#me writing about a frat party when i have yet to even touch the vicinity of a party house

[nomazee]

enough to make me cry

blade is your only roommate, your only friend, and your only way home from this terrible party you found yourself in.

blade x gn reader — 3.3k — college & roommates au!, very americanized college experiences, frat parties, mentions of drinking & vomiting, could be read as platonic but there are definitely romantic undertones, feelings of inadequacy/being out of place, hurt/comfort, social anxiety, blade is probably ooc i'm gonna be so honest, mild kafka & reader friendship, erggg im probably missing something

notes: no i have to be so honest blade is probably completely out of character i have not played a single side quest with him in it but i just think he has reluctant roommate-to-best friend potential and i wanted to pour that into a fic,,, this is mostly unintelligible but i did proofread! love you all

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A warm hand rests on your shoulder, and the first thing that you think is Blade’s hands are supposed to be cold.

It’s really pathetic. You’re somewhere in a stupid frat house, the thrumming of music around you. There’s the flashing colors and sounds of Mario Kart on the TV, the smell of puke (probably yours) and corona lite, and a hand on your shoulders that you’ve discerned is not your roommate, Blade’s. 

Looking to the side, you follow the hand (painted, manicured nails, definitely still not Blade’s), and it leads up to an arm up to a shoulder up to a face, and—oh. 

“You’re—” you pause, getting your words in order before you puke them up, “you’re Blade’s pretty lady friend?” It’s supposed to come out as a statement, but leans more to a question. She looks down, a bit of a teasing grin on her face, but her eyes are a little soft so you trust her. 

“Is that what he calls me?” she jokes.

“No, I’m— I came up with that.” If you had any dignity left in you, you’d be embarrassed to admit that to her. Unfortunately, you’re pretty sure that Kafka (the pretty lady friend in question) just held your hair back and wiped your face as you puked into a frat-house toilet, flushing your dignity away with your dinner. Your eyes burn with tears and mortification, and you pray that only Kafka saw your embarrassing mishaps.

“I called him to pick you up,” she tells you, already looking away from you and scanning the room as if looking for something, or someone. “I would take you home myself, but I’ve got some things to take care of. And I’m assuming you didn't bring your keys with you?” 

A quick pat-down of your pockets confirms that, yes, you somehow managed to leave your keys at home, the one personal necessity that you were supposed to bring besides your phone. Which, thankfully, you do at least have.

“Umm, the…” you mutter, tongue tangling uselessly as you try to find a way out of here without facing the impending doom of Blade’s aggravated scolding and his I told you so’s. 

A week ago, you went to him with an invite to this frat party and begged him to come with you, saying something like You don’t go out much, this is your chance! He’d adamantly refused, calling it a bad idea and rolling his eyes whenever you brought it up. But you were stubborn, and you wanted to have a fun college experience, so you forced him to drive you to the party with the promise of paying for his next gas payment and getting your own ride back home at the end of the night. 

“I can go,” you finally tell Kafka, mind stringing along memories and thoughts and alarm bells of get your ass home before you have to sit in an awful car ride with Blade, “It’s, like, a fifteen minute walk, don’t call him.” 

“It’s a little too late for that, kid,” Kafka drawls, amusement in her words. She’s smiling down at you, and you’re reminded of how small you feel. “He’s already on the way.” 

“No!” you protest, a little too loudly, but not loud enough to be heard over the thumping of music and bodies and voices. “It’s— Kafka, please, just tell him to turn around, I really don’t want him to deal with me today.” 

If you knew her even less, you’d misinterpret the twitch in her expression as concern—but you’re not too dumb, so you read it as amusement. “Trust me, he’s not going to have a problem with that. You’ll be fine.” 

Whatever that means. Kafka’s too cryptic for your liking, but you won’t complain. She wiped up your vomit from the dirty bathroom tiles and stayed with you to make sure you didn't get trampled, and she didn't complain about any of that. In a week, when you have enough strength to face her again, you’ll treat her to a good, expensive, flaky pastry. She seems like the kind of person who would love those. 

Her phone buzzes with a text notification, and she clicks her tongue, standing up and pulling you with her. Her hand is still warm, seeping through the sleeve of your shirt as she takes you by the forearm, gentle but guiding. Your stomach churns at the thought of seeing Blade, the thought of him seeing you like this. Freshly-puked-out with a nasty stomachache all because of a party that he told you not to go to. 

You hold back your protests as Kafka leads you through the still-crowded frat house. What time is it? Has nobody gotten bored yet, seriously? At least you didn't kill the mood by running to the bathroom and weeping into the toilet. It seems like nobody noticed, except for Kafka, and you don’t know if that should make you feel comforted or just more upset. 

The cool air of the night hits you as you step through the front door, eyes tracking your feet as you walk down the concrete steps. You see the silhouette of Blade’s ugly blue car in your peripheral vision, but you don’t want to look up in fear of seeing the disappointment on his face so soon. He’s going to rip you a new one, and then call you a slob and kick you out of the apartment and say I can’t have a party fiend living with me even though this was your first party ever, honest. 

You barely register that you’ve reached the passenger side of Blade’s car, only coming back to awareness when Kafka opens the door for you and starts nudging you into the seat. A really pathetic part of you wants to grab onto her arm and cry hard enough that she just relents and lets you walk home, but you’re already half into the passenger seat, looking everywhere but Blade. 

“Take care of them, won’t you, Bladie?” Kafka commands lightly, her hand leaving your arm as you get situated and buckled up in the car. Blade lets out a little huff in response and your stomach sinks. He’s already annoyed. 

The car ride to your apartment is only five minutes at this time of night. You just have to survive five minutes in silence and pray that he doesn’t tear into you and scold you like a disappointed parent. A glance at the clock on the car’s console confirms that it’s half past midnight. What the fuck. What were you even doing at the party for that long, besides vomiting and crying? 

The car rumbles, exhaust sputtering a little bit as Blade pulls out from the side of the street and drives slowly, carefully, as if not to rattle you, and you really just want him to speed up and throttle the car around so you feel more guilty about waking him up in the middle of the night to come pick you up. Blade goes to bed at eleven, the latest. You can’t imagine why Kafka thought it would be a good idea to call him, of all people, but then you remember that you kind of don’t have any other friends on campus. Your chest tightens at the thought. 

Blade makes some kind of sniffling noise, his way of trying to initiate some kind of conversation. There’s not even any music playing, because he always drives in dead silence because he’s abnormal, and on any other day you’d tease him about it like you always do. You see him turn his head to you in the corner of your eye, but you refuse to acknowledge him. You wish he’d just start scolding you, yelling at you or something. 

Tears prickle behind your eyes, painfully so, but your hands tighten around each other in your lap as you will yourself to not cry like a baby in front of your roommate. He lets out another sigh, but it doesn’t sound angry, just tired, and somehow that makes you feel worse. 

“What were you guys even drinking?” is his question of voice, and it’s the one question you didn't want him to ask, and you can’t help it when the tears spill over and you bring your hand up to wipe them away frantically, hiccuping a little bit as your gut churns. 

“What—” Blade stutters, and he never stutters, and you see him whip his head around to look at you, crying into your hands over a simple question, and you just want to leave the car and walk home like you told Kafka you would do. He pulls over to the side of some residential street. There’s a dog barking in a yard and wind chimes clinking together, and you think of your handmade bottle cap wind chime hung in the balcony of yours and Blade’s apartment, and it just makes you cry more. 

The car comes to a full stop. Blade puts it in park and turns completely to you. You spare a quick glance at him through the gaps between your fingers, and there’s something like worry on his face, which you’ve never seen before. His face is pinched, lips parted as if wanting to say something, but he can’t. He’s waiting for you. 

“I didn't drink anything, Blade,” you sob, feeling miserable at the state of yourself, at how you went to a frat party with nobody you knew and just walked around like a lost child, too scared to drink or talk to anyone, too anxious to say a word. “Not even a shot, or a sip, nothing from the fridge. It was so stupid, you were right, okay? It was a stupid idea, and I shouldn’t have gone.” Your breath catches in your throat, and the car is dead quiet as Blade lets your words sink in. 

You try not to make so much noise when you cry, but you’re sniveling and wiping your face and wishing that he would just stop looking at you like that. You can still see the ruby-red of his eyes even when you can’t bear to look up at him, and it makes you so viscerally upset. 

Blade is beautiful, really, and it makes you so upset that he looks better than you right now despite him being dragged right out of bed by Kafka’s phone call with a request to pick you up just minutes ago. You, who spent hours selecting an outfit, just to feel inadequate and wholly ugly the minute you walked through the door. It felt like you were back in middle school, spending hours with your parents picking out an outfit to a school dance, looking through ties and pants and shoes, just to show up and feel both overdressed and underdressed, feel like a fool, feel like you just can’t look the way everyone else does. Like something is always a little wrong. 

“Kafka said that you got sick. You didn't drink anything? You’re sure?” 

��No,”  you confirm pitifully, wanting him to just drop the topic and drive the rest of the way home and never talk about this again. “I was just anxious, and I puked like an idiot. Kafka helped me, she was the only one that I knew at the party. I don’t know. I don’t remember anymore. I was just anxious.” 

He says your name, not unkindly, but with a prying tone that just makes a fresh wave of tears stream down your face in rivulets. “Why would you go if you didn't know anyone?” 

“I don't know!” you shout, heated with embarrassment. You’re acting like a child, throwing a tantrum and crying and shouting in Blade’s car. The seatbelt is too tight on you. You fiddle with it, pulling it from the juncture of your neck and shoulder and loosening it, scratching your bitten nails against the scratchy cloth and looking out of the car window so that you can avoid Blade’s awful, terrible, intrusive gaze. 

“I just wanted to be normal, or something. I don’t know anybody from any of my classes. I don’t talk to anyone from my major. And then I got the invite for the party somehow and I just thought it would be fun. I don’t know, Blade, I know I should’ve listened to you, I’m sorry.” 

“Stop,” he says firmly, fully turned to you now, as if he wants you to look back at him, to listen to whatever he’s going to say, and that’s the one thing you don’t want to do. You hate that he’s being kind. You wish he’d be sarcastic and mean and cruel, bite into you and feed off your self-pity. But he’s being nice, nice in the same way that he’s nice when he buys the right brand of milk for you (because the others make you sick, and the taste is different), or when he drives you places in his car when it’s raining so that you don’t have to take the buses everywhere, or when he comes home with your ridiculous coffee order that costs a hellacious amount of money with all of your substitutions and additions and flavorings. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” he says resolutely, leaving no room for argument, “Just— I didn't know you were feeling like that. I would’ve gone with you if you told me you needed someone. I assumed you were going with a friend.” 

You don’t respond with I don’t have any friends, because you’re pretty sure that’s clear enough by now, and you don’t want to confirm what’s already been confirmed a million times over just from the way you act. The way you cling to yours and Blade’s apartment, the way you never spend a second longer than you need to in any of your classes, the way that sometimes, when Blade goes out for class or work, you sit on the couch in silence with your laptop out, doing your work for the week and checking the clock and taking naps so that you don’t have to feel so alone for so long. 

“You didn't want to go,” you say instead, “I wasn’t going to make you just because I’m— I don’t know.” 

“I would’ve gone for you,” he tells you, really tells you, with a force in his words, like he wants to drive the point into you with a stake, driven right through your heart. “I would do a lot of things if you asked. You just need to ask.” 

You don’t— you really don’t want to think about what that means. What he means. You rip your eyes away from the car window and turn to face him. He’s not too close. You almost wish he could be closer, but you would suffocate under the pressure in your stomach and behind your eyes. 

He shouldn’t say things like that, things like You just need to ask, because you’d ask for a lot if given the chance. You’d ask for him to come to parties with you, stay by your side, let you put a hand on his shoulder and guide him around another disgusting frat house as if you know what you’re doing. You’d ask him to sleep in the same bed as you some nights, just a foot away from each other, backs turned to each other but still close enough that you can feel the unnatural coldness that radiates off of Blade. 

You’d ask him to introduce you to Kafka and that other girl they hang out with, to say something stupid and funny like This is my abhorrent roommate, be nice to them, and that way you’d have more contacts in your phone that aren't just Blade and your parents and two old high school friends who you haven’t spoken to in a year. You’d ask him to be a lot more than just a plus-one to a party full of people you’ve never met. 

“I just want to go home,” you breathe out, a guilty confession burning your gums and leaving a sour taste in your mouth. “I’m sorry.” 

“Stop saying sorry,” he asserts for the second time tonight, making your lungs squeeze as you puff out a tired exhale. Blade turns back in his seat, taking the car out of park and heading back onto the road—driving slowly, yet again, avoiding cracks and potholes in the road. “You need to eat something. You’ll wake up with a hellish headache if you go to bed dehydrated.” 

“I don’t think that’s true.” 

“I said it, so it’s true,” he says petulantly, turning the car down into a road that’s definitely not in the direction of your apartment building. To your hidden delight, the glowing sign of a twenty-four-seven ice cream store comes into view, and you sit up just a little bit. Blade slows the car as he turns into the drive-thru, glancing at you with an eyebrow half-raised. 

“What do you want? I’ll order for you.” 

“I don’t have my wallet,” you admit, just a little bit embarrassed. “I didn't even bring my keys with me. Do you think they take Apple Pay?” 

A breathy laugh escapes him, and you catch sight of a dimple pressed into his cheek, and you want to press your thumb into it and look at his smile, just for a little longer. “Don’t be dumb. I’m paying,” he tells you, the same way he has every time he pays for your cafe drink, or when he comes home from work with your favorite, and says You’re broke enough without having to pay for these drinks, don’t pay me back in that snippy way he shows his care. 

You ask for a medium vanilla milkshake, with sprinkles, and he gets you a large instead, which you’re more than grateful for. He refuses to let you look at the receipt for the total cost, and hands you the milkshake with a comical severity that you often see in him. The sweet drink washes away any bitter taste left in your mouth, and you feel a little better, a little nicer in your haphazard party outfit and under Blade’s fleeting gaze. 

A deep sigh escapes you, one of relief, when the car finally parks at your apartment building. Blade puts a cold hand between your shoulder blades, unobtrusive and leading, and it’s a comforting contrast from the heat lingering on your skin from the party and the closed car. It feels right, more in-place than Kafka’s warm hands were when she wiped your face and kept you steady, though she was just as gentle. 

Blade all but tosses you onto the couch, claiming that it’s much too late for a shower and he’d rather not deal with you collapsing from exhaustion in the tub. You relent easily, the exhaustion of the night hitting you and soaking into your limbs. 

“I’ll let you sleep on the couch,” he says, and it’s a good and kind thing, because he knows that sometimes you hate your bedroom because it’s just too empty, and the constant sound filtering into the living room puts you at ease. He never lets you sleep on the couch, because it’s bad for your back, and he jokes about you developing adult onset scoliosis with the awful way you sleep. Letting you do it, just this once, is another one of his small mercies. 

The TV is on, humming at a low volume, and your legs are thrown across Blade’s lap. You’re shocked that he’s willing to fall asleep with you like this, but he’s kind, sarcastic and biting but kind all the same, as much as he loathes to admit it. It’s not too lonely, you decide, hearing the bottle cap wind chimes on your balcony clink together in dissonant harmonies. 

(There’s a missing text from a new contact on your phone when you wake up, coming from pretty lady friend, extending an invite to brunch in two days, and you kick your legs on the couch in giddy excitement, thinking about how you’ll rope Blade into coming with you, too.)

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taglist: @tragedy-of-commons

(pssst!!! send me a msg or fill out the form in my navi to be added to the taglist!!!)

#blade x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #blade hsr x reader #hsr blade x reader #hsr ren x reader #thats his name right.......... #blade x you #hsr x you #honkai star rail x you #begging myself to write something under 1k next time #i miss when i had the ability to write short drabbles instead of behemoths #i say this as if i don't have a supernatural blade fic thats already 5k and not even halfway done #THATS the real behemoth #he's so out of character here forgive me #i just like his pretty face #me writing about a frat party when i have yet to even touch the vicinity of a party house

[keycoro]

hello angels!! i’m rocky and i’m sooo excited to plot/write with yas. this is joaquin but everyone calls him key so i’ll usually address him as that!

[ arón piper, male, twenty two ] it looks like JOAQUIN “KEY” CORONA is late to class once again . how do they expect to get their degree in ARCHITECTURE by skipping class ? it’s a wonder that they made it to their SENIOR year . then again , i heard that they were + SPONTANEOUS which may give them a pass with professors , but they are also - ENIGMATIC so maybe not . all i know is that they remind me of BLOODY KNUCKLES, SHOTS WITHOUT CHASERS, AND GOLD CHAINS so watch out . oh look , HE just walked in !

intangible, enigmatic, hellraiser, rebellious, the spontaneous insurgent, easier to be an asshole than to come to terms with any of his feelings, a playboy. secret soft. everyone thinks they know him but he only shows what he wants. it’s easier like that.

he’s bisexual but closeted

key comes from a really wealthy family 

he has two older sisters but doesn’t get along with them because they’re really different from him

basically luna and emilia are more like their mother; they care more about being powerful and influential and put less emphasis on familial connections

he was really close with his father but his father died three years earlier so he’s kind of on this path of raising hell but anyone who knew him in his freshman year knew him as a different person

he’s always been a little mysterious, always been the charismatic type, kind of a player but was never closed off to making new relationships which is where he’s at right now

he has issues with his mom because his mother sees him as his father

his father, santino, was really all over the place tbh and he was a journalist so he was always traveling but he was very fun-loving, very charming, and didn’t ever stress the importance of one kind of path for life

but more about key........

he is the president of sigma psi pi, probably the type to throw you out of the party if you touch the person he likes 

always has goodies for the party /if u know what i mean/

whispers hes a drug dealer

he is top 5 most likely to start a fight

he is usually in the mood for a fight but will also have his really quiet moments where you’re like .......is there still a soul in ur body bro

very very broody

i will continue to flesh him out more but main takeaways:

broody

just wants a hug

will ash his blunt on your opinion

“dont touch me”

*stares intensely*

“no im not crying why dONT YOU JUST LIKE MIND YOUR BUSINESS OR SOMETHING”

“i dont usually share my poptarts but i dont like when people cry while in the same vicinity so please take this and stop doing that”

partying without shirt because he can

i didnt steal ur bitch bc i dont want to keep ur bitch

pls hug me

also he doesnt think chris did it and will stand by this even though i dont think he has much to back up this idea

connections!!!

ride or die bihhhh

fwb

we’re homies and we tell each other things that most people have to beg for us to tell them also when you’re too drunk so i take you home also when we’re both really drunk we fuck but i bring u home after and it aint even that serious and if anyone wants to fight u send them my way

best friends fuhevaaaa

enemies!!! because key wants all the static

enemies or misunderstood one another turned homies

party friends that just get really messed up together

ex gf, he cheated

i will just keep making fun of you because i hate you

other exes

the boy he likes????

someone he had a pregnancy scare with??? they grew apart after and never dealt with it???? i need this

guy he hooked up with and is like omg u make me question everything and now i’m trying to avoid u but i keep staring

unrequited or they think its unrequited

his ex’s best friend that he hooked up with idk

somebody who knew his dad???

teammates/work out buddies bc soccer

enemies but only because assumptions they’ve made about one another but now a creepy guy is hitting on you so im going to pretend im your boyfriend

they’re not really friends but get put into a situation where they realize they have more in common than they thought or are kinda friends but neither really ever want to admit it???

secret friends or secret lovers

we’re stuck in this elevator i guess we should talk about our life stories

omg i had sex with your sibling and you saw me naked that one time accidentally this is awkward

our exes are on a date so lets go on a date??? and/or help me make this person jealous

his little

in the same frat but hate each other

we go on adventures together

childhood friends

we both hate that person

key will protect at all costs

you’re the opposite of me and yet here we are

someone who is genuinely good for him like so wholesome and makes him do sweet lil things unintentionally

LETS PLOT :’) honestly if you have any ideas or anything please feel free to message me or like this because fuck yeah 

#key is my child #fuck him up #drugs tw #death tw #? #like this pleaseee i will msg u hehe #whittonintro #whispers hes a scorpio #about joaquin.

[idea-garden]

oneshot #8 - when you’re tired of breaking other hearts

Minseok/OC

Written by @idea-garden​

Requested by several anons

SMUT / 18+ / cheating / angst / violence? / dirty talk /

3,811 words

Minseok is a cheater. How will SooRi deal with this?

If you like this like it, reblog it, and follow me!

This is trash.

ALL PROMPTS | SMUT PROMPTS | RULES | ASK | MY WRITING

‘I hope you’re gonna wear something sexy for me…’

Choi SooRi eyes scanned the message multiple times with a wide grin.

Kim Minseok.

They weren’t really a thing, but SooRi would make time in her busy schedule for Minseok to stop by and blow her back out or rearrange her guts.

This weekend would be no different. SooRi had a long-standing event marked on her calendar. Her friend’s, Jung Jessi, birthday was this weekend. She was very excited to have something fun to do for the first time in a while. So excited, in fact, she decided to arrive a day early. It was also a chance for a mini-escape. Jessi decided to have a smaller get together at their family’s lake house.

SooRi packed up her car with a large overnight bag and a neatly-wrapped gift. She couldn’t keep the smile from spreading over her face as her phone vibrated. She already knew who it was.

‘Keeping me in suspense, huh? Am I going to have to spank you for that?’

‘Keep feeding yourself these delusions…,’ she punched back quickly.

--

The ride was a comfortable one. Sure, it was a touch on the lonely side, being in her car for a two hour drive. However, she made it fun between blasting hits from the 2000s and fielding phone calls from friends and family.

She sighed with relief as one of the signs she passed was the actual location of the party. SooRi made record driving time simply by packing her purse full of snacks and limiting fluids.

Her eyes widened in awe of the gorgeous scenery. The trees were tall and full, the lake was a radiant, clear shade of blue, and the lake house was an imposing structure. She wouldn’t have minded living there as her full-time residence. It was beautiful, isolated, and situated in a cute little town outside the major metropolitan areas.

She hopped out of the car and pulled her bags over her shoulder, gingerly carrying the birthday gift. SooRi bought Jessi the latest model Keurig, since she could never seem to stop fawning over hers.

The holographically-wrapped present must’ve attracted the attention of her host, as the young person ran out to greet her before SooRi’s feet could firmly plant themselves anywhere near the doorstep.

“SooRi! I’m so happy you’re here! Here, let me help you with these!” Jessi reached out for the bags, tempted to only stop at the gift.

“Thanks,” SooRi followed the younger woman inside. “This place is nice. How come this is the first time you’ve invited me out here?”

“This is the first time I’ve been allowed visitors that weren’t blood relatives. You know how my parents are...a mess.”

“I’ve heard,” SooRi couldn’t help snorting a laugh.

“Yeah, they mean well. Enough about them! You’re the first one here, which means you get first pick of the rooms!”

The pair ran upstairs inspecting the best rooms in the house. SooRi settled on what she figured was usually Jessi’s room, an overwhelming space that was just barely smaller than the master bedroom.

“I can’t believe Junmyeon didn’t get here before me.” SooRi plopped down on the neat bed with her bags.

“You did. Take a victory lap, champ. Junmyeon wanted to make a trip out of it. He’s gonna get here later with Jongin, Kyungsoo, and Minseok. I don’t think you’ve met him before.”

SooRi’s mouth dried, but she quickly righted herself, before her keen friend noticed her change in demeanor. “Kyungsoo?”

“No! I know you know Kyungsoo, silly! I was talking about Minseok.”

“The name sounds familiar.” ‘Very familiar. In fact, I think I’ve screamed it a few times.’

“He was at Baekhyun’s new year’s party, this year. Maybe, you met him there and forgot?”

That was where it all started for SooRi.

Minseok was a suave bastard that knew all the right things to say to get in her pants. Kim Minseok had full lips that spewed shit, but tasted like candy. He was the complete opposite of what SooRi had in her mind a med student should be. He was a frat boy in grad school, essentially. She on the other hand was a much more stable individual, working on a master's, and not getting blackout drunk every weekend.

Nothing seemed to matter when they were together. They made each other feel good. Besides, Minseok claimed their hookups helped him revise his anatomy notes.

She figured that was a load of bullshit, but with a passion for education, she was happy to do her part in preparing the country's next generation of physicians.

--

The time passed quickly as the two women made a few last-minute adjustments to prepare for the deluge of guests that were to descend on the cabin soon.

SooRi could only hope she was being discreet as she messaged Minseok back and forth, smirking wildly at his every response.

--

Early the next morning, SooRi was jolted out of her sleep by the sound of a honking SUV and four, rowdy boys. Irritated, she laid in bed with her eyes closed, refusing to move a single muscle in the hopes she could resume her rest. It wasn’t until she could hear her friend greeting her boyfriend emphatically that SooRi’s heart began to race.

‘Oh god. He’s here. Now?! I’m not even lucid, yet.’

She bolted out of bed, zipping around to the bathroom. SooRi became more frantic as she heard the group ascend the stairs. She snatched the scarf from her hair, pulling her wild curls into neat spirals that framed her round face.

There wasn’t much she could do to her oversized tank top and sleep shorts before Minseok neared her door. She could hear her friend directing each man to their room.

"Who's in here?" SooRi swore she could feel him smirking as he spoke.

"Oh, SooRi! You'll meet her later, she's great."

"Oh, I bet." The low growl in his voice made goosebumps come over her skin and her cheeks flush.

The shuffling of feet and doors closing brought her heart rate down to a fairly normal range. She had avoided potentially resembling a homeless beggar, that was three years deep in a heroin addiction.

--

The day drug itself at a devastating crawl. SooRi and Minseok had to pretend they'd only just met, while casually eye-fucking across the room. More and more people entered the space, walls seeming to close in a little more as each person joined. By night, everyone sat around in the den, music lowering as Junmyeon and SooRi brought out Jessi's birthday cake.

The pair started the traditional 'Happy Birthday' and soon the rest of the guests joined in on the song. Junmyeon punctuated his elation with a quick peck on the cheek, urging her to blow out the candles and make a wish.

Minseok slithered behind SooRi as she stood back viewing the sweet moment.

"If I was the birthday boy, I'd wish for you bent over in front of me and covered in frosting."

"I'll skip the yeast infection, thanks!"

"You should trust me, I'm practically a doctor, after all."

Minseok couldn't help the deep chuckle he made as she scoffed at him.

"You're probably right, that it's not the best wish. I'd be sorely disappointed that my cake wouldn't taste nearly as delicious as you."

SooRi's eyes scanned him and the immediately vicinity. Trained to the floor, she looked behind Minseok.

"What are you looking for, babe?" She chewed the inside of her lip to keep from grinning. She couldn't help how much she liked it when he would use any affectionate term for her--no matter how small.

"Just checking for any secretion on the floor. It’s amazing how you don't leave a trail, to be so greasy, Minseok. It's impressive."

"How about we sneak off to your room for a minute, and I can give you much more to be impressed about?"

Her thighs clenched tightly, while her mouth dried. She tried to respond, but a hoarse croak met his ears before she could get her bearings.

"You know, you're lucky you're cute," SooRi winked at him before turning on her heels and heading towards her room.

'Am I a joke or just desperate?' The thought crossed her mind for only a second, when a gust of Minseok's cologne hit her nostrils.

He smelled great. If there were pheromones in the air, they definitely belonged to him, and he was purposely trying to fuck her up.

The pair burst through the room as an awkward unit of twisting limbs.

--

Minseok’s cool hands slid up her smooth back to lift her crop top up, both of their arms stuck in the fabric as they continued to kiss. The fiery kisses ceased for a moment just long enough for him to strip her out of the top and her flowing, palazzo pants.

He lifted SooRi in his arms and she took no time to wrap her legs around his tall body. They made it to the bed and he dropped her gently on her back.

His nimble fingers flicked her clit a few times, his smile growing wider as she became more desperate for him.

“Looks like you’ve been ready for this, huh?” His head dropped to her chest, tongue peeking out to swipe her nipples, fingers still dancing between her folds.

“Fuck me already,” she smirked at him through hooded eyes.

“Ask nicely, my sweet.”

Minseok pulled her nipples gently through his teeth, before kissing a path up to her neck.

“Minseok, can you please take your dick out and fuck me?” SooRi stated with clenched teeth.

“Better, but not great. We’ll work on it,” he winked, but followed her command.

He unbuckled his jeans and dropped them just low enough to reveal himself. His large hands ran over SooRi’s smooth thighs, pulling them apart.

Minseok cut his eyes over her, biting his lip at the sight. His lowered his head, tongue darting out to brush over her clit. He stiffened at her needy little whimpers and he lapped at her sensitive nub.

He wanted to bury his tongue inside her, but liked the fact that she was much more assertive than usual. He took pity on her squirming body and decided to give in. Minseok lined himself up with her entrance and eased his length inside her.

She winced at the foreign feeling. It’d been too long since they’d last been intimate. He was always so busy with something.

Her moans were breathy and hoarse, but uniquely her. Minseok grunted already ready to fill her with his baby gravy. SooRi felt amazing latched around him. His hips snapped at a faster pace, becoming more brutal as her moans grew louder.

“That’s it, baby,” a thin film of sweat covered his forehead.

His nails dug firmly into her thighs, becoming rougher and losing self-control. SooRi lifted her legs, pulling her knees to her chest, opening herself even more to Minseok. He pawed at her breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers.

The room was stuffy with the heat of their bodies bucking wildly. His release crept up, bubbling at the base of his abs.

SooRi gasped with excitement as Minseok’s hand closed around her throat. His grip grew firmer with his need to orgasm.

She grinned as he hissed when she drug her nails over his chest. “I’m close, Minseok.”

He was thankful for that. Her tight, wet heat was about to milk him for everything he was worth.

“Cum for me, baby. Cream on my dick.”

SooRi winced and contorted her expressions as the wave of pleasure flooded her body. Her manicured fingers wrapped around the muscular arm holding her throat. Her body shook with primal convulsions. There was nothing left, Minseok had taken it all.

In succession, Minseok stumbled backwards slightly and exploded over her thighs. The stream of fluid practically leapt out to the rhythm of the music blasting downstairs. SooRi continued to twist as he drained himself over her.

“Damn, I’ve missed you.” They spoke in unison.

Minseok took a seat beside SooRi, pulling her close, for what felt like an eternity before they cleaned themselves.

--

The pair traveled back to the rest of the party. Minseok had his hand at the small of SooRi's back, holding her closely as if she were his. She smiled up at him and he returned with a brighter one.

They looked off to the guests dancing and chatting with each other, choosing to stay off to the side with each other.

Minseok tucked a piece of hair behind SooRi's ear as she discussed her plans for the future. Her cheeks grew pink and his touch sent her heart aflutter. Their conversation grew deeper, soon the surroundings weren't even noticeable.

A surprised shriek brought their attention to the source. The door opened and the color drained from Minseok's face.

He took a healthy step away from SooRi and eased into the most awkward, hostage situation smile you'd ever see.

The host enveloped a smiling woman, greeting her enthusiastically, showing her around and introducing her to other guests. SooRi looked in her direction, but didn't think much of it. She paced closer to Minseok as he remained preoccupied with the whereabouts of the newcomer.

As if he felt her body felt encroaching on his personal space, he inched away.

'Well, fuck me, I guess.'

The stranger made it around to SooRi and Minseok. His eyes shifted like he was a bank teller that was the inside man for a bank robbery.

"Hey, babe."

SooRi could've been cast in a remake of The Exorcist, the way her head turned to hear Minseok more clearly.

"Hyuna, this is one of my friends, SooRi."

Being the hospitable type, she smiled politely to Hyuna and carved Minseok's heart out with her icy stare.

"Nice to meet you. I didn't know Minseok had a sister!"

"He wishes his genetics were this good! I'm his girlfriend," Hyuna was not irritated in the slightest.

"How long have you two been together?"

He had better have just met her in the last ten minutes.

"Hmm... what? About eight months now?"

SooRi was completely gobsmacked. That was around the same time Minseok proposed their friends with benefits relationship. A sinking feeling overcame her. She felt the pit of nausea pool at the base of her stomach.

Sure, they weren’t an item. But, she did have the absolute bare minimum bit of decency to not sleep with someone romantically attached to another person.

Besides, he played her.

Hyuna puffed her cheeks up in curiosity at the growing-distant SooRi.

"Well, it was nice to meet you, SooRi! I want to catch up with the birthday girl for a bit."

--

Minseok hung back after Hyuna disappeared into the crowd, "You have a lot of nerve, Minseok."

SooRi gave him an icy stare--one that suggested if he wanted to keep his testicles--he should keep it moving.

--

Minseok had appeared on her screen for days now. Incessantly texting and calling her, SooRi lost respect for the man each time her phone rang. She briefly considered chucking her phone out of the window.

It made her sick how much she actually liked him. She was even more disgusted by the fact that she couldn't see through his bullshit.

Now, here she was watching YouTube videos of proposals in her underwear, while Mary J. Blige, the queen of hip-hop pain, playing in the background.

Feelings? Gross.

Unconditional romantic love? Absolutely fucking disgusting.

Yet, here she was--like a sucker--craving it and so much more.

A dull pounding could be heard past the ruckus of the various sounds. She paused her videos and lowered her music just enough to hear the rustling of whoever was outside of her door.

The beating on her door resumed. She looked around for something to do some damage with, but found nothing. Whoever was outside, might have been getting bum rushed.

She swung open the door, ready to fight.

It was only Minseok.

She tried closing the door as fast as she could manage, all with an audible groan. Unfortunately for her, he wedged his foot in the door before she could get it closed. He squeezed himself into her apartment, but SooRi tried in vain to keep him out.

"I miss you."

"That's all you can say? After everything?"

"I'm sorry. I broke it off with Hyuna. I didn't want to string anyone along...anymore."

"I'm glad you were able to clear your heavy, burdened conscience at everyone's expense."

"I deserve that."

"Really? Because I've been hitting the bag at the gym more, and I think you deserve some of that."

"Then hit me."

"...What?"

"If it means I have a chance of you forgiving me, giving me another chance, not trying to crush my rib cage in your door, I'll do anything."

She raised an eyebrow and circled him suspiciously. Once she was in front of him again, she pushed his shoulder.

He stood like a statue, only returning a weak smile, giving her permission to carry on. SooRi pushed his other shoulder, testing once more to make sure he wouldn't react.

Nothing.

A surge of emotion coursed through her as her hand connected with his cheek. Minseok winced, but did nothing more.

"I hurt you. I can take anything you want to do to me."

SooRi slapped him again, "You don't get to do that. You don't get to say the right things, and make me not want to hurt you."

"Hurt me, SooRi. Make me hurt," Minseok took her hands and brought them to his face again.

Her eyes watered at the action, but she wasn't in a crying mood. She forcibly pulled his body in front of her sofa, and pushed him back until he fell on the plush furniture. She straddled him, crashing her lips into his.

"Fuck you, Minseok."

He grabbed at her body, pulling her in for a more passionate kiss. She tangled her hands in his thick hair, tugging on it to halt his kisses.

"God, you drive me crazy," he muttered against her lips. "You're all I can think about. This whole fucking time I've been trying to get you out of my head and I can't."

His warm hands found the cool skin of her abdomen as he inched her flimsy tank top up. He might not have deserved her, but damn if she didn't want him right now. She released her grip on him to let her shirt slide over her head. He kissed her breasts gently, leaving little bruises over the sensitive orbs.

Minseok kissed her again and SooRi could feel his fingers pushing her panties aside.

"You're so fucking wet, baby. I need to be inside you. I miss the way to pull me in, grip me. How warm and soft you are, writhing around me. Let me in, SooRi."

God damn, he was nasty. SooRi nodded without waiting for him to finish. She needed him just as badly. Working on his jeans took just a matter of seconds; she was pretty used to about every pair he owned anyways.

"God, it's so wet for me...," she brought him out of his sentence mid-thought, stroking his length.

Minseok always turned to putty when she teased him with her hands. He was far too predictable, at least when he was horny. She smirked watching him harden in her hands, but wasted little time once he was at attention. SooRi hovered over his member, while he lapped her wetness off his fingers.

They kissed again as she sank down his shaft. He groaned into her mouth, as her face contorted in pleasure. Her hips rolled involuntarily to get more of him inside her. She'd craved his touch for what felt like a century. Her hands rested on his shoulders, as if she was trying to push him further into the couch.

Her hips met his, slapping together with wild abandon. SooRi's eyes rolled back as her hoarse moans turned into desperate cries. Her thighs burned, the tense muscles pushing through the pain to bring her to her orgasm.

His broad hands let go of her waist to crack down over her ass, chiding her for slowing her speed. But, if Minseok thought he was in charge, he was in for a rude awakening.

SooRi pinned his roaming hands just above his head. She stared deeply into Minseok’s eyes, slowing her movements to a tortuous pace. His mouth dried in awe at the confident woman before him. He’d never realized how hot it was to have someone take control of him--be the dominant one.

He loved it. And if that meant being SooRi’s submissive pet, then so be it.

“Min-- I’m gonna--,” the words were stuck in her throat as the euphoria crashed over her. It felt like her whole body was on fire. As if her howls weren’t boisterous enough, she really made it a point to put on a show for Minseok. Bliss cascaded from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. SooRi could hardly feel that her body was still moving atop Minseok.

She pressed her mouth against his and he opened to her, kissing her hard, both of them pouring all their unspoken words into the physical expression of need and desire. SooRi's entire body shuddered with the impact of the emotion she felt from him and she dropped the hold restraining his hands, wanting nothing more than to fold herself around him and show him that his heart was safe with her.

A moment of frustration crossed his features, before morphing into a pleased smirk. Working herself over his tip, she took deep pleasure in hearing those rare, needy boy moans she loved so much.

“Please, baby,” he said breathlessly.

He cupped her breasts in both his hands, while she bored holes in him with her stare. “I need to bottom out in you.”

“Then, do it.” SooRi shuddered with the chill of excitement at him begging for release.

Minseok wrapped his arms around her body, holding her flush with his chest, pulling her down on his dick. He snapped his hips upwards quickly, completely sheathed  inside her with each stroke. Grunting and gritting his teeth, he slammed into her one last time as his thick fluid sprayed her insides.

--

They heaved sighs of relief as they awkwardly separated themselves to snuggle on the couch. Minseok gently ran his fingers through SooRi’s disheveled hair.

He gnawed on his lip unsure of what to say next. He liked the feeling of being close to her like this. He didn’t want to fuck up any chance he had at having moments like these with her again.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, SooRi.”

She wondered how long she’d get to enjoy the moment before she was harshly slapped back into reality.

“I know.”

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