal thrust and we both came crashing down. My head went back, my vision whitened. I heard as Taeyong groaned, his breaths trying to calm down.

“Stay here, I’ll go get something to clean you up,” Taeyong said, as he detached himself from me and laid me on the couch. I watched as he discarded the condom and left the door.

My eyes wandered to the ceiling, then closing. ‘I really just fucked Taeyong in my studio couch’ I thought. ‘Now I can’t look at it the same way any more.’ I sighed, then giggled. I waited here for his return.

For his love.

ೃ༄

© jhdyuiee

24.03.26

#taeyong #lee taeyong #taeyong lee #nct taeyong #nct 127 #nct lee taeyong #nct #nct u #nct smut #smut #taeyong smut #taeyong x reader #taeyong x y/n #taeyong x you #kpop fanfic #nct fanfic #kpop #kpop smut #kpop fic #nct imagines #nct x y/n #nct x you #taeyong fluff #nct drabbles #kpop scenarios #kpop writers #nct 127 smut #nct 127 taeyong #kpop x reader #kpop story

[littlest-dark-age]

Crawl on me, sink into me, die for me

Headcannons for perv!dark!eddie

tagging my bby who helped me brainstorm a fuck ton of this @omenhel

listen to while reading : rot away by jesse jo stark

tw for scent kink, possessive eddie, cry baby eddie, slight manipulation, mentions of periods and sanitary products, slight stalking mention, holding his dick while he pees, somno, pillow humping, slight cnc, anal, face sitting, wet dreams, cockwarming, mentions of a fleshlight, if I missed any please let me know

He would try to subtlely sniff you whenever the two of you would hug. Tucking his face into your neck and playing off his deep breath as a sigh of happiness from the affection. Thinks you smell so much better without any type of spray or deodorant on. Thinks your natural smell is much more pleasing, and loves it.

Constantly stealing little trinkets from your room/house. Used lip balm, partially ate bag of snacks, the lotion you use after you shower, underwear etc. He has a little unmarked box in his closet with everything collected. Plans to set up a display in the corner of his closet. Arranges "pictures" of the two of you for it, they're just clippings of different pictures of the two of you separate that he put together and created false scenarios for.

Eddie gets worked up whenever he sees what he thinks is you flirting with other people. Tears well up, lips poked out in a pout as he practically steams while you talk to them. When you're done, he looks at you with his big brown eyes and asks if you would rather go date them instead of some freak trailer trash. Not believeing you when you tell him that nobody could ever possibly replace him until you give him a kiss and he still clings to you for the rest of the day. Not wanting to let you up even to go the the bathroom, holding onto your clothes as he follows you around like a sad little puppy. Asks if he can come inside the bathroom with you and hold your hand during.

Bribes steve and robin to let him see what movies you've been renting, and for them to keep them back the next time they're free so he can rent them. Using the movies as another excuse to talk to you about anything he can.

Eddie would die if you ever asked to borrow his jackets because you got cold. The sight of you in them making his heart just about beat out of his chest, and later whenever you give it back, the idea of his scent on you has his eyes rolling back.

But on the other hand, he would absolutely steal your clothes as a way to be "closer" to you. Doesn't matter if they're too small and end up crop tops or if they're bigger and end up leaving him drowning in the fabric. He constantly is running his hands over the material, thinking about how many times you've worn it and the fact that you'll probably wear it once he gives it back. Not realizing the fact that he wore it and will be wrapping yourself with it, with him.

If he ever does a favor for you, the only thing he'll ever ask for in return is a kiss. Seeming so happy and smug when he asks for it, knowing you won't say no because what's the harm in a little kiss? None, as far as you're concerned. But it only fuels him and sends him deeper into the dark thoughts in his mind.

Eddie's such a cry baby when it comes to you. He whines whenever you get up from the two of you cuddling, pouting and trying to pull you back by your clothes. Practically has a tantrum like a kid who's favorite toy has been taken when he sees someone else interested in you. Which most of the time, is someone simply trying to make a friendly conversation with you. But Eddie thinks every body in the town of hawkins is trying to take the one good thing in his life away from him and he simply won't stand for it

Thought he went to died and accidentally went to heaven the first time the two of you shared a bed. Sticking to you like glue, no matter how much you might move in your sleep, he would follow and find out a comfortable way to wrap himself around your odd positions. Essentially turning into an octopus with the way he's able to cling onto you.

He can't stand the idea of you getting hurt and him not being able to help. Starts to stash first aid kits and whatever you might need for an injury every where. He doesn't want you going to anybody else besides him whenever you need something, especially when you're in pain or need help.

Will "visit" your work place every few hours to check up on you and make sure you're still there. Hates the thought of not knowing where you are and being able to get in touch with you. It worries him, even though the logical part of his brain knows you're probably simply just busy

(If you menstruate) Eddie would absolutely change out your tampon for you. On his knees, not caring if he gets anything on his hands. Looking up at you to make sure its comfortsble and okay. He'd make sure your pad is right where you need it, checking in with you that its positioned right. Always makes sure your cups are clean and that they sit right. His free hands softly stroking your leg waiting for you to make sure he did it good enough.

If you ever joked about holding him while he went to the bathroom, he would instantly agree. He doesn't see anything odd or weird about it. Gently instructing you on how to shake and everything needed. Now he brings you to the bathroom with him constantly, telling you that he has a special job he needs help with. He considers it, simply couple bonding.

He knows he shouldn't be so obsessed with you, shouldn't want to follow you like a lost puppy. But he can't help himself. Every moment, he realized, is spent thinking about you. If you'd like it if he wore a different shirt, if you needed help, if someone was trying to damage your image of him....

Eddie wouldn't know what to do if you started thinking the same way hawkins does. Thinking that he's a devil worshiper when the only thing he's ever worshiped is you. He would bow at your feet if it would make you happy, would let you take your anger out on him as long as it served you. He can't believe someone like you would let someone like him ever touch you. But he will never take it for granted. Thanking you for every caress of his hair, of every kiss, of every word uttered to him.

Nsfw

About cums in his pants the first time you even so much as lay your legs across his lap, much less sitting in it. He bites back a groan every time you shift ever so slightly, and thinks it's you teasing him about how hard he gets for you.

Has used your hand to jerk off when you're at his and staying the night, while kissing you as you slept.

Constantly sprays your scent on a pillow that's your replacement for whenever you have to leave. Clings to it and even humps it sometimes. About cries when he cums on it because then it won't smell like you when he washes it.

Eddie often sneaks into your bedroom, after a while of dating he convinced you too start to leave your window unlocked in case he ever wanted to surprise you. He "surprises" you a couple of times a week while you're asleep. Carefully climbing in, making sure to keep his steps light as possible. He stands by the window for a moment, watching your chest rise and fall with every breath, before slinking over to you and crawling under the covers. Running his hands up and down your soft legs, his eyes practically roll back as he nuzzles his face into your thighs. Pressing sloppy kisses up to your cunt where he doesn't even bother taking off your underwear and flattening his tongue. Lapping at you while he humps your soft sheets, his hands on your hips to keep you pressed against his face in case you move in your sleep.

Always has his hands under your shirt, sometimes just softly stroking your warm skin. Other times, his hands start to drift up to your chest. Feeling you up with the excuse of his hands being cold, while he pinches and plays with your nipples. Ignoring your whining about him being mean and that he shouldn't be doing it.

Eddie tries to convince you to do anal. Surprising you by pushing his thumb into your tight hole when you're on your hands and knees, slipping his tongue in while he gives you sloppy head. Anything he can do to convince you that he would make it feel good for you and that its not dirty.

The amount of wet dreams he has about you is embarrassing, especially because they're not intense or hard core. Most of the time it's you letting him explore your body and get to know every single inch of it. Or even, him sucking on your chest while you brush his hair out of his face for him.

Cried the first time the two of you had sex, which was his first time. Was nervous about telling you but felt it would be the best option. Stutters out the fact that he's still a virgin and expects you to laugh at him. Shock washes over him when you still climb into his lap, telling him that it's okay and that you'll take good care of him. Gets so loud while you ride him that at first you stick your fingers in his mouth but he's still too loud. You reach over and grab your disgarded panties and shove them into his loud mouth. Eddie clenches his eyes shut at the feeling of the already wet fabric in order to try to not instantly cum but it doesn't help. Loud moans muffled from the fabric and frantic bucking of his hips let you know he's about to cum in you.

Steals your body products all the time. Uses things like your lotion and body wash(if he's in the shower) to jerk off with. Just grins whenever you complain about running out of product. He's tempted to replace the difference in your lotion with his cum..

Will beg on his knees to get you to sit on his face. Head shoved into your lower stomach, grip tight on your shirt while he begs for it over and over. Showing you how desperate he is for your thighs to smother him, how he wouldn't want you to stop even if he was choking. He tells you he needs it like he need the very air he breathes.

"Oh god. Hah, fuck baby. You feel so good. Gonna squeeze me to death. Just like that, fuck yes, love you. Love you so much. No one else can make me feel this way. I'd do whatever you want as long as you let me stay like this! Hah"

Loves and lives for cockwarming, it always makes him feel closer to you. Being able to just be in you while the two of you snuggle or take a nap. He thinks its a good way for the two of you get closer, as if that's what your relationship lacked.

So loud. Just, so loud. He rambles during sex so much. You might get the cops called on you because he sounds like he's being murdered rather than having you ride him. Usually also crying from how overwhelmed he gets, but will pout and look up at you all bleary eyes if you stop. Sniffling and asking if something's wrong, if you'd rather be on bottom. Instantly starts trying to flip you over while his cheeks are still wet with tears becauee he thinks that's what you're asking for.

Went beet red when you found his fleshlight, tucked away in a drawer when you were looking for clothed. He tried to stutter out that it wasn't his but the two of you knew the truth. The tips of his ears turnjng bright red when you tease him and ask him if he uses it when you're not there, if he says your name and pretends its you he's fucking. The only response he can muster up is a shaky nod, hoping you don't notice how hard just talking about it got him. Cries and whines when you make him fuck it instead of you, telling him to show you exactly how he does it. Practically sobbing that he wanted to cum in you while thrusting into the plastic toy.

#perv!eddie munson #perv!eddie #dark eddie munson #dark eddie #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson headcannon #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #dark!eddie munson #stranger things hc #stranger things x reader #stranger things blurb #stranger things vol 1 #stranger things #stranger things x y/n #stranger things headcanons #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine

[not-neverland06]

One More Spring

One-shot

Tagging: @dumblittlebunbun bc you’d commented on a previous slasher post

Bo Sinclair x fem!reader A/N: This was a strange little Drabble I came up with when I was experimenting with a different writing style. Summary: You only have one wish, to make it to one more spring in Ambrose. You know that the women don’t last long, used and tossed aside, you don’t have big hopes. Just one last prayer.

You could always tell what kind of day it would be by how the door closed. Maybe it was because you’d grown up with strict parents, but you could read a mood based off their footsteps. 

For now, you felt comfortable and remained lounged on your crappy lawn chair, trying to get some sun back on your legs after winter. The screen door closed lightly behind Bo as his heavy boots made their way to you. 

You didn’t bother lifting your sunglasses as you felt him hovering over you. “What’re you doing?” His voice was gruff and he sounded like he was panting. 

“Trying to get some color back.”

You could hear him scoff and glanced to the side to see him stealing a swig from your beer. “Don’t have better things to be doing?”

“Like what?” You snarked, rolling over and huffing when his eyes immediately went to your ass. Probably a good thing you chose a skimpy pair of bottoms, he was always more agreeable when he was horny. “Playing housewife?”

He chuckled under his breath, kneeling down beside you and flicking your sunglasses up. “Yeah, maybe.”

You rolled your eyes and swatted his hands away. You propped your head up on your arms and glared at him. “I’ll put on an apron for you later, for now, buzz off.”

He shook his head and stood up. “Don’t know where all this attitude came from.” You yelped as his hand came down on your ass. He laughed loudly, walking away much too smug for your liking. “Better not be a damn thing under that apron later!” He shouted as he went back into the house. 

You looked up to tell him off and finally caught a glimpse of his coveralls. Blood coated the bottom of his pants and you shrank back into your chair. You put your head back down on your arms, closing your eyes and ignoring the way your stomach twinged in anxiety. 

As requested, you’d made dinner in an apron and nothing else. Bo had subsequently banished Vincent from the kitchen. You’d felt bad when you’d woken up in the morning, you hadn’t gotten a chance to slip him any food. You’d passed out pretty much the second Bo was done with you. 

Your eyes darted to the bloody coveralls on your bathroom floor. You sighed, legs aching as you got off the bed. You collected his dirtied uniform and the laundry basket and made your way downstairs. 

You got started on the laundry, kicking the old washing machine a few times to get it going. It had been on its last leg for a decade, it was a matter of months before it finally conked out. You threw the clothes in, fingers snagging on a lacy number at the bottom. 

You frowned, tugging it out and holding it up to the light. You’d never seen this before. It certainly hadn’t come from your bag. “You like it?”

You jumped, whirling around with the shirt clutched to your chest. “Jesus, Bo, you scared me.”

He chuckled, face still slightly mussed from sleep. He was only in a white t-shirt and pajama pants, rare to see him in anything other than working clothes. “Snagged that off a tourist yesterday, thought you’d look good in it.”

I thought you would like it. 

I know you’ve got a few shirts like that in your closet.

You always look pretty in this color, baby.

You’d heard it all a thousand different ways. The same sentence over and over and over again. You were haunted by the women of Ambrose. The ones who came before you, who’d tried and failed to play house with him. The ones who were yet to come. 

And the woman who would inevitably replace you when you messed up for the final time. 

Your nails dug into the lace, feeling it give beneath them as you smiled at Bo. “I love it, thank you.”

He hugged you, lips lingering against your forehead before he wandered off to start some coffee. You turned around, eyes going back to the shirt. You’d burn it if you could. Rip it apart and scream, instead you tossed it in the wash with the rest of your clothes. You let the lid slam shut, the noise jarring you out of your stupor. 

You forced on a happy face and walked into the kitchen. Vincent was lingering near the entrance and you offered him a gentle smile. “Sorry about dinner,” you whispered as you passed him. He shook his head and took a seat at the table. 

You grabbed the ingredients you needed, rustling through Bo’s ancient cookbook for the French toast recipe you’d found the other day. One day, you’d run out, you wouldn’t have any more delicacies to surprise them both with. 

Bo would tire of the same repetitive food. The same face every morning. The same sounds and movements in the bedroom. You’d become used up, lose the new shine everyone loved on their toys. 

You clenched the spatula in your hand, gritting your teeth as you cooked some eggs for the both of them. You brought it over to the table, scooping it onto their plates, Bo got the bigger serving. Bo always got what he wanted.

Your mind flashed to the garage, the straps there waiting for you. “Hey!”

You jumped, pan nearly dropping out of your hands as you stared at the dropped eggs on his lap. “Sorry, I’m sorry.” You rushed to the counter, grabbing a towel and kneeling down, frantically trying to get them off his pants. 

A calloused hand landed on your head, you jumped and looked up at Bo. Your heart raced, expecting malice or a sneer that meant the last nail had fallen and your time was up. Instead he was smiling gently down at you, hand smoothing the hair from your face. “Just a spill, darlin’, get the bacon ‘fore it burns.”

You backed away instantly, taking the egg filled rag with you as you went back to the stove. You flipped the bacon, turning off the burner and risking a glance over your shoulder at Bo. 

He was sipping his coffee peacefully, not a worry in the world. But you could see how tightly Vincent had his fork gripped, the way it shook slightly as he placed it back on his plate. Seems you weren’t the only one who’d thought your time was up. 

When would it happen?

When spring returned and the birds started chirping their early morning song again?

You wouldn’t mind if that was when it ended. If you got to make it to another birthday, that would be even better. You’d like to experience another holiday, or Halloween. Perhaps that was too much to ask for. 

You’d settle for just seeing the buds return to the trees in Ambrose once more. Pink blooming in the absence of death. That would be lovely. 

Alright, you’ll take that. 

Make it through one more spring and you can happily let go. 

You could hear the women screaming as you walked down the stairs of the house. See glimpses of who they used to be. Hair clips you knew weren’t yours, underwear buried in the back of drawers that you’d never touched. Necklaces and jewelry that didn’t match yours. 

You could hear their voices, disorienting and panicked as you hung the laundry on the line. Felt like the birds echoed their mourning cries in their melody. 

You saw the red lines around your wrist as you pulled off the dry sheets. You tried not to look at them too much. Bo liked to touch them, rub his fingers along your wrist and admire them. He thought it brought you closer, linked you together somehow. 

You hated looking at them. Hated the sight of the worn skin. All it reminded you of was the time below. Your pictures that were tacked above the others. 

You heard a scream further away from the house, bloodcurdling and echoing through the air of Ambrose. It would never make it out. Never travel past the forest bordering the ghost town. You wondered if it was a product of your own fractured psyche or another masterpiece in the works. 

Your question was answered when you sat on your knees in the bathroom that night, trying to scrub the crimson out of Bo’s coveralls. 

You liked your time with Vincent. You like the candles he kept scattered around his studio, nails dug into them to help him keep time. He’d sit you down on the couch and would position you like a doll. You’d let him, mind going numb as you lost time for as long as he wanted to draw you. 

You knew he liked you the most out of the other girls. You learned sign language for him, communicating with him when Bo got sick of both of you. He enjoyed your face the most. It wasn’t model perfect or the type of beauty people wrote songs about. 

He liked the normalcy of it, the slightly blandness. He’d told you once, on a nice night, that it was your eyes that gave you life. Not the color of them, but the light behind them. 

You wondered if he would draw you again when Bo snubbed them out. 

You folded Bo’s clothes, tucking them neatly into his drawers and tossing the basket back into the hall. You moved towards the bed, straightening the sheets and tucking them in tight. You liked it tight, he hated it. 

Your one act of rebellion. 

It honestly wasn’t hard to fall into this role with Bo. You’d known if you’d wanted to survive the only chance you had was to make him happy. In a way it was peaceful here. It was quiet and you never had to worry about anything.

You cleaned the house, cooked the food, were the perfect housewife and he’d be content and so would you. He let you have your own time, surprising you with journals to write in. Or he’d dig through tourists bags and bring you back books he’d thought you’d like. 

You didn’t get to go into the city with him, doubted you ever would, but you were okay with this. 

You picked up his watch, opening up his night table’s drawer to tuck it away. Your eyes landed on a bright splash of red and your fingers froze from where they hovered above the handle. You glanced over your shoulder, heart thrumming. 

You turned back towards the drawer and carefully slid the Polaroid out. 

A picture, a woman with gorgeous red hair splayed along her pillow. She looked beautiful. 

Or she would. 

If it wasn’t for the gash across the neck, so deep it showed you the inside of her throat. Crimson dripped from the wound, pooling around her and onto the bed below her. 

Your eyes darted to the bed to your left, hands wrinkling the pristinely kept picture. Without thinking your hand dove further into the drawer, probing, digging, searching for something. 

You didn’t know what until you hissed, hand jerking back as blood blistered out of the gash on your finger. You placed the picture back, popping your finger into your mouth and licking up the metallic taste of your blood. 

You used your other hand to wrap around the handle of the blade, tugging out the large kitchen knife and staring down at it blankly. 

One more spring.

You put the knife back, straightening out his drawer and leaving the haunted bedroom to clean your wound. 

You woke to the sound of birds chirping. To your left was the window, pink buds blooming across the branch of the tree across from the house. Above you was Bo, straddling your waist, a knife held tightly in his hand. 

“Well,” you wrapped a hand around his, calmly pulling the knife down to your throat. You’d thought you’d be more upset. Fight, beg, plead for one last winter, or just another day. One last good day. But you were tired, you’d been slipping since summer. Bits and pieces of yourself floating along the wind, joining the cacophony of lost women. “Aren’t you going to do it?”

Bo stared down at you, his brows furrowed. The whites of his eyes were red and you knew he’s been struggling with this for a while. You weren’t sure how long he’d been sitting above you, but you knew it had been before you’d woken. 

You were thankful, at least, that he had let you see the spring morning before he did this. 

He yanked his hand out of yours, “Crazy bitch,” he muttered. He scoffed and shook his head, jumping off of you. Your head lolled to the left, you opened up the window, inhaling the fresh smell of new life. 

You made it another winter and another spring. Your face was plastered along Vincent’s wall. Statues of you adorned Ambrose but you didn’t occupy a single one of them. 

On the outside MISSING flyers with your face faded and fell from lamp posts. Your name was forgotten from the minds of those who’d been alive to mourn you. You became another statistic, another lost soul. An old news story that would be used in classrooms. 

What happened to her?

Is she still alive?

Was she the first?

Will we ever know?

No. They wouldn’t. You were the girl on the paper trampled beneath frantic feet as they rushed to work. Tossed aside in the garbage when they were done with the morning paper. To the rest of them, you were forgotten. 

To Ambrose, you were their muse. Inspiration behind their every move. 

Every morning you’d wake up to a blade pressed against your throat. And every morning Bo would leap away from you and shake his head. He’d never do it, you knew that now, and it provided you with a careless freedom that freed you from the shackles you’d placed upon yourself. 

You didn’t spread your legs and let him take what he wanted anymore. You didn’t submit under his temper, you fought back, raised your voice and threw glass bottles right back at him. You didn’t let him bend Vincent under his thumb or scream at him just because he could. 

You pushed, every day, that invisible line that separated you from the other ghosts in town. Yet, somehow, you never breached it, only managed to extend it. 

“I want to go with you.”

Bo froze, after a moment he fixed his cap and grabbed his keys from the tray. He didn’t look at you as he spoke, “Well, come on then.”

You followed him through the front door, hopping in the truck when he opened it up to you. The engine rumbled, vibrating the seat below you and his hand slid from the keys to your thigh. He squeezed, as if reminding himself you were there, he was really doing this. 

You could hardly believe it yourself. 

Bo rounded the bend from the gas station and you felt your heart racing. A hummingbird flitting through your chest, frantically trying to break from the cage of your ribs. He pulled through the old campground, the one you’d been on before your car had mysteriously broken down. 

You couldn’t remember who it was you were with. What their names were.

You’re halfway certain one of them had been a lover. His name lost to the past. 

Bo pulls onto the highway and you brace yourself. You’re not sure for what. Perhaps for him to change his mind, a blade buried in your gut. To start pouring blood down the front of your shirt. Or maybe the car will wreck, divine intervention deciding that neither of you get another day. 

Nothing happens. Bo slams his hand against the truck’s stereo and rock crackles through the speakers. His hand returns to your thigh and he hums along to the music. After a moment you relax, rolling the window down and letting the breeze cool you down. 

He makes it to the city, smaller than where you used to live, but a mammoth compared to Ambrose. You buy groceries, marveling over products you’d forgotten even existed. You finally manage to buy the tampons you like instead of getting lucky that another woman has them in her bag. 

You harass him into letting you go to a secondhand store, buying a shirt for you. Yours and yours alone. It’s simple, long sleeved and white, nothing special, but it means everything to you. When you make it back to Ambrose, the familiar stifling air and aged walls, you bury the shirt in your dresser. 

You’ll never wear it and never part with it. This shirt will never be anyone else’s but yours. You’ll never allow another woman to get her hands on it. Even when you’re gone you’ll protect it. 

“What do you think?”

Bo shrugged, taking another swig of his beer as his eyes roved over the journal in his hand. You sat on the edge of your seat, eagerly watching him read. Perhaps a bit too eagerly, he sensed it, pouncing on the chance to make you vulnerable. 

“You know I don’t read much, baby.”

You rolled your eyes and moved to sit next to him. “I’m aware, it’s real sad, Bo. Now,” you nudged his shoulder with your own. “What do you think?”

He chuckled, marking the page and tossing it on the coffee table. His legs spread and you took the invitation, slotting yourself in his lap and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He grinned up at you, “It was good. Real fuckin’ good.”

You smiled, cheeks puffing out with the force of it. “Really?”

He nodded his head, “Mhm.” He leaned forward, taking you with him, and placed his beer on the table. You reached behind yourself, blindly readjusting it onto a coaster. He rolled his eyes, but you saw the fondness in them. 

His hands moved down your back, squeezing your ass before they landed on your thighs. Rough calluses spread along smooth skin and goosebumps prickled under his touch. You don’t know why you let him read the strange disjointed novel you’d been writing. 

Maybe because you knew no one would ever see it. Maybe you wanted some part of yourself permanently embedded into his brain. Either way, you enjoyed the way his face changed as he took it in. The expressions shifting with each new sentence. 

“You got a fucked up little mind, you know that?”

You hummed, nodding your head and leaning forward to slot your lips against his own. It was his own fault you were like this. He’d bent you, broke you down, used you until you were a shadow of the woman who used to exist within your body. 

Maybe he had won. 

There was a part of you, a spirit, floating somewhere beneath his garage, that had once belonged to you. 

You ground your hips down against his, biting down on his lip until copper flooded your mouth. He didn’t get angry, just gripped your hair and moved you both to the cushions. He groaned into your open mouth, pinning your body below his and manipulating you how he wanted. 

Then again, maybe you’d ruined him too. 

You shouldn’t be alive. You shouldn’t still have a throat to drag air down, but here you were. Shoving against him and forcing him to submit to your whims. You weren’t the only one who’d changed, and you both knew it. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the movie House of Wax (2005), but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

#bo sinclair x reader #Slashers x reader #house of wax x reader #house of wax 2005 #Slasher x reader #slashers x y/n #Slashers x you #bo Sinclair x you #bo Sinclair x y/n

[tainbocuailnge]

Hey, sorry to send an ask without us knowing each other 😅

But I just saw you in the tags in the post about jrpg translations, saying that FF14 has better translations in other languages.

Can you talk more about that?😊

I played in English before and it was okay. I tried German too, but was a bit disappointed. So hearing you say that, I'm genuinely curious to hear more!

I've been replaying msq in german and wrapped up tsukuyomi just yesterday and it's insane the extent to which german is more thematically consistent and has stronger and more nuanced characterisation than english. i think the german script is more poetic too, despite english trying so much harder to sound flowery and important. I've been translating bits and pieces to my friends and I keep feeling like I'm presenting them with that botched jesus painting restoration because I just don't know how to convey how beautifully constructed some of these sentences are. the german translation team are genuinely very good writers.

as an example of what kind of differences we're dealing with here, and since it's what I finished most recently, in german from the start there's a lot more emphasis on how it was systematic mistreatment from the "good old" doma that lead yotsuyu to where she is, and that her cruelty is specifically retribution for the way doma has failed her (as opposed to english trying to frame it as in large part to satisfy her personal sadistic impulses). gosetsu is repeatedly shown to be sympathetic towards her for this even while she's actively trying to hurt and kill him (as opposed to english having him be sarcastically dismissive of her), which makes it make way more sense that he'd take tsuyu in his care later even without the "also she reminds him of his dead daughter" bit (that they do still tack on at the end but doesn't feel like a handwave excuse as much because of aforementioned consistent sympathy).

in english hien has several lines showing he's hostile to and wary of tsuyu and waiting for the right opportunity to kill her, but in german hien brings up killing tsuyu one (1) time and when gosetsu argues for her right to live hien agrees, and the difficulty in keeping her around is not his personal dislike but that it's hard to guarantee her safety when the doman people will want violent retribution in turn (in clear parallel to lyse trying to keep fordola from getting lynched without a fair trial). because german hien is not constantly talking about how he wishes he could just kill yotsuyu for her crimes, it doesn't read as pathetically incompetent of him to let her sneak out of the mansion multiple times because he was treating her as harmless citizen of doma instead of an enemy of the state (because german in general emphasises a lot that she SHOULD have had a place in doma), and her backstory is taken seriously as part of his motivation to create a better doma that she perhaps could've had a peaceful life in

there are many cases like this where german displays a nuance that english doesn't, and from very early on. in english arr cid ran away from the empire out of moral disagreements, in german it's clear that he also holds a complicated resentment over losing his father to project meteor and then his replacement father figure gaius to a similar mad search for power, something that in english doesn't come up until all the way in shadowbringers with bozja. in english castrum meridianum livia says she's going to kill you because gaius is hers, in german she's mad at you because you killed her friend mr cape westwind and is going to kill you before you can take gaius from her too.

in german heavensward thordan sounds much more convinced of his principles. when you defeat him in english he's horrified of how you could possibly overcome the amount of faith he's powered by, in german he's horrified that the future of ishgard will be thrown into chaos in the name of your pursuit of truth. gaius sounds more convinced of the ideals he spouts too, and it feels more plausible that he has people willing to die for him and his ideals. in german the similarities between nidhogg and estinien are clearer, and when nidhogg possesses him he insidiously frames it as an act of kindness.

in german, many random moments of misogyny in the english script outright don't exist. matoya doesn't make fun of alphinaud for looking like a girl. alphinaud isn't dismissive of alisaie in binding coils. most of the lines in english that insult or dismiss yotsuyu as an evil whore don't exist in german, and lines that weren't about her at all in english turn out to express sympathy towards her in german. in english hydaelyn had minfilia fuse with her by force, in german it was minfilia's idea. in english i was bothered by lyse being made head of the resistance because she sounds so unsure of what to do and think right until the end, in german she's full of conviction and clarity of purpose. I'm sincerely convinced the english team hates women.

because german doesn't go out of its way to sound like some kind of ancient wizard prophecy at every turn, several scenes which in english were confusing convey their information clearly in german (I'm particularly thinking about the minfilia anitower scene here). characters talk clearly and with a lot of personality that english fails to achieve because everyone has to speak faux old english. and because most characters talk like real people instead of ancient wizards in german it's extra cute that urianger does in fact talk like an ancient wizard.

as a more personal gripe, I have noticed several moments where the english script centers the warrior of light and their importance and struggles, while in german those scenes where about, like, the character the scene is about. german wol is still hydaelyn's favourite freak of nature and everyone loves them obviously, but as the example most fresh in my memory there's the scene in early post-stb where you visit fordola in her cell and she unwillingly looks into wol's past thanks to her fake echo. in english, she asks wol how they can bear all the suffering other people have put them through. in german, she asks how wol manages to stay sane when the echo makes you so deeply aware of the suffering of others. in the flashback of her past you see in that scene the german script also mentions that her face tattoo is an ala mhigan design, which makes it clearer than it was in english that she was specifically trying to rise the ranks of the imperial military as ala mhigan and makes her motivations more coherent - namely wanting to prove both the ala mhigans who hated her for being garlean and the garleans who hated her for being ala mhigan wrong by achieving success as both (and the power to lash out at both).

there have been very, very few moments where I actually thought the english script was better (shiva's trial lines and like, one line hien says at the steppe, that's it), and the vast majority of the time german is anywhere from about the same quality as english to just insanely better. the english script is so concerned with sounding cool and important that it becomes scared of letting characters be motivated by emotion. it's plagued by the kind of insincerity and insecurity that plagues so much of western media and leads to movie superheroes making fun of their own costumes. the english script will write one good line and then keep repeating that line ad nauseam and yet still fail to achieve the amount of internal thematic consistency the german script has, because english is relying on this handful of cool lines to carry its emotional core instead of actually letting the emotional core drive the characters. combined with the consistent pattern of dumbing down and/or vilifying female characters frankly I want to beat koji fox with hammers.

I'm actually very curious what about the german script disappointed you. the german voice acting is not good so if that's what turned you off I completely get it (I play with jp voices myself) but that's separate from the actual writing. these kind of things will ultimately always come down to personal preference so i won't judge but as you can tell from these several paragraphs i feel very strongly about the quality of the german script so I find it hard to imagine why you think that

#riverrabbits #king of asks #efksiv #ffxiv

[iron-strangers]

we will raise warriors

Pairing: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin) x Female Jedi!Reader

Tags: Established Relationship, Mand’alor Din Djarin, PWP, Vaginal sex, Creampie

CW: Breeding Kink, No use of Y/N, Smut (MINORS DNI)

Length: 2.036 words

Read this on AO3: we will raise warriors

Link to the series on ao3, tumblr

-

“Happy love day!” You greet Din at the front door of your home by tackling him with a bear hug, armors and all, presenting a small gift, wrapped rather messily, with a huge, silly red bow on top. “Got you a little something, cyare!”

Din just walked into your home, a grand three-bedroom apartment-style room in the eastern wing of Keldabe Palace. I want to see the sunrise every morning, cyare, you had said when Din asked you to pick your family wing upon moving to the ancient, though newly renovated palace. Din had no preference. No actually, he’d prefer not to live in the old castle. He’d rather live in a house in the countryside, somewhere near a body of water, where he can enjoy nature with his family, away from the responsibility of being The Mand’alor. But anywhere is just as good if he has his beautiful riduur and their foundling with him, Din claimed.

You help your riduur to pull off his cape, hanging the long fabric on its stand near the door. Gone is the old and tattered one, replaced by a floor-length, crimson, soft fabric that more often than not got folded into a birikad for Grogu. You excitedly rush him towards the karyai, sitting him down on a couch and placing the gift in his hand. Not used to getting presents, Din eagerly removes his helmet before pulling the red ribbon off, revealing a small T-shaped metal in a transparent box. He stares at it with a puzzled look on his face before looking back up at you with his head tilted sideways.

“Is this, uh, a new bullet?”

”It is not a bullet, don't you dare to load it into your blaster,” You scold, snatching the box from your riduur's hand. “You remember how we’ve talked about trying for a baby? We’ve been planning it for a while, and then there was that time when we kinda, you know, get excited about it in the throne room?” Oh yeah, Din can’t forget that one, nuh-uh, top ten moment of his life. “So, here it is. This is an IUD, mine. It’s my birth control. I went to the healer this morning to take it out.”

Din stutters, his eyes wide open, looking back and forth at you and the IUD, so expressive behind his helmet, trying to process what he just heard. You smile at him patiently, your hands steady on his shoulder, rubbing tight circles with your thumbs, giving him some time to process the news. A few seconds later, the frown morphs into a smile, a huge grin now adorning his handsome face as he then pulls you to his lap and claims your lips in a flurry of hungry kisses. His hands come up to your jaw to cup your face, holding you ever-so-gently as he peppers your face with kisses, stealing giggles out of you.

“How soon can we start?” Din asks eagerly, beaming to you like a verd’ika who just got his first set of beskar’gam, holding you by your ass and lifting you both from the couch, ignoring your protests, holding tightly around his neck.

“Well, my healer said it might take a few weeks to purge the hormones outta my system, but she also said that anything can happen,” You shrug, absently playing with the tuft of hair reaching his neck, he needs a haircut, you duly noted. “Anyways, the elders are begging for us to start training heirs already, so how about you give us what we all want and fuck a baby into me, ner Mand'alor ?” You lean in to whisper playfully, lightly nibbling on his earlobe.

You watch with a smirk when Din is, once again, completely at a loss for words. His pupils are dark with desire and you can feel him starting to harden in his pants against the swell of your ass. Smirking, you grind down on his growing erection, earning a groan from him, always so easy to tease. “Dont start something you can't finish, Rid'ika,” He warns you, pressing your back against the bedroom wall.

“But we all know how much you want to,” you tease, trailing your hand down his beskar-covered chest all the way to the tenting length straining his flightsuit pants. “Want me all soft and pregnant, looking absolutely yours . Your riduur, your baby- Oh !”

Din throws you on the bed, ignoring your squeals. He immediately crawls on top of you and pins you down with a kiss. His hand sneaks down to pull your armors off one by one. He studies you thoroughly, bringing your hand to his lips and kissing his left vambrace that you have worn since your riduurok. He brushes your robes aside, sliding his hand down your belly, admiring your body for a moment. You take his gloves off, wanting to feel your riduur's blaster-calloused fingers on your skin. Your breath catches and the feeling of his hands on you makes you shudder. His middle finger slips beneath the panties and between your slick folds.

“So fucking wet for me, cyar’ika.” Din's lips are back on yours, swallowing your gasps as he circles your sensitive nub. You break the kiss with a sob when you feel Din gathering up your slick on his fingers and he nudges his thick fingers into your heat. You gasp as he slides his fingers deep, crooking his fingers into your sweet spot.

“Right there, Din,” you whine, throwing your head back onto the bed. Your riduur’s hand travels up, cupping your breast and rubbing the pad of his thumb over your pebbled nipple, pulling and pinching. He watches as you chew on your lower lip, trying to stave off your moans. 

“Fuck mesh’la , I can’t wait until these are filled with milk. Aching and leaking all day long until I can milk you dry.” Din leans closer to you, rolling your nipple with his tongue. His mouth closes around you and he sucks hard while his other fingers are still leisurely pumping in and out of you, ignoring your pleas.

“Please what, cyar'ika? Where's that smart mouth now, hmm?”

“Please fuck me! Need you to come inside, fill me up with our verd’ika, please, ner alor- ah!” 

Din swears hearing your needy whines, eager to give whatever his riduur's wants. He pulls his fingers out of you and taps your drenched folds with the tip of his cock. Din growls, he has denied himself for way too long, tucking his face in the crook of your neck he buries himself all the way into you in one thrust, knocking the breath out of you. 

“Force, you fill me up so fucking good .” You moan, letting your head fall down the pillow and grabbing a fistful of the sheet as Din immediately pounds into you. Your walls flutter around his girth, struggling to take him. 

Din burns with desire and his primal need to breed takes over. One rough snap of his hips makes you scream as the head of his cock nudges your sweet spot just right, severing the connection to your brain for a moment.

“You like that, cyar’ika?” He leans down, kissing your sweaty temples. You nod, trapped underneath your riduur, wailing and begging and taking everything Din is giving you. He claims your lips and kisses every plea from your mouth before he pulls back, indulging himself by staring down where his cock is buried inside of you. His length is wet and sticky with your arousal and his pre-cum, making him growl and pace himself harder, faster, rougher.

“I know how much you want it, rid'ika- fuck , look at you, made such a mess on my cock, mesh’la. You don’t want me to stop fucking this pussy until you’re all round and swollen with my ad’ika, huh?” 

“Yes, please, Mand'alor, please fuck a baby into me, wanna make you a buir.”

“Manda - Soak my cock, mesh'la, c'mon, gonna get you all wet and pregnant.” he snarls, spitting filthy promises as he thrust harder. “That’s it, cyar’ika. Keep on squeezing me like that, sweet girl. Not gonna stop fucking this tight pussy until you're all nice and full with our verd'ika.”

“Yes, yes, fuck yes, Din, cyare,” you moan, rolling your hips greedily. “Wanna give you a baby, Din. Come inside me, please. Please give me your cum, oh, Force-”

Din can’t control himself any longer, he growls gutturally, his fingers digging into your hips as his pace grows sloppier and he shoots the first of his hot, heavy load deep inside of you, holding you hard against his front and rutting his hips as he pumps his seeds into your willing womb. The feeling of Din's seeds flooding your insides is overwhelming, your mind is whiting out, legs trembling and you’re cumming hard, milking the thick shaft, enticing him to pump more loads into you until it leaks down your thigh. 

“Don't waste any drop now, cyar’ika.” Din hums, grinning and kissing on your jaw. Slowly he eases himself out of you and watches his cum dripping out of you. He tuts with dismay, gently fingering it back into your puffy cunt, then he gives you his fingers to suck clean. 

You settle in his arms, making out with him lazily when he pulls away and smiles, his hand a comforting weight on your tummy. His smile gives you butterflies. Running your fingers up and down his forearm, you beam to him and he almost tips over with the weight of his love and adoration for you. 

“I'm so excited,” you whisper softly, admiring the blissful look on your riduur’s face as he sounds his agreement and presses a tickling kiss on your nose. Din plays with your hair, brushing the strands sticking on your sweaty forehead back. “Mesh’la? I like the name Aranar,” Din thinks, and you beam at him, nodding and testing the name on your tongue.

The sun is setting, painting a beautiful glow on both his and your mismatched vambraces. There's a peaceful silence between you, the sound of his breathing evening out lulls you to sleep, almost swallowing you into a slumber when you remember something-

“Oh, I have another present for you, an actual present!”

Din tries to protest, claiming you’ve already given him the best present in the galaxy when you shush him, levitating an equally small box from the side table. You open the box, revealing two identical keys on a plush velvet. Din eyes you curiously, picking one key up.

“Remember that one house we saw near your covert?”

“The one with the big yard near the pond? Did you- No, cyar’ika!”

“It’s ours! No, listen to me,” you huff when your riduur tries to protest again. “We can’t live in the palace forever, Din. I won’t let you to. You don’t like it here, and therefore, neither do I. I figured we’d stay here until Mandalore is stable enough, or until we’ve reached about seventy percent of our rebuilding goal, then we’ll move out. We’ll get speeders to get here every morning, show our adi’ke around, then we’ll come home when the day is done, to a place where the Council of Alor can't steal you away from me. We can make it work, my love.” 

Din stares at you adoringly with his big brown eyes, too overwhelmed with the weight of your love to honestly do or say anything other than holding you close and kissing you, caressing your jaw lovingly with each kisses, murmuring a soft thank you over and over again against your lips. “I’ve never- No one’s ever do this much for me,” he mumbles, holding your hand to his heart. “You don’t like it here too? Why don’t you tell me?”

“Oh cyare, you deserve the world and you gave so much for me and our foundling, so of couse I will try to give you a place we both can call home, where we can watch our aliit grows,” You lean into his touch, nuzzling his hand with your jaw, offering him a smile. “And no, I don’t like this place, the force ghosts of previous Mand’alors are creeping me the fuck out!”

“THE WHAT NOW?”

-

Mando'a translations

Karyai: main living room of a traditional mandalorian house

Riduur: Spouse

Birikad: Baby harness

Mand’alor: Ruler of mandalorians

Alor: Leader

Cyare / cyar’ika: beloved

Riduurok: Love bond / Marriage agreement

Mesh’la: Beautiful

Verd’ika: Little warrior

Aranar: Defend

#expanding clan mudhorn #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin #din djarin x you #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x female reader #the mandalorian x you #star wars #star wars fanfiction

[writingforstraykids]

More than friends

Pairing: Minho x Chan x fem!reader / Minchan x fem!reader

Word Count: 5069

Summary: Having a crush on both Minho and Chan, you hate seeing them stupidly in love and happy. One day, you snap at Chan, hurting Minho in the process. Minho picks you up the next day since you two have a lot to talk about and sets some boundaries...

Tags/Warnings: angst, emotional hurt/comfort, jealousy, friends to lovers, first kiss, fight between reader and chan, minho calls reader kitten, jealous!reader, protective!chan, soft!minho

A/N: Have fun reading 😊~Moon🌙

PART TWO

I can't help but love you Even though I try not to I can't help but want you I know that I'd die without you War of Hearts ~ Ruelle

You've known Chan your whole life, your mothers being best friends and having you only a few months apart. He's been like an older brother to you growing up, and you knew there'd never be a better friend than him. You've been heartbroken when he had to move to Korea to work hard for his dreams but supported him nevertheless. Growing up, you had a crush on him, which only grew as he got older. About a year ago, you went to visit him and got to know his roommate Minho, who happened to be the main dancer of his group. Minho was very polite and fun to be around, and you became friends fast. Going back home, you realized you had also developed a small crush on him. When you visited two months later, Chan very nervously confessed that he was bi, which didn't seem like an issue to you at all until he told you that he had a boyfriend now. Minho. 

It broke your heart a little, realizing you wouldn't have a chance with either of them now, especially because you promised Chan to move in for good once you'd moved to Korea. You've spent days crying in your room, trying to be happy for your friends but pitying yourself at the same time. But of course, you moved in with them two months ago, knowing there was no chance you'd be able to afford your own apartment in the beginning. For a while, it went well until you started to get jealous of Minho. He had not only stolen your heart but also your first crush. 

-

Minho sits next to you on the sofa, helping you with your assignments for university since you sometimes still struggle with Korean a little. You like his way of explaining things to you, making sure always to sprinkle in a joke when things get too frustrating. Everything is fine until Chan comes back home from the company, plops down on the sofa, and wraps his arms around Minho, pulling him into a loving kiss. "Missed you," he tells him gently, and Minho smiles sweetly, squeezing his hand. 

"Of course you did," he teases lovingly. Chan hums softly, deepening the kiss and brushing back his hair lovingly. "Channie," Minho says softly since you're sitting right next to them. 

"Oh please, she's seen almost as much of me as you have," he snorts, kissing him again. You glance at them and feel quite lonely, seeing how soft and caring they are with each other. This is all you ever wanted, with someone like Chan. Or Minho. 

"There's dinner in the fridge, love," Minho tells him, pulling back. 

"Great, I'm starving," he nods, and Minho laughs. 

"Go take a shower, I'll warm it up for you," he says. 

Chan's face covers with a beautiful smile. "Aw, you're the best, baby," he smiles. "Isn't he the best, Y/N?" he asks, finally acknowledging your existence. 

"Chan," Minho says gently, getting up. 

"Sure thing," you shrug, focusing on your laptop. "He's your boyfriend, you kinda have to say that." 

Chan frowns at you. "Well, he wouldn't be mine if he wasn't," he tells you. 

Mine. Something you had longed for him to call you for years. "So you're saying you'd replace him as soon as something better comes along?" you ask, knowing you are being mean now. You don’t dare to look at Minho but notice how he has stopped moving in the kitchen. 

"That's not - Min, that's not what I said," Chan protests. 

"Don't pull me into this," Minho laughs halfheartedly, slowly stirring his food. 

"Yeah, don't, you can talk for yourself. You don't need your perfect boyfriend to do that for you as well, do you?" you ask, and Chan's jaw drops. 

Minho bites back a sigh, closing his eyes for a moment. He knows what's going on; he knew from the moment he met you. The way you gazed at Chan wasn't how you looked at your best friend. He really likes you, he loves spending time with you…alone. As soon as Chan is there, you act all different, almost seeming jealous. "Chan, love, didn't you want to take a shower?" he asks gently, trying to deescalate the situation subtly.

Chan ignores him. "Why are you being such an ass?" he asks you. "You got enough sleep last night?" 

"That was a little hard with you fucking his brains out last night," you give back sourly. 

It grows very quiet in the room, and Chan stares at you, stunned. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry," Minho speaks up, and it's the first time you look at him. He looks embarrassed, uncomfortable even. "I told you the walls aren't that thick," he whispers to Chan. 

"I wouldn't care, it's your home, after all. You're just not exactly quiet," you say, mentally slapping yourself for that comment. Minho's eyes widen, cheeks flushing red with embarrassment, and the spoon drops from his hand. "But you seemed to have a great time, so I guess that's fine." 

Chan takes a look at Minho, who suddenly looks very anxious. And that pisses him off immensely. "Y/N." 

"What, Chris?" you ask, switching to English. You know Minho has struggles keeping up with it. "You think I wanted this? You've always talked about us moving in together once I'm done with school." 

"Well, I have a boyfriend now, you said you liked him. You said you'd love getting to know him more and move in with us," Chan snaps right back at you, having enough. 

"I didn't say I'm okay with watching you make out with him on the sofa. Listening to you having sex next door. Hearing all that disgustingly cute stuff you tell him all day," you give back, and Chan's expression darkens. 

"He was here first, idiot. This is his home as much as it is mine, and he was the one telling me you could move in with us," he tells you angrily. "He did nothing but being kind to you, making sure you feel welcomed and have everything you need." 

"I seriously don't get it, Chris. You could've had everyone. You're warm and open to everyone. Why would you go for him? I know you think he's perfect, but he doesn't open up to you the way you do. How can you be with someone unable to express their emotions?" you ask, watching him grow pale. You know you're making up shit now, so pissed that Chan and Minho, the only two guys you ever fell in love with, had to fall for each other. 

Chan turns to Minho, who is staring at you in pure shock. "She's talking shit, baby," he says worriedly. 

Minho swallows hard, tears brimming his eyes, as he puts down the spoon and turns off the stove. "I-I think I'll let you two continue on your own," he says quietly, unable to meet your eyes. 

Your heart sinks, realizing he must've understood more than you thought. "Oh god, I'm so sorry," you say timidly. 

"Liar," Minho says, grabbing his phone from the sofa. Chan reaches out for him, but he gently shakes him off. "Please don't, this is a conversation I don't want to be part of anymore," he tells him. "Sorry for waking you up, it will probably happen again if you intend to stay here," Minho tells you before leaving without another word. 

Chan looks after him, and you two remain silent for a moment. "What the fuck was that?" he asks then. 

"I'm sorry," you tell him quietly. 

"Something is seriously wrong with you," he says sharply, making you flinch a little. "He's amazing, and if you're too blind to see that, that's your issue. Don't make it mine." 

You chew on your lower lip nervously. Yes, Minho is amazing. He is funny, he’s kind, he is incredibly beautiful and caring. That is exactly the issue. "Chan, come on." 

"You switched languages to exclude him, how bitchy was that? And you fucking knew he understands, he just struggles with speaking it," he tells you, clearly pissed off. "That's so messed up, I don't even know what to say. I don't want to hear another word from you today, you've crossed a line." 

"Fine," you huff and collect your things, quickly going to your room. You throw your things onto your desk and swallow hard. You've been really awful, Minho didn't deserve that. Sighing, you look around the room and groan, seeing all the things Minho had paid for when you came here. One time, Chan was working he had taken you on a shopping spree to make your room more comfortable. On the desk is a picture of the three of you and some of the day you met Minho's cats for the first time. You stare down at his small comments in your book so you won't forget them again when you study on your own. Now you feel like a complete bitch and only want to disappear. 

Minho sits at the edge of their bed, staring out of the window. He's nervously picking his skin and chewing his lower lip at the same time. He doesn't turn when Chan steps inside, being able to tell it is him by the way he moves. The mattress dips beneath Chan's weight as he sits down next to him. 

"Minho, baby?" he asks softly, and Minho takes his hand, still not looking at him. "You're okay?" 

"No," Minho answers quietly. "I know you told me not to believe in those things," he tells him and feels fresh tears brim his eyes. "But why do I keep hearing them as soon as someone wants to hurt me?" 

"Minnie," Chan says gently. 

"People always go for your weak spots then," he says. 

"Your weak spot is how insecure you get when someone talks shit about you, she knows that," he tells him. "It's not that you're cold or unable to open up." 

"I thought I was being more open," he says quietly. "Also with her, even though I usually don't when I don't know someone that well. Fuck, Chan, I made her her favorite meal from home because she said she missed it today. Now I feel fucking stupid for doing it," he admits. 

"She's being an asshole," he tells him, and Minho laughs weakly, shaking his head. 

"She's hurt," he says. "She can't blame you, so she blames me." 

"What? What did I do?" he asks confused. 

Minho turns to him, a big tear rolling down his cheek. "You fell in love with me, Channie." 

Chan stares at him before his eyes widen. "No way." 

Minho smiles sadly as Chan cups his face, wiping his tears away. "I know that look. She's heartbroken. I can't blame her for that." 

"Even if she is, which is ridiculous, it's not okay to hurt you," he says sourly. 

"Love makes us do weird things," he shrugs his shoulders. 

"You mean like me tripping down the stairs and landing on your flowers because I got so nervous?" he asks, and Minho laughs. 

"Yeah, like that," he smiles gently at that memory. 

"Oh, come here, baby," he says softly, pulling him into a tight hug. "No matter what others say, you'll be nothing less than perfect to me." 

Minho squeezes him tightly, burying his face in his chest. "She's been your best friend your whole life, I hoped she'd like me." Which wasn't the whole truth. Minho thought about you a lot and started to like you more and more. Sometimes, he even thinks he is starting to fall for you. 

Chan doesn't know what to say and kisses his head. "We'll figure this out, okay?" he asks after a moment, and Minho hums gently. 

-

When you finally dare to leave your room again and make your way downstairs, you spot them on the sofa. Minho's sitting on Chan's lap cuddled up in his arms with him. His reddish eyes meet yours as you grab yourself a drink, and you can tell you hurt him. "There's still some left for you," he says suddenly, nodding towards the stove. 

"Oh, thank you," you barely get out. 

"You need help warming it up?" he asks, knowing you are struggling with the stove still. 

You nod timidly, and Chan stares at you as if he wants to tell you that this is Minho's way of showing how much he cares about someone. Not words but actions. 

Minho gets up and steps next to you, testing the temperature first. The only sound that can be heard is the TV playing in the background for a moment. 

"Min, I'm sorry, I don't know what has gotten into me today," you tell him quietly enough only for him to hear. 

Minho sighs softly and glances at you for a moment. "You know exactly what was going on."

"What?" you ask nervously. 

"I'm not blind, Y/N. I know you've been in his life much longer than I have, and you've probably cared for him the way I do for a longer time as well," he says gently and grabs a plate for you. "I can't change the fact he told me he loves me… what should I have done? Neglect my own feelings? Hurting him and myself instead by pretending I wasn't in love with him the moment I met him?" he asks and fills your plate for you. "We can't decide who we fall in love with, but we also can't decide who falls in love with us," he tells you, and you'd like to be mad at him, but you can tell he means well. "Don't ruin what you have by being jealous of me," he says with a passionate smile, handing you your plate. "Now stop sulking and sit down, our show's about to start." 

You stand still with your plate for a moment until he gently grabs your shoulders and pushes you forward. Chan watches the two of you quietly as his boyfriend makes sure his best friend feels comfortable. He can't believe how kind Minho's heart is sometimes as he also hands you a blanket. Minho climbs back into his lap, intertwining their hands, and relaxes into him. You quietly eat your dinner, paying attention to the screen and trying to ignore the fact that Chan hasn't said a word since you came. "It really tastes just like home," you tell him timidly. 

"That's good to hear, kitten," Minho smiles at you shortly, and you feel even more guilty. 

There was no way you could hate him. Minho was a literal angel, and you got why Chan fell that hard for him. Minho's naturally beautiful, he's funny, and he's the most caring person you know. The more time you spent together, the more you thought he even outdid your ever-caring Chan with that. You don't know why you chose to say exactly what he had told you his haters say about him. Because you knew he wasn't any of that. 

Once the episode ends, Minho gets up and gently ruffles Chan's hair. "Don't stay up too long, you have a busy day tomorrow." 

"I'll try," Chan nods and smiles as Minho leans down, cups his face, and kisses him sweetly. 

Minho grabs your plate as he passes you by, gently patting your shoulder. "You stay calm tomorrow during your exam, you'll do great." 

"Thank you," you say quietly. When you look over at Chan, he's giving you a look that screams "bitch are you serious?". You wait until Minho's upstairs and turn a little. "Can we talk about this?" 

"I'm not the one you should talk about that to," he shook his head. 

"I hurt you too," you try gently. 

"I don't know what was going on, and I don't think I want to," he tells you firmly. "You have to get one thing, Y/N. He's my boyfriend, he means everything to me, and he makes me so damn happy, which you wanted after that shitty training period. I know this might make you feel left out at times, and I'm sorry about that, I really am, but I won't start hiding in my own house." 

"I get that," you nod gently. 

"I love you, but if you ever talk shit about him like that, you'll get into serious trouble with me," Chan tells you. "Don't think I wouldn't tell him the same if it had been the other way around." 

"Okay," you whisper timidly. 

Chan searches your eyes for a moment. "Min cares about you so much more than you could even imagine," he tells you. "I wish you could see that." Something that Minho had told him in the beginning was that he was open to the idea of having more than one partner. Chan knew you were Minho's type, and how he cared for you showed him he was probably right about his suspicion of Min developing a crush on you. He couldn’t blame him for that because you were beautiful inside out.

“What?” you ask, confused.

“You’ve been hopelessly romantic for as long as I can remember, but you’re so blind when it’s right in front of your eyes,” he sighs softly and gets up. “I’m gonna get some sleep now, I suggest you fix this with him tomorrow. I’ll kick your ass if you didn’t when I’m back home.” 

“Relax,” you sigh softly. “I already tried to apologize.”

“You tried?” he asks, amused.

“Yeah, he… never mind,” you tell him, ignoring his confused expression. 

-

Minho gently blows a strand of hair from his eyes, leaning against his car. He adjusts his sunglasses as someone looks at him suspiciously. He knows the look; people wondering if it’s actually him and debating if they should walk up to him or not. Shoving his hands into his coat pockets, he crosses his legs casually and sighs softly, squinting his eyes as he looks up the facade of the university building. 

“What’s so interesting up there?” you ask, turning and looking up as well. 

Minho chuckles softly. “Doesn’t it look like rain later?” he asks, looking back at you as you turn, your hair falling down your shoulders as you do. He smiles a little to himself as he takes in the sight of you and eases your bag from your hands. “How was the exam, kitten?” he asks curiously. 

You search his eyes, wondering if he was fucking with you. But there’s no anger, no disgust, and not even the hurt that had filled his beautiful brown orbs only yesterday. He seems…genuinely happy to see you. “I think I did alright.”

“Great,” he nods, satisfied. 

“What-what are you- I didn’t expect to see you here today,” you finally get out, squinting your eyes at him. 

“Why?” he asks calmly. 

“I-uhm-I mean-,” you stammer and swallow as he reaches up, brushing back your hair for you. 

“This is me being open,” he tells you kindly. “I know I’m not great with words, but Channie always says my actions speak for me, and I started to like that thought. So no, even though you’ve been a complete dick yesterday, I won’t let you take the bus and risk getting soaked.”

“I…I hope you know I didn’t mean what I said yesterday,” you tell him.

“Why did you say it then?” he asks, making you nervous. He searches your eyes for a moment before nodding to himself. “You did want to hurt me. Maybe even get me so far that I'd pick a fight with Chan, saying what a shitty best friend he has, which would lead to him being pissed at me.”

You watch him put your bag in the back of his car and open the door for you. “Minho,” you try gently. 

“Get in,” he says firmly, and you comply immediately. He gets in himself, buckles up, and starts the car. "I may seem like it sometimes but believe me, I'm not that easily truly pissed off. So, that backfired," he says, driving onto the road. "What did you expect to happen? That we'd break up, and you'd be there comforting him, and he'd end up falling for you?" he asks, raising his eyebrows at you, almost amused. 

"Come on, I wouldn't think of something like that," you snort. 

He shrugs his shoulders and focuses back on the road. "I don't know what the fuck you thought. Do you know what two days ago meant for me and Chan?" 

"No," you shook your head. 

"Two days ago, the night we, unfortunately, kept you up, it's been one and a half years ago that he asked me to be his boyfriend," Minho tells you, and your face falls as you start calculating in your head. "When I got to know you about a year ago, I asked him not to tell you yet because I wanted to get to know you on a neutral basis. In your eyes, I was his roommate, and I think we clicked rather quickly."

You stare at him, tears brimming your eyes. Chan told you seven months into the relationship that Minho was his boyfriend. Seven months. "You're lying. He wouldn't keep that a secret for so long." 

Minho glances at you, and compassion laces his features. "He was scared you'd judge him for it at first. Then, after five months, we decided to move in together, and we weren't sure if it would work out once it was only the two of us. Around that time, you visited, and after I told him, he should tell you the next time you visit."

"Five months is a little rushed, don't you think?" you ask, wondering why that was the one thing that came to your mind. 

"Let me put it this way, your best friend is incredibly horny, and it got exhausting hiding from our friends all the time," Minho tells you and rolls his eyes to himself. "But yes, it was a little rushed." 

You nod slowly before staring at the road ahead stubbornly. "Does he know you're telling me this now? The relationship stuff?" 

"No," Minho shakes his head. "We trust each other, he'll be fine with it." 

"That's not your decision to make," you frown. 

"It's my relationship as much as it is his. You're acting weird towards me, not him, so I can tell you whatever I want, my dear," he says patiently. "You're in love with him?" he asks as he stops at a red light and looks at you. 

You swallow hard and close your eyes in defeat. "I've been in love with him for years," you whisper. 

"And you never told him?" he asks gently. 

"No," you shake your head. "I was too afraid he'd push me away, and I'd ruin our friendship." 

"God, you're just like him," Minho groans softly. "When I met him, he couldn't stop talking about that girl he knew back in Australia and how much she meant to him. It was obvious he had a crush on her." 

"What?" you ask quietly. 

"We got closer, and I fell for him more with every passing day. I tried to tell myself to stop it because I didn't think I'd stand a chance against you," Minho tells you, parking the car in front of the house. He turns the keys and leans back in his seat. "It felt awful having him right there but knowing he wasn't mine and he'd never be. I was starting to give up, but then, one night, he showed up and told me that he developed feelings for a guy to test my reaction. Y/N, when he kissed me, I felt whole again for the first time in ages," he says, and you can tell he's getting emotional. "I love him so much, and I can't imagine a life without him by my side anymore. He's everything I have, and I -," he cuts himself off as he feels tears brimming his eyes. "I know how you feel, okay? I don't want to feel threatened by you. I really don't because then I'll start getting nasty too," he says very quietly. “I’ll fuck you up if you try and destroy what we have, I mean it.”

You swallow hard, trying to process what he has just revealed. Chan had a crush on you when he came to Korea? "Minho, I had no idea," you say gently, placing your hand on his thigh. 

"I try not to think of it that way, but I wasn't his first choice, you know. It was you, and when I met you, I knew why," he tells you, blinking back tears. "Stop feeling jealous about that. I should be the one scared to lose Chan in case he decides you're better for him after all. I wouldn't even blame him because you're right. I have trouble opening up because I've been hurt before, but I'm learning because I trust him."

"Hey," you say gently. "Don't you ever believe you're something less than Chan's first choice. He loved you enough to be brave and offer his heart. You should've seen how protective he got yesterday." 

Minho presses his lips together tightly before looking at you again. Your breath stops as tears threaten to spill from his eyes, his hands trembling. "You didn't see the hope in his eyes when I told him you're in love with him." 

You hesitantly take his hand, and he lets you. "Minnie, I mean it. I've been an asshole and have no right to destroy what you two have. You're perfect for him, and maybe that's what pissed me off so much; I can't find any flaws," you tell him. 

"There are a lot," he shakes his head. 

"I highly doubt that," you say, and he laughs weakly. "I mean, look at you. You're funny, you're smart, you're so caring and kind. You're an incredible dancer and singer. You have very pretty eyes and-."

"You think I have pretty eyes?" he asks, blushing softly. 

"And very kissable-looking lips," you nod. "No wonder he keeps on harassing you with kisses no matter what you do," you say, pulling a genuine laugh from him. 

Minho hastily wipes away a single tear falling down his cheek and exhales shakily. "I'm sorry he wasn't brave enough to tell you." 

"Don't be," you shake your head. 

"You deserve to be loved just as much as he does," he tells you, squeezing your hand tightly. "I'm…I'm okay with sharing, Chan," he says, searching your eyes observantly. "But not with losing him." 

You need a moment to get what he means. "You mean you'd be okay if I had a relationship with Chan at the same time as you do?" 

Minho nods very slowly. "I have no idea if that's what he wants…but I'll tell him that I won't be in the way if that's something he wants." 

"What if that’s not all I want?" you ask, and insecurity flickers in his eyes, which makes you wonder if that's what Chan had meant yesterday. Did Minho care about you that way? 

"You mean…," he trails off, sinking into your curious eyes. Did you mean it the way he thinks you did?

"I do think you have very pretty eyes..and kissable lips. I've been thinking about that since the day we met," you admit, and his lips part in surprise. Minho leans in at the same time as you do, and you search each other's eyes for another moment before your lips meet. Fuck, Chan was right, he's an incredible kisser. Minho's hand shoots up, resting on your cheek and pulling you in closer. 

Suddenly, he pulls back and stares at you with wide eyes. "Fuck, I shouldn't have - oh god, I'm sorry," he stammers. "I should've talked to him first." 

"Minho, calm down," you tell him, but he's already pulling the keys and getting out. "Fuck," you whisper to yourself. 

-

When Chan comes home, Minho's sitting at the kitchen island, bracing his head on his hand. He looks deep in thought, anxious even. "Baby?" he asks worriedly, and Minho's eyes flicker up at him. "What's wrong?" 

"I fucked up," he whispers.

"What?" he asks confused, and puts down his bag before sitting down opposite him. 

"I love you, you know that, right?" Minho asks timidly. 

"Of course I do," he assures him and offers his hand. Minho takes it, and Chan frowns, noticing he is shaking. 

"I - uhm- remember when I told you that I'm open about having more than one partner?" he asks, and Chan nods gently. "And I also promised to tell you if that's ever the case before anything happens, right?"

Chan nods and straightens up a little. "Did something happen?" he asks gently. 

"I picked her up, and we talked about yesterday. I told her that I always thought I'd never have a chance because of your crush on her and how things developed then," Minho starts, and Chan watches him intently. "She seemed to get it and got really sweet. I told her that if you'd have no issue, I'm willing to share you and-," he looks up, almost a little panicked, as you walk down the stairs. 

Chan slowly turns his head, and meeting your eyes, he knows. He looks back at Minho, who looks incredibly guilty and swallows hard. "I kissed him," you say, bracing yourself for an outburst of Chan. 

"You kissed my boyfriend?" Chan asks, very slowly looking back at you. 

"Yes," you say quietly. "I know what you see in him, Chan, I'd be blind if I didn't."

"I told you to talk to him," he says before laughing. "I didn't think you'd take this a whole step further," he grins. 

"You're not mad?" Minho asks and tilts his head at him. 

"We've talked about this, baby. I could tell you like her more than a friend, and she's so desperate for love she doesn't pick up on a damn signal," he rolls his eyes at you. "I knew one day I'd come home, and you'd tell me you met someone. It's even better knowing it's my best friend." 

Minho's face softens, and he visibly relaxes. "And you're okay with that?" 

Chan smiles at him fondly. "I am very okay with that." 

“Great…because there’s more,” Minho nods gently, and Chan frowns at him.

“More?” he asks puzzled.

PART TWO

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist: (Please let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the taglist!)

@soullostinspaceandtime @brownieloved @rebecca-johnson-28 @euphoric-univers @hyunniebunni @mal-lunar-28 @malfoygalaxies

#stray kids #skz #minchan #minchan x reader #minho #lee know #chan #bang chan #minchan x reader angst #minchan x reader fluff #minchan x reader fic #minchan x reader fanfic #minho x reader #chan x reader #minho x reader angst #minho x reader fluff #chan x reader angst #chan x reader fluff #skz fic #stray kids fic #minchan fic #chan fic #minho fic #requests open

[cupids-scream-queen]

❛ the wax muse ❜

-> Part 2!!

-> Vincent Sinclair x f!reader

Summary: The muse of Vincent Sinclair gets her pussy absolutely obliterated.

Warnings: Sex. Surprised?

A/N: this is a part two, but it can be read independently of the first part.

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

(Tag: @l4vr0v )

You were, of course, beautiful. That much was true. Vincent had a pencil in his hand, sketching you. You were wearing nothing, your skin glistening in the light as your boyfriend continued to draw you, carefully making sure that each little touch was captured forever in the paper.

"I think you're cute when you're sketching," You commented, and Vincent looked up at you, curiously. He was wearing his mask, his hair cascading down his body like water.

He nodded, his pencil being put down. You looked at him, curiously. Bo's yelling calmed down, and you heard him stomp outside with Lester, doing God knows what. You and Vincent were alone.

"You alright?" Vincent nodded, putting his sketching supplies down. He made his way over to you, his muse, and placed a warm, calloused hand under your chin, tipping it up towards his face. You met his eyes, which weren't hidden under his mask.

He took his other hand and softly touched your breast, and your breath hitched. You still had the candle in your hand, and the live flame made you nervous.

"The candle, Vinny," You were surprised when he took the candle from you, tipping it over and watching as the hot wax spilled onto your skin. You inhaled sharply at the wax, an unusual and strange feeling. It hardened almost immediately, leaving a patch of black where it hit your skin. Vincent thought you looked beautiful.

He put the candle closer to your face, and you blew it out. He nodded, approving your actions. He took the skull from your hand (you still weren't sure if it was real or not--you made a mental note to ask him later) and dropped it to the floor, a satisfying clunck noise pervading the air.

"Vinny, are you alright?" You cautiously peered up at him, his good eye twinkling as he started to circle your nipples. A soft moan was let out, which made Vincent groan in response. He softly helped you up, your naked form beautiful to him as anything in the world as he guided you towards his bed. The twin mattress that you had spent time to fix up, replacing the old, dirty sheets with clean silk.

He put you on the bed softly, the silk feeling good against your skin. Vincent gingerly took the black blindfold from the nightstand, tying it around your eyes. He still didn't like his face--and you weren't going to push him to show it to you.

"Vinny?" You called out, and your back arched as he licked from the top of your pubic bone to your neck, his tongue leaving a trail of saliva. He kissed you, and you moved your hands to cup the back of his neck, pulling him closer towards you. You let out a soft moan as he took your bottom lip in between his teeth, and you opened your mouth, allowing him access. He hungrily went in, his hands exploring your body, though he'd seen it many times before. You were more beautiful than any sculpture he could produce.

His hand started to trail lower, tantalizingly close to your pussy. You moaned as he pushed the spongy pad of his thumb up against your clit, your back arching again as you made your beautiful noises, a cacophony of sounds only for Vincent. It was this that he truly found beauty in you.

"Oh, God, you've gotten good at tha-" Vincent slipped a finger in, and your breath hitched as a moan interrupted your sentence. He groaned as he felt your pussy contract around his finger, and he added another one, scissoring them inside of your cunt. He used his thumb to trace patterns on your clit, causing you to flail your arms out to either side of you, gripping at the silken sheets for support.

He continued his pattern, his fingers dipping in and out of you, gathering the slick and pushing it back inside. He was good, his fingers moving at an impossibly fast rate, prepping you for what was to come. Your mouth was spilling out moans and sweet words of praise, which Vincent ate up like a starved man. How beautiful he was. How wonderful he made you feel. How much you loved him.

His fingers were still working their way in and out of you, his other hand focusing on groping your breasts, his grunting and groaning tipping you off that this was pleasurable for him, too. He gingerly took his fingers out of you, one last good circle drawn on your clit. He took his hands and grabbed onto your hips, and gently teased you with the head of his cock.

"God, Vinny, just--please, please," You whispered, your body shivering with anticipation as he rubbed his cock against you, gathering your juices and rubbing up against your bundle of nerves. He slowly pushed in, his thick cock spreading you open. He moaned as his cock slid inside of you, your pussy clenching around him as he slowly added more of him. You forgot that he was impossibly big, stretching you and filling you up.

He groaned once he was all the way in, your bodies nearly flush together as he started to pull out, before slamming back in. His fingers gripped your hips, leaving little fingerprints as you called out his name, over and over again, like some sort of prayer. He took one of his hands off of your hips, returning to tracing circles into your clit, making you moan and gasp out in pleasure.

He started thrusting more and more roughly, his mind blank with nothing but images of you, your mouth open and strings of profanities and praises falling through your lips, your arched back, your hands imprinting the sheets. He groaned as he started going faster, and you bit your lip, which drove him crazy. He started rutting more and more, desperate to fuck you. He felt your pussy squeeze around him as you came on his cock, hard.

It was enough to send him over the edge. He gripped your hip and your breast as he came, the thick spurts of hot cum coating your insides like paint. He groaned, his thrusting never decreasing in pace as he continued to rut into you even after his orgasm, tantalizing and overstimulating for you.

He slowed down, and eventually pulled out. Pressing tender kisses to your body, letting you know that he was satisfied.

"Vinny, you're so good," You praised him, and he let out a soft noise, as if to say I know.

-_-

#vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #slasher fucker #slasher fanfiction #slasher smut #slashers #slasher community #slasher x reader #house of wax #house of wax 2005 #sinclair brothers

[joshlmbrt]

NOW PLAYING;

I’d Rather Go Blind. - e. munson thought

‘SOMETHING DEEP DOWN IN MY SOUL SAID, ‘CRY GIRL’.

w; hurt/no comfort, eddie having the stereotypical rockstar tendencies, lower case intended

an; sorry for this one YIKES

-> VALENTINES PLAYLIST HERE.

it started during February.

the moment you knew you’d lost Eddie.

he never seen it, you never told him. he probably would’ve done something - tried to change for the better.

but it wouldn’t have been the same you don’t think.

the version of eddie that you longed for was one you still believed was there, still lingering in the little things he does for you when you both have little time to spend together.

but you knew it was fully over when you watched him waltz into the room with two girls after the show.

gareth watches sadly, apologetic eyes shooting over to you on the plush couch.

eddie pulls away from them, walking towards you. “baby. hi.” he presses a messy kiss - more slobber than anything - to your lips.

“hi,” you mutter weakly. your hand twitches at the side - you wanted to wipe the slobber from your skin, but you’re scared that’s the last time you’ll feel anything kin to a kiss from eddie munson.

you glance over his bare sweaty shoulder, watching as red and pink lips tug into a smirk before whispering something indistinguishable, smudged eyeliner eyes cutting back to you every so often. you gulp.

“i-im not feeling to well,” you look back over at him. “i’m gonna go home.”

he hums, ringed fingers trying - and failing - to tap your thigh. “sounds good, sweetheart,” his speech was slurred, your heart breaks and eyes sting. “don’t wait up on me.”

you nod - though you would do the exact opposite - and stand from the couch, hurrying out of the room.

the tears spill out when you step out into the bitter wind, your hand coming up and furiously wiping at the ones that fall a little to quick.

you did exactly the opposite of what he told you to do - you waited up.

you did exactly the opposite when you should’ve left - you regretted it when you smelt the new perfume of the month.

now, a year later, eddie realizes when he lost you.

his stumbling and catching himself with his hands on the wall causes a loud ruckus making him wince and glance over to the bed.

his blinking was slow, delayed. head tilting when he sees you side made up and your book from the nightstand missing and replaced with a note.

suddenly he felt sober.

he steps further into the room, knee hitting the bed when he comes around to your side and pulls the note from the nightstand.

‘eddie,

i can’t do this anymore. i’m tired of worrying for you and wondering when you’re going to come back - i’m tired of smelling new perfume and cleaning off the different lipstick stains from your shirt.

i don’t love you anymore. good luck with everything.’

the world stops spinning under his boots and he suddenly falls to the bed.

his eyes stare down at the words.

i don’t love you anymore.

i don’t love you anymore.

i don’t love you anymore.

he doesn’t notice that he’s crying until some tears hit the paper, standing over the words. his breath shudders when he places the paper down, fingers gripping the pillow next to him.

he slowly puts it over his face, sobbing when he inhales your scent that hadn’t faded yet.

a scream leaves his throat, muffled against the pillow, his body keeling over as his shoulders shake.

he didn’t think he would lose you.

he didn’t want to lose you.

i don’t love you anymore.

💌 eddie tags; @officerrrfriendly, @queercodedcharacter, @lavendermunson, @whisperingwillowxox, @hazydespair

some moots that might enjoy! if you’d like to be untagged - let me know! ; @s6raphic, @xxhellfirebunnyxx, @meet-me-backstage, @readbydayana

thank you for reading! comments, reblogs, requests, likes, & feedback is encouraged, welcomed, & deeply appreciated! 🧸

#rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader #rockstar!eddie munson x reader #rockstar!eddie x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #joseph quinn x reader

[burntheedges]

Maintenance Request: Chapter 7

Joel Miller x f!reader | new chapter every Friday 18+ (minors DNI) | ao3 | main post & chapter list chapter word count: 2.4k

a/n: happy Friday! I think it's about time for Joel to come back and fix that shelf, don't you? chapter tags/warnings: fluff, banter, drink mention, for the purposes of this chapter reader likes a certain coffee drink but feel free to imagine a different one, flirting

Chapter 7

Wednesday, October 9 Seventh week of the semester

A week had passed since your impromptu tour of the department with Sarah and Joel, and you hadn’t seen him in that time, but you had interacted over email a bit.

You emailed him your dissertation as promised, and he replied that Sarah was already reading it. You told him to reassure her that you would not be offended if she didn’t read the whole thing, but apparently she’d scoffed and just hunkered down. He sent you a picture of her curled into the corner of a very comfortable looking couch, eyes on her laptop screen, frowning in concentration. It made you smile and give up protesting. Ellie, who had spent most of Saturday at your apartment, had teased you endlessly when she caught you grinning at your phone during movie night. 

Your morning wasn’t quite as bad as the one when you’d met Joel, but it hadn’t gone particularly smoothly, either. Rain had slowed down your commute and troubled your walk from the garage. You finally found yourself in front of your building, juggling your bag, your keys, an umbrella, and the coffee you’d splurged on (again) to try and turn the morning around. 

Of course, when you tried to close the umbrella one-handed, your juggling skills failed. The coffee slipped from your grasp, spilling upward and outward in a fountain when the cup hit the ground by the steps. You stared at it for a moment before sighing, face turned up towards the rain. Of course. 

You didn’t see him at the time, but Joel had apparently seen the whole mess. You learned this a couple of hours later, finally dry and snug in your office after your class, when there was a knock on the door. You called for whoever it was to come in, and to your surprise, Joel Miller sidled through your open door, large tool box in one hand and steaming cup of coffee in the other.

“Mornin’, darlin’. Thought I might swing by to work on that bookshelf,” he nodded towards your wall. “And replace the coffee I thought you might be missing.” He winked and gave you the half smile that had caught your eye the week before as he set the tool box down on the floor. For a moment you just stared at him, stunned, and then you felt your cheeks heat.

“You saw that?” You asked, embarrassed but already knowing the answer. He smiled, fully this time. “Yeah, I was across the quad, too far away to do much good. Thought maybe this was the next best thing.” He rubbed his free hand against the back of his neck, looking a bit sheepish.

You took him in — his typical dark jeans, boots, and flannel shirt snug around his distractingly broad shoulders. Hair slightly damp from the rain, eyes warm and kind. You felt your face stretch into the type of smile you might use on a date. “Joel Miller, my knight in shining armor, hmm?” It was his turn to blush.

“I can’t promise armor, but I do have a tool belt.” He gestured down at it, and you laughed. 

“I’ll take it. That’ll probably be of more help to my sad bookshelf, anyway.” He smiled and handed you the coffee. You took it gladly.

He nodded towards it and said, “wasn’t sure what you’d like, but Sarah promised me I couldn’t go wrong with one of the seasonal things. And I remember you said you liked lattes, when you were showing her the kitchen. Is that alright?” You looked down and took in the drink label, which proclaimed it to be a pumpkin spice latte. You couldn’t believe he’d asked Sarah what to get you. 

You grinned. “It’s perfect, Joel. It’s the exact drink I spilled all over the steps an hour ago.” He laughed, and you watched his shoulders relax. Apparently he’d been worried. Cute.

“Well, I’ll take a look at your shelf. I might need to make a little noise — will that bother you?” He looked over at you as he dug in his toolbox for something. 

You shrugged. “I’ll be honest, I’ll probably just talk to you instead of trying to work. Go right ahead.” He turned back to look for whatever he was trying to find, but you saw the corner of his mouth lift in a pleased smile. 

“How’s Sarah getting on with my brick of a dissertation?” Your tone was self-deprecating, as every academic you’d ever met usually was when talking about that part of their career. You watched as he got out a level and some measuring tape. 

“Well, darlin’, it can’t be as bad as you keep saying, not with the way she’s burning through it.” 

You bit your lip around a smile. “Oh?”

He nodded. “Can I move some of these books? Where do you want ‘em?” You moved to help and after placing your books on the chairs in front of your desk and the empty area on your small table by the door, he returned to the shelf. “But yeah, she’s really enjoying it. Gave me a little lecture on space and metaphors and, uh, what was it… expansiveness, last night over dinner.” You groaned and put your face in your hands.

“I’m sorry, Joel, I’m sure that was boring.” Out of the corner of your eye you noticed he’d stopped working and turned towards you, so you looked up. 

He was considering you, head tilted, face unreadable. After a moment of working his jaw, seemingly worrying over his response, he asked, “why do you keep puttin’ yourself down like that? From what she told me, it sounded brilliant. I won’t pretend to have the right words, not about poetry or literature anyway. But I could tell it was smart and insightful and, well. Somethin’ special.” He kept eye contact with you as he praised your work in words that felt more genuine than anything else ever had, even at your dissertation defense. Even from your advisor.

“Oh! Well, thank you. I mean, I think…” you took a breath, flustered, and looked down at your hands on your desk. You tried to find the right words. “I think it’s just that everyone feels that way about their dissertation, at least a little bit. It’s something that represents the end of a huge amount of work and effort, but at the same time, it’s also your first step in an academic career, you know? Your writing is always improving, your skills are always growing.” You paused to think and fiddled with the edge of your stack of post-it notes. “So it’s easy to look back, I guess, and see all the flaws. But maybe I should do as I teach my students and see it as ways I’ve grown, instead.” You looked back up to meet his gaze. You suddenly felt exposed, like you’d just laid yourself open for him. But when you saw his face you realized you should have known by now that Joel would treat those parts of you gently.

He was smiling at you softly as he considered your words. He nodded. “I can see that. But flawed or not, from what I heard, it sounded like the work of someone who really knew their stuff.”

“Heard?” You can’t help but ask, worried he meant exactly what you were thinking.

“Yeah, the lecture included dramatic readings of her favorite parts,” he confirmed, grinning now. “You really seem to like long sentences, huh?” He winked again as he teased you and this time you took it without hiding your face, just grinned back at him. 

“Guilty as charged,” you agreed. “It may have been noted during my defense. And by quite a few editors.” 

Joel laughed. He turned back to the shelf to continue his work, and asked, “so, what else do you like to do, aside from reading and teaching and writing? Though you do those so well, not sure how you’d have time for much else.” You felt warmed by the compliment and studied the way the muscles in his arms and shoulders stretched and flexed as he repositioned your shelf on the wall.

“Well, I do read a lot. Fit that stereotype pretty neatly,” you confessed. “But I also like movies. And music. Especially live music.” 

He smiled at you over his shoulder. “Ah, that’s one we have in common, then, darlin’. I’m a fan of live music myself.” Suddenly you felt a little nervous, getting an inkling of where this might be going. Your heart started racing in anticipation.

“Oh? Any favorites?” You could hear your nerves in your voice, but you hoped he couldn’t. You watched as he reached up high on the wall and the hem of his flannel rose to the top edge of his jeans. 

“I’m easy,” he replied absently. “But there’re a few places around here that have good live music nights.” You hummed, thoroughly distracted by the hint of skin that was exposed along his waistband. He started to say something else, and you were waiting eagerly to hear what it might be, when there was another knock on your office door.

You called for whoever it might be to come in, and to your great displeasure, Trevor stuck his head around your door. He didn’t bother to greet you. “I heard you in here and wanted to ask you about the coffee next week.” He said, referring to the biweekly coffee chat the grad students held, which you had been in charge of last year but weren’t this year. 

“I’m not in charge of that this year,” you reminded him mildly. “You need to talk to Renee.” 

His surprise at your response was clearly fake, but he nodded. “Right, must have forgotten. Ah well. What do we have here?” This question was asked with much greater interest, and you narrowed your eyes in suspicion. “I wasn’t aware of any construction going on today.”

“It’s not construction, Trevor, it’s a maintenance request. This is Joel.” You gestured towards the man, who was working quietly. 

“Oh, we’ve met.” Joel interjected mildly. “There was that computer mishap last April.” 

Trevor actually flushed, and stood up ramrod straight. “Yes, um. Well. I’ll go see Renee.” He scuttled off at a speed you’d assumed he was incapable of, until now. You turned to Joel and found him looking at you. “What was that about?” You got up and stepped towards the door to make sure he was really gone, but Trevor wasn’t in the hallway or anywhere in sight.

“Man’s a pest,” Joel grumbled. “Put in a maintenance request in the spring because his computer monitor wasn’t tilted how he wanted it. Wasted our time calling us back and forth because he refused to try to fix it himself. By the end I was wonderin’ if he just kept movin’ it so he could call us back to change it again. Or if he just didn’t know what he wanted. And he was rude every time.” You scoffed and crossed your arms. 

“Good to know he’s not just shitty to us, then, I guess.” You sighed. “I get the feeling he didn’t actually forget he needed to talk to Renee. No idea why he might have wanted to snoop in here, though.” Joel shrugged, and turned back to you. Gesturing to your wall, he said, “well, darlin’, your shelf is all done. Let me help you put these back.” He started reaching for your books, and to your amusement seemed to remember exactly what order they’d been in before. 

“Already? Joel, that’s amazing.” 

He shook his head, hiding a smile. “Was a pretty small job, you know. Wasn’t going to take long.” Between the two of you your shelf was put back to rights in just a couple of minutes. You stood back to take it in, and noticed that it really did look nicer, with level shelves.

You turned to tell Joel that, and to thank him, and found that once again he was already looking at you. You felt heat rise in your cheeks at the look in his eyes. It was warm. And intent. “Thank you, Joel. This really is amazing.” You stepped a bit closer to him and nudged him with your shoulder. “Pretty impressive work, you know.”

He looked pleased, but tried to hide it by ducking his head and twisting his mouth around a smile. “Wasn’t a problem, darlin’. I wanted to get it done before all of your books and things fell off the wall, anyway.” For a moment you both just stood there and smiled at each other, but then Joel cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders. You noticed he was clenching and releasing one of his hands. “Don’t suppose you’re free for lunch later?” He sounded hopeful but uncertain.

“Oh! Sorry, I’m meeting my best friend.” You suddenly wanted to call Beth and cancel but knew you couldn’t. “Another day?” 

He nodded, looking a little disappointed, but replied, “I’ll hold you to it.”

“Please do.” You tried to catch his eye again but he was already turning away. Between one moment and the next he was gone, out the door and down the hall.

…

At lunch, Beth made you talk her through the whole encounter. Twice. It took you all the way through the line to order and well into your lunch for her to be satisfied with your account.

“Ok look, like I said, he wants you. And we know you want him. You should ask him out next time.” Beth punctuated her verdict by brandishing her fork in your face. You rolled your eyes.

“It feels like we’ve only been on the same page for like, a minute. I didn’t realize he was flirting until he appeared at my door to hang my picture.” You shook your head, unsure.

Beth huffed. “I told you he was. You were too busy being annoyed.” You sighed, but you knew she was right. 

“I just…” You trailed off and took a bite of your lunch to give yourself a minute to think. “I’m embarrassed. I yelled at him a lot.”

“Well, clearly he didn’t mind.” Beth smirked. “I bet he thinks it’s hot.” You threw your napkin at her. “If you don’t ask him out the next time you see him I’m going to call his office and do it for you.”

The worst part was, you knew she meant it.

...

a/n: see you next Friday! maybe they'll finally have lunch? prev | next

tag list: @jupiter-soups @ilovepedro @auteurdelabre @katareyoudrilling @anoverwhelmingdin @myloveistoolittle @iknowisoundcrazy @beezusvreeland @screechingphantommaker @bigboiseason123 @joelalorian

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x f!reader #x reader #tlou fic #maintenance request fic #JHCGBDM

[spursthatjinglejanglejingle]

Do you think Abraham Lincoln and Henry Sturges count as doomed yaoi

#🪼 #abraham lincoln vampire hunter #come up with a good reading tag and replace this one with it later

[expectopatronum81]

Unpopular opinion but......

Am I the only one who misses the og marauders? The marauders fandom isn't even about the marauders now, 99% of their canon personality traits hv been replaced with cliqued behaviour. For some reason there's a massive obsession with their sexuality and I just don't get it? Lyk can't u have a character with any sexual orientation with personality traits outside it anymore? Does there really need to be a complete erasure of their most defining traits? I just wish we could get the actual marauders era characters back

James Potter: Pureblood, rich, intelligent, arrogant, a bully, but extremely loyal; took Sirius in and turned into an animagus for his werewolf bestie when the whole world would have shunned him; he could have led a life of utmost comfort but chose to risk his life and fight for those he loved in a war that didn't even concern him personally. His last words were asking his wife and child to escape while he tried to hold voldy off without a wand

Sirius Black: Haughty, a bully, extremely good looking, cool, rich, blood traitor by 16, comes from a family of literal death eaters, very intelligent, loyal, will do anything for those he loves( especially james and later Harry), thick as hell (my boy really survived in a depression prison for 12yrs, tht too after all the horror he'd seen before that), dark, very traumatized and broken

Remus Lupin: Gentle (yup u read that right), kind, mischievous (ppl really overlook this), very insecure, let james and Sirius bully Snape coz he was too thankful for their acceptance and affection to tell them off, considered himself undeserving of love, his self loathing prevents him from being a responsible adult/ parent for Harry, lowkey manipulative. Very compassionate and empathetic even after everything he's been thru tho

Peter Pettigrew: Considered slow and stupid, insecure, tags along with the others for protection, but obviously cunning and manipulative, a disgusting rat tho

Regulus Black: Teenage Reggie worshipped death eaters, he had newspaper clippings of them on his wall, completely believed in those racist ideologies until he realised what the reality of being a death eater was. He tried to bring voldy down but there's no evidence of him completely changing his beliefs about everything else like muggle borns, muggles, werewolves etc. Very cunning and intelligent tho, he discovered voldemort's secret before Dumbledore did. Liked kreacher but kreacher was also brainwashed with pureblood ideology, so I ll only give him half the credit. Bravely sacrificed his life in the end, but he still chose to protect his racist family.

Lily Evans: muggleborn, good at portions, described as popular and vivacious, pretty, the favourite sibling, isn't afraid of standing up to ppl (tht smirk in swm tho?), very brave, and most importantly (ppl really choose to forget this nowadays) a mother who stood in front of her baby boy in hopes of saving him from the darkest wizard alive even tho she herself was only 21 at the time, tht too right after losing her husband. Tho I'd still say that lily is a badly written character

It's fun to explore characters but not one of these core characteristics r even present. They're turned into one dimensional social justice warriors who r always right in everything they do

Now I get it, ppl want them to fit with current day ideals, but y not just create different/new characters then? What's the point of holding on to that nostalgia if most of their character isn't even there anymore? Where's all the toxicity coming from? And anyone who doesn't agree is homophobic and whatever other -phobic u choose to employ in the most irrelevant context ever. It's all so stupid smh🙄

#harry potter #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #regulus black #lily evens #marauders era #mauraders #anti fanon #anti marauders #pro james potter #pro sirius black #pro remus lupin #pro lily evans #pro regulus black #pro sirius

[toffeeanddragons]

10 Fandoms, 10 Characters, 10 Tags

Thank you so much @idle-brit for tagging me!This was lots of fun :) 💖

My tags: @delyth88, @elymusplant, @galaxythreads, @chemical-processes. No pressure to answer, of course :)

1. Loki (MCU)

As much as I love everyone on this list, there is absolutely no competition for number 1. Loki has been my favourite character of all time for nearly 6 years now (because clearly the best time to join someone's fandom is after they've just been murdered), and is showing absolutely no signs of being replaced anytime soon. I have a Loki blog, for god's sake. The brodinsons are my favourite relationship in any kind of media, ever. I love them so, so much. Loki's a million different things and feelings, all at the same time, all fighting with each other, which makes for a wonderfully complex and nuanced character. Also, he's hilarious. Look at that eye roll. This is a man who hates his life, which makes me feel better about mine. Thanks, Loki.

2. Klaus Hargreeves (The Umbrella Academy)

As will become obvious throughout this list, I love me an emotionally traumatised crazy person. Klaus is that. One of the characters who makes me laugh the most, ever, show-stopping dress sense, and a bucketload of unresolved trauma which goes largely ignored by Klaus, the other characters and the narrative itself? It was love at first sight. Their banter with the other characters, especially Ghost Ben (rip) is one of my favourite aspects of the show. Here's to hoping that Klaus won't be getting the Allison treatment in season 4!

3. Pippa Fitz-Amobi (A Good Girl's Guide to Murder)

I binge-read the entire AGGTM series earlier this year, and instantly fell in love with it. Pip is one of my favourite protagonists ever. Impossibly clever, compassionate, obsessive, badass, and a teensy bit unhinged. What's not to love? I would die for her. I'd say that I'd kill for her, but I think she's got that covered. I think she's written in a very realistic way, firstly as a genius 17 year old girl who doesn't really know what she's getting into, and later as a haunted individual who wants to stop investigating but can't. The way she politely knocks on people's front doors to dig up their traumas, accuse them of murder and all-round ruin their lives is everything to me. She is my blorbo. I am so, so excited for the show to come out, and I'm sure that Emma Myers will do a wonderful job as Pip!

4. Katniss Everdeen (The Hunger Games)

One of the best-written characters, in one of the best-written series ever. Reading from her perspective is such a delight- she's endlessly suspicious of everyone around her, constantly on survival mode, trusting very few people and relying on exactly no one (to begin with, at least). She's a random teenage girl, from the poorest district, and she wins the Hunger Games. She's so mentally unstable that she has to be sedated, and still she's made to be the face of a rebellion. She's rude, and kind of unlikeable. She adopts all the weakest tributes, at risk to herself, knowing that they won't win. She's doomed to fail by the narrative. She's the it girl of 2010s dystopian YA fiction. Jennifer Lawrence is an amazing actress, who does a beautiful job portraying the depth and conflict of Katniss in the films. The themes and social commentary of the Hunger Games is one of its (many) strong points, and I am so so glad that people are talking about it again, because it is my favourite book series out there.

5. Mitchell Pritchett (Modern Family)

I have no idea what to say about this man, I just love him. He just like me fr. What an icon. Impeccable music taste. I've started saying, "no my god" now, and nobody understands what I'm talking about. Even in a sitcom, my favourite is the one with issues that he refuses to talk about or fix. The episode where he's trying to hide that he dressed up as spiderman makes me cry-laugh. Claire's speech at his wedding makes me just cry. He's not a perfect man, but he's certainly better than everyone else.

6. Shin Tsukimi (Your Turn to Die)

My favourite cringefail loser! I said Katniss was doomed by the narrative in a metaphorical way. This idiot is actually doomed.

No but in all seriousness, I do really love him. Before the beginning of the game, he was just a relatively normal young man- but, when confronted with the inevitability of his own death, he made himself into a monster to survive. He has a violent vendetta against the local badass teenage girl, who is traumatised as hell already and does not need Shin chipping in as well, thank you very much. I love his relationship with Kanna, his biological sister; how he uses her, manipulates her, and still cares for her so much that he dies for her with a smile on his face in the Emotion route. Conversely, in the Logic route, his actions are a direct cause of her death, and I just love how much YTTD hates siblings. I hope that his past with Midori is explored more in either a mini-episode or the final part of the game, because I find it sooo interesting. I'm super excited to see whether he actually has no chance of survival, or whether he makes it out, against the odds, on one of the routes. He's a bit useless, so I won't get my hopes up.

7. Rue Bennett (Euphoria)

I think it goes without saying that Euphoria has its issues, lol. Sam Levinson is an idiot. While a lot of the show (especially season 2) feels shallow and like it doesn't care about its characters, Rue's storylines always have heart and depth and I am so invested in her arc. It's no wonder that Zendaya won 2 Emmys for this role, because her acting is phenomenal! Rue feels so real to me, in the way that she's trying so hard to stay sober but she falls down and relapses time and time again. Recovery isn't linear, but she's getting there, and I adore her with all my heart. Her relationships with Lexi, her mother, her sister, and her sponsor, Ali, are my favourites, and the healthiest for her, in my opinion. Her brief friendship/ romance with Jules may have kept her more solidly sober than anything else in the show, but Jules (understandably) cracks under the pressure of Rue's mental health, and can't be there for her. Rue needs to heal for herself, which she appears to be doing at the end of S2.

8. Max Mayfield (Stranger Things)

Duffer brothers, please just let her be happy.

Despite only being introduced in Season 2, Max has, in my opinion, had the best character development out of everyone on the show. Her growth from someone standoffish, rude, and uninterested in the group (maybe I'm being a bit harsh. She was, like, 12) to someone who is willing to risk her life to help her friends and Hawkins means so much to me. The scene in "Dear Billy" (S4, Ep4) where she escapes from Vecna remains my favourite in the whole show and will probably be burned into my brain forever. Her relationships with Lucas and El are very sweet, and some of my favourites in Stranger Things. Her final line in S4, after all her struggles over the season, being that she doesn't want to die literally breaks my heart. I hope she gets some degree of a happy ending in the final season. She was my first profile picture when I joined this hellsite, and I love her a lot.

9. Anne Shirley (Anne of Green Gables)

The shenanigans that this girl gets up to never fail to make me laugh. The bit where she accidentally dyes her hair green and then has to hack it all off makes me feel awful for her, but. it's hilarious. Sorry, Anne. Her friendship with Diana is so sweet but also so funny to me because they really are the most chaotic duo of the 1880s. The scene where Anne accidentally gives her alcohol instead of fruit juice is so mortifying but so, so funny. Amidst all of the insane situations that Anne gets into are a lot of really heartwarming moments and relationships. Matthew and Marilla adopting Anne, even though they wanted a boy, because she's so endearing and alone in the world is probably what made me who I am today. I still haven't gotten around to watching Anne with an E, but I've heard it's amazing. I look forward to watching it when I have the time :).

10. Daphne Blake (Scooby Doo)

My first ever favourite character! Another one who I don't have a tonne to say about. She's an icon, she's a legend, and she is the moment. She has done nothing wrong, ever. She knows martial arts, so watch out.

Honourable mentions: Thor (MCU), Finnick Odair (The Hunger Games), Gretchen Weiners (Mean Girls), Jake Peralta (Brooklyn 99), Maurice Moss (The IT Crowd), The Eleventh Doctor (Doctor Who), James (The End of the F***ing World), Ali Abdul (Squid Game).

If you read all of this then thanks, and have a great day!

#loki #klaus hargreeves #pippa fitz amobi #katniss everdeen #mitchell pritchett #shin tsukimi #tua #agggtm #the hunger games #modern family #yttd #i post for once #instead of just blabbering on in the tags #tag game #thanks again for the tag! :)

[tiny-pretty-sana]

i will take good care of you | mina x chaeyoung

pairing: mina x chaeyoung genre: fluff warning/tags: au, stablished relationship, domestic girlfriends w/c: 3.1 k a/n: i’m back with more fluff but i promise you i’m trying new things. sorry in advance for the mistakes you might find because english is not my first language but especially because it’s 7 am and i haven’t slept ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১. i’m still surprised by the response the first thing i’ve ever posted got, so i’ll be happy if this one receives half as much love as that one did. feel free to leave any comments, feedback, suggestions or requests 🤍

After Chaeyoung hadn't stopped sneezing and blowing her nose since she arrived soaking wet from the rain the previous afternoon, they decided that canceling their Sunday date would be the best option. Their visit to the botanical park has now been replaced by a day at home watching movies. The exam period is coming, so it was reasonable to make Chaeyoung stay at home so she doesn’t get worse. It takes them some time to decide, as the younger one felt guilty because they had already bought tickets, but Mina manages to convince her girlfriend to stay on the couch with a blanket, tea and a box of tissues beside her while she goes out to buy medicine, her favorite snacks and some ingredients to make miso soup.

"I'll take good care of you" is the last thing she says before kissing Chaeyoung’s lips and leaving the apartment.

She would be lying if she said she isn’t surprised to see that when she's back in their apartment, her girlfriend is still in the same place where she left her half an hour ago, only now she has a book in her hand instead of the mug of tea that now sits empty on the living room table. As Chaeyoung focuses on her book, she places everything she got in the kitchen and grabs her Nintendo to continue building and decorating her Animal Crossing island on the other side of the couch. Moments like this are the favorites for both of them, they just need each other's company as they spend time enjoying their hobbies in a comfortable silence.

They are both introverts who enjoy spending time at home playing video games, reading, drawing,writing, assembling Lego sets or watching movies. It's something they've always enjoyed separately, and since Chaeyoung accepted Mina's proposal to move into her apartment, it's become something they do together. Now, across the room, across the couch or using the other Nintendo Switch controller, they have someone with whom they share playful glances, smiles, exchange thoughts, talk about their days at work or college, about lives or share their problems. In moments like these, they just need to feel each other's presence. For them to be in silence doing their own thing while intertwining their legs under the blanket doesn't feel much different from a date outside in a nice place. 

It's these things that make Mina wonder if they'll always feel this way or if it's a passing thing that will end when she gets used to living with Chae. Meanwhile, on the other side of the couch, Chaeyoung underlines the sentences in the book that remind her of Mina and thinks that she stay in this moment all her life without ever getting tired of seeing Mina in front of her focus on her videogames with the tip of her tongue sticking out, concentrating on the game, just like she does when she cooks a new recipe or when she prepares some presentation for work.

An hour later, Chae puts the book away, takes off her glasses and holds the bridge of her nose with two fingers "I can't focus, I have a headache" she complains, making Mina sit up immediately "Let me get you a glass of water so you can take a painkiller". Chaeyoung gestures for her to get back to sit with her. "Don't worry, I think I just need to get some sleep" she says as her girlfriend looks at her with a doubtful face "I promise I'll take it if my headache doesn't go away" she replies, earning an indulgent smile from Mina.

As soon as her girlfriend falls asleep on the couch she goes to the kitchen to make some miso soup, lunch for both of them and looks up movie recommendations on her phone while waiting for the water to start boiling. And of course, tea is a must. 

It seems that sleep was good for Chae because when she wakes up, she seems to be in a better mood and even a bit more talkative, so they spend lunch talking about what movie they should watch. When they’re done, Mina takes care of clearing the table and cleaning the dishes despite Chaeyoung's refusal when her girlfriend tells her to brush her teeth and go back to the couch.

"Mina-chan!" she whines. "It's just a cold, don't treat me like I'm dying. Let me help you."

"Your exams are coming up and you and I both know that if you get sick now, you'll only be more anxious because you won't be able to do as much as you'd like. At least one of us has to be responsible" Mina says, giving her a scolding look, and Chaeyoung has no choice but to nod her head and follow her directions.

Mina doesn't have to explain herself for her girlfriend to get the message since the cold is due more to Chaeyoung being careless than to the sudden rain of the previous day. In the morning, when the gray clouds covered the Seoul sky and didn't let even a ray of sunshine show, they both commented that good rains were on the way and they hoped that at least it wouldn't be so heavy as to spoil their Sunday date. Exactly that date in which both should now be holding hands, smelling the fragrance of the flowers and taking a thousand photos and maybe, in the case of the art student, doing some sketches or drawings. And despite this, and despite Mina's recommendations, Chaeyoung decided to go out without an umbrella, arguing that her new raincoat would be more than enough and that, unlike the umbrella, it would not ruin her outfit. But in case that hadn’t been enough, for when she arrived completely wet down to her socks and even clothes under her raincoat when Mina reprimanded her for not having listened to her, the younger girl explained that in fact it wasn’t because she wasn’t carrying an umbrella but because she, Dahyun and Tzuyu decided to run and dance in the rain when they left the library after an intense studying session. 

Knowing that her girlfriend's two best friends were involved, she wasn’t surprised by what happened. Separately, Tzuyu and Chaeyoung are quite quiet, introverted and they rather go unnoticed, but if they get together with Dahyun nothing good can happen. Apparently in one of their classes this week, a teacher lectured them about youth, art and living life, which inspired them enough for them to spend at least an hour in the rain several days later in the middle of a storm.

Considering what happened, she wasn't going to take Mina's point away, but that's not going to stop her from complaining. "Oh come on, it's a silly cold" she snorts and before she can continue speaking, she sneezes so hard that her glasses fall off. "Okay, but don't take long" she relents. 

When the dishes are clean, dry and in place, Mina returns to her side of the couch and gets ready to watch the movie, but she doesn't put it on, so she looks away from the TV and when she turns her head, she meets the huge expressive eyes of her girlfriend, who looks at her like a like a kicked puppy. She laughs softly and shifts her posture to lie down behind her and be the big spoon. It’s then when her girlfriend considers pressing the play button.

Only ten minutes pass until Chaeyoung says "The movie was recommended by Nayeon-unnie, it's probably good. I didn't know she studied film in college" she says, to which Mina simply hums as she concentrates on what the characters are saying and what the subtitles say, as there are parts in Japanese that she doesn't want her girlfriend to miss. Occasionally, Mina whispers in her ear some of the lines or words that she feels are oversimplified in the subtitles, but it's still Chae who keeps talking the whole time. She describes what happened in the scene as if they weren't watching the same thing, comments on how neat the costumes are, talks about how beautiful she thinks the composition is, suddenly switches to the Japanese occupation in which the story is set, asks about something she doesn't have time to read, laughs when she realizes that just like the protagonists, one of them is Korean and the other one is Japanese, she then clarifies that in this case it is the Korean who has to learn Japanese... and Mina starts to be slightly annoyed. 

She’s a person who enjoys silence and is easily overwhelmed by too much noise or loud voices, like when they get together with their other seven friends and there are a lot of conversations going on at the same time. She knows it's something she needs to keep working on, but if anything, a red line for her is people talking while watching series or movies. Just like her beloved girlfriend is doing right now, who doesn't seem to pick up on the little interest her rambling receives, being answered only with monosyllables, short sentences and humming. They have been watching the movie for a while now and she’s squirming in her seat because of the discomfort and her urge to say or do something about it. her urge to get it over with is interrupted when she remembers that the girl in her arms is sick and what she needs right now is more care, the least she can do is listen to her thoughts and concerns. Even if she has decided to share them right while they are watching a movie in each other's arms. 

Just when the scene in which the protagonists share a moment of intimacy comes and takes Mina's breath away, Chaeyoung speaks and it takes all of Mina’s will to restrain herself and take a deep breath until she hears what her girlfriend has to say now. "Mina-chan, don't move away; it's cold."

And that's when Mina puts all the pieces together and moves her hand to her girlfriend's forehead. As expected, it's quite warm compared to hers and then she leans down to place her lips on her girlfriend's forehead, who without quite knowing what Mina's intentions are, smiles in anticipation of a kiss on her forehead.  "Baby, you have a fever" she says softly. "Pause the movie. I'll get the thermometer and some medicine." That's certainly not what Chae, who now had her eyes closed ready to receive the next kiss on her lips, expected to hear. Mina can't help but laugh at the sight before her, but she quickly gets up to get everything she needs from the kitchen and bathroom. After a year of dating her, she should know better. 

Luckily, there haven't been many times when one has had to take care of the other while they were sick, but enough times that Mina knows that Chaeyoung starts talking non-stop when her fever starts to rise. It's something that will always make her giggle, it's an odd trait that she finds adorable. "Was I talking that much?" Chae aks to her girlfriend, realizing what's going on, to which Mina nods and chuckles. "I was about to lose it" admits the older one, making her girlfriend blush. "Sorry, I didn't realize" she apologizes and Mina shakes her head as she gets up to grab the thermometer and a couple of other things.

"Here" she says as she returns with the thermometer the box of pills, a sachet of vitamins and a glass of water. "You should uncover for a while, Chaeyoungnie" she says, using a soft voice as she tries to take the blanket she is wrapped in, but her girlfriend grabs it and looks at her with a pout "But I'm so cold". Mina laughs softly "Yesterday you didn't seem to be bothered by the cold, come on, let’s get the thermometer on you". 

Mina wasn't mistaken, the thermometer after five minutes reads 39°C, and the first thing she does is pull the blanket aside this time for real and go get a towel. After taking the medicine, they play the movie back on and now that Chae is starting to feel worse, it’s no longer being interrupted by her ramblings, but by all the times Mina has to get up from the couch to re-wet the towel, until she checks her temperature again and it has dropped a few tenths of a degree. Before the movie is over, Chaeyoung falls asleep. She has replaced the blankets with her girlfriend and now is curled up resting her head in the crook of her neck, she warms her hands under the older one's t-shirt and has one of her legs between hers. Mina, now unable to move and not knowing where the remote is, ends up watching the movie alone until the last word of the credits because she finds it impossible to wake her girlfriend when she is sleeping peacefully in her arms.

Fifteen minutes have passed — maybe thirty or an hour — at this point she doesn't even know and she decides it's time to go to bed. She carefully separates her body from her girlfriend's and whispers sweet nothings, trying to wake her up. "Chaeyoungnie, let's go to bed" she whispers for the tenth time and this time she finally gets a "Hmm?" but nothing else, so she decides to take charge of the situation and gets up to pick up her girlfriend until she sees the restrained smile on her face that ends up giving her away. "You're awake! Come on, let's go to bed." Chaeyoung shakes her head and uses her sick privilege, and those eyes with which she gets anything from Mina, and asks her to carry her to their bed.

It doesn't take long for them to fall asleep, but at some ungodly hour of the night, the younger one doesn't stop moving and shivering, thus waking up the older one. Still asleep, with her eyes half open and the dim light coming through the window, she gropes her girlfriend's forehead to check her temperature and when she notices the hairs of her bangs soaked in sweat, she sits up right away and looks again for the thermometer and the towel. This time it reaches 40°C so she immediately uncovers her and places the towel on her forehead, also cooling her face and neck down making her shiver and whimper. "Mina-chan?" she asks with her eyes closed as she doesn’t have enough energy to open them. "I'm here. Your fever is up again, but don't worry. Try to sleep; I'll take care of you" she reassures her and when she sees her weakly nod her head, she caresses her face gently and runs her fingers through Chaeyoung's sweaty hair.

That's how she spent the rest of the night, cuddling her girlfriend, wetting the towel with cold water from time to time and checking the temperature, which didn’t drop below 38ºC all night long. Between one thing and another, she has had time to drink two coffees and has taken the laptop to get ahead of work, knowing that it is best to spend the day with her in case she has to take her to the doctor. When dawn breaks, Mina writes an email to her company informing them she won’t be able to attend work today, she presses enter and listens to the beep of the thermometer, checking that the temperature has finally dropped. She places the laptop on her bedside table, takes off her glasses, deactivates the alarm on her phone and finally lets herself fall asleep.

The sun finishes rising, illuminating the entire room, this time it is Chaeyoung who wakes up. Beside her, she finds her girlfriend with noticeable bags under her eyes, her glasses and laptop beside her just like when she suffers from insomnia. This time, she’s also holding the towel with which she has been using on her forehead all night long. Although the image melts Chaeyoung's heart, she can't help but feel a pang of guilt at the thought that her girlfriend has had to spend the night awake taking care of her because of her poor choices. Soon, the guilt is replaced by the warmth she feels in her chest as she looks at her girlfriend, thinking how grateful and loved she is. After a year together, she still finds it hard to believe that a person like Mina is in love. And not only in love but willing to love her even more with the hairs of her bangs sticking to her forehead from the cold sweat of fever, or like that time when, after finishing her sculpture project, she suffered a contracture and had to help her bathe for five days, or when she drank so much with her unnies that she spent half the night vomiting with her head stuck in the toilet while Mina held her hair and just like today, she then prepared miso soup for her on each of those occasions. According to her, it works to cure everything.

With a smile on her lips, she carefully strokes Mina's hair and covers her with the blanket as she feels her cold skin making her wake up. "Take the medicine. I'll make you some breakfast in a little while, give me five minutes" she hears her say in her newly awake voice. And, unlike the day before, Chae accepts the offer as she feels she doesn't have enough strength to stand for more than five minutes.

True to her word, in less than fifteen minutes, Mina enters the room with a bowl of miso soup. "Thank you, Mina-chan" she says as she picks it up and places it on the nightstand to cool down a bit. "No problem. I made it yesterday, I just warmed it up" she shrugs as the other shakes her head. "It's not about the soup, it's about everything. Thank you for taking care of me and loving me so well. I love you" she clarifies, earning a smile from the girl in front of her. One of those gummy smiles that makes her eyes practically disappear. She says nothing, simply caresses her cheek and reaches up, seeking a kiss from her girlfriend, who, instead of joining her lips with her whispers "You're going to get sick" by way of warning, a warning they are both willing to ignore. "That's not going to stop me. I can't think of a better plan than spending anothers day at home with you instead of going to work. Besides, what was that thing your teacher said for you to end up in the rain... Live, feel, eat, love, laugh, travel and kiss without thinking about tomorrow?" She teases her girlfriend again about the rain incident and Chaeyoung nods her head before kissing Mina. "I guess I'll have to take good care of you" she whispers against her lips.

#yes they’re watching the handmaiden (2016) #twice oneshot #twice fic #twice au #twice fluff #twice imagines #twice mina #twice chaeyoung #mina x chaeyoung #michaeng #myoui mina #son chaeyoung #mina #chaeyoung #girl group fic #girl group imagines #kpop oneshots #girl group one shots #kpop fluff #kpop au #kpop gg #idol x idol #idol au #twice nayeon #im nayeon #twice dahyun #kim dahyun #twice tzuyu #chou tzuyu

[ssinboo]

We're no Good Alone

summary: Seungkwan finds himself in a month long slump and you're recruited by his manager to help him get back on his feet.

He finds your presence a lot more comforting than he'd be willing to admit.

or

You visit Seungkwan in Seoul and spent the weekend like you don't hate each other.

Part 2 of As it Was

pairing: Middle School Teacher! Reader x Entertainer!Seungkwan

word count: 5.9k (24~ min read)

warnings: mentions of drug use and scandals, unprotected sex, making out, DIlf Mingyu (He's a warning in itself), angst

A/N: sorry for the delay! this has actually been finished for over a month I'm just a perpetual procrastinator OTL I'll be tagging everyone that asked for a sequel on this work, so let me know if you'd like to be tagged on the 3rd installment!

You didn’t visit Seoul as often as your teenage self dreamed of. It was hard enough having free time and the hours-long trip wasn’t something easy to squeeze in your schedule.

But when Seungkwan’s manager called, you found the time.

He’d gotten into a cannabis related scandal a month or so ago and the public didn’t take it well. Soon, he was replaced as the host of ‘Bad Clue’ by none other than his declared arch-nemesis, Kim Mingyu. And his health has been on the decline since.

You didn’t blame him, it was a lot to process. But it had been months and his manager was worried sick.

The concierge recognised you and let you go upstairs without a hitch, you already knew his passcode – His dog’s birthday, so getting into the expensive penthouse wasn’t an issue.

Immediately hit with the strong scent of booze and stale food, you gag, complaining loud and clear so he will hear your disgust.

Kicking your shoes and putting aside the grocery bags, you march down the hall toward his bedroom. His house is completely engulfed in darkness.

“Goddammit, Seungkwan, did you fucking die in here?” You hiss at the musty smell of a room that hasn’t seen Sunlight in weeks.

He’s bundled up in the bed, unruly hair peeking out from under the duvet.

“Kwannie,” You call out to no avail. With a sigh, you walk toward the bed, pulling at the covers to reveal the apathetic man.

He’s got deep-set eye bags that cling to his pretty eyes and an uneven stubble along his jaw. It’s unsightly in a way that tears apart at your heartstrings, watching this unbreakable image of Seungkwan’s self esteem slip away.

“Come on,” Your voice is a lot softer now as you lean forward, running your hands over his messy hair. “It’s 6 in the afternoon, have you eaten anything?”

He doesn’t reply, even as you sit down, hands running along his arms. Seungkwan’s eyes are unfocused, glazed over, staring away from you.

With a sigh, you lean forward, kissing his forehead.

“You look like shit,” You whisper, running your fingers through his tangled locks “I’m making a light soup that’s easy on the stomach, why don’t you go wash up, mhm?”

No answer.

Making your way to the kitchen, you make sure to pick up scattered clothing from the floor and toss it in the same corner so you can do the laundry later. As expected, the fridge holds nothing but canned beer and convenience store snacks.

It wasn’t the first slump Seungkwan ever had. When he first came to Seoul, there was a similar scenario, but this one seems to be worse. Given how he looks and how long it’s lasted, you can only imagine how fucked his head is right now.

The scandal had not only resulted in unending hatred from the media but the loss of his spot as the host of Bad Clue, a show he had written and planned.

The scent of fresh homemade food seems to wake up his stomach, and though he has no energy to get up and eat in the kitchen, your threats are quite energising.

You busy yourself with cleaning while he slumps over the countertop, sipping at the piping hot broth. When you shove everything into the washing machine and let it run, wiping your softener-covered hands over your jeans as you come back to the kitchen, you’re suddenly threatened with thoughts of domesticity.

It’s a brief, fleeting and imaginary scenario of calm mornings – You’d wake up to sunlit kisses, make breakfast before work and enjoy each other’s company without the looming pain of ‘no strings attached’.

But it’s gone as soon as it comes and you shake your head, making work of opening windows and pulling curtains away to let sunlight in.

When he’s done with the food, he sits there, eyes burning holes on the back of your head.

Though you feel his intense, questioning stare, you choose to ignore any thoughts he might have.

“Was it tasty?” You ask, scrubbing at the dishes.

Seungkwan shrugs, remembering you can’t see him from the sink so he just hums.

That’s enough for you.

“Why are you here?”

Here we go.

You stop scrubbing the porcelain bowl, “Because Sunggyu is worried sick about you.”

“I’m fine. Leave.”

With a sigh, you resume your activities. “Why don’t you go wash up?” You ask.

Seungkwan doesn’t move. “You cooked, I ate. Isn’t that enough?”

“I’ll leave after you’ve showered and shaved.”

It gets him moving and stomping toward the bathroom.

Once you’re done with the dishes, you set them aside and make your way to the bathroom. You knock and he doesn’t protest, so you come in.

He’s run himself a bath, steam engulfing the room with the scent of overpriced bath bombs and shower gel.

You’re happy he’s got enough energy to bathe.

After going through his cabinet and picking up the items you needed, you sit on the edge of his large tub, shaking the shaving foam can.

Seungkwan doesn’t fight you, even as you smear the foam over his upper lip and chin, which says something about his current mental state.

You pull the cap off the disposable razor and turn to face him.

“Stay still I don’t wanna hurt you,” You whisper, holding his jaw taught.

You’re so careful, holding his face in your soft hands with such tenderness he hasn’t felt in decades. And your eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, long lashes fluttering along your pretty eyes.

And Seungkwan finds himself torn between wanting to push you away and tell you to leave at once and to lean into your touch, to hold you closer and strip you bare – and he finds that it is intimacy he craves and that is the scariest thought of all.

As the razor glides along his chin, it makes a muffled scraping sound.

You’ve got your lips parted in concentration, in the same silly way he teased you in university when you made him hold up a compact mirror all so you could touch up your mascara.

“I need to do your moustache now,” You say, cleaning the razor off on the towel laid by your thigh before rinsing it off in the bath water.

Seungkwan doesn’t say anything, but obeys, pressing his lips together so his upper lip is tight enough to prevent injury. You’re doing it so carefully and yet, still manage to nick a tiny scratch on his skin.

He hisses and you immediately panic.

Picking up the towel you wipe off remaining foam to inspect the damage, there’s a bright red droplet of blood gushing down. You coo, muttering a soft sorry.

“God, I’m so sorry–”

Your fingers are caressing his cheeks, and your eyebrows are furrowed in worry, pretty lips pursued in a pout and he hates it. Hates that your touch makes any brief pain from the cut immediately disappear, hates that you look the prettiest you’ve ever looked despite your clear lack of makeup or any attempt at looking presentable.

“You can’t do anything right, can you?” He hisses, slapping your hand away.

You hit him back, muttering curses. “I should just shave off your fucking eyebrows.”

“You know I could pull it off.”

“Wanna see?” You smile, reaching for the razor and he immediately grabs your arm, stopping you from going any further because he knows you are just that crazy.

You finish off the last remaining bit and throw away the razor, moving onto shampoo. His expensive hair treatment smells like a fruity cocktail and you hum in envy.

Seungkwan closes his eyes, leaning into your fingers as you massage his scalp, worried about it well. Once it’s clean and conditioned, your job is done. While he soaks in the bath, you busy yourself with tidying up his vanity.

“What is this?” You ask, opening a bottle to smell its contents; it's a fresh scent, a little citrus-y. “Mhmm, smells good,”

“It’s a face toner…” He explains, not bothering to open his eyes, “It was a collaboration with a skincare brand.”

“Ooh, fancy,” You sing-song, putting it aside. “Where are your clean clothes? Do you even have any?”

“I don’t wear clothes at home.”

“You’re such a freak,” You laugh, tidying up the last bottle in its place on the dark marble counter. “I’m gonna throw the laundry in the washer, can you finish up by yourself?”

He hums.

So you leave the bathroom and gather the piles of forgotten items, squeezing everything into the washing machine without a care for his designer items; If he wants them to be carefully washed, he can wash them himself.

When you return to his room, he’s out of the bath and wearing a robe, it’s clearly fancy with its navy velvet and embroidered initials.

Seungkwan throws himself onto the bed without ceremony, finding some energy after the bath to finally plug his dead phone into the power.

“I’m gonna use your shower,” You announce, not waiting for his reply.

His phone blows up as soon as it turns on; hundreds of missed calls and messages from his manager, as expected. There are also messages from family; his sisters and mother still send in daily updates of their lives despite his lack of replies.

There are notifications from his social media accounts which he ignores. Nothing good will come from it.

Seokmin sent him a picture of his invitation for Sohee’s wedding, he looks at her name written in pretty cursive alongside her future husband’s for longer than he wished to admit.

There’s a bitter taste of defeat that lays heavy on his tongue,

Sohee was living proof of his weak, young self, whom he believed to be unlovable – getting his revenge on her meant avenging young Seungkwan with the awkward bangs and the rosy chubby cheeks.

The little boy from Jeju who would take mean-spirited comments without a fuss, who did everything to fit in, he’s the one that needs to be protected, right?

So why does he feel so fucking vulnerable, right now?

When you leave the shower, he hasn’t moved an inch; laying in bed, mindlessly scrolling through his timeline. You sigh, closing the bathroom door with a thud to call for attention.

You sit on the bed, laying down his expensive skincare bottles, the loud ‘pop’ from the lotion bottle finally gets his attention.

“What are you doing?”

“Skincare,” You say as a matter of factly.

He watches you smear the lotion over your bare face, happily humming at the citrus-y scent. With every swipe you make a comment on how good it is.

And then, you put some more on your hand and reach for his face, dotting the lotion along his cheeks and nose.

“Don’t put your disgusting hands on my face,” He groans, but makes no effort to push you away.

“I just showered, they’re clean!”

You straddle his waist, depositing the product all over to make sure of even coverage. Once you’re satisfied with your placement, you start rubbing it in.

His skin, usually silky smooth and without a blemish in sight, feels so rough you barely recognise it. You’re careful not to poke him with your nails– God knows he would never let you live it down; How dare you harm his beautiful face.

Seungkwan lets go of his phone, unconsciously reaching to settle his hands on your body – anywhere, they just feel so cold and empty away from you.

“Need to schedule a facial,” You whisper, running your fingers along his defined cheekbones, studying every one of his gorgeous features you’ve engraved into your brain.

He hums, fingers rubbing circles along your thighs. “Still look better than you.”

You laugh, surprised by the unexpected jab. It’s good to see him making jokes again. Done with his lotion, you lean forward, chest flush with his and faces only inches apart.

“In your dreams, Kwannie,”

And he wants to kiss you so bad.

Wants to wrap his arms around you tight so you’ll be there by the time he wakes up.

But you’re busy squishing his cheeks together so his lips will pucker up.

He shoves you into the mattress, robe slipping off partially. You’re wearing an oversized t-shirt found by his closet door, it smells strongly of his cologne and you’re sure the scent will stick to your skin by the time you wake up. And part of you, a foolish part of your stupid brain wants to never wash off the traces of him.

Seungkwan is pulling at the shirt, finding you’ve foregone underwear – not with any agenda in mind, you just didn’t want to wear your used panties to bed.

“Kwan– Wait,” You smile, swiping at his torso.

But it feels different.

This sort of rushedness is usually welcomed with excited butterflies in your stomach but he doesn’t meet your eyes, he doesn’t bite at his lips, doesn’t squeeze your waist with a teasing smirk.

He barely acknowledges you.

“Seungkwan, wait–” You pull away, shrinking into the headboard and he finally stops.

He looks… Angry?

That’s not quite it, but you can’t wrap your finger around it.

“We– We don’t have to do this…” You say, studying his expression.

“Do what? Fuck?”

You almost jump at the word. “We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to–”

“That’s all we always do isn’t it?” His eyes finally meet yours and you feel hideous– It’s as if he’s looking at an inconvenient stranger. You’ve known him half of your life, you’ve laughed and cried together and this is it? You’re some quick fuck in an uneventful night. “We meet, we fuck and then we leave. Let’s get this over with so you can fucking leave already.”

“We can talk when you little temper tantrum is over. I’ll be in the guest bedroom,” You stomp away, closing the door with a ‘Bang’ loud enough to maybe set his wits straight.

It’s a sleepless night for you, tossing and turning around the expensive bedding. Sometime around 2 am, you hear nervous shuffling by the door. It's a good ten minutes or so before he finally opens the door to peek inside.

“Just come in,” You say, his agitation getting to you.

Seungkwan jumps at the sound of your voice, not expecting you to be awake.

“You’re up?”

You hum, kicking off blankets to sit up. “C’mere.”

He approaches the bed, sitting by the end, far away from where you are but you tap the empty side with enough force to make him immediately scurry to lay by your side.

“Thanks,” He whispers, voice hoarse with sleepless anxiety.

Humming in response, you adjust yourself on your pillow, bringing his head onto your chest so you can run your fingers through his damp hair. “For what?”

“For not giving up on me,” Seungkwan snuggles against your ribcage, beating heart already lulling him to sleep.

You smile, digits tangling in his hair.

“I don’t know what I’ll do now…” He whispers, “The press had a field day with me.”

“We’ll fix it.”

“How?”

“I don’t know, we just will…” You shrug, “…It always works out in the end.”

Seungkwan scoffs, although your words are soothing.

“I didn’t know that girl would share those pics,” He sighs.

It wasn’t uncommon for celebrities to meet up and make use of certain substances, but there was an unwritten rule of no pictures or media – for obvious reasons. A model had posted a video on her Instagram Story and Seungkwan was amongst other celebrities recognised almost instantly.

He was immediately put on a hiatus by his company and substituted by Kim Mingyu for future episodes of Bad Clue.

“Honestly… What the fuck was that bitch thinking?!” You exclaim, angrier than expected.

“Rookies these days have no social media etiquette,” He says.

You giggle, “Oh, back in your day, they did? You sound so old.”

Seungkwan laughs at your comment

“I mean it,” he elaborates, “when I started out, Instagram wasn’t that important… Nowadays, agencies check your followers.”

“Sounds exhausting,” You hum and he agrees.

“I have more followers than Mingyu, though.”

And you let out a sincere laugh, chest shaking with giggles under his head. Seungkwan can’t help the sweet smile that finds his lips.

Before you, is TV sensation Kim Mingyu in the flesh, you still wondered how the hell did you pull this off. There were so many phone calls, you were certain somewhere in the middle the person would just hang up.

But alas, it all worked out and now you’re face to face with the man.

“I have something to offer you… I’ve heard you’ve been trying to get your babies into a good kindergarten… I could help you.”

Mingyu had twins – Not that the media knew about it. A young, handsome guy like him needed to play into fans’ fantasies a little. So, the agency hid his family life, against his wishes.

Mingyu is suddenly very interested, “What do you need from me?

“Get Seungkwan back on Bad clue.” He isn’t surprised at all by your request, but remains quiet. “If… If you were both MCs, you could play into the whole rival thing… You could do a pilot test… I know for certain if you talk to the company, they will allow it. If you can get back on air, I’ll get your girls into that school.” You’re this close to pleading, Mingyu was your only chance of fixing this situation.

“I would do that regardless… I do feel pretty bad for him,” He sighs, “not to say that the help wouldn’t come in handy– I am going crazy trying to get that spot.”

You smile, “It is a rather competitive school.”

“I know!” Mingyu whines, “They’re just babies, why is it so hard?! And I’ve got twins, it’s twice as hard!” You laugh at his complaint.

“Have you tried taking turns with them? They are identical, no one will know.”

“That’s what I said!” Mingyu exclaims, completely serious, “My wife almost did my head in.”

You laugh at the thought.

“I’ll talk to the company today.”

It’s as if a weight has been lifted from your chest.

“Thank you, Mingyu, really–”

“Don’t mention it… I was worried about taking his spot,” He explains, “Your idea is pretty good, I’ll relay it to the higher-ups… They might wait a little to scope out the public opinion, but I don’t think they will oppose… Seungkwan is just that good.”

With a smile, you clap your hands together, “Oh, that’s great to hear, thank you so much,” Mingyu waves off your gratitude. “I have a colleague that works on the school board… Just make sure your girls can pass the admission test and she can get them in.”

“Ah, you have no idea how helpful that is!” He exclaims, clearly burdened with worry about his babies’ futures.

And now, it was a waiting game. Hopefully, Mingyu’s charms would melt the director and Seungkwan should be returning to Bad Clue.

The conversation with Mingyu was a mood lifter, enough to make you buy ingredients for a rather special dinner. A good steak that was on sale, plenty of side dishes, and wine – Not anything special, you were working with a teacher’s salary, after all.

But it was enough to have the apartment smelling of herbs and spices as Seungkwan emerged from the front door. – He had finally gathered courage to talk to his manager about the future.

You’re happily humming, wearing the same shirt you wore to bed with your damp hair haphazardly pinned up with a pencil. His kitchen is currently upside down, with pans and pots strewn everywhere and ingredients awaiting to be cooked.

And it’s a new feeling; coming home to someone cooking you a warm meal, ready to welcome you home.

It was a pleasant surprise, almost enough to make him forget about the news that had overtaken the agency that day. A paparazzo had spotted Mingyu talking to you of all people in a lovely lunch setting.

The internet, unaware of Mingyu’s marital status, (Despite his lack of efforts to hide it), theorised you must be his girlfriend. This wasn’t about you and him, Seungkwan reminded himself. This was about morals.

After all, you were friends, were you not?

Friends didn’t go on lunch dates with their friend’s married rival.

There’s a song coming from your phone and you’re singing along terribly. And Seungkwan may or may not have used the opportunity to give you the jumpscare of your life.

The moment his hands pushed on your back, you jumped with a loud screech, accidentally nicking your finger with the knife. – Maybe that wasn’t the best idea Seungkwan ever had.

He is immediately remorseful, however, holding your bleeding finger and inspecting the damage. It didn’t help that you had pepper juices all over your hands and the cut stung like a bitch.

“I– Fucking hate you,” You hiss as he brings your finger under the tap.

“I know,” He says softly, reaching for a dishcloth to wrap your hand.

“Do you have anything in your first aid kit?” You ask, predicting his answer.

Seungkwan shakes his head.

His mother had made him a first aid kit when he first moved into this penthouse and he had used up all ointments, pomades and bandaids she’d carefully packed into that tiny white box.

You sigh, “My bag is on the sofa.” He brings you your bag and you urge him to rummage through your things to find plasters and antiseptic spray. He finally finds a small white pouch with the red cross embroidered.

Properly cleaned and disinfected, you picked out a Hello Kitty bandaid for your brand new wound.

“Why do you only have character band-aids?”

“I’m a teacher, dumbass. I’m constantly playing nurse to those suicidal babies. ” And Hello Kitty does scientifically, help heal all wounds, don’t fact check it.

“It’s weird,” He shrugs.

“What?” You put away everything, throwing the plaster packaging into the trash bin.

“You’re, like… A grown woman…”

��Wow, did you just find that out?”

He rolls his eyes. “I mean… It’s like… Just yesterday we were in school… And now you’re the teacher.”

“I know what you mean… Sometimes the school does feel pretty nostalgic.”

Seungkwan nods. “What are you making?”

“Ah!” You’re suddenly reminded of your forgotten dinner plans. “Steak and stir-fried vegetables.” “Mhm,” He hums, “That sounds amazing, I’m starving.”

“Can you cut up the vegetables for me?”

He gets to work, only slightly butchering the potatoes. You busy yourself on the stove where your band-aid is safe and away from direct contact with the food.

Slowly, you pry off the news from today. His manager was very worried but relieved to hear from him, they spoke about damage control and made plans for appearances and community work to appease the netizens.

You could only hope Mingyu would get through the directors and everything would return to normal.

Foregoing sitting down for a formal dinner, you had your plates by the counter, standing in the middle of the kitchen and chowing down on your masterpiece.

Midbite, you remember the wine sitting on top of the fridge and pop it open. Seungkwan makes a show of complaining over your cheap wine, but drinks it regardless.

“This is nice,” You say, genuinely.

Seungkwan stares at his plate. “Wasn’t your lunch with Mingyu nicer?”

You almost choke on your food. “What?!”

“You were talking to him…” Seungkwan crosses his arms, triceps flexing under the dim kitchen light.

“Mhm, yes, we met at that restaurant downtown,” You say as a matter of fact.

“Why?”

His voice is about an octave lower than usual, sending goosebumps up your spine. That was a tone you were used to hearing… in bed, and not in the middle of his kitchen.

“I had some things to discuss,” You explain, carefully watching his expression.

“And you needed to meet in such a romantic place?”

Oh, god, he was jealous.

“Kwannie–” Finally putting your half-finished plate down, you give him your full attention. “He’s married.”

“What about it?”

“He’s a married man with a beautiful wife and two beautiful kids.”

“That never stopped anyone. Men are trash.”

You can only laugh in disbelief.

“I’m not interested in Kim Mingyu,” You reach for his hands, grabbing his plate and putting it aside, “And I can assure you he is not interested in me either.”

Seungkwan humphs quietly.

“You’re cute,” Chewing on your lower lip, you study how taut his defined jaw is.

“What?!”

“I said you’re so fucking adorable I could eat you up,” You whisper against his lips and Seungkwan feels the blood drain from his body and rush toward his groin.

His hands hold your neck in place, free hand pulling out the pencil that held your hair off so his fingers could tangle into your locks. “Watch your tongue.”

You bite your lips, nodding at his words.

There’s a look in your eyes that he’s extremely familiar with, the dark glaze of lust that covers your beautiful gaze. You’re leaning against his body, rubbing your thighs together and he can’t help but love the situation you’re in.

Seungkwan brings your mouth to his and you mewl, fully melting into his touch. He walks forward until your back hits the counter and he’s pushing you onto cold marble, hands finding your bare thighs.

“Don’t meet him again,” He nips at your shoulder, trails of saliva dressing your skin in a lustful sheen.

You don’t respond, too busy arching your chest into his lips. Thoughts fogged up under his undivided attention.

“Answer me.”

“I won’t…”

Seungkwan settles between your legs like he belongs there, grabbing handfuls of skin with boundless desperation, consuming your body whole.

The sharp tracing of your fingers along his nape makes Seungkwan groan by your ears. Though it’s still not enough to pry off his attention from that sensitive spot just below your jaw which always seemed to be covered in purple spots after your rendezvous.

His hands–, his gorgeous, beautiful hands, tug at the shirt you wear, bunching up the fabric around your hips so he can finally tug your underwear off. Much to his surprise and delight, you’ve once again gone commando.

“Fuck,” Seungkwan bites his lips at the realisation you were completely naked under that oversized shirt all along. Nothing between your delicious pussy all along. “You’re driving me crazy, y’know that?” He whispers against your sensitive lips.

Slender fingers scissor you open; You gasp, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and just about anything you can reach. You’re dripping against his palm, filling the kitchen with nothing but lewd squelching sounds.

“Need you–” You hiss, contorting against cold marble, fingers tangling along his hair.

Seungkwan stills his movement, lifting his head from your cleavage to meet your eyes.

“Beg.”

The dark look that has taken over his usually sparkling eyes sends a shiver down your spine. There’s a sadistic undertone that drips from his hoarse voice you have yet to meet; And it excites you more than you’d expect.

You clench around his unmoving fingers.

Seungkwan smirks.

Before he can tease you any further, you give in.

“Please–” You plead, leaning forward until your lips are mere inches apart, “Please, I need you, Kwan– Need your big cock– Need you to fuck me ‘til I can’t walk.”

You watch him visibly gulp at your words, the volume poking at your leg getting more evident by the second.

And there’s a mischievous smile that finds your lips while he scrambles to undo his belt.

Because he wasn’t the only one with a sadistic little streak.

Though it’s all forgotten once he sinks fully into your entrance, groaning against your shoulder, grazing teeth hiding his silent grunts, of whispering how well you fit around him.

He smiles proudly against your skin, diving into your warmth to suck and nibble on the body he owns– just for the night, he reminds himself. Once morning comes you will leave and seek company of another.

A gentleman who will buy you flowers and never argue against your wishes because he will do anything to please you. A man who will never hesitate to hold you in public because he isn’t afraid to show the world you’re his.

A man who deserves you.

But for tonight, he will lie in your intoxicating smiles and pray sweet nothings until you forget every single one of his flaws– Forget he is unworthy of your attention.

With every thrust, you let out a breathy moan, but it’s not enough.

He wants his name to pour out of your lips, saccharine sweet and sultry; a siren’s beckoning. A call so tempting he can only dig further into your skin, bury himself into your heat, make a home in your veins.

“Who does this pussy belong to?”

“You–” You gulp, “You– You!”

“Say my name,”

“Seungkwan!”

He smiles, kissing your swollen lips and fastens his hips, pistoning into you. “That’s right, baby, you’re all mine, aren’t you?”

You nod, glassy eyes looking up to meet his with such unadulterated adoration. There’s nothing in your mind in this striking moment other than the way he pries you open, rubbing against your gummy walls, hitting your favourite spot every single time.

There are tears welling along your lash line, holding nothing but pleasure. You’re fucking crying because of how good he fucks you.

“Kwannie– I’m close,” You hiccup.

And Seungkwan kisses away your tears, crashing your lips into his, letting you fully melt into his kisses, drinking your every moan and whine as if he could consume you, little by little.

He lets your body relax into his arms, lets you scratch his skin open while you’re hiccuping into his lips, fat tears rolling down your cheeks.

You come, stilling in his arms with a high-pitched, strained cry of his name; He kisses every syllable off your lips with a satisfied smirk.

He keeps thrusting into your hips, riding out your body-shattering orgasm while finding his own; so, so close. Especially with the way you’re clenching around him, a ring of your slick collecting on the base of his cock.

“Are you–?” You have half a mind to ask, still coming down from your high.

“Yeah–” He replies, “Fuck– You feel so fuckin’ good.”

Nodding, you don’t suppress the muffled whines that escape your throat when he speeds up.

Yet, he still finds in him to hold a hand on the top of your head, preventing you from hitting the cupboard with such strenuous movement.

But you don’t notice. Running your lips against his neck, feeling your pleasure border on overstimulation, tears threatening to fall.

Seungkwan finally comes, hand tight on your hip, pressing onto your flesh as he slows down his pace, riding out his orgasm, coming undone into you with thick hot spurts.

You nearly collapse on top of him, and he chuckles, grabbing your arms to wrap around his shoulders for a more secure hold.

“Fuck…” He breathes out, a content smile on his swollen lips. “You were amazing,”

Seungkwan kisses your hair, a soothing hand running up and down across your back. You can only hum back, fingers lazily playing with the tag on his collar.

“Stay.” He speaks. “One more night.”

“Kwan– I can’t, I already bought the–”

“I’ll pay for everything. I’ll get you new ones, better ones. Stay, please.”

And you can’t bring yourself to ever say no.

The morning comes in lazy yawns and sleepy stretches. You’re tightly snuggled against his bare chest, tangled limbs strewn across his adored silk bedding.

Seungkwan leans to his side, bringing you closer to his chest. You let out a sleepy whine that tells him to quit moving and let you sleep.

He chuckles.

“Are we gonna stay in bed all day?”

His voice is hoarse with sleep and so irritatingly domestic and loving, you hate how it makes your stomach tingle with annoying butterflies.

“Maybe.”

With no protests toward your reply, he lays back and closes his eyes, fully intent on getting more sleep. But you’re fully awake and the awkward wetness between your legs doesn’t stem just from the remnants of last night’s activities.

You groan out, accepting just how fucking turned on Boo Seungkwan made you with a single phrase.

Kicking the duvet off, you slot yourself on top of his bare legs.

Seungkwan stares back at you with his stupidly adorable wide eyes. “What are you doin–”

That is, until you start moving back and forth, gliding your slick along his soft cock.

He lets out a strained moan, contorting under you.

It’s not long before he’s hard, and you guide him in.

His eyes are still drowsy and half-lidded, his pretty lips are parted in a permanent ‘o’ – and you can see the reddened skin you’ve bit. You’re fucking yourself on his cock, tits bouncing up and down with how vigorous you’ve started moving.

And the view is straight out a wet dream.

“Slow down–” He groans out.

“Can’t– Feels too good–” You whine out, leaning forward to capture his lips.

“I’m gonna cum too fast.” Seungkwan whines with an adorable pout and you smile against his lips.

“I don’t care– Give me your cum. Fill me up–”

Hips matching your own, Seungkwan makes true on his previous warning, coming undone in a strained moan. His fingers dig into your hips, enough to leave marks but still, careful enough to prevent injury.

Yet you keep your pace, milking his cock dry with a hand splayed across his bare chest as you chase your own high.

His eyes, half-lidded and laced with post-orgasmic haze, can’t believe the fantastic view he gets this early. Your slightly sleep-swollen face, furrowed brows, parted lips – which are marked with his kisses.

Once you come, you crash into his comfort. You dive into the warmth his body provides, letting it envelope your own and lull you into a sense of security.

His arms immediately wrap around your heaving body, nuzzling against your hair.

And he hates how much he loves this. The domesticity of waking up next to each other, lazy morning fucks and languid makeouts followed by sleepy brunches and doing nothing all day.

Fucking hell.

You’re awakened a couple hours later by the muffled sounds of Seungkwan readying himself for a day out.

“Where you goin’?” You groan out, still struggling to keep your eyes open.

Seungkwan looks at you with such a warm smile, walking toward the bed with excited steps.

“They called me this morning… I think this might be good,” He giggles excitedly and leans forward to kiss your cheek, “I’m leaving now, there’s leftover bagels on the counter.”

“Mhm– Bye. I love you.”

Seungkwan freezes.

Your words crashing onto his body like ice shards, shattering upon impact and creating ripples of cold goosebumps that travel down his spine.

Your stomach drops.

The realisation washes away any remaining sleep from your tired body. You lie still, eyes glued to his face; waiting, begging, for a reaction, anything.

A beat passes.

Then another.

And there’s nothing.

So you jump out of bed, scrambling for your scattered clothes and bag, heart pounding against your chest with a suffocating throb that crushes your lungs with every passing second.

He calls out your name, finally awaking from his trance.

You don’t reply.

You will not acknowledge these feelings.

#svt x reader smut #svt x you #svt seungkwan #svt smut #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen seungkwan smut #seventeen seungkwan #seventeen smut #seungkwan smut #seungkwan x reader #boo seungkwan x reader #boo seungkwan x reader smut #kpop smut #kpop x y/n #kpop x reader #kpop x you #kpop x reader smut #booseoksoon smut #also this is my most ao3 writer moment: #only this week i have gotten super sick and fallen upstairs #yes you read correctly #UP the stairs #I tripped and banged my knee on the steps #As It was #We're No Good Alone #💎svt