#♫ even when the water's cold ( !!! ) ♫

[bledf1rst]

DAISY JOHNSON starter call [...]

for @hauntrcss

Daisy   hit   the   water   and   white-hot   pain   laced   up   her   back   where   she   disturbed   the   surface   and   fell   below   it,   admist   the   wintery   ice.   The   lake   was     freezing   and   when   she   clawed   her   way   back   to   land   her   teeth   were   chattering,   limbs   shaking.   The   comm   that   had   been   in   her   ear-   fuck,   Phil   was   gonna   be   so   worried-   had   at   some   point   been   washed   away.

When   she   had   most   of   her   body   to   safety,   Daisy   tucked   her   chin   and   coughed   wetly   into   her   elbow,   noise   burning   from   the   split   second   that   she   had     inhaled.   Funnily enough,   not   the   worst   situation   that   Daisy   had   ever   found   herself   in,   but   her   clothes   and   body   armor   were   soaked   through   and   it   was   still   the   middle   of   the   night.   Her   best   chances   would   include   getting   off   her   ass   and   finding   people.   Or   somewhere   to   stay     at   least,   if   they   were   still   looking   for   her.   The   distance   she'd   fallen-   anyone   normal   wouldn't   have   survived,   but   her   thoughts   were   inturrupted   by   the   overhead   whirr   of   what   she'd   fallen   from.   A   helicopter.

It   had   dipped   and   was   skimming   the   tree   tops,   though   there   were   very   few.   Daisy   had   the   belated   realization   that   she   had   been   unceremoniously   dumped   in   some   park   for   all   her   trouble   and   stuck   to   lying   very   still,   very   motionless   until   the   danger   passed.   Daisy   pressed   her   nose   into   the   dirt   as   another   shudder   rolled   through   her,   gooseflesh   prickling   along   her   arms.

"   ...   Shit.   "

[floralscented]

──ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤpre-show pregame ㅤ ♫ ⋆ ｡ ♪ ₊ ˚ ♬ ﾟ .

manager!dean & sunshine. now playing ! greedy, tate mcrae. find sunshine's setlist here.

content warnings. pining. it's a warning bc it's BAD. also john winchester hate. but pls just consider that a given on this page.

he'd loved you since you were kids, dean did.

and he thought he'd been obvious. he thought he'd been obvious when you were both kids, and he'd handmake the dandelions you loved so desperately into rings ─ hell, he'd proposed to you with it.

but you were always destined for things greater than a childhood best friend from your small town you were always bound to outgrow. and so dean winchester did the most irrationally rational thing he could think of at the time, not wanting you to slip through his fingers like water.

he followed.

dean was actually still following you, trailing like a lost puppy.

"opener starts in ten," he says, flipping through the notes in his clipboard, "set should take around 40 minutes, give or take. that means─"

"i love you so much, dean," you say when you spin on your heel, and he's long past ever thinking those words will mean anything besides being platonic and useless to him, but it still makes his heart thump in his chest at the idea they could, "but you do not have to explain my set to me."

dean huffs his annoyance. "i was saying," he grumbles, grabbing a water bottle from the pack set up in the wings of the venue's stage, "before you rudely interrupted to try and be cruel to me ─ worked, by the way, gonna keep me up at night ─ that you have about an hour to eat, drink, do the social media thing, whatever you want. just in the hour constraint."

you were so pretty. your makeup was half done. you had the thickest layer of white powder underneath your eyes that he'd ever seen, and your lips were chapped, still. always chapped. because you're always running your mouth, he'd told you once. still true.

you weren't even dressed yet, either. there, on the rack outside of the dressing room he'd been following you to, was your allotted outfit. so glittery. everything was so damn glittery in the pop scene.

the things he did for you, really.

"you know i can't eat big before a show," you say, as if this is supposed to be new information to him, "did you get─"

"fruit tray, veggie tray, cold water, all already in the fridge."

"and─"

dean slow blinks at you. once, twice. "and your special good luck wine."

your smile is so grateful that it could make him a molten mess, right in the floor of sunset blvd's backstage area. you just had that effect on him, even when he wished that you didn't hold so much power. people looked at you and saw a star; dean looked at you and saw the stars.

he saw the little girl that climbed to the top of the monkey bars to balance on the thin bars, just so you had a wide enough berth to scream barbie movie songs at the top of your lungs to anyone who gathered beneath you. he saw a girl who burned through the school's printer paper to have sheet music of every song you liked. he saw a girl who used to come and sit on his bed while his dad screamed or snored downstairs, and sing half-finished songs to him while writing and rewriting their endings to cover up the sound of it.

they were still dean's favorite songs on your setlist, those ones that he watched come to fruition before his eyes. watching your passion bloom was prettier than any flower, made you prettier, somehow.

"dean?"

embarrassing. he clears his throat, straightens his spine, as if he hadn't just been caught in a daydream by the very person who haunted them. "go ahead."

"don't talk all professional to me," you chide, your lips giving way to the gentle tone of your voice, "i asked if you'd come in and have a glass with me. to celebrate."

your hand is closed around the big clothing rack, the door half open. dean's maybe not very observant when it comes to situations involving you, but he's also not a complete dope.

"you're changing."

you slow blink at him now. "and?"

dean does not know how to explain to you that this is a very bad idea. even if technically, the both of you were married by fairy forest law. you'd said that. he was just still playing make believe, still, whereas your ring fell off and into the thick green grass the same very day he'd given it.

so, he's incredibly mature, and instead says, "whatever." and follows you into your dressing room.

a chaotic mess of niceties, as always. all of your makeup is spilled out on the vanity, but it's not cluttered anywhere else but the vanity. flowers and fan gifts line the couch's arms and the coffee table. the tv is set to a nature documentary, a koala slowly eating a piece of bamboo while the narrator's voice rumbles lowly throughout the room.

two wine glasses in the center of the coffee table. horrible of him to let that get into his head. god forbid he start thinking you want him around and not just to monitor your performances and the finer details.

dean carefully slips around you to the mini fridge in one corner of the room. "just a glass, or─"

he never thought that something as simple as turning over his shoulder would cause so much regret within him. you, half naked, the oversized hoodie you'd shown up to the venue in halfway over your head. your bare stomach. your bare legs. the wire of your bra, now the cups, and─

he cleared his throat and turned away. dean needed to get his shit together.

"just a glass. it's the first show of the tour," your voice is muffled through that big ass hoodie, the big ass hoodie he knows you're currently changing out of, jesus, "can't be half drunk on stage. i'm not jensen or charlie."

right. his ( extremely one sided ) competition. what you, or they, didn't know couldn't hurt them.

so, instead of saying everything that starts spiraling when you bring them up, dean practices the underappreciated art of keeping the not nice words to himself, and moves to the wine glasses on the coffee table. fame hungry idiots, the voice in his head grumbles anyways as he pours one glass, egotistical pricks that don't deserve you, no one deserves you.

dean gives himself three minutes before he looks back at you again. just in case you're still practically strip teasing him, taking off your clothes painstakingly so.

no, you're in that sparkly dress now. the matching shoes sit beside your vanity amidst your chaos, right next to the chair you've planted yourself in. your eyes are lined dark, the white powder beneath them dusted away; your lips shine with pink gloss, no longer chapped but just as swollen. jesus. he's off his game.

dean watches as you swipe the lipgloss applicator across your plush bottom lip. he thinks he could die. "can't you tell," he starts slow, as if the words are pushing through his mouth without him being able to stop them, "that i want you?"

it's not the first time that he's confessed to you. but as always, you have this complex in your head, now, since getting famous, that seems to stop you from believing anyone could want you beyond what art you provide to them.

so it's no surprise when you meet his eyes in the mirror's reflection, a little smile pulled onto your lips, and you say, "i would want myself." your fingers lift and make a grabby hand for the wine glass he offered. "besides, what's to want? you already have me."

dean guesses you're right. still married, even if your ring has wilted and become part of the earth again. still married, even if your only obligation to him now is the fact that he works for you, or something like that. still married, even though he knows your hatred for the other bands under your label is a front. you don't look at dean like you look at jensen. you definitely don't laugh like you do with him like you do with charlie.

but who was he to be greedy? they didn't get to watch you put your ensemble together for your tour's first show. they didn't get to watch you eat blueberries that stain your lips brighter pink. they didn't know that the only thing that calmed your pre-show jitters was the national geographic animal documentaries.

so dean would wait, as he always had before, for his wife to turn the light back on for him, and lead him back into the forest, to the altar of their long forgotten vowed promises.

being greedy wouldn't get him anything.

song credits. making this an interconnected universe was such a good idea i cannot wait to write dean beefing (somehow LMFAO) with jensen. and charlie. but mostly jensen bc that's just so funny. wdym they're gonna look the exact same and never acknowledge it while they're throwing hands PLS.

sunny's monthly listeners. to play / pause on being tagged, comment sunshine! @titsout4jackles @moonstruksandco @starzify @ultravi0lence14 @itzavahere @sagegreen17 @bruceewayne @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @deansbeer @blushpinkdoll @warpedless @sabrinasopposite @k-slla @deansbite @foolinthera1n @honeyryewhiskey @angelblqde @whyyouegg @bluemerakis @fallbhind @jackleslvr @figthoughts @beausling @chevroletdean @mccartneyqp @bluestrd @sthefferrete @rubyvhs @tortureddarkstar @aileenunfiltered @frosttbitessam @theosaurous @blushpinkdoll

[lixiesfreckless]

Into It | b. c.

➸ synopsis: the california sunset looks pretty damn good when you're on the hood of Chan's car.

➸ starring: bang chan x female reader

➸ word count: 3k

➸ general content: best friend!chan, car sex, drunk sex, chan is lowkey obsessed with you, mutual pining, dirty talk

➸ warnings: lots of swearing, sexual content, alcohol consumption, mentions of california(LMAO east coast on top)

➸ rating: 18+ MA

➸ author’s note: another oldie but goodie! also I don't even bias chan but I literally went insane writing this so what does that mean-

♫ into it- chase atlantic

Far away.

You feel like your mind is so far away.

The engine roars in your ears as you and Chan zip around the outskirts of downtown Los Angeles, convertible top down to let the wind whip through the vehicle. 

Your hand dangles outside the car door, lazily twirling a half empty bottle of beer in your fingertips as you fully sink into the car seat. Your thoughts are fuzzy, his music is loud, and the breeze is enough to keep you from getting too hot. 

This is as close as you can get to bliss.

Palm trees lining the road, orange and magenta in the sky, hell— if heaven didn’t look like this, did you even want to go?

The car slows down enough for Chan to make a right turn, angling the two of you to a desert close to where they host raves and concerts every summer. By the time the current song stops playing, Chan is pulling the convertible off the road, driving over hardened clay and rocks until he’s about 50 yards away from the asphalt.

“Pass me one of those,” he says, putting the car in park and slumping into the seat. You reach down to the six pack of beer near your feet and pass one to him, bringing your own bottle up to your lips as he takes it.

The guy sticks the cap between his teeth, cracking it open with a sharp twist of his arm, and flicks the cap into the cup holder.

“That’s one way to crack open a cold one,” you chuckle, taking another swig.

“Too bad I’m not with the boys…” he sighs, narrowly dodging a swat from your hand as he laughs.

“Hush, I’m better than the boys.”

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, letting the troubles of the week dissolve under the tangy taste of the alcohol and the bass from the speakers.

You can’t remember exactly when you started spending your Friday nights like this, driving to random places in the passenger seat of Chan’s car. Usually you’d prefer to spend your nights indoors, but with him, it was never overwhelming. He was your weekly dose of adventure, and you became addicted easily.

But how could you not when he was so…Chan?

He always knew what songs to play, what you felt like talking about, what kind of view would cheer you up— he became someone that knew you better than your best friend, even.

And there was something so disarming about his vintage band tees, beat up converse, blond curls and dimples— especially his dimples. They were a weapon and he used them.

And they reappear right as you notice you’re staring at him. Serves you right for zoning out in his general direction.

“Something on your mind?” He chuckles, and you pop the passenger door open, shaking your head.

“Nope. Just need to stretch.”

You walk around to the front of the car, and the shell dips slightly once you perch on the hood.

This beer is defective, you decide. Alcohol is supposed to blur your thoughts, not sharpen them.

And yet all you can think about is the man moving to lean against the front of the car, standing just a foot away from you.

Your mind pretends not to notice the way Chan’s gaze lingers on your lips, almost glazing over every time you take a swig from the bottle in your hand. Your body however, burns. Reacts like water on hot oil. It feels like every cell is dancing in the remnants of the sunset when he looks at you. 

It might just be the alcohol though.

You lean back and lie on the hood of the car, using your hands as a makeshift pillow behind your head as you watch the sky turn an even deeper shade of pink. Chan takes one glance at you and takes a long sip of beer as he quickly looks away, pushing the sight of your shirt riding up your torso far back into his mind. The…things he could do there-

“Shit, how many of those have we gone through,” you mumble, lazily shifting your eyes up to the sky.

“Uh, four?” Chan glances back at you, mentally cursing at the way your face matches the sky above, dusted with pink. He doesn’t know it’s from you staring at his arm veins. “We have water in the back if you want some-”

“No, no I’m good.” Your voice sounds like honey to him; maybe he should pass the bottle back to you, just so you’ll stay quiet. “Just feeling more than a little buzzed.” 

“Oh yeah?” He chuckles, and the huskiness in his voice practically pokes you in the side. “Now would be the best time to do something crazy then.”

“Something crazy?” You laugh out loud, then sit up slightly on the hood, leaning back on your elbows. “There’s nothing but desert for miles. What are we supposed to do-”

Your sentence stops dead in its tracks as your eyes meet with Chan’s, the heat rushing to your gut all at once as the wind blows his blond curls into his eyes. He doesn’t even hesitate this time; his eyes wander lower and lower on your face until they land on your bottom lip, trapped between your teeth. 

“God, why do you always do that…” he whispers, shifting his gaze back to the road.

…What? 

The wind whistles in your ears as you feel them growing hotter, unsure what to make of his sudden statement.

“Do…do what?” He looks back at you with tortured eyes, as if you’re the only water in the California desert.

“Bite your lip like that; it makes me think-” he stops and drains the rest of the bottle in his hand, then leaves it on the hood and shakes his head. “Never mind. I’m gonna turn the music up.”

Your eyes follow him as he trails along the side of the car, and you feel a certain window of opportunity beginning to close. Summoning most of your courage, you jump off the hood and walk up behind Chan, waiting for him to finish messing with the stereo before tapping him on the back.

“Yeah?” He turns around and barely has any time to think before you’re pressing on his shoulders, pulling him down slightly as you crash your lips onto his. He immediately catches your waist, letting out a surprised muffle that dissolves into a sigh as he pulls you against him.

You break apart after a moment, lips still tingly and buzzing with excitement, but you wonder if you’ve made the right decision as you look up at Chan, who still has his eyes closed.

“You’re drunk,” he whispers, finally looking down at you with a flushed face.

“Not drunk enough.” You twist the shoulder seams of his shirt between your fingers in consideration. “I’m sober enough to know that look. And if you don’t do something about it, then I-”

“You want me to do something about it?” He pulls your hips tight against his, and now that you’re leaning on him, you can feel the bass from the car reverberating through both of you. That combined with the buzz of the alcohol and his hands on your bare midriff nearly sends you over the edge, but you keep your composure.

And by that you mean you pounce on him— you love his voice, but you’re tired of talking about something you could be doing.

If you both were a little less tipsy, the kisses would probably be less frantic. But neither of you seem to care, hands grabbing at each other desperately as you search for better ways to pull each other closer.

“You have no idea,” he pants between kisses, “you have no fucking idea how badly I’ve wanted this.” You shudder into his lips, raking through his blond locks and tugging at the ends as Chan’s grip tightens on your hips. He takes a sharp inhale before picking you up, waiting for you to latch your legs around his torso before he slides his arms under your legs. As he walks around the car, you both never separate; you’re actually surprised when you feel the cool metal of the hood come into contact with the backs of your thighs.

He nestles himself between your legs, resting his hands on your thighs and tracing the distressed hem of your denim skirt as the bass of the song picks up. You’re lucky you’re on the hood and not the trunk; the subwoofers vibrating against you would have been too much for sure. 

He pulls away from your lips, dipping his head to catch his breath as he pants into the crook of your neck. To him, this is insane. He has you on the hood of his car. He has you on the hood of his car.

How is a man supposed to think straight in this situation? 

Meanwhile, his hot breath on your neck is driving you to the brink of insanity. Just a raise of your shoulder and he’d be kissing it. Shoot, he could make you crazy with his fingers just an inch higher too.

“Chan,” you whisper, not realizing how close your breathy voice was to his ear, and the last of his resolve practically evaporates off of him.

“Y/n…” his nose follows the curve of your neck as he makes his way up to your face, “tell me if I need to stop, I just…”

He hooks his hands around your knees and pulls, effectively pinning your hips together in a casual display of strength, and you gasp before he seizes your bottom lip between his, sucking and biting until a soft moan slips from your lips.

“Fuck, make that sound again,” he groans, hands sliding back up your thighs to the hem of your shirt. You relent, no longer keeping your sighs and sounds of pleasure to yourself as his hands slide under your crop top, around to your back.

He makes quick work of your bra, releasing the tension around your ribcage before sliding his thumbs along the underside of your breasts. Just thinking about all of the things he could do to you has both of you buzzing with anticipation, panting against each other’s mouths.

His thumb just barely grazes your nipple and you swear you see the world begin to tilt.

You don’t know what it is; normally a gesture that small wouldn’t elicit such a reaction out of you, but the alcohol in your veins and the bass under your thighs seem to bring every motion of his straight to your core. And usually you’d be embarrassed at how loud you are, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when he continues just like that, both thumbs barely putting any pressure on the peaks under your shirt.

Your head lolls back slightly, and Chan wastes no time in licking a thin stripe up the column of your neck, stopping right at the shell of your ear.

“Ideally, I’d want to take my time with you, but right now…” his voice is thick with lust as he flicks both of your nipples, and you jolt forward. “I don’t think you’d want me to.”

“Chan, please,” you gasp out, wanting to press your thighs together, “get on with it already.”

He obliges you, hands sliding down to your skirt and then back up under it, looking for the edge of your panties. Once he has them, he pulls them down and over your Nike blazers, tossing them into the convertible onto the passenger seat.

He then reaches behind you, pushing two empty bottles off the car as he presses you flat against the hood. The sound of the bottles breaking against the rocky terrain is barely registered by you though, you’re more focused on Chan’s free hand snaking back up your skirt.

Curses slip out of his mouth once his thumb brushes across your clit; he’s more than shocked to feel just how soaked you are, but you shake your head vigorously, catching his attention.

“Skip it,” you say breathlessly, looking directly into his eyes. He understands instantly, coffee colored eyes practically turning coal black seeing your desperation.

The sky seems to swirl different shades of purple and pink as the wind feathers over your body, and just past the contrails in the sky, you can see the stars beginning to poke their faces into the rosy backdrop.

There is a very real possibility that you are dreaming all of this.

But the sound of his zipper being pulled down snaps your senses into focus, and the possibility of Chan fucking you under a sky like this seems more urgent.

The next minute flies by, and before you know it Chan is lining himself up at your entrance, checking that the condom is on properly before lifting your skirt to your hips.

His eyes flicker to yours momentarily, and you nod before relaxing fully, letting your head rest against the hood as he holds onto your hips tightly.

And then you instantly tense up once he starts pushing into you.

It’s almost embarrassing how easy it is for him to slide in without really touching you, but the hiss he draws between his teeth tells you he’s not really focusing on that.

You’re focusing on how you didn’t catch a glimpse of him before he put it in, and now your entire lower abdomen is tingling in excitement over just how much of him there is. Silly how you were trying to sober up for this moment, only for you to feel high all over again with him fully inside you.

“I- shit, okay wow,” he hisses, dragging himself out and back in slowly. “You’re so warm, god-”

You can’t even respond, you’re so occupied by the feeling of his ridges along your walls that your fingers are already looking for something to grab onto.

Somehow in the haze of it all, you still want to urge him deeper, so you wrap your legs around his waist and watch as he tilts his head back, eyes fluttering closed mid-thrust.

“Oh fuck,” he moans, picking up the pace and holding your hips tighter as you whine, feeling him finally start to brush one of your sensitive spots.

Chan cannot process the scene playing out in front of him. You’re draped over the hood of his car, taking what he’s giving you so easily, face flushed and hair falling over your face from the wind. Your shirt is halfway up your torso, but your skirt is up six inches too high, high enough to see where he's sheathing himself inside of you. He couldn’t make this up if he tried.

The pressure building inside of you jumps to the next level once his hand slides up your shirt again, gently rubbing circles over your nipple as opposed to the faster thrusts down below. Your back arches into his hand as you gasp, squeezing your thighs around him tighter as you do so.

“Chan,” you whine, scratching your nails against the car, and a few more curses tumble out of his mouth as he stares down at you. 

“You’re so good y/n,” he pants, snapping his hips against you now, “better than I- ah, I imagined.”

“You’ve thought about this before?” You’re cut off by another moan; it’s a miracle how you can even speak.

Chan doesn’t reply; instead, he hooks his hands under your knees and drops them on his shoulders, then scoops his hands back under your hips and pulls them to his with a quick snap.

“I’ve thought about this before,” he says with a wicked grin, hitting you at just the right angle to pull a sharp gasp out from your lips.

“Oh my god, there-” you moan breathlessly, pressing your hands flat onto the hood of the car as he pounds into you relentlessly.

The sky is spinning. Your heart is pounding. You wish you could focus on something, anything other than the spongy part of you that Chan is hitting to the beat of the song under you, just so you could last a little bit longer. 

But the sight of him with your legs around his neck, eyes closed with strands of gold wisping across his face, the look of pure ecstasy painted across his cheeks, ensures that you have close to three seconds before the knot in your stomach unravels.

“Shit, don’t stop,” you say as you feel yourself coming undone, back arching into your release which only makes Chan pound deeper, heightening the intensity tenfold.

He cries out once you clamp down around him, spitting out random strings of curses until he’s emptying his restraint into the condom, slowing down his thrusts as he finally opens his eyes again, locking gazes with you.

He looks nothing short of ethereal with the now purple backdrop of the sky, framing his blond locks with lilac clouds as he slowly pulls out of you, doing his best not to overstimulate you. You almost tell him not to; being that full was nice, something you’d probably never admit unless you were actually drunk.

“Wow,” you breathe out, watching him lower your legs down to the hood. “That was…”

“Crazy, I know,” he laughs, still trying to calm his breathing as he looks at you. “But you were amazing, holy shit-”

“…better than the boys?” You tease, smirking up at him. 

He gives you a knowing look, picking up on the funny way you worded the question. But instead of getting flustered, he leans over the hood, caging you against it with his arms.

“Hmm…I don’t know. I think I’d have to try this a couple of times before I can give you a definite answer.”

[musaslullaby]

You're perfect

Charles Leclerc, Lando Norris, George Russell, Max Verstappen and Carlos Sainz x fem reader

Summary: The drivers reassure you because you feel insecure about your body.

Warning: nothing only fluff.

Masterlist

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·���¸¸♪

Charles Leclerc

We entered the house, the door closing with a dull thud that shattered the silence. Charles grabbed me immediately, his lips seeking mine with a hunger that took my breath away. The sexual tension between us was so intense you could cut it with a knife.

His hands, strong yet gentle, explored every inch of my body as our tongues tangled in a wild dance for control. A wave of shivers ran through me when he threw me onto the bed with that mischievous smile I loved so much. His dimples, which appeared every time he smiled, were my greatest weakness, a detail that made him irresistible.

Charles wasted no time. He pressed his body against mine on the soft lavender-scented mattress, and his lips captured mine in a crescendo of passion, where teeth and mouths clashed with sweet ferocity. His cold hands slid from my waist to my ribs, touching all the right spots, making me whimper. But when it came time to remove my shirt, a moment of hesitation froze me. The fear of how he would react to seeing those scars paralyzed me.

Charles noticed immediately. He stopped, pulling back from the kiss, and his gaze filled with concern.

“Is everything okay, sweetheart? Did I do something wrong?” he asked in a trembling voice, taking my face in his soft hands, as if I were the most precious thing he had ever touched.

“It’s not your fault… it’s just that…” I took a deep breath, searching for courage in his reassuring caresses. “I have scars, and I’m so ashamed of them…” My voice quivered with shame, a shame I had hidden for years.

Since I was a teenager, those scars had been my prison. I had never allowed anyone to see them, not even when friends went to the beach or the pool. I always kept my shirt on, suffocating my desire for fun under layers of fabric soaked in salty water.

Charles looked at me, and his smile softened in a way that broke my heart. Gently, he moved his hands to my waist.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, love,” he whispered, his voice a balm for my heart. “You’re beautiful, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” His words mingled with our breath, and he sealed them with a kiss full of sweetness and affection.

“May I?” he asked softly, gently grasping the hem of my shirt. I hesitated for a moment, then, with a timid nod, I agreed. My heart was pounding, but the warmth of his words had reassured me. He would never leave me because of this.

Charles slowly lifted the shirt, letting his hands brush against my skin, and when he removed it, he tossed it decisively into a corner of the room. I felt vulnerable but also incredibly loved.

I’ll never forget how his eyes looked at me in that moment, full of love and devotion. He looked at me as if I were the only person in the world, as if I were the only one worthy of being seen, and in that moment, I realized there was nothing to be ashamed of. With him, I was perfect just the way I was.

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Lando Norris

We had an important evening ahead of us, specifically a charity gala, and time was running out. We were supposed to leave any minute now, but I was still running late, even though I had started getting ready hours earlier. That damn eyeliner seemed determined to sabotage me, and every attempt to perfect it only made me lose more time.

"Baby, are you ready?" Lando’s voice echoed from the bedroom, where he was getting ready too. My heart started pounding faster, panic setting in. No, I wasn’t ready at all. I had only managed to do my eyes, and the idea of going out without fixing my nose felt impossible. It was a small obsession I hadn’t been able to shake since I was thirteen.

My hands moved frantically, trying to finish my makeup as quickly as possible. But as if the situation wasn’t already stressful enough, my elbow accidentally knocked over a glass vase, sending it crashing to the floor. Water spilled everywhere—a complete disaster. Alarmed by the noise, Lando immediately rushed over to find me in a state of panic, eyes wide.

“What happened?” he asked, concerned, looking at the shattered glass on the floor.

Tears started to fall as I felt the pain of having destroyed something precious, a gift from Lando’s mother. “I’m sorry,” I whispered through sobs, as the makeup smeared down my cheeks, drawing dark lines as it mixed with my tears.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Lando whispered with infinite tenderness, moving closer to hold me tightly in his arms.

“It’s all my fault… now we’re going to be late too,” I said, shaken by sobs, overwhelmed by guilt for the broken vase and for being late. But before I could apologize further, Lando interrupted me with the sweetest kiss, silencing every word.

“I don’t care about the gala or the vase,” he murmured, his lips still close to mine, “I care about you. I’ve noticed how you’ve been looking at your nose these past few days. You know you don’t need makeup to be beautiful. Even without it, you’re a sight to behold.”

His words hit me like a lightning bolt, soothing my anxiety. I felt that, to him, I was perfect just as I was, and in that moment, the gala, the makeup, and the broken vase seemed so insignificant compared to the love that bound us together.

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George Russell

Summer vacations were the time I eagerly anticipated all year, an oasis of freedom and laughter. There was nothing better than spending time with George, lying on a sunbed with the sun kissing our skin and warm sand beneath our feet. It was the only time I could fully indulge in simple pleasures, like enjoying all the sweets I wanted, without the looming reminder of the gym and its restrictions.

I slipped into my favorite shorts, already savoring the thought of lounging under the sun with a good book or perhaps surprising George with a playful splash of cold sea water. But as I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror for a quick check, something stopped me in my tracks. My eyes widened: my legs, usually slender, appeared swollen and different, almost unrecognizable. A wave of fear washed over me, a creeping anxiety that made me mentally replay every bite, every little indulgence from those two weeks of vacation. Yet, I couldn’t find an explanation.

With a resigned sigh, I pulled on a pair of jeans, despite the stifling heat. It felt like the only possible choice at that moment, a safe refuge from the insecurities that were tormenting me.

When I walked into the living room, George looked me over from head to toe, and the anxiety wrapped around me once again. I feared he had noticed the change too, and that he might be upset, or worse, disappointed.

"Why are you wearing jeans? Where are your favorite shorts?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, his voice a mix of curiosity and concern.

"They're in the wash, they got dirty," I replied quickly, trying to cover my embarrassment with a forced laugh.

"That’s impossible, I washed them yesterday," he responded, puzzled, leaving me without an excuse. I lowered my gaze, unable to meet his eyes. I didn’t want to burden our day with my doubts, convinced it was just my paranoia.

"Sweetheart, what’s wrong?" he asked gently, stepping closer to touch my jaw, lifting my face so I had to look into his eyes.

"I just feel… strange. My legs, they’re so swollen," I whispered, barely audible, as guilt started to seep in. I felt like I had ruined his day with my insecurities.

"Love," he said with a tenderness that melted my heart, "you are just as beautiful as ever, if not more so. Your legs are perfect, and you are wonderful just the way you are, always." He hugged me gently, wrapping me in his warmth and reassurance. "Go put on those beautiful shorts."

A smile spread across my face, and with my heart full

of gratitude and love, I hurried to change. As I slipped back into my favorite shorts, I felt a wave of relief and acceptance wash over me. George’s words had dissolved my fears, replacing them with a renewed sense of confidence.

When I returned to the living room, George was waiting with a bright smile. He took my hand, and together we stepped out into the sunlit day, ready to enjoy our time together. The warmth of his reassurance lingered with me, reminding me that with him by my side, I could truly be myself. That day, I felt not just beautiful, but truly seen and loved for who I was.

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Max Verstappen

We had organized a family dinner, the big moment when our parents would finally meet. Saying I was nervous was an understatement, and Max wasn’t much calmer. I had spent almost a year convincing him that this was the right step. And now, with the dinner just minutes away, part of me was second-guessing everything. But we were about to get married, and the idea of our parents remaining strangers until the wedding day seemed unthinkable.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to calm my nerves and gather my thoughts. I slipped into the blue dress we had chosen together, matching Max's elegant tuxedo. But as I looked in the mirror, a wave of discomfort washed over me: the fabric felt tight around my stomach, making me feel inadequate, almost wrong. Maybe it was just my imagination, but doubt crept into my mind. I wanted to change, but I had been the one insisting on coordinated outfits, and Max would be so upset if I decided to wear something else.

I sat down on the velvet armchair, my face in my hands, with no idea how to fix the situation. Time was running out, and I didn’t want to keep everyone waiting outside the restaurant. I felt stuck, overwhelmed by anxiety and the pressure to make everything perfect, but nothing tonight was going according to plan.

Suddenly, the bathroom door opened, and the familiar scent of Max filled the room, a bittersweet aroma I knew so well. I looked up quickly, trying to appear calm, but it was too late—Max had already seen me. His expression was worried as he approached, sitting on the sofa next to my armchair. He was never the type to find the right words easily, and I could see it on his face; he didn’t know what to say, but his presence was all I needed.

He placed a warm, reassuring hand on my shoulder and asked, his voice tense, "What happened? Did someone hurt you? Tell me who, and I'll kick their ass." His words weren’t sweet or gentle, but there was genuine concern in his eyes, a care that outweighed any awkwardness.

I couldn’t help but smile, even as tears threatened to fall. "You don’t need to send anyone to the hospital," I whispered, trying to gather my thoughts. "It’s just… this evening, the dress… I feel like everything is going wrong, and I don’t want to disappoint you."

Max looked at me intensely for a moment, then took my hands in his, holding them firmly. "I don’t care about the dress or the dinner. What matters is that we’re in this together, no matter what happens. You should never feel inadequate because, to me, you’re perfect just the way you are. And if that dress is really bothering you, change it—even though you look super sexy."

Those words melted the anxiety that gripped my heart. Max wasn’t one for grand speeches, but whenever he spoke sincerely, he always reached straight into my soul. With a deep breath, I stood up, feeling a new strength growing inside me.

"Thank you," I said with a smile, feeling lighter, more confident. "Now, let’s make this evening unforgettable."

And with him by my side, I knew it would be, no matter what else happened.

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Carlos Sainz

It wasn’t just another day in September. Carlos finally had some free time, and we decided to spend it together, exploring the city. As usual, I instinctively grabbed one of my oversized shirts. By now, my wardrobe was filled with them. The truth was, I felt more secure in those loose clothes; they hid my insecurities, especially about my chest.

Many people on social media would ask why I dressed in such oversized clothing. Some still couldn’t get over the fact that Carlos had left Rebecca for me, and I often came across insults or unpleasant comparisons between me and her, the perfect model. Even though I tried not to let it get to me, focusing on other things, I knew it deeply bothered Carlos.

"Honey, we absolutely have to try that Spanish restaurant, it would be nice to check it out!" I said with a smile, trying to lift the mood. But when I walked into the kitchen, I found him sitting with his phone in hand, so focused on his messages that he didn’t even notice I was there.

"Carlos… Carlos," I called out, raising my voice gradually, hoping to get his attention. Finally, he looked up, as if he had just woken up from a dream.

"What is it, mi vida?" he asked, putting down his phone and walking over to me with that familiar concerned expression I knew so well.

"Nothing, just that… well, I thought we could try that Spanish restaurant we talked about," I said, trying to hide the slight disappointment that he was so distracted.

Carlos looked at me for a moment, then his eyes fell on my oversized shirt. He stepped even closer, his gaze becoming more intense. "Mi amor, you know you’re safe with me," he said with a tenderness that took me by surprise.

I looked down, suddenly finding comfort in the floor, which seemed very interesting all of a sudden. "I know," I murmured, feeling a lump in my throat. "It’s just that… I never feel like I’m enough, especially when people keep comparing me to Rebecca."

Carlos took another step forward, cupping my face in his hands. "I don’t care what anyone else says," he said firmly. "You have no idea how incredibly beautiful you are in my eyes. And if anyone looks at you strangely for any reason…" He paused, his expression growing more serious, "I swear they won’t like what happens next."

His words touched something deep inside me, and a tear slid down my cheek. Carlos wiped it away with a gentle touch, then took my hand and led me to the mirror, positioning himself behind me. He wrapped his arms around me lovingly, his hands resting protectively over my chest.

"Look," he whispered, leaning down to give me a playful kiss on the neck, "look at how perfect you are. You don’t need to hide, not from me and not from the world."

His kiss sent a shiver through me, but not from the cold; it was a shiver of comfort, of security. I realized that with Carlos by my side, I didn’t need to hide behind oversized shirts or unfounded fears. And so, with him holding me close, I finally felt a new awareness growing within me: I was loved for who I was, exactly as I was.

[beomie3]

shoong! - choi yeonjun

pairing: boyfriend idol! yeonjun x fem!reader

summary: an upcoming dance challenge video with one of yeonjun’s role models has him nervous, overworking himself with the tricky choreo. but you’re by his side, there to relax him in more ways than one ;)

wc: 3.9k

warnings: smut, cursing, heavy make out, oral (both giving/receiving), unprotected sex, yeonjun is down bad (so are you), also tons of fluff too!<3

title track: shoong! - taeyang

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

"stop! start again," the choreographer's voice echoes throughout the dance studio for the tenth time tonight, biting your nails as you watch yeonjun hang his head in frustration.

his black tank top was beginning to pool with sweat, occasionally lifting it to wipe his forehead as beads formed near his hairline. to say he was tired was an understatement.

after practicing all day for an upcoming tour, he also had to master a solo dance for a challenge video promotion he would be filming soon. you could practically feel his exhaustion from afar when he shot you a tired glance.

you lifted your fist in a "fighting" gesture, being the only form of support fueling him. because right now, the choreographer was on his case and it angered you, if you were being completely honest. you wished she would tone it down a bit. but yeonjun found her harsh orders a helpful form of guidance, always pushing himself to the extreme.

the choreographer cued the music and it began echoing throughout the mirrored studio, the only sound booming other than yeonjun's sneakers squeaking onto the wood floor and her shouting down from five.

he began to move fluidly with the music like he was one with it, moving his hips and arms and legs perfectly, even better than what the choreography called for. he was the best dancer you'd ever seen, and damn was he passionate in what he did.

the song came to its end and he had to lay on the cold, wood floor for a moment to catch his breath, standing up immediately when the choreographer approached him.

"great, now with better visuals." she almost scolded him, noticeably bringing him down with her backhanded compliment. more visuals? but lady, he is the visual. it took everything in you to restrain yourself from walking over there and saying just that. but doing that will probably do more bad than good, ultimately having to painfully retract yourself.

you furrowed your brows, fingernails aching as you watched your boyfriend get into position again, somehow mustering a natural and sultry smile as he did the dance over, body flowing perfectly with the deep bass of the song.

your heart ached for him, already thinking of all the ways you would take care of him after he was done practicing, wanting to give him all the love and care in the world after getting through such a physically draining day.

yeonjun doubled over after the song ended and the choreographer signaled he had "passed" with a few claps and a thumbs up from the staff room, dismissing him for the night as he chugged water and wiped sweat from his face.

he sluggishly made his way over to where you stood by the changing room, melting into your arms as soon as he reached you. it felt as he had just gone for a swim, damp from head to toe with sweat.

"you're gonna kill it tomorrow with taeyang," you assured him, gently rubbing his wet back as he breathed you in. you knew yeonjun was nervous for this, he had worked his ass off perfecting the choreo because he always looked up to taeyang even since his trainee days. and now, he was going to film a promo with him, how surreal.

"i know," he whispered into your hair, the small smile on his face obvious because of his tone. you looked up at his flushed face, plump lips tugged into a sweet open-mouthed smile as he still caught his breath, running a hand through his dark, wet locks.

"c'mon, let's go home," you patted his hip and he nodded sluggishly, quickly slipping on the fresh hoodie you brought him before wrapping an arm around you, exiting the dance studio together.

~

once you returned to your apartment, you ran junie a shower like you always did after a long, hard practice; either joining him to wash up or staying back in the kitchen to make him his favorite soup while he showered.

today, you made his soup faster than usual, leaving it covered on the stove to retain its warmth while you went to go check on him in the shower.

steam escaped the bathroom as you opened the door, knocking on its wooden frame to advise him you were entering. his head poked out from the shower curtain, black hair slicked back from the water; a heavy glint of worry in his eyes, lips slightly downturned. baby :(

you felt a pang at your heart, immediately entering the steaming room and wrapping your arms around his wet body from where you stood, not caring that you were still fully clothed. you could sense that look from a mile away; he just wanted to be held. to be told everything will be okay.

"i'm just...really worried about tomorrow. what if i mess up? i can't do that in front of taeyang, i just can't." his voice was frail and he sunk his face into your neck and sighed, melting into you as your shirt quickly became soaked from his wet head of hair.

"yeonjun, you're the best dancer i've ever known. the best person i've ever known. you'll do amazing. you are amazing." you lightly massaged his shoulder with your palms, feeling him melt deeper into the hug. his face softened at your kind words, but he still struggled to even fake a smile.

"get in with me?" he didn't even let you respond before he was pulling you in, helping your clothes off and throwing them off next to his on the bathroom floor. he hugged you even tighter now, both of you silent under the running water, just holding him there as he breathed you in, sighing as you stroked his damp hair.

"it's all going to be okay," you whispered into his skin, gently pressing loving kisses to his neck. you wanted to relax him, give him all of your physical affection to remind him of just how much you love him. to calm his nerves before the big day tomorrow which you knew he sure as hell would kill.

trailing your kisses up his neck, under his jaw, and meeting your lips with his pillowy ones, he kissed you back softly.

"don't worry junie." you whispered against his plush lips. this was what he needed; your kisses and your reassurance. the warmth of your body pressed to his in a tight embrace. like you were an angel, coming to save him of all of the harshness of the world.

"it'll all be okay," you trailed your fingers to the tops of his shoulders, lightly rubbing the sore muscles while pressing tender kisses to his collarbones, sensing him lean his head back to the shower wall, relaxing under your touch.

you gently squeezed the muscles of his arms all the way down to his hands, following with the trail of your lips across his chest, working your way down to his lower stomach, where his abdomen slightly tensed in sensitivity. you knelt in front of him, looking up at him with kind eyes, and he looked down at you with a half-lidded gaze, neediness clearly present.

"just relax," you smiled up at him, and he gave you a small nod, the corner of his lip slightly upturned and sucked between his teeth, savoring your delicious touch. his member had already grown helplessly erect since you first started showering his neck in gentle kisses; pressed flush against his stomach and just waiting for your magical touch.

you gently trailed your fingers over his flushed tip, deriving a small shudder from your boyfriend as he leaned back onto the shower wall, eyes closed, just enjoying the moment. you took his heavy hardness into your hand, gently stroking him, kitten-licking the pre-cum off of his tip just the way he needed it.

he sucked air between his teeth at the sensation of your warm tongue on his sensitive tip, a low moan escaping his lips when you licked up and down his length, swirling your tongue on the sensitive skin. you were just too good.

his hand fell to your hair, tangling his fingers between the wet locks as you took him entirely into your mouth, tip hitting the back of your throat and slightly making you gag, the feeling fucking fantastic to him.

the way you looked up at him with tears pooling in your eyes from sucking him off so good made all worries flee his head immediately, only thing he could do was watch you, enjoying the insane pleasure you gave him.

his groans grew louder, echoing throughout the bathroom, spewing your name as you quickened your pace, doing everything so perfectly he could just bust at any moment. the way you trailed your fingers up and down his thighs, tracing his hip bones and running them across his abs had him going insane, pleasure through the roof as he released a loud moan, back arching against the shower wall.

"you're so good baby," his voice was low, tongue emerging to wet his lips as you began stroking and sucking simultaneously, getting a good rhythm going before he was a moaning mess, bucking his hips into your hand, rutting himself deeper into your mouth.

"i'm so so close," he pressed his head back onto the wall, slightly pulling at your hair, still gentle with you. but when you quickly flicked your tongue on his tip, it was over; inviting hot cum to shoot all over your mouth, licking your lips clean of it.

he huffed out of breath, eyes half open as he gave you a lazy grin, fucked out of his mind. helping you to your feet as you hugged his waist, he pressed kisses to the crown of your wet hair. the sound of his chuckle brought warmth to your heart; that's all you wanted, was to see your boyfriend happy and worry free.

"your soup is warm and waiting for you in the kitchen," you stroked his cheek, smiling when he placed a small kiss to your lips. he couldn't quite find the right words to thank you, so he pecked your lips repeatedly, holding you so tight. he even forgot exactly what he'd been stressing over, thanks to you. just knowing you'd be by his side tomorrow was all he needed.

~

and there he was again- next day in the studio, examining his outfit in front of the large mirrors, and you were too; checking out the beige, designer sweater he sported along with some baggy pants and black shoes. he was already absolutely killing it and taeyang had yet to arrive.

you noticed his slightly uneasy posture when he looked over at you, the hint of nervousness in his expression. you beckoned him over quickly.

jogging to over you when the staff weren't looking, you handed him a small napkin, holding the weight of his favorite cookie you had baked him this morning before you drove over to watch his big filming day.

he unraveled it, revealing the small sugar cookie with "yj fighting<3!!" piped onto it perfectly with baby blue frosting, bringing a blushing smile to his cheeks which he failed to hide with his other hand, finding it the cutest thing ever.

he slipped the cookie between his lips, smiling even bigger when the sweet flavor soothed his nerves. "you're the best," he praised your baking skills with a full mouth, chewing quickly and giving you a quick peck on the lips before running off to the dance floor when the choreographer emerged from the staff room.

the minutes went by of watching your boyfriend gain more and more confidence during his warm ups, rehearsing the song thoroughly before the arrival of the other idol.

you almost wanted to kick your feet at watching yeonjun's reaction to meeting taeyang; their interaction was professional yet so wholesome, bowing every second they could and you smiled, so happy to see your boyfriend enjoying himself with one of his role models. you were beyond proud of him, and you're sure many other moas felt the same.

after some small talk, it was time to begin filming, and you dialed in on yeonjun, praying that he would find his confidence through it all. and boy did he ever; moving so in tune with the music that he practically became it, mesmerizing you.

and damn was he sexy, moving his body carefully yet rhythmically with each beat, giving it his all when it came to his solo in front of the camera. he gave the camera a few winks and he looked over at you after each take, shooting you the same wink. you simply melted in your little spot by the changing room.

the sound of shoong! by taeyang was long engraved in your ears by now as it was probably the hundredth time hearing it over the span of two days. but you could never get tired of watching your man dance, eyes trailing his every slick move; every subtle rut and roll of his hips and flick of his tongue over his lips. feeling so lucky that such a man was yours.

you felt yourself slightly hold your breath during each take, fingers crossed that yeonjun would be happy with his performance and not too hard on himself, and every time he shot you a satisfied smile after each monitoring period, you brimmed with happiness, so glad he could see himself shine the same way you did.

after several hours of watching your boyfriend and taeyang dance professionally through the choreography countless times, getting takes with every angle possible, they said their goodbyes and he was dismissed for the night.

a large smile grew on junie's cute face as he ran over to you like an excited puppy, wrapping his arms around you tightly, nearly picking you up.

"see!! i knew you could do it! i'm so proud of you." your words simply meant the world to yeonjun, gazing into your sparkling eyes as you both brimmed with contentment. his love for you grew in this moment, wanting to repay you for being so amazing.

you weren't even halfway through the front door of your apartment before you had to come up for a breath amidst your heavy make out with yeonjun, his hands trailing everywhere imaginable on your body as you stumbled past the door.

shutting it with his foot, yeonjun scooped you up, wrapping your legs around his hips as he pressed you against the wall of the living room, decorating your neck with kisses and love bites.

"we deserve a little celebration don't we?" he mumbled already out of breath against your ear, and you nodded, basking in the excitement of the moment.

"you actually did so good junie," you kissed his neck softly as he carried you to the bedroom, hearing his small giggle as he set you down on the bed.

"only because of my #1 cheerleader," he leaned down, pressing his hips in between your legs and reuniting his lips with yours. the kisses were hot and passion-filled, making him begin to sweat even after all of the dancing he had done tonight.

he helped your shirt off of you, throwing it off to the side where your shoes were also kicked off, kissing a trail in between your breasts and down to your pants, undoing the button with a swift tug.

you could already feel wetness pooling in your underwear from the moment he was playing with the hem of your waistband in the taxi on the way home, occasionally slipping his pinky under and tickling the skin, hinting at you of what he wanted to do tonight.

and here you two were, not even home for three minutes and already a whimpering, moaning mess as you made out half naked on the bed, lips swollen from his nibbles as he lightly circled your clit through your panties.

you pulled his sweater off and threw it aside, running your fingers across his damp skin as he shivered, smirk widening against your lips. his lips ghosted down to your waistband, leaving a trail of kisses and goosebumps behind as he slowly peeled your underwear from your throbbing wetness, just begging to be touched by the handsome man in front of you.

teasing you with a few thigh kisses, he spread your legs far apart, hooking them under his elbows and then over his shoulders as he got a good look at you, licking his lips at how delicious you looked glistening in the dim lighting of the bedroom.

"thank you for being there for me, always," he flicked his eyes up at you with a warm smile, diving in between your legs before you could even say anything back but the moan that escaped your throat, arching your back at the sheer pleasure as he licked up and down your folds gratefully, savoring every bit of your essence.

yeonjun knew what the hell he was doing in many different aspects. in this one, he for sure knew how to make you scream his name and have you coming all over his face in a matter of minutes.

curling his fingers up to hit your jackpot, hot pleasure dispersing throughout your body, eyes rolling back as he fucked his fingers into you, flicking his tongue against your bundle of nerves deliciously.

one loud moan of his name and your legs were shaking on his shoulders, giving out when you rode out your wave of absolute pleasure, leaving your juices on his fingers which he licked clean.

he was quick to kiss you again while you caught your breath and recovered from the pulsations of your orgasm, helping him unbuckle his pants and dropping them to the floor; every vein visible on the imprint of his rock hard member through his underwear.

you were already soaking wet again when you helped him peel his underwear off of his hips; the sight of his dick springing out had your mouth practically watering again, just needing to lick off the bead of precum that formed at his tip.

but that was all he allowed you to do, wanting to take care of you this time, considering last night only he had finished and not you. in his eyes, you deserved to come even twenty times if you were up to it.

he took control, pressing you back down onto the bed as he kissed you, his warm member nudging against your stomach, so hard you just wanted to be stuffed full already.

taking your legs in either of his hands, he held them up in the air, tapping his tip against your entrance and then entering slowly to give you time to adjust, easing in so effortlessly due to how drenched you were.

he threw his head back at your warmth that engulfed him to no end, walls sucking him in perfectly. he threw your legs onto his shoulders so that they bent at the knees, hands on the plush of your hips to support each of his thrusts as he began to slowly and deeply pound into you, your moans echoing though the room with slaps of skin.

his hips snapped rhythmically against your own, which after all, yeonjun knew how to use his hips considering how amazing of a dancer he was; leaving you mesmerized with them more so after watching him dance tonight. and now you were getting to see him use them up close and personal, grinding skin to skin against you with every twitch inside of you, practically wanting to scream.

he fucked you slow and deep, then hard and fast; knowing exactly when to speed up or slow down. not to mention, he liked to switch positions frequently, flipping you so easily around like you were putty in his hands.

he had you on all fours now, ass in the air as he pounded into you from behind; doggy being the best angle to spank you in, because he knew you loved it.

"fuuuckkkk," he drew out his words, a groan in his throat as he watched your ass bounce back onto his thighs, kneading the plush of your skin with a firm grasp and slapping it gently.

you were already about to come again and he could sense it by the way you tightened around him, growing louder as he reached around to palm your breasts, fingers circling your sensitive nipples.

"jun-" you could only moan half of his name, chanting it over and over like a prayer, sheets messy with sweat and some drool as you buried your face into the pillows.

"wanna come on my cock y/n? yeah? give it to me." he spoke through gritted teeth, giving it to you so good you were on the brink of exploding.

you spasmed violently all over him, doing everything in his power not to finish quite yet; thrusting into you slower to let you catch you breath, gently turning your face with his fingers to kiss your lips, warm chest pressed to your back.

before you knew it, he flipped you over again, his body weight melting on top of you as his cock was still buried deep inside, subtly twitching as you fluttered around him. he went slow, kissing you in what felt like slow motion as he hit the deepest parts of you, splitting you open with each of his thrusts.

his face was flushed, even more than when he dances, eyes half-lidded and sultry and gazing deeply into yours, lips plump and dark middle part messy over his wet forehead. he was sexy as ever.

his hips stuttered and you decided you wanted to give him a break after doing all the hard work, maneuvering him so that he lay on his back, you on top.

he got a beautiful view from this angle, well, you each did. but he smiled, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he gently palmed your tits, trailing his fingers down your waist and over the plush or your ass.

you rode him steadily, watching his dick stretch you perfectly from where he was laying. you thought maybe you could last a little longer for him, but the moment his thumb rhythmically massaged your clit, it was over. there you were bouncing on him, getting yourself off to the friction of his tip against your g-spot and nearly crying at how amazing he felt.

sensing you were so close and tired, he began rutting his hips up and into you, fucking you so hard you were almost dizzy, fisting the sheets in your hands as he pulled them from you and interlaced your fingers with his instead.

"you're so fucking good," you moaned at the last second before he was finishing inside of you, the warmth spreading around your core and pushing you to the edge as well as you collapsed to his chest in a sweaty heap.

you both breathed heavily, your head rising and falling on his chest as he caught his breath, pushing his wet bangs out of his face before hugging you tight.

you both lay there, pressing kisses to one another, talking about the events of the day and how excited he was to see how the promotion would turn out.

"tell me why that song is still stuck in my head," you weakly laughed on his chest, envisioning the smooth choreography in your head and how well he danced to it today.

"maybe i'll teach you?" he smiled down at you and you happily nodded, knowing that you two would probably end up back in this bed because dancing with yeonjun always gets you heated.

he kissed you again, so satisfied with everything in his life; knowing that if he had his #1 supporter next to him, he could conquer any hard choreo.

<3

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

a/n: if you made it this far, tysm for reading! <3 this is inspired by the t:time ep of yeonjun’s behind the scenes shooting of shoong! and i’ve also been trying to learn this choreo so why not write a fic!😭 hope you enjoyed <33

[munson-blurbs]

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: You once again found yourself face-to-face with Eddie not even twenty-four hours after he checked into the motel, and your interactions left you with more questions than answers. (3.8k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, drug use, parental conflict, poverty, grumpy Eddie, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter two: here today

Bzzzzzz!

Your alarm clock blared its tinny ring at 1 PM. The sun was bright, a welcome change from yesterday’s overcast skies and steady rainfall.

You stretched as you awoke before shedding your oversized shirt and shorts, padding over to the shower and waiting a full five minutes for the cold water to turn lukewarm. The thinning bar of soap formed sad suds in your palm, and you lathered your skin as best as you could.

Despite your best efforts, you kept thinking about your encounter last night—that morning, really—with Eddie Munson. There was a cocky edge to him, evident by his initial refusal to put out his joint, but at least a shred of humanity; after all, he did eventually comply. There was even a semblance of…something that’d you’d shared in your brief interaction.

Or maybe it was just your imagination, the summation of your exhaustion and his high.

The towel scratched as you dried the water droplets from your bare skin, and though the cloth dampened, you could have sworn that it wasn’t wicking any moisture. Dad had been saying for years that he’ll invest in new linens “as soon as business picks up.” But business never picked up enough to do anything more than barely break even for the year, so the ancient towels stayed.

Picking the lint off of your purple T-shirt, you tucked it into your jeans and shoved your feet into your sneakers without bothering to unlace them first. One look in the mirror determined that you definitely needed makeup to look half-decent, or at least awake. There was no earthly way you would sacrifice a minute of precious sleep, so you swiped on some mascara in favor of an intricate routine and quickly fixed your hair. 

You plucked a granola bar from the stash on your dresser: your usual breakfast, tossed into your backpack as you headed out the door towards the lobby. The bus would be arriving in about five minutes, giving you just enough time to get to the stop before the doors closed. Barring any traffic, it followed a consistent schedule; one of the few certainties in life. 

“Hi Dad; bye Dad,” you called out, stopping in your tracks when you saw an obviously irritated Eddie standing in front of the desk, his arms crossed over his chest and his foot anxiously tapping. At least he was fully dressed this time, clad in a faded band t-shirt, ripped jeans, and the same denim jacket he was wearing last night when he’d first walked in. “Everything okay?” 

Dad motioned to Eddie. “Our guest is having some issues with his TV,” he said, his raised eyebrows indicating that the guest was being quite persistent about the matter. “Can you help him?” Before you could answer, he looked at Eddie and explained, “my daughter’s better with this technology stuff than I am.”

There was a temptation to argue that it was probably just a matter of smacking the side or replacing the remote batteries, but you didn’t have time to waste. “Yeah, sure,” you relented, turning to Eddie and waving him over. “Come on.”

Eddie waited to speak until the two of you were completely alone. “That was your dad?” 

You nodded, shoving your hands in your pockets and keeping your walking pace until you reached his room. 

“So what’s the problem?” you asked as he turned the key in the lock. It stuck for a moment before it fully unlatched, and he opened the door with a shove.

“The reception’s shit,” Eddie muttered, keeping his fingers splayed on the door so you could walk in first. “Every time I try to put on MTV, it’s all static. Tried it last night, too, but I figured it was because of the storm.” He gestured to the now-sunny skies. “But that shouldn’t be affecting it anymore.”

You offered a wry smile, the way you always did when delivering bad news to a guest. “Nothing’s wrong with the reception,” you explained, “there’s just no cable.”

“What?” His brows shot up in disbelief. “How is that even possible?”

“It’s simple.” You shrugged. “Cable costs money, we don’t have money; ergo, no cable.”

Eddie raked a hand through his messy curls. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.” His feet could have worn holes in the floor with the way he was pacing. “Where can I watch MTV around here? Like, is there a bar or something?”

“Yeah, I mean, there’s one right down the—” You turned to the window but stopped mid-sentence, your stomach sinking as you watched your bus fly past. You heaved a dejected sigh as tears prickled at your eyes embarrassingly, and you blinked them away. 

It’s okay; I haven’t been late at all this semester, you silently reminded yourself. You could take one of the dollar cabs that runs up and down Jamaica Avenue. It wouldn’t get you exactly where you needed to go, but it would be close enough.

Eddie remained oblivious to your inner turmoil, eyes trained on the TV. “Fuck,” he grumbled, sucking through his teeth. 

“The clock radio plays music,” you offered as you hiked your backpack higher up on your shoulder. “I know it’s not the same as watching videos, but–”

“It’s not about the stupid videos!” he snapped, curling his palm into a tight fist and biting down on his forefinger knuckle. Dark eyes exuded distress, and you couldn’t help but think that his sheer panic mismatched the problem’s minimal severity.

You recoiled at his sudden outburst and took an instinctive step back. He noticed this, his expression instantly softening. His hand unfurled and fell to his side. 

“Shit, I–”

“I’m gonna be late to class.” You composed yourself, straightening your posture and forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “But the bar is right on 144th and 89th.”

He sputtered as he searched for the right words to apologize and explain himself. If you had time, you’d wait for him to unscramble his thoughts, but you were already behind schedule now that your bus was long gone.

You strode across campus like you were on a mission, feet flying over the pavement. The cab had left you at another bus stop closer to school, and that bus had thankfully arrived on schedule. At this rate, you would only be ten minutes late to class. 

Sweat trickled down your back from midday sun’s warmth and your fast pace, but you kept walking until you reached the lecture hall’s double doors. This class was a smaller one, only twenty or so students, so there was no sneaking in unnoticed. 

You shot your professor an apologetic look that she accepted with a polite nod, sliding into your usual seat next to your friend Nora. 

“Is everything okay?” Nora whispered, moving her own bag from the chair. The concern on her face was palpable; if you weren’t able to make it to class, you would have called her. 

“Yeah, just stuff at the motel going haywire as usual,” you reassured her with a small smile, digging out your notebook and a pen. You flipped to the first blank page and scribbled today’s date next to the right-hand margin. “What did I miss?”

Nora shook her head as if to say, nothing. “She just gave back last week’s homework. I grabbed yours, too.” She handed you a sheet of paper with a bright red A+ on top. “I figured if something had happened to you, you could be buried with your most recent perfect paper.” 

She winked, and you rolled your eyes to mask your burgeoning pride. 

Truthfully, you’d worked hard on the assignment. You might have already been accepted to graduate school, but NYU’s prestige didn’t come without a hefty price tag, and you still needed to apply for scholarships in order to afford it. 

Now was not the time to slack. 

You tried to pay attention to the lecture, but your mind constantly drifted to the way Eddie had behaved in his room, having a meltdown like an overtired toddler. The man who had lost his temper over a television channel was starkly different from the one who had readily swapped playful jabs with you the night prior. 

Maybe whatever buzz he’d managed to acquire before you’d interrupted him had made him uncharacteristically pleasant, and today’s outburst was indicative of his true self. 

You bit the inside of your cheek and willed yourself to focus on the case study being presented on the board rather than your own personal Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. 

Try as you might, you couldn’t shake the mystery that was Eddie Munson. Guests had had their choice words with you before—there was a reason why you had pepper spray at the ready—but this felt different. When most guests screamed like he had, they were specifically angry at you; it was the reaction you had expected when you’d told Eddie that he couldn’t smoke pot in the motel. Others simply were not in their right minds and didn’t realize that they were shouting at a random woman and not their mom or childhood bully or the monster under the bed. 

Eddie differed from both categories in that he’d recognized his mistake. That he was frustrated at the situation, not at you. That he had started an apology that he might have finished If you had stuck around.

Or maybe he wouldn’t have. Maybe he would have continued yelling, face growing red with rage. Maybe he would have stopped his tantrum but stormed out to the bar without a second thought. 

You looked down at your notebook page, still blank except for the date. 

Maybe you should stop playing this game of what-ifs and actually listen to the lecture. 

After your professor handed out the rubric for the final paper and dismissed the class, you and Nora made a beeline for the food cart outside the building. Dining hall food was too expensive and bland; besides, Niko knew both of your orders by heart. 

He greeted you with a chipper smile as soon as you approached the cart. Bacon sizzled in its own fat, drowned out only by the sound of the chopper scraping against stainless steel as Niko scrambled the eggs.  

“Better enjoy this nice weather while it lasts,” he said, fuzzy gray brows pinching together. He grabbed two styrofoam cups from a stack and filled them with coffee. “Temperature’s s’posed to skyrocket this summer.”

You grimaced, pulling a few bills from your backpack’s front pouch. “If food service doesn’t work out for you, Niko, you should look into meteorology.”

He brushed off your sarcasm and adjusted his apron over his protruding belly. He added cream and sugar to the coffees and slid them towards you. “Been doin’ this a long time,” he said, gesturing to the food cart set-up. He took your four singles and handed you back two quarters, doing the same for Nora. “Longer than you two’ve been alive. And some things never change: you kids always have somethin’ smart to say.” 

Your mouth watered as he toasted the rolls and added a slice of American cheese to yours before combining the ingredients into hearty sandwiches. He carefully wrapped them in tinfoil and handed them over. 

You smiled, uncovered the sandwich, and took a hearty bite. Melty cheese oozed out from the roll and clung to your lip, and you collected it with the tip of your tongue. “At least we’re consistent,” you teased, waving goodbye as you and Nora walked to the bus stop. 

“What went down at the motel today?” Nora asked, chewing her food as she spoke. “I mean, I’ve seen you get to class early during a blizzard,” she added with a knowing grin. 

You remembered that day, February winds whipping around you and cutting through your layers of clothes like a knife. The snow stung your nose and cheeks and made it nearly impossible to see three feet ahead of you, but you’d made it to class before the professor had even arrived.

“Nothing really,” you tried to say nonchalantly, taking another bite of sandwich to keep your mouth busy. You don’t want to think about the way Eddie had raised his voice at you this afternoon; more specifically, the shame that tugged at you for being disappointed. You’d had one decent interaction with him and you’d foolishly assumed some kind of mutual respect had been built, but it all boiled down to the basics: he was a guest at the motel who would be checking out on Friday, and then you’d never see him again.

Nora wrinkled her nose, not quite believing you, but any further interrogation was interrupted by the bus squeaking to a stop. You dropped the five quarters into the tray before squeezing your way through the aisle.

“Just…” Nora dropped her voice to avoid drawing the ire of your fellow commuters, grabbing onto a pole to steady herself, “you didn’t need to break out the pepper spray or anything, right?” 

You gave her a grateful smile. “Nothing like that. I promise.”

“Good.” She reached over and gave your hand a small squeeze, careful not to brush up against anyone else. “Because I need my study buddy in one piece.” 

“I’m fi—” The bus lurched forward suddenly, the driver slamming on the brakes just as the yellow light turned red. You tightened your grip on the pole and planted your feet into the floor to keep your balance until coming to a complete stop. The other passengers grumbled and groaned as they shifted, leaving trails of mumbled sorry’s in their wake.

The Metropolitan Transit Authority would likely cause your demise well before any motel guest could get to you.  

It was barely after six PM when you got back to the motel. The sun began to creep down from its pedestal into purpling clouds and teased dusk’s beginning. Horns honked as rush hour traffic dragged along the expressway as though their cacophony would make the other cars evaporate into thin air. 

You had about four hours before your shift started; it was just enough time to work on the paper, take a quick nap, and boil water in your electric kettle to make some Cup Noodles. 

“Hey.”

You looked up to see Eddie leaning against the wall, a cigarette burning between his pointer and middle finger. It was freshly lit, but he still extinguished it under his foot before stepping closer to you. His brown eyes flickered from the ground to your face and back down again. 

“Hi.” Short but polite, your customer-service smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. You could see Mom through the glass door, leafing through paperwork that was almost certainly a stack of past-due bills. 

Eddie shoved his hands in his pockets, scuffing one Reeboked heel against the pavement. “I went to that bar you told me about.” He said it all in one breath as though he expected you to take off running. 

“Oh.” One corner of your mouth quirked up in a hesitant half-smile. “Did you, um, did you get to watch your show?”

He nodded, a forlorn look clouding his eyes. His right incisor dug into his lower lip. “Yeah. Thanks.” He paused, and you started for the door once again before he spoke up. “Sorry, I—you said you had a class today?” he asked, clumsily tripping over his words.

There was no sense in lying; not with your backpack hooked over your shoulders. “Mhm.” 

“Were you…” His tongue swiped nervously over his lips. “Did I make you late?”

You shook your head. “I got a dollar cab.” Not quite a lie, just omitting the truth. At this point, you were willing to let him smoke weed again if it’d result in easy conversation.

Eddie bit the inside of his cheek, head tilted slightly as he assessed your response. He seemingly accepted it at face value, exhaling a quiet, “that’s good,” and fumbling in his pocket for another cigarette. 

You took that as your cue to leave and ducked into the lobby to greet your mom with a quick wave. She returned it with a weary smile, eyes creased at the corners. The soft lines etched into her forehead had deepened over the past few months. The Reagan-Bush trickle-down economy era might have come to an end, but its remnants still affected small businesses and the even smaller people running them.

“How was class?”

“Good.” 

The usual exchange, no real information revealed. The mother-daughter song-and-dance performance of the ages. As long as neither of you disrupted the routine, the music played on.

Ten PM rolled around too quickly, and you plodded into the lobby with a stomach full of sodium-drenched noodles and your tote bag full of books. A street light flickered outside, more off than on, illuminating the sidewalk in a hazy glow every so often.

Mom handed over the register keys and placed a kiss on your cheek before she left to go to bed in the room she shared with Dad. Nighttime was the only time they got to be together uninterrupted, and it was spent sleeping.

That wasn’t what you wanted. When–if–you found somebody to share your life with, you wanted to have conversations with topics besides financial upkeep. You wanted to talk about meaningless topics and make each other laugh. You wanted to lay with your head on their lap, gazing into their eyes and revering in the beautiful silence. Nothing forced or planned. Just being.

You positioned yourself behind the desk, spreading your supplies in front of you. You’d managed to draft the opening paragraph for your essay before sleepiness overtook you and you’d had to nap, and your goal tonight was to revise it to perfection. The upcoming weekend would be spent at the public library, nose deeply buried in every psychology book they owned while you outlined the body.

Red pen marked up your page, commas added and removed three times over. Arrows shifted sentence order, while some sentences were altogether crossed out with heavy lines.

It was perfect. It was all wrong. You loved it. You hated it.  

Maybe I should scrap it altogether and start over. 

Your palm pressed to the notebook page, ready to tear it out and crumple it into a ball with jagged edges that would dig into your skin. 

“Hey.”

In your intense focus, you hadn’t even heard anyone walk in. A rookie mistake; somebody could have snuck up on you and you’d be none the wiser.

Eddie stood there, a folded one-dollar peering out from between his thumb and forefinger. He shuffled to the desk and held out the money, his eyes offering a silent apology. 

“I owe you for the, uh, cab,” he mumbled, lips forming a tight, nervous smile. “And don’t argue with me. I know my bullshit made you late, so…” He flitted his free hand as if dismissing potential concern.

You clicked your tongue in mock disapproval. “You’re not from New York City, are you?”

Eddie shook his head with a laugh, fingers scratching at a stubbled patch along his cheek. “How’d ya know?”

“A New York man knows better than to tell a New York woman not to argue with him,” you teased, capping your pen. “Also, you tried starting a conversation with me earlier, and any New Yorker knows that’s a cardinal sin.”

“Having a conversation?” 

“Making small talk with a stranger.”

His nose crinkled in adorable bewilderment as though the thought never occurred to him. “We’re not strangers. We met last night.”

The innocence of his remark drew a genuine laugh out of you. “I see the same people on the bus every day,” you told him, “and they’re still strangers. Being more than mildly aware of someone's existence doesn’t mean I know them.”

“Fair point,” Eddie conceded, leaning in slightly, “but I’d argue that we know each other’s names, so we’re not total strangers.”

Humming your acknowledgment–but not necessarily agreement–you plucked the dollar from his grasp and tucked it into your back pocket. “I’ll put this towards your bill.” 

“Oh, yeah. About that.” Eddie cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Are there any pawn shops around here that’ll buy a guitar?”

“No, sorry.” There had been one down the street but it had already been shuttered for a few years. Guests would go there all the time to hock whatever they could to pay for another night at the motel.   

He let out a long, disappointed sigh. “Shit. Okay.” The playfulness behind his eyes faded. “Um, thanks anyway.”

He turned away from the desk, shoulders slumped. You knew that look all too well; it was the stance of someone who just needed life to cut them a break.

“Eddie?”

He swiveled back around, his curls a half-second behind. “Yeah?”

“Do you know how to re-wallpaper a room?”

“Huh?” Your question caught him by surprise, and he took a moment to collect himself. “I mean, yeah, kind of. I did it for my uncle’s trailer once. But I’m not, like, a professional.”

You smiled. “No professional experience necessary.” You gestured to the various spots on the wall where the paper was cracked and peeled. “If you can make this look presentable, you can stay a few more days. Free of charge.”

His expression immediately darkened, eyes narrowing and crossed arms closing off his body. “I don’t need charity,” he asserted through a tensed jaw.

“It’s not charity; it’s a favor.” The harsh reaction caught you off-guard, but you refused to let him unsettle you again. “Look around: do you really think we can afford to hire someone to install new wallpaper?” 

You didn’t bother to wait for his response before continuing. “We need to fix this place up, and you need a roof over your head.” Shrugging casually, you held onto the hope that he would also view this as a mutually beneficial offer and not a pity handout.

Eddie just scoffed, a rejection in itself, compounded with a growling reprise: “I said, I don’t need charity.” 

Spikes jutted out from his words and pinched your skin, each one a reminder of your uncanny ability to worsen every problem you tried to solve. 

Offering a job to someone you barely knew? He gave you a buck to pay for the cab you only had to take because of him—not exactly the best character statement. The man could be a serial killer who preys on low-budget motel owners and you’d be none the wiser, signing his checks like you weren’t his next victim. 

Maybe next week, you could hire Ted Bundy to change bed linens. 

“Understood.”

He looked at you so intensely his pupils should have bored a hole right through you. Behind his eyes wasn’t an ounce of hate or even anger. 

It was raw shame. 

I’m sorry got caught in your throat and didn’t reach your tongue until he had disappeared back down the hall, out of sight. 

--

taglist:

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[swtsupernatural]

D&S W. || NEVER ENOUGH

Dean & Sam Winchester & Winchester! Middle-Sibling! Gender Neutral! Reader

Content Warning Takes place after John's death, no specific episode, just soon after. Swearing, dealing with John's death & grieving, reader throws up once, use of knives and guns, mentions of demons, dean being unable to communicate his feelings

Summary Angst !!! hurt/comfort for reader - Dad died, and all you could think about was how he died not even liking his middle child. You.

W.C. 2.2 k

Ask anon : Could you do something with the Winchester brothers and a Winchester reader? Where the reader is the middle child and is the forgotten one of the family. The reader feels kind of useless compared to Sam and Dean.

Playlist: ♫ I Love You So - The Walters, Better Than Me - The Brobecks, I Know the End - Phoebe Bridgers

A.N. first platonic winchester reader fic ! wrote this sooo fast lol (I think I was projecting even though I'm the oldest child) also I had to include my fav chaotic old man duo in this one...enjoy! - claire <3

Dad was dead. It hadn't been too long since he left, but fuck. He was dead and all you could think of was how much of a shit child you were. You tried your entire life to prove yourself to your dad; but you weren’t Dean; you didn’t follow him blindly, listen to his every order, pick up on hunting skills like it was playing cards. And you weren’t Sam; you weren't booksmart, you didn't have a touch for understanding, and you weren’t as defiant. Yet, it still seems like your whole life that you were your dad’s least favorite. Now you didn’t have Dad, and you felt sick to your stomach that you were almost relieved. It was like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders and another one had been placed in your stomach. Your own father had died and you were relieved. No wonder you were the least favorite. 

When you were younger, you’d been more like Sam. Dean was Dad;s pupil, and to you both it didn’t matter who was second because you were both not your older brother. You’d move to a random small town school,get picked on like Sam did, Dean told you he’d beat them up for you, and then you moved again. Every now and then shit would go down and you’d spend some nights at Bobby’s — and it repeated all over again. Then, Sam had graduated highschool and left you and Dean for Stanford. You and Dean never went into upper education, it hadn’t really crossed either of your minds. Sam was 18, you were 20, and Dean was 22. You’d been out of school for a bit, trying desperately to keep up with Dean and Dad, you were just never as good. You didn’t know anything else, and couldn’t see yourself doing well in any other ‘profession,’ if you could even call it that. A couple weeks after Sam left, you were digging through the trash like a damn raccoon looking for a note cliping you’d accidentally thrown away with some crucial information about your current hunt. You found the sticky note, but it had latched onto a thick, white piece of paper. It was a job application. It was Dean’s. You nearly cried, he wanted to be a firefighter. You were so emotional because you know he totally could; he’d be wonderful at it. But he’d never leave the hunting life, especially not after Sam had “abandoned Dad and us,” as he put it. The heat of the fire brought you back to the stupid forest you’d bought Dad’s body to. The fire was warm, but still not comforting in the slightest despite the chipping cold. Your cheeks were pink, and you could feel your eyes starting to water. This was it.

You began walking with your head down in the opposite direction of the Impala. 

“Where the hell are you going?” Dean’s voice was gruff, his own head and heart in turmoil, showing in his wavering voice. He never sounded like that. It was so uncharacteristic and gazing up at their faces made you sick. They were lit up warm from the fire, both of their green eyes shining, frowns and dirt on their faces. You doubled over by a tree, placing your hand on the tough bark as you threw up your breakfast on the dewy grass. You heard Sam sigh, the thick, uncut grass rusting, a hand coming to your back as he pushed the hair from your face. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes told you everything. He knew more about your struggle with Dad than Dean did. Sam had always been easier to talk to. That’s why you wanted him to leave.

“Sam,” you whispered after wiping your face, “you need to go back to school, dude.” Sam looked down sheepishly.

“Y/N, cmon, you know I was there on scholarship, I–

“And you were also the best in your program, Sam. Dad’s gone. Go back, go make something of your life, please.”

“And what will you do? Keep hunting?”

“What the fuck else am I supposed to do? I’m not good at anything else, Sam! Hell, I’m not even that good a hunter. I’m half the reason he left to go on that stupid hunt in the first place.”

“Don’t start with that, Y/N.” 

“I know it, you know it, and Dean knows it. Just…I need to be alone.”

“No, you don’t.” Dean’s voice came from your left, walking up at a quick pace with his hands in his jacket pockets.

“You don’t get it.” You whispered, and they just heard your small voice.

“What’s there to get?” Dean huffed, shaking his head.

“Dean, knock it off,” Sam muttered.

“What you don’t get, is that Dad never fucking liked me while like he liked you both. And Sam, don’t act like he resents you for leaving or something. He stayed up sighing and reading all those student aid and college billing bullshit because he knew you could do it. And Dean, he always taught you so much more than me because you actually got hunting like he did and knew what you were doing. I was never good at either. I wish I was the one burning in that fucki—

Dean grabbed your shoulders and pushed you against the tree.

“Can you shut up about yourself for two damn seconds when we're at Dad’s funeral? I don’t need you crying about him being a dick when he’s dead. He had funny ways of showing it, but he loved you, Y/N.”

“No he didn’t,” You shoved him off of you, shoving your hands in your coat and huffing out steamy air as you returned to the car. Your brother’s followed you, but you were already lifting the trunk and grabbing your duffle bag. 

“Bye. See ya around.”

“Dean, let them go,” Sam grabbed his arm, stopping his brother from getting to you. “Even I know Dad was always a dick to them.

“C’mon, dude, give ‘em a break, just for now. We’ll call them in a couple days, it’ll be fine.” Dean shook Sam off of him, opening his car door and slamming it aggressively. Sam sighed, getting in the car and watching the black smoke in the rearview mirror flying up into the sky.  __________________________________________

It had been four weeks. Four weeks, two cases solved, 11 missed phone calls from Sam, 6 from Dean, and now you were cornered in a damn demon’s trap. It was 5 against 1, but that didn’t change how useless you felt. You were never as good of a fighter as Sam or Dean, you weren’t as obnoxiously tall or particularly strong. You always felt useless as a child, as a sibling, as a hunter, and as yourself. Of course this would be how you died.

You were at the point of just giving in and calling it quits on your life when a booming BANG rang out. From behind you, two more shots rang out, knives slashing. You didn’t question it, you just acted. You managed to corner the last demon, grabbing his head from behind and shoving your knife in his throat, killing it. You focused your eyes up and saw the last person you were thinking about. But boy, were you glad to see him.

“Bobby?” He crushed you in a big hug, gun in one hand and a first aid bag in the other. 

“Heard’a some weird stuff in this town, deaths and weird figures, figured it was demons. But, when Rufus and I went into the local police office as P.I.s, they said someone with your description already came by,” He grumbled.

“You know how stupid it is to go on a hunt alone when you're young, kid?” Rufus spoke, as his way of greeting you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder in a half-hug. “That’s why I always drag this old man with me in case shit goes down. So I can throw him in the storm and buy myself some time to run.” Bobby rolled his eyes at Rufus’ sarcastic words, and led you both out of the building.

“Why aren’t you with the boys, Y/N?” You sighed, running a dirty hand through your hair. 

“You uh…heard about Dad?” Bobby stopped the tread to his old car, turning and peered at you with dark eyes. 

“I did. Don’t worry, m’not gonna hit you with all that “I’m sorry, woe is you” crap you hate.” You huffed, smiling at Bobby, “But, I am gonna tell ya you always have a place to stay, kiddo.”

“Thank you.” 

He looked at you expectedly, his head tilting towards you, “...So?”

“I left them after the funeral. I was just…having a hard time, Bobby.” You muttered, sitting in the back seat like a little kid.

“I know, kiddo. How’s about you come to my place and get yourself straight, hm?” You nodded, and Bobby watched you through the rear view mirror hanging above him. Your hair was greasy and the bags under your eyes almost purple. This had been fucking you up a lot.

Bobby got out and opened the trunk, rearranging things while Rufus opened the garage to grab salt, bullets, and gear to restock after your predicament. He tossed you his keys and you caught them with a jingle. You shoved them in the door and finally turned the janky lock, pushing it open. You froze.

Sam and Dean were sitting on the couch. The second you sighed and stepped inside, Dean shot up from his seat rushing towards you, wrapping you in a far too tight hug. He pulled away, his lips in a straight line as he lightly smacked you upside the head.

“You scared the shit out of us, dumbass.”

“Great to see you, too.” 

“Where were you?” 

You shrugged, moving past Dean to Bobby’s cramped, warm, familiar living room.

“I was on the road…hitchhiking, looking into cases, all that.” “I’m gonna refrain from telling you how dangerous that is and opt for a hug,” Sam grumbled as he wrapped his long arms around you. 

“Why are you here?” You asked, settling down on the couch like no time had passed at all since you last saw them. Sam began to speak up, but Dean cut him off and Sam stared at him sternly.

“Cause we couldn’t find you and you weren’t answering us, and Bobby said he found you on a hunt near his place. We got here right before you guys. Y/N you had us fucking worried.”

“I’m sorry. I needed some time alone. I…love you guys. But being around you after Dad, it just reminds me that I’ll never be good enough for him. He’s dead and all I can think about is how he died not even liking me. I’ll never be like either of you.”

Sam laughed; he actually laughed out loud. “Like me? Are we talking about the same people? Cause I see visions of people dying, Y/N. I dropped out of college and can’t do anything right in anyone’s eyes, not just Dad’s.”

“That's not true, Sam…” He sat down next to you on the couch, his knees turned towards you, his eyes dark and watchful. Dean mumbled something about getting you all drinks and disappeared into the kitchen, sensing a touchy conversion he'd rather not be a part of just yet.

“And Dean,” Sam continued, “Dean would rather die than open up to anyone, even either of us, and he can’t function if he’s not drinking, hooking up with some random girl, or drinking. Which is why he’s getting us drinks right now. If anything, you’re the one I’d rather be like. I know Dean would too.” You rolled your eyes pointedly, like Sam was talking nonsense. He moved his head to find your eyes, tilting his head towards you with that face he made that would always stop you from talking. “Y’know, you’re so good at reading us and we didn’t even realise until you were gone. Honestly, Dean and I have never fought that much. And you’re always good at talking with the vics and feds, way better than me or Dean, I–

“Can we end the girly-crap convo now, please?” Dean handed each of you a beer, throwing his back the second he sat down, drinking way too much in one sip.

“Sorry we have feelings, Dean. In case you forgot; most people have those.”

“Yea, yea. Listen,” he turned to you after he groaned, trying to look sincere, well, as sincere as Dean could look. 

“You’re probably the least fucked up one in our freak family, Y/N, so quit it, alright? Sammy and I…we love ya.” He threw his hand that wasn’t clutching his drink up in a surrender. “That good? Can we please drink now and head to our next stop with a hangover in the morning?”

You chuckled, clink-ing your drink with your brothers, and nodding to Dean. He smiled silently, thankful you were back. He hadn’t realized how much you kept the peace and sanity between the three of you. He really missed you. 

“There better be two of those left, idjits,” Bobby grumbled, Rufus on his tail as they went into the kitchen grabbing a bottle each. They sat opposite of you all on the other couch and you held up your bottle. 

“Cheers. To being a weird, fucked up family.”

“Cheers!” Sam gave you a tight lipped, sweet smile. “Cheers to that,” Dean finished the rest of his drink, throwing his head back.

“You kids are gonna kill me,” Bobby muttered.

[l0vergirlatheart]

⚝ roses protrude from the sidewalk like my love seeping out of the cracks of my once cold skin

sculptor!reader x caelus, sampo, argenti (separate) your creations suddenly escape from the clay that encased them, and they seem to know you're the one who made them oh-so-perfectly. ⚝ = dark content. cw yan-ish and religious-esc themes. "creator, god, divine," etc. playing... YABABAINA by SatapanP div. from @/cafekitsune

YOU just finished sculpting one of your favorite creations. Placing your brush down after just completing varnishing it, you decide it's finally time to take a break while you await the final layer to dry, unaware of how their eyes had now shifted to your now seated form.

At least, not until you heard something begin to crack. You look up, thinking maybe the wind knocked something over? Had one of their props fell off and you needed to re-do it? But when you glanced over at them, chunks of dried clay were breaking off of their figure, revealing a rather human-like appearance beneath them.

You shot up immediately, knocking over the water cup that held your brush, but you paid it no mind as you watched your creation in shock. You wondered if you were hallucinating, even. But you were suddenly aware of the feeling of the dried paint that was on your hands, the way your breathing grew labored, and the way your heart beat faster in your chest.

CAELUS 326 words HE DIDN'T MEAN TO SCARE YOU, he promises. It's at times like this he really wishes he could have anything other than jokes and unserious remarks flowing in those two brain cells of his.

He raises his hands in a sign of peace, meaning no harm as the last of clay falls from his now flesh body while you stare at him, wide-eyed. It's a long while until you get settled with him, and now you suppose it's not horrible to have him around. Sure, he may be straight brainrot and a little stupid sometimes, but honestly? He's gentle in general. Excluding when he's not very aware of his surroundings and swings his bat into one of your toolboxes.

He at least helps you clean everything up, his doings or not.

He thinks you're amazing. You've got the power to create life from clay, and you created him without even realizing it. However, he wishes that you didn't discover it until a little later. Now, you want to create more when he's right there.

His arms snake around you from behind as he leans his head atop wherever he can reach while you're getting your tools in order to create another sculpture - one that'll hopefully come to life just like he did.

"If you don't let go of me," You sigh as you try to pry his tight hold off of you, or at least enough to get your things in order. "I can't make anything at all, for either of us."

"Do you really need another?" He grumbled, almost sounding like a dejected dog as you simply roll your eyes and attempt to shove him off you by his head.

"You're so clingy. Calm down, you're still my first." You state simply, watching as he lights up and smiles at the realization, causing you to just groan. He still hadn't let you go yet.

♫ Thick, splendid, clever, can't stand it, good second generation!

SAMPO 252 words HE DEFINITELY WANTED TO SCARE YOU. Him and his stupid pranks, scaring you from his creation to even now, however, it doesn't mean he's all mischief. He's like, 89% mischief and 11% normal.

He's generally a good person, you could trust him with your life (albeit hesitantly,) but not your wallet. This freak loves money for some reason, and is too good of a liar. His lies never do harm you, however.

How could he harm his lovely creator who introduced him to many things?

You're so intriguing, so powerful that he genuinely can't help but stare at you while you're working, as if you were the sculpture. But don't be fooled, he whines the entire time after you learn of your powers and decide to make another.

"Whaaaat? Psh, no!" Sampo laughs as he directs his eyes away suspiciously, hands behind his back as you stare directly through him. Your arms are crossed over your chest before you sigh and hold one hand out towards him.

"I know you hid my supplies, Sampo." You say as you stare at him, slight annoyance visible on your face as you demanded for them back.

After a bit of bantering, he eventually has to give in. But only in exchange for him basically attaching himself to you for another hour.

(That's a lie, he's stuck to you for the rest of the day. You can't even finish a thing.)

♫ Huh? Huh? Huh? Can't hear anything, nothing at all, never admit a mistake!

ARGENTI 310 words HIS DIVINE GOD, HE TRULY MEANS NO HARM. And it's kind of obvious from the moment he opened his mouth, nothing but praises immediately falling from his lips as you stared at him in a mix of shock and oddity. It was a whiplash effect at first, but the longer you're with him, the more it grows onto you.

He's extremely nice to be around as long as you're okay with hearing him ramble about beauty, how amazing your skills are, how perfect literally anything you have in your home is. It could be the ugliest thing ever and he'd find some way to compliment it. He's a real confidence booster, you'd say.

The only real problem is that he's a real chatterbox. And it's not for the weak.

You're divine to him. Celestial beauty, ethereal looks no matter what angle he looks at you from. You create things almost as lovely as you are, even if you've only just learned of it. He's the few who actually encourage you to create more sculptures. Just don't forget about him, okay?

You're placing down your tools after just finishing the base of your next sculpture when he arrives. He looks a little dejected before he speaks to you, "Have you finished for today?"

You glance back at him before sighing and smiling fondly. You'd pretty much had only seen him in the morning, having been cooped up in your art room the entire rest of the day. "Yes, I am."

He lights up before eagerly beginning to ramble about what he saw today, about how beautiful you and your work-in-progress are, and you just nod along to his words whilst putting your tools away.

It's okay to pack up early for once, right? He's clearly missed you.

♫ If there's only now, isn't there no time to do unpleasant things?

[bvidzsoo]

Love Me Like A Rockstar (8)

ー☆ Chapter 8: Own My Mind

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

ー☆ Warning: cursing ー☆ Word count: 8.3k ー☆ Genre: university!au, enemies to lovers!au, rockstar!au ー☆ Rating: sfw ー☆ Summary: Love. You wanted none of it. You had already been heartbroken very badly once, you didn't wish to go through that ever again. But the Universe works in intricate ways and, somehow, you found yourself webbed up in a local rockstar's life, Song Mingi. He was everything you expected him to be, yet nothing like you imagined him he would be. What happens when you find mutual understanding and have heartful conversations? Will he be able to break down your walls? Will you be able to chase away his darkness?

A/N: Hello, lovelies! I'm back with a new chapter and let me tell you, ever since I've started writing this there's been little changes to the plot here and there, but...we should all thank Song Mingi for the way he's been acting this weekend for bringing a major change to it (i wanna kms ha-ha *dies in pain*) Anyways, I have a love-hate relationship with that man right now, don't mind my dramatic ass. Please listen to Maneskin's Own My Mind before or while reading this chapter, just the usual! If you want to be added to this story's taglist, just leave a comment on this post and you'll be added! Also, the drawing our girlie is talking about that is on her bed (later in this chp.), is absolutely waterbomb Mingi and it's a call-back to chp. 4 hehet. I have a surprise at the end of this chapter lol. One last question and then I'm going, should I do a Q&A surrounding this story? Like, if you have any curiosities about it, you can send in an ask and I'll gladly answer it! ^^ I hope you'll enjoy this part and, as always, let me know your thoughts about it!

Taglist: @orshii @or5i @lovely-red2 @scarfac3 @juicy-red @sunaswifes-blog @voicesinmyhead-rc @teez-the-time @maru-matt @kyeos4ng @deathbyyeekies @chicksmoothie @mjlbn01 @xhexy @sharksandminhos

⟨Series M.list ↭ Previous Chapter⟩

♫Playlist♫

            I shivered as I hurriedly shrugged off my jacket, backpack discarded the second I stepped inside my warm home, the loud thunder cut short as Mingi quickly closed the front door behind himself, hissing and groaning. I turned my head to watch him struggle out of his worn-out jacket as I stepped out of my shoes, hardly believing that from just a few minutes out in the rain, even my socks got soaked. Mingi’s head shook as his body trembled, and I couldn’t help but chuckle as I watched him. He looked quite hilarious with his black hair sticking to his forehead, glasses so wet he couldn’t see through them anymore, loose clothing now sticking to his lean body like a second skin.

“What’s so funny?” Mingi playfully furrowed his eyebrows as he took his specks off, shaking the water off the glass, as wiping it against his already wet clothes wouldn’t have helped him in ridding his glasses of water.

“You.” I mumbled with a chuckle as I peeled my cardigan off, skin covered in goosebumps as my damp skin was exposed to the chilly air in the hallway. Mingi rolled his eyes, and placed his glasses back on as I took off towards the wardrobe by the stairs, chewing on my bottom lip. Mingi would have to change out of his wet clothes, unless we wanted him to catch a cold. I couldn’t leave him standing there like that, shivering and sniffing as he already sneezed loudly. His apology was sheepish, but I just flashed him a small smile before opening the heavy door of the wardrobe. There were minimal chances that the box I was looking for was still inside the wardrobe, considering the fact that my mother would go on a cleaning frenzy every month and throw out almost everything inside the house that she deemed unusable anymore. Therefore, there were almost one to zero chances that the box I so vividly remember having placed here ages ago, was still in its spot.

“Uh, do you think I could use the bathroom real fast?” Mingi asked, voice sounding unsure as I kneeled down in front of the wardrobe, eyebrows furrowing when I didn’t spot the box right away.

“One second, let me find something.” I called out, leaning forward as I pushed my mother’s long coats hanging in my face out of the way, and disappeared further into the wardrobe as I pushed and pulled at the thick blankets she kept in there. I thought about giving up for a second, about her having thrown out the contents of the box I was searching for, but I gasped when I felt the sturdy cartoon underneath my fingertips. With a triumphant smile, I pulled on it, a few scarfs and my very old Hello Kitty beanie falling out in the process. The box felt heavier than I remembered it to be, and my heart settled knowing that my mother didn’t throw it out. But that didn’t mean it didn’t start beating wildly once I sat back on my heels, box placed in front of me. A chill ran down my spine, and I knew right now that it wasn’t because of the chilly air and my damp skin. Whatever still remained inside this box…is what I never had the strength to throw out, to fully get rid of every memory lingering of Yunho. I gulped, chewing on my bottom lip as I hesitated opening it up. But there was another loud sneeze, and as I briefly glanced at Mingi, I couldn’t help but notice the light red tinge on his cheeks as he typed away on his phone, completely soaked. I really had no other choice but to open up the box of pandora.

And a lump formed in my throat when I finally opened it, a stale scent hitting my nose. My eyebrows furrowed when a golden butterfly necklace sat on top of everything, a harsh reminder of all the gifts Yunho would buy for me during our relationship. I have thrown out all the gifts, except this one. It was expensive, and frankly, too beautiful to be thrown out or gifted to anyone else. Gulping, I pushed the necklace aside and sighed as I dug around the box, jaw clenching at the three sketchbooks getting in my way. They were filled with drawings of Yunho and myself, of all the places we’ve been to, of all the places I have wished to visit with Yunho. Of all the memories we have once made, and of all the memories I wished we could’ve made. Being an artist was amazing, but at certain times it was a nightmare in disguise, brain able to conjure such vivid images that never happened, that it could fool me into thinking that they have actually happened. I sighed quietly as I felt eyes on me, and finally found what I was searching for. A fuzzy and faded knitted sweater, a plethora of colors mixed together, from beige to a light purple, black and silver in the mix too. I pulled it out of the box, together with the grey sweatpants, and cleared my throat as I stood, hands burning the longer I held the clothing in my hands. I felt guilty, almost disgusting as I neared Mingi again, trying to avoid his eyes as he had an easy look on his face, smiling despite continuously sniffing.

“These are the only male clothing we have in the house,” I said as I reached my hands out, looking at Mingi’s chest rather than eyes, “hopefully they’ll fit you.”

“And if they won’t, you can always give me one of your colorful fuzzy cardigans.” Mingi’s tone was playful and I chuckled, giving him a playful glare. Those cardigans would never fit his broad shoulders. The tightness was gone from my chest as Mingi took the clothes from my grasp, a thankful look on his face. The guilt remained, but it wasn’t so pressing anymore.

“You can change in the bathroom downstairs,” I pointed towards the closed door across from the wardrobe, “towels are in the cabinet above the toilet. Do you need a hairdryer?”

Mingi shook his head with a smile and gave my soaked hair a light tap, “Thank you, Y/N.”

The way he seemed to linger on my name sent my heart into a dumb frenzy, and I found myself flustered beyond, emotion so foreign I forgot how to speak for a second. And Mingi didn’t miss it, fuck, because he walked away with a smug smile towards the bathroom and paused in the doorway for dramatic effect, before disappearing with a damn wink. I huffed, glaring daggers at the closed door as I scurried to shove everything fallen out back inside the wardrobe, closing its door rather harshly. I licked my chapped lips and raced up the stairs, throwing the door to my room open and taking a second to take in its state. My desk was messy, but that’s just how it always was, I couldn’t do much about it right now. I opened the blackout curtains, however, the weather already gloomy enough to cast shadows inside my dark room. I flinched as another thunder rumbled through the sky, and grabbed the first clothes I found in my closet, walking to the bathroom upstairs.

After having changed into wide legged leggings that had cotton on the inside, I quickly threw on a white tank top and a soft pink mock neck sweater, sighing in content as warmth finally enveloped my body after I have dried up the dampness on it with a towel. I skipped down the stairs as I had a towel around my head, messily towel drying my hair, completely missing the tall form standing at the foot of the stairs as I stumbled into him. I yelped, but Mingi quickly steadied me by the elbows. Before I had the chance to pull the towel off my head, two large hands grabbed at it and started softly rubbing the towel against my wet hair. I froze, everything inside me stopping as even my breath stilled, eyes wide open. Mingi said nothing as he continued with his actions, quietly humming to himself. I was afraid he’d be able to hear my loud heartbeat as I breathed through my mouth, lips parting as I struggled to calm down. I was thankful for the towel hiding my face, because I could feel the blush spreading down from my cheeks to my ears, and even neck. I couldn’t remember a time when I have blushed this hard, and it made me feel slightly disoriented. For God’s sake, Mingi was simply towel drying my hair for me, why was I having such a visceral reaction to it?! My mind seemed to be screaming at me, but I was too busy trying to regulate my breathing, doing so quietly, as Mingi’s hands became a little rougher, almost pulling on specific strands of hair. My eyes narrowed as he turned my head left to right to his likes, and I groaned as his fingers dug into my scalp.

“Hey, stop it!” I whined and slapped at his hand, making Mingi chuckle as he ruffled my hair to the point I had strands from the back falling into my eyes.

“Oh, good,” He was still chuckling, “for a second there I thought you had fallen asleep with how quiet you were.”

Despite not being able to see his face, or anything if I looked ahead, I could still peek down and see his feet. I was standing on the last step of the stairs, and with an evil grin, I jumped down, his naked toes falling victims to my attack. Mingi yelped loudly, and I cackled as I pulled the towel off my face, smiling at him smugly.

“Serves you right since my hair is all knotted up thanks to you.” I raised my eyebrows at him as Mingi had his right leg raised, massaging his toes with a pained expression.

“So you break my toes?!” He exclaimed, his deep tone a few octaves higher, making me snicker to myself as I threw the towel at him, making him yelp and look at me with an appalled expression on his face.

“Stop being a baby,” I stuck my tongue out at him as I walked towards the front door to lock it before I went inside the kitchen, “And wear some slippers before you come to the kitchen.”

Mingi was closely following behind me, ignoring my words, “What, one of your dwarf slippers? It’s either my toes or heels will be dangling off.”

The image was funny in my head, but I ignored it in order to throw him a scrutinizing look, “The tiles are cold in here, you’ll catch a cold.”

A wide smile spread on Mingi’s lips as he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed in front of his chest, biceps bulging underneath the tight fabric of the sweater, “You’re so cute when you worry about me, doll.”

There goes the pleasant exchange we’ve been having up until now. My voice became devoid of any expression besides the glare I threw at him, mirroring him as I crossed my arms in front of my chest, “I’m not cute. I’m merely saying you’ll probably catch a cold since we’ve been out in the rain not even fifteen minutes ago. And since you’re a singer you should be taking a lot more care of yourself.”

Mingi remained silent for a few seconds, until I watched a light hue tinge his cheeks. Was he blushing because I was lecturing him? Just what in the hell?!

“You’re right, sorry.” Mingi mumbled, but showed no intentions of actually following through with my words as he walked further inside the room, sitting at the table, feet up on the chair as he hugged his long legs to his chest. For such a tall and broad man, he looked extremely tiny sitting on that chair right now.

“Uh,” A little confused by the turn of events, I looked around the kitchen, trying to remember the initial purpose of me coming here, “Right. You don’t like tea, so we have coffee or hot chocolate to warm us up, which one would you like?”

Mingi’s eyes lingered on me for a second too long, taking in my whole being before his eyes settled on my face again, a smile so genuine settling on his lips that his eyes were sparkling, “Hot chocolate is fine.”

I hummed, a little breathless, then turned to open the cabinet above the microwave to take out two tall mugs for the hot chocolate. For some reason, I didn’t mind Mingi’s eyes following my every move as I tinkered around in my kitchen, taking everything I needed in my hands to prepare them on the counter. The thought of having Mingi inside my home, sitting in my kitchen, wearing my ex’s clothes, acting like we’ve been friends since forever seemed to hit me at once as I froze for a second while pouring water inside the second mug, Mingi’s mug. And what was even more surprising was not finding any thoughts that suggested that this was wrong, that I shouldn’t be doing this, that Mingi didn’t belong inside my kitchen. I didn’t want to dwell more on why it all felt so right, so instead, I watched as the mugs whirled around in the microwave, locking these thoughts away for later…I knew they’d come back late at night to haunt me, it’s just how it always was.

Mingi clearing his throat gained my attention as I glanced back at him, and tried not to look too long. The way Yunho’s clothes perfectly fit Mingi’s form was alarming, albeit the sweatpants seemed to be slightly too long for Mingi. I’ve had Yunho’s clothes since highschool, which was a few good years ago, yet they still fit Mingi. It made me wonder if the two ever exchanged clothes or wore something matching, like best friends would do for fun. I know Yunho had once mentioned having matching rings with Mingi, but back then I was too jealous about their closeness to ask any further questions about any other matching items they had. And it was a little surprising just how well Mingi’s skin tone was complimented by the colors of Yunho’s old sweater, Mingi’s necklaces sitting on top of the knitted fabric. That sweater was one of my favorite’s while Yunho and I were dating, Yunho always seemed to be glowing when he wore it. At some point I had even forgotten that I still had it. Perhaps I should do something about the contents of that box, join my mother next month in her frenzy cleaning marathon and throw out its contents.

The microwave pinged and I took the two mugs out, realizing that Mingi and I had been staring at each other for at least a good minute, my cheeks flushed again. A soft chuckle was heard behind me, but I ignored it for my own sake. The silence didn’t last for longer as I opened the little packages containing the hot chocolate powder to pour into our cups, “This might sound crazy, but I swear I’ve seen this exact sweater on Yunho quite a few times.”

I froze, thankful that I had my back to Mingi as panic flashed over my face. Deep breaths, I had this. Mingi didn’t have to know, I could lie my way out of this. And so, I forced a small smile on my face as I faced him while walking to the fridge, “Really? Well, coincidence, maybe. It’s my cousin’s sweater, he forgot it here once, but as he lives overseas he never came to get it and my mother just placed it away for when he comes to visit us.”

I didn’t have one single male cousin. Let alone cousin’s that lived overseas.

“Oh,” Mingi mumbled as he picked at an undone string on the sleeve of Yunho’s sweater, “Yeah, that could be it, a coincidence, I mean. Besides, my memory is a little fuzzy, I might be wrong.”

I gulped away the guilt that suddenly bloomed in my chest and grabbed the whipped cream, raising it up, “Whipped cream for your hot chocolate?”

I grinned at Mingi as he slowly shook his head, “I drink it simple.”

“Really?” I asked surprised as I walked back to the mugs, “Not even with marshmallows?”

Mingi shook his head with a small smile and so I mixed his powder with the warm water, handing it to him. Mingi had a fond smile on his lips when he took it, his cold fingers lightly brushing against mine, making me blush like a stupid schoolgirl who has a crush. And I do not have a crush on anyone, let alone on Song Mingi. I swiftly turned around, hoping that Mingi didn’t notice me blushing as I quickly put whipped cream in my hot chocolate and stuck two marshmallows in it, putting everything away quickly. I turned to face him as I took a sip, leaning against the counter. Mingi sat in a cross-legged position on the chair as he had the mug in his hands, ring clad fingers wrapped around the warm ceramic. I couldn’t help myself as my eyes lingered on his painted nails, slowly trailing up to Mingi’s face. His black fluffy hair fell in his eyes, obscuring his sharp eyes slightly as they were devoid of the black eyeliner now, a few blemishes tainting his otherwise glowing skin around his jaw, glasses slipping low on his tall nose, and plump lips red and slightly wet from how much Mingi always licks his lips. The simplicity of his whole being has never looked more attractive than right now, and as Mingi opened his mouth to say something, I was startled by such alarming thoughts, and so I hurried out of the kitchen.

“Let’s go up to my room!” I called out, on the brink of crying from all these stupid emotions I was suddenly feeling, trying to calm my crazily beating heart. Who allowed my brain to think in such way of Song Mingi? When did I even start considering him attractive? He was annoying, obnoxiously loud, arrogant and irritating, there was absolutely nothing to like about him or find in him attractive. I had to get a grip of myself right now! Mingi’s footsteps were dull as he followed after me, probably surprised that I had waited for him at the top of the stairs, unknowing of the storm inside my head, matching the raging storm outside. Lightning flashed every two seconds, skies rumbling with thunder, shaking even the ground at times. I hated storms, but suddenly it wasn’t as unbearable as before. When Mingi stood next to me, I lead us towards my room and pushed the door open, leaving it like that as Mingi walked in once I stepped aside for him, allowing him inside my safe space.

I have never been consciously proud or embarrassed of what my room looked like, the thought of what others thought of it absent up until right now. As Mingi walked further inside, head turning each and every way, taking everything in, suddenly I realized I was scared of what he would think. My walls were painted a light grey, on purpose, and there was little to no space left bare except for the wall on which the window was. My bed was pushed up against the wall to your left just as you walked inside, sketches that I have done throughout the years plastered up and put on display, my very first drawing even making it up on my wall. It was my little personal museum, a way of reminding myself of where I started out and how much I have evolved ever since, and even how much I was still changing as I was experimenting with my styles, learning a new technique in the class of Mr. Yoon. The desk across from my bed was messy, like I have said, it was littered with everything I needed to have at hand. Pencil holders filled to the brim, at least five of them, then there were brushes and little paint tubes littered all over it, notebooks and discarded sketches sitting underneath it, with my laptop hanging just a little dangerously off, not having paid much attention where I have put it this morning. A plain canvas was spread out on the little free space I still had, a project I had planned on starting today, now postponed for tomorrow. The wall above my desk had three modest shelves filled to the brim with books and some vinyl’s I have started collecting not long ago, pots and plants hanging off from the sides. The wall around the shelves was decorated by posters and pictures of my favorite bands, a few of my favorite paintings mixing in with them. The little stand next to my desk had my vinyl player, plants underneath it and around it, little ones. And then in the corner there was an old guitar that once had belonged to my mother, who has had a phase back in highschool and dreams of becoming a band member, famous and rich. She didn’t have the heart to gift the guitar to anyone, so she’s always kept it and passed it on to me once I was old enough. I never had an affinity for playing any instruments, but I do enjoy good music. A mix of old and new artists making it in that mix, actually—perhaps Noir Zenith slowly becoming one of them too, but Mingi didn’t have to know that. My closet was to the right just as you walked in, and it was of dark and sturdy wood, expanding from the ceiling to the floor. I had a little mirror right on its right side, the wall above and behind it, going right behind the door even, littered with my favorite painter’s paintings. Of course, they were only prints made at the local copy shop, but that didn’t matter. Fairy lights hung above my bed and from the lamp on the ceiling. The two nightstands on either side of my bed were more organized than one would expect from me, little makeup buckets placed on the one closest to the window, charger cable and some headphones sitting on the dark wood. The one nearest to the door had pictures of myself and my mom, and of Seulgi and I on display with a little clock, its drawer so filled with notebooks that I couldn’t quite close it. Thankfully the drawers of my desk weren’t so filled, I had just rearranged them last week, one evening when I was too restless to sleep.

Mingi was quiet as his mouth was slightly open, eyes wide as he took everything in, eyes falling onto my bed. I followed his sight and was mortified to find my biggest sketchbook open and displaying a quite realistic sketch of Mingi performing on stage. It was from the night I had a breakdown and Mingi found me in that diner. Seulgi had sent me some pictures she had taken of Wooyoung and accidentally slipped in one with Mingi too, and because the image just wouldn’t leave my mind, I knew I had no choice but to draw it. I dived for the sketchbook as if my life depended on it, all of it happening so fast I hoped Mingi didn’t actually catch what the drawing—or better said, who—the drawing was of. I shut it closed and pushed it off the bed, the light thud loud in the silent room. When I turned to look at Mingi, ready to face his smug face and taunting words, I was surprised to find his attention on something completely different. Of course, I should’ve expected from a man who plays in a band to be enamored by the vintage guitar in my possession. Its body was a light blue and had cherry blossoms painted over it, something my mother admitted to doing so, which lead to an argument with her father back in the days when he had seen the “damage” my mother had done to the pricey guitar.

“Is that a Martin D-19?” Mingi gushed as he walked toward the guitar, mouth hanging open. My eyebrows raised at his knowledge about it upon one glance. To me, it looked like a regular acoustic guitar. But then again, I should’ve expected it from a music major and a guy who has a literal band and plays the bass.

“Yeah, it was my mother’s.” I answered as I set my mug on the nightstand and sat at the edge of my bed, watching the awed expression on Mingi’s face. He had placed his mug by the foot of my desk as he crouched down, admiring the guitar from up-close.

“It’s absolutely beautiful.” Mingi whispered, fingers carefully tracing its body. Not even at gun point would I have admitted my next thought, which was of just how beautiful Mingi looked in this exact moment. Lightning flashed and the ground shook with the intense thunder, making Mingi tense for a second before he turned back to face me with the prettiest smile I have ever seen on someone.

“Your mother knows how to play it?” He asked, sounding enthusiastic. I was breathless, but after a big gulp, I forced my brain to function.

“Yeah,” I answered with a small smile, “she was a big rock lover back in the days, even wanted to start her own band. But due to her parents negative reactions to it, she unfortunately had to give up on that dream and do something more ‘real’.”

I rolled my eyes at the end of my sentence, not very fond of my grandparents. They weren’t bad people, but they also treated my mother harshly, and even myself, always asking about my future plans and straight up crying when I told them I wanted to become a painter. I saw the way Mingi’s face hardened for a second, but I knew he didn’t want to talk about it as he became expressionless quickly after. I was curious what made his mood become sour so quickly, if he perhaps related to what I have said in some way, but I wouldn’t prod. If he wants to tell me, he will sometime. So, instead, as a distraction, I scooched up further on my bed and patted the mattress next to me with a lazy smile, watching Mingi’s eyes slightly widen. He looked a little shy as he grabbed his mug and rose up to his full height, steps almost hesitant as he approached the bed, making me snort. It made Mingi narrow his eyes as I crossed my legs underneath myself as he kneeled on the bed and then settled beside me, long legs extended as he playfully wiggled his feet left and right. I chuckled as I clasped my hands together, letting them rest in my lap as Mingi took a sip of his hot chocolate. The silence was comfortable between us, the harsh rain hitting the windows loudly, wind rocking trees harshly, and the lightning and rumble a constant background noise.

“Last time when we performed at Outlaw, when you didn’t come,” Mingi paused and turned his head to look at me, “you know, when we met at the diner—”

“Let’s not talk about that.” I muttered with a grimace and Mingi hummed, licking his lips.

“Right, so, that night,” His voice was quiet, lips pulling into an abashed smile, “the crowd was bigger than usual, at first I blamed it on being a rowdier night, but it turned out those people were there to see us, Noir Zenith, to see me.”

I felt a small smile appear on my own lips, Mingi looking pleased with himself despite the light pink tinge of his cheeks, “And now Hongjoong might help us sign with a record deal, I feel like everything is finally coming together. Like my hard work is finally being rewarded.”

I bit my lower lip to stop myself from smiling too wide, subconsciously reaching out to hold Mingi’s arm as he looked me in the eyes, “That’s so good, Mingi! You deserve all the praise and attention your band gets, you’re really good.”

“You really think so?” Mingi sounded small, eyes wide in wonder as he flushed more. I knew I have said some things that weren’t the nicest, and now it made me realize that Mingi never deserved hearing those things from me. Yeah, I didn’t like the guy much at the beginning—not that now I like him more—but I still shouldn’t have shit on his music, on something he pours his whole soul and heart into.

“I really do, Mingi.” I slightly squeezed his arm, hoping that he could hear the sincerity in my voice as a wide and bright smile spread onto Mingi’s plush lips, so contagious that I found myself with a matching smile on my own lips. I chuckled, for some reason not wanting to release his arm just yet, the knitted sweater soft and warm under my touch.

“Lovely seeing you slowly turn into my number one fan, doll.” Of course, trust Mingi to ruin the moment. My eyes narrowed as I sighed loudly, slowly shaking my head. Mingi chuckled before taking a large gulp of his not so hot anymore chocolate, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Now, don’t get cocky.” I rolled my eyes, pulling my hand off his arm, watching as his eyes lingered where I have touched him, “I can recognize good work without becoming your fan.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Mingi mused playfully and I scoffed, bumping my shoulder into his before I went to retrieve my laptop from my desk, “Seonghwa and Wooyoung want us to try out new genres.”

“Really?” I asked surprised as I settled back in my previous spot, knee brushing against Mingi’s thigh, “Like what?”

“Well, nothing specific, just something little softer.” Mingi pursed his lips, fiddling with the mug in his hands, “Maybe something more indie rock.”

“I love indie rock,” I muttered absentmindedly as I powered on my laptop, “and why are you reluctant?”

Mingi seemed surprised that I had caught on, but it was quite obvious in his tone that he didn’t sound very enthusiastic about it, “Because my voice is rough and raw, unlike Seonghwa’s who’s smooth and almost angelic, and Wooyoung’s who’s can reach pitches I can only dream of and has a roughness that is absolutely soft at the same time, alluring.”

“Your voice is deep and powerful, it conveys every single emotion you’re feeling when you sing, Mingi. Your raspy tone alone tells a story, even without speaking the same language I would understand what you’re singing about. But just because it’s rougher and more powerful compared to Seonghwa and Wooyoung’s doesn’t mean it’s not beautiful and enchanting, Mingi.” Occupied with typing in the password to my laptop, I failed to notice the way Mingi’s breaths became shallow, the way his eyes bore into the side of my skull, “I think your voice is unique and desirable, you should be proud of it and not look down on yourself because of it. Many wish to have what you have, so really, don’t think any less of yourself because you think Seonghwa and Wooyoung are somehow better and more alluring. It’s not true, each one of you has their charm and well…I think you’re the most charming out of the three of you.”

I didn’t expect the expression on Mingi’s face when I turned my head to look at him. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were glazed over as his sharp eyes watched me intently, his breaths loud as his cheeks were red. My eyebrows furrowed, and for a second I worried I have made him angry, but the longer I looked, I realized the look in his eyes had nothing to do with anger. I gulped and averted my eyes, suddenly feeling my heart race again, biting my lower lip and trying to ignore the overbearing proximity between us. It was only our knee and thigh touching, yet it felt like Mingi was all over me, his scent still strong despite having changed out of his clothes and getting soaked by the rain. He always had a sharp scent surround him; it reminded me of pine trees.

“Thank you.” At last, Mingi found his voice and it was lower than before, goosebumps covered my skin as the low baritone of it traveled through my body. I nodded once in acknowledgement, not trusting my voice as I went on the internet to search for some movies to watch and pass the time while we wait for the storm to pass. If it passes, “Do you think rapping would fit my tone?”

It was an unexpected question, but as I mulled over it, I concluded that Mingi had the perfect timbre to both sing and rap, “Yeah, I think it would.”

I dared to take a peek at Mingi from the corner of my eyes, and was relieved to find the intensity gone from his face, instead, a soft smile grazed his lips as he finished his hot chocolate. He leaned back and placed his empty mug next to mine on the nightstand and fished his phone out of his pocket, “I found some old videos of me at school plays, let’s see what my music genius bestie thinks of them.”

I rolled my eyes, but nevertheless peered over Mingi’s shoulder in curiosity, “Don’t make fun of me, I’m merely stating something that someone with not musically trained ears hear. You should be more thankful.”

“I’m more than thankful, Y/N.” Mingi suddenly turned his head, our faces too close for comfort, so I quickly leaned back as he placed his arm on my thigh and pressed play on a video he pulled up from his gallery.

『Do you wanna, do you wanna own my mind, own my mind?

Do you wanna, do you wanna own my mind, own my mind?

Do you wanna know what the good, good, bad things all feel like?

Do you wanna, do you wanna own my mind, own my mind?』

            The movie of my choice was simple, The Quiet Ones. Nothing better than something a little spooky while there’s a wild storm raging outside, but to my utter surprise, Mingi looked terrified after only ten minutes of watching it. We were both leaning against the headboard of my bed, pillows behind our backs, and laptop placed between our lower bodies as our legs were stretched out. And despite the laptop being between us, Mingi’s shoulder pressed against mine not even five minutes after settling in our current spots. Trying to watch the horror movie, which was one of my favorite movie’s, turned out to be a fail, and I had no choice but to give in to Mingi as he only stopped whining when he got what he wanted. And that was watching a rom-com from the nineties, called 10 Things I Hate About You. I’ve seen it numerous times already, but it never gets old. There is something about the way the actors play their parts, and the plot too, that have me coming back to it with the same enthusiasm I had for it when watching it for the first time. At first, I thought Mingi hadn’t seen it and had only went along with my suggestion because he didn’t know what else to watch, but when he started quoting Patrick’s lines as if he were the character himself, I narrowed my eyes at him and poked his arm. After some painful jabs, he admitted that it was his favorite movie and he regularly rewatched it, especially if he was in a bad mood. That was a piece of information I wasn’t expecting from someone like Mingi. He looked like a guy who enjoyed tough and brutal movies, with the occasional romance movies if a pretty girl begged him to watch it together. Turns out, Mingi’s favorite genre is romance, and he hates horror, and depends on the type of thriller whether he likes it or not.

We found ourselves joking and laughing throughout the movie, making our own commentary about it after our first disagreement. Which was about whether Patrick accepting the money to charm Kat was right or wrong. Of course, it was very wrong to play with someone’s feelings and get paid for it too, but Mingi argued that if he never accepted it, then him and Kat would’ve never gotten together. And for that, I threw in the hypothetical scenario of him accepting money from Wooyoung so that he could take me out on a date and make me fall in love with him if that meant Wooyoung could have Seulgi date him. Mingi’s eyebrows furrowed and he declined such scenario, exactly proving my point why this was so wrong then, but he remained believing that for Kat and Patrick it totally worked out. And then he had the audacity to compare my stubbornness to Kat’s, making me call him just as stupid as Patrick was.

Time flew by as our laughter got louder, completely missing the way the rain had started to quiet down as we were immersed in the movie we were watching. It felt like a bubble was wrapped around us, isolating us from the cold world, and letting us enjoy ourselves without being so cautious of what we were saying. It felt nice. I couldn’t remember a time when I was able to let loose with someone other than Seulgi. It was a nice feeling, it made me excited in some way, completely making me forget that I was doing this with Mingi. He made it too easy to forget my worries and made me feel really comfortable all of a sudden, never stepping out of line—if we ignore his stupid flirting—and always keeping everything lighthearted. It was a nice change for once.

I groaned as I let my head fall back, lips pursed as my ass had gone numb from sitting so much in one place. Mingi snickered as Kat reversed into Joey’s car, clearly amused by the snarky remarks exchanged between the two characters. He was clearly into the witty exchanges, especially between Patrick and Kat, even having said that it makes Kat attractive how quickly and well she can shut Patrick down. I had told him that she wouldn’t have to do that if Patrick wasn’t so stupid most of the time, making Mingi roll his eyes at me, and say that I simply didn’t appreciate some good banter. Which wasn’t even true, I liked bantering if it had a smart purpose, not just to rile each other up, what was the point of that?

I licked my lips as my head lulled to the right, eyes falling on Mingi’s profile as he had his legs up, leaning forward as he hugged them around his knees with one arm. He was smiling and chuckling, pretty red lips pulled to the side, showing off his white teeth. His brows were dark, and his browbone being more prominent really sharpened his face in a very aesthetically pleasing way. Mingi’s face was very beautiful, and as an artist, I couldn’t help but admire it, and recognize it. So many pretty portraits of his face could be made, pity he doesn’t model. My lips pulled into a tiny smile at the thought of him modelling for me when we had to sketch human forms for our next class. I’m sure my professor would appreciate my drawings even more. Mingi’s glasses were discarded, and my eyes paused on his long nose, biting my lower lip just as Mingi chuckled again, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm. He sniffed before rubbing two fingers against his plump lips, wetting them not even a second later. I gulped as I suddenly wondered what they would taste like. It was such a startling thought that I jumped, but Mingi suddenly looking at me certainly scared me more. I gulped, instantly blushing as a friendly smile painted Mingi’s lips as he leaned back, placing his head on the pillow, and letting it roll to the left. Our gazes connected, and I wasn’t surprised to find my heart beating so quickly once again, my lips pulling into a straight line as I struggled to keep my breathing even. Mingi’s easy smile didn’t disappear as his eyes racked over my face, it only became wider.

There was a whole galaxy behind those beautiful deep brown eyes of his, they sparkled with life and an excitement I haven’t seen in anyone before. I wished that I could recreate that in my drawings, but I wasn’t good enough to give simple eyes such deep emotions yet. And I really wished I was able to do so, because the longer I stared into Mingi’s eyes, the more lost I got in them, thoughts and worries disappearing into nothingness. Mingi’s hand twitched for a second and I tensed when I felt a finger gently poking my cold hand. I gulped, but I wasn’t able to look away as ever so softly more fingers brushed against my skin like feather, Mingi’s bottom lip between his teeth. His actions were slow and cautious, probably afraid that I would pull away, but I was too captured by his alluring gaze to even think to move away from him. Slowly, his longer fingers intertwined with mine and his rings cut into my skin when I squeezed his hand, uncaring that it hurt a bit. I knew my cheeks were now surely very red, but I couldn’t actually be bothered to feel embarrassed, not when Mingi’s cheeks were dusted pink as well. His high cheekbones were flushed the pretties color they could have been, and I smiled as Mingi blinked, looking abashed. Somehow no words had to be exchanged between us, everything felt comfortable, scarily familiar. I haven’t felt like this…since my ex. And not even with him have I felt so safe and understood, it always seemed like there was some invisible barrier between us, and I never understood why. With Mingi, if I allowed myself to feel and be unafraid, no barrier lay between the two of us.

I gulped, eyes suddenly falling on Mingi’s lips as his tongue poked out just slightly to wet them, his plump lips red and full. I’ve never seen a person have such full lips, and it made me wonder if they were as soft as one would imagine them be. Aware that my eyes were glued to Mingi’s lips, I looked back up in his eyes, trying to ignore how insanely attractive his mole right underneath it made him look. There was something about Mingi’s bareface that was so charming and beautiful that it almost made me feel jealous of it. Mingi sniffed quietly, and his bottom lip was between his teeth again as his eyes fell to my lips, my rapid heartbeat halting for a second. Could he be having similar thoughts to mine? I wouldn’t know, but when Mingi’s eyes found mine again, they were just slightly more intense and sharper. Like he was determined and nothing could stop him. I gulped loudly as he moved his head, just lightly, but it was closer than before. My heart was beating like crazy, but almost as if I was under a spell, I found myself shifting my head just a little bit closer. Mingi’s eyes no longer were on mine, and as my lips parted when I licked them, I felt Mingi’s hand squeeze mine just a little bit more. I gulped as I proceeded to lean even closer, my eyes fixated on Mingi’s lips now too, just wondering and wondering infinitely if they were warm, soft, wet, and what they would taste like. I didn’t startle nor flinch when Mingi angled his body so that he could lean dangerously close, the bridge of his nose brushing against mine. His hot breath mingled with mine as our lips were parted, a pull so magnetic I couldn’t untangle myself from it even if I tried to. My eyes threatened to flutter closed as I pressed my nose against his, the side of our lips rubbing just a little together as I couldn’t breathe regularly anymore. Mingi’s lips pressed ever so slightly against the corner of mine, feather like, and it suddenly wasn’t enough. The distance, it was too big—even if it didn’t even exist between us anymore—and I squeezed his hand as I angled my head to finally press our lips together, Mingi’s breaths audible due to our proximity.

But suddenly, a door was slammed shut loudly, “Sweetheart, I made it home finally! I saw a car parked in front of our house, all’s good?!”

The curious and shrill voice of my mother sent Mingi and I flying away from each other, both of our eyes wide as I was panting, my whole body burning. I couldn’t look at Mingi as I scrambled to press pause on the movie and Mingi was off the bed in a flash, sprinting towards my window. I could still feel his hot puffs against my face, and I gulped as I forced myself to forget everything I felt just seconds ago.

“The rain stopped,” Mingi’s voice was hoarse, so gravely that I had to clench my fists to stop myself from doing something I would regret, “I will be going.”

“I’ll go downstairs, let my mom know you’re here.” My voice wasn’t better off, I sounded breathless. I felt lightheaded as I got off the bed, standing and pausing for a second.

“Right, I’ll change back into my clothes and then—”

“No,” I didn’t mean to sound desperate as Mingi’s eyes fell on me, I had to look away in embarrassment, “keep them, they are of no use to me.”

“Right.” Mingi cleared his throat and I quickly walked past him, thankful that he stepped aside, and hurried out of my room and down the stairs. I took a deep breath to compose myself as I heard my mother placing down plastic bags in the kitchen. I needed to behave like everything was fine, when nothing was fine anymore.

“Hi!” My greeting was high pitched and way too cheery, my mother’s eyes narrowed when she saw me standing in the doorway, “Glad you made it home, the storm was awful.”

“It really was.” My mom grimaced as she continued unpacking the groceries, “You got home alright?”

“Yeah, uhm, actually,” I gulped and bit my lower lip as I heard Mingi coming down the stairs, “a friend from university drove me home as it was already raining, and he, uhm, stayed over. Because the rain was so bad he wouldn’t have been able to drive home. You know, safety measures and all.”

My mother paused and looked up at me with both of her eyebrows raised, “He?”

And on cue, Mingi appeared next to me, glasses pushed up on his nose adequately for once and hair not as messy as before, “Hello, my name is Song Mingi.”

“Nice to meet you, dear.” My mother’s eyes were glinting, looking way too happy for someone who was just introducing themselves. I was afraid of what would come, so, I grabbed Mingi’s arm and guided him towards the coat hanger.

“Mingi’s leaving, mom.” I said as I let go of his arm, averting my eyes as he wore his shoes and pulled on his jacket.

“Already?” My mom asked with a pout, coming to stand in the doorway, “Don’t you want to stay for dinner, dear?”

Mingi froze, eyes first finding mine before he looked at my mother with a polite smile, “Don’t worry, Mrs—”

“Oh, don’t be all formal with me, I hate that shit.” My mother chuckled and winked at him, “Call me Boyoung.”

Mingi gulped, seemingly taken aback by my mother’s behavior. I couldn’t help but chuckle quietly, knowing how surprising the contrast between my mother’s personality and mine was. Sadly, I haven’t taken after her when it comes to my attitude, but that’s fine.

“Well, Boyoung, thank you for your offer, but my friends and I actually agreed on dining out tonight.” Mingi’s excuse sounded real, so I knew he wasn’t lying. I gulped when my mother threw me a very slick glare, almost saying that this was my fault. I rolled my eyes, offended by her assumption.

“That’s a pity, dear,” My mother pouted, but soon a bright smile appeared on her lips, “But you are invited for whenever you feel like having dinner with us, right, my starlight?”

I tried not to glare at my mother for the outrageous nickname, especially when I saw Mingi’s lips twitch in amusement. I told her not to call me that in front of others so many times, “Right, mom.”

My mother chuckled, all too aware of my dislike for the nickname, before her eyes landed on Mingi again. There was a brief pause, one too awkward for my liking, and then Mingi was clearing his throat and opening the front door.

“Uh,” He made eye contact with me briefly, “talk to you later.”

“Wait,” My mother’s eyebrows furrowed as Mingi stepped outside, trying to adjust the strap of his backpack, “Aren’t those Yun—”

“Talk to you later!” I loudly said, making sure to send my mother a very alarmed look as Mingi froze for a second before he hummed quietly and took off towards his car.

The air was chilly and humid due to the harsh rain, and as I closed the front door, I knew I had a lot of questions to answer when my eyes fell on my mother’s amused face.

❱❱ Next chapter

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lol, this is the surprise I mentioned...I saw this post and it would just not leave my mind, besides, I think it's very fitting for our plot, no?

[kenziebluex]

Desert Rose x Renegade

♫ Lolo zouaï x Aaryan shah - Desert Rose x Renegade

Obanai Iguro - Kinktober 2024 Day 11 - Gags & Anal Beads 

Story Description: Reader and Obanai have been in a committed relationship for over 5 years. To add some excitement to their marriage, they have decided to explore new kinks together. They had both filled out a kink checklist when they first got married, but there was one in particular that they hadn't had the chance to try yet.

One afternoon, when there wasn't much going on, Reader decided to explore that kink.

Tags: Gags, Anal Beads, Riding, Anal Fingering, Vibrators, Multiple Orgasms, Hashira Reader

The house was unusually quiet downstairs for a Saturday. While you weren't used to hosting parties or having large groups of people over, there was usually someone visiting or wanting to hang out. You and your husband had been living together for a couple of years now, both serving as hashiras in the demon slayer corps. 

You were accustomed to going on missions and when you two found time to be home, it was often filled with visits from the other hashiras or members of the corp. While you enjoyed their company, sometimes you just wanted some peace and quiet. So when you sent a text to the group chat asking for no visitors today, you were relieved when everyone agreed. 

Tonight, you planned on making it a perfect night for you and Obanai. It had been awhile since you had one-on-one time together, and you decided it was a great opportunity to revisit the kink list you both filled out nearly four years ago. 

Which brings us back to the present moment. You were standing in the kitchen, taking a sip from a cold water bottle after feeling "parched." At least, that's what you told Obanai when you left the bedroom. 

You took your time straightening up the living room and watching videos on your phone. You even gave Kaburamaru his usual nighttime meal, causing the snake to look at you in confusion. He wasn't used to you being the one to feed him; typically, you were more of the cuddler and coo-er, not the caretaker.

It had been 45 minutes , which your phone alarm notified you, before you decided to head back upstairs. As you walked up the stairs, your nerves started kicking in as you anticipated what scene would greet you. Maybe 30 minutes would have been better than 45, but if things got too intense for Obanai, he knew he could use the button you had left within reach. 

When you opened the door, you gasped at the image in front of you. You wished you could take a picture and hang it up as a memento. 

Obanai was lying on his back with his hands tied down to the bed, using the same black rope that you had used for his feet. He looked stunning in all black, and you couldn't help but admire him.

The ropes were not the main attraction. The real showstopper was the black ball gag tightly secured to his mouth, causing drool to form at the corners. Despite the gag, you could hear him struggling and moaning every now and then. 

He was laying on his back, exposing everything including his hard, shaved cock that seemed to be eagerly awaiting your arrival. A small pool of precum glistened on his stomach, but Obanai knew better than to cum without your permission; you two had been together long enough for him to know the consequences. 

Currently, a small 5-inch vibrator was buzzing inside of him on a low setting, causing him to break a sweat. It had been 45 minutes since you had stretched him out with your fingers before leaving him alone with the toy. You wanted to release him from the ropes, but you couldn't tear your eyes away from his pleasure and didn't want to interrupt the main event.  

Finally sensing your presence, Obanai opened his eyes and turned his head towards the door. He quickly blushed and looked away, knowing that if he weren't gagged he would have a smart remark about how you were looking at him. Crossing the room, you ran your hands through his hair. 

"How's my pretty boy doing?" you asked teasingly as you glanced down at his throbbing cock, which must have jumped for the hundredth time tonight. Looking into his eyes, you could almost hear what they were saying: he needed more, he craved it.

You saw dried tears on his face and noticed that his eyes were slightly red; confirming your suspicions that he had been crying from pleasure before you returned to the room. Without wasting any time, you made it your mission to bring him to orgasm at least once before indulging in the kinky activity you had chosen for the night. Pulling up your nightdress, you straddled his waist, feeling his hard cock pressing against your entrance.

Not wanting to tease him any longer, you moved down until the tip of his impressive cock was pressed against your entrance. Obanai may be short in stature, but his length was anything but small. His hard member measured at about 7 1/2 inches and the curve of it was perfect for reaching your g-spot. Despite how many times you had been intimate with each other, you still needed a moment to adjust to the feeling of him inside you.

"Fuck, that feels so good," you moaned as you slowly took him deeper inside you. The tightness of your walls made Obanai throw his head back with such force that it hit the headboard. He would be making more noise if it weren't for the gag in his mouth.

Once he was fully seated inside you, you began to take control of your ride. Untying his hands from the headboard, you guided them to your hips, causing him to grip onto them tightly. You could already feel that there would be bruises tomorrow. 

"Move me, Obanai. I've had a long day," you told him as you wanted him to take charge of your movements for a bit. He gripped your hips before loosening his hold as he concentrated on finding a rhythm. But you were too impatient and started speeding up your riding, which caused him to thrust sharply into you.  

You noticed tears forming in his eyes and realized that he wouldn't last much longer at this pace. So, deciding he deserved some pleasure too, you slowed down and focused on rocking back and forth on his cock, hitting all the right spots. 

"Ahh," you heard muffled through the gag as he struggled to contain his moans. His hands found their way back to your sides, guiding you to bounce on top of him. You were still wearing your tank top, something Obanai always disliked because it meant he couldn't see your breasts as you rode him. 

When the pleasure became too intense, you felt yourself clenching around him, milking his cock. Your hands moved to grip his hair and you forced him to look into your eyes.

"Feel me, baby. I'm gonna cum," you moaned, struggling to keep up your movements and your composure. You could feel his eyes asking for permission, even though he couldn't speak because of the gag. His veins were bulging from his arms as he clenched his muscles in an attempt to hold off his orgasm. 

"Mhmm, you can cum for me. It feels so good," you gave him permission before allowing yourself to fall apart. His thrusts only lasted a couple more times before he released inside you, his muffled moans still audible. 

He moved his hips, arching into you as if he never wanted to leave. His veins were visible under his skin, straining with the intensity of his passion. Every muscle in his body seemed to clench as he reached his climax, and his face looked overwhelmed with pleasure. He looked sinful and ruined in the best possible way. 

You couldn't help but be distracted by how intense his orgasm was, but it only added to your own arousal. Your body shook as your hands found their way to his chest, using his abs for leverage as you searched for something to ground yourself. 

"Fuck," you couldn't stop the curse words from spilling out of your mouth. For the next three minutes, all that came out was his name and more curse words. 

Afterwards, you rolled off of him and snuggled close, placing kisses on his face and letting him nuzzle into you. It had taken time, but over the years Obanai had learned to let go of his insecurities around you. In the beginning of your relationship, he would shy away from any affection near his scars, but now he knew that you loved everything about him and there was no need to hide. Trust had taken time to build, but now he even made the first move to remove his bandages before you could ask.

You gave him a few minutes to catch his breath before lifting his chin to meet your gaze.  

"I'm going to take the gag out, but we're not done yet," you spoke softly, watching as he stuttered at the thought of what was coming next. You had talked about using anal beads during sex before, but never found the right moment until tonight. You made sure to prepare him properly so it wouldn't cause him any discomfort. 

Removing the gag, you watched for any signs of discomfort from him. Instead, he surprised you by pulling you into a deep kiss, leading to a passionate make out session. You let him take control as your tongues danced and he eventually pulled back, only to flip you over and grip your ass tightly in his hands. 

After hours of not being able to speak, he finally said "Hi" quietly after you two separated.

"Hey baby," you practically cooed at him, causing him to roll his eyes at your tone.

"I'm ready," Obanai said after a moment, looking at you with an expression you couldn't quite place. He was in love with you and his eyes often conveyed that, but this look was more vulnerable. It was a look of complete trust in you. 

That kicked things into motion. You moved down the bed and got between his legs, gently laying him on his back. After some thought, you decided it would be better to put a pillow under him for support. Obanai was cleanly shaven and the vibrator you had inserted earlier was still there, serving as a butt plug. 

Removing the vibrator, you lubed up your fingers and began to see how many could fit inside him without any resistance. Before you knew it, you were four fingers deep, fingering him effortlessly.

"Mhmm, that's a good boy," you hummed while looking up at his facial expressions. He was close to being completely lost in pleasure; he was always so sensitive when it came to anal play. 

"Here?" you asked, moving your fingers around slightly. 

"Yes...hah, right there," he said, holding onto your other hand and lacing your fingers together. 

"I-oh!" his sentence was interrupted by a sudden surge of pleasure when you picked up the pace of your movements. 

"Please," Obanai begged in such a pretty way that you couldn't resist giving in quickly; there was no point in hearing another please from his lips. 

"Relax, I've got you," you reassured him as you removed your fingers. Leaning up, you gave him another kiss before reaching over to grab the anal beads. 

They were the standard set with gradually increasing sizes. There were six beads in total, and the length was enough to cause concern, but the last two beads were particularly large. You were glad that you and Obanai had worked up to this and didn't just start with the larger ones.

You slowly inserted two beads into his tight hole, causing Obanai to let out a sigh as he adjusted himself on the bed. 

After making sure he was okay, you began to insert the third bead. 

"I- yeah, okay," he moaned, rolling his hips and savoring the new sensation. 

"Babe?"

"Mhm?" you replied, focusing on his movements. You couldn't take your eyes off the sight of him; it was something new and exciting. Watching his rim stretch open and close around each bead you entered was mesmerizing.

"Can-um...can I touch myself?" he whispered, continuing to roll his hips in search of more pleasure.

You took a moment to look up at him and saw that his member was fully erect and throbbing. It was leaking precum onto his lower belly.

"Yes, but no stroking, and you can't cum yet," you instructed, causing him to groan. You watched as he clenched his muscles again, trying to hold back from coming. 

"I won't...I don't think I'll last if I do," he murmured as he leaned back once again. Taking this as a sign to move on, you inserted the fourth bead. Obanai hissed at the feeling of it entering him; his body was doing its best to accommodate the beads while also clenching down on them tightly. 

"Jesus," he cursed into his arm before letting out a string of moans and whimpers due to the pressure on an overly sensitive area inside of him.

"You're doing such a good job," you whispered, checking on him as his moans quieted down, now muffled by his arm. 

"I-I don't think I can handle two more beads," he protested. From your vantage point, you could see just how hard he was, and you were certain that even the slightest touch would make him cum.

"Just one more for me, baby. Just one," you urged, wanting to see if he could take it.

"O-okay," he said after taking a deep breath.

With his permission, you slowly pushed the fifth bead inside of him. 

Obanai gasped loudly as the fifth bead entered him. His muscles tensed and his cock leaked so much pre-cum that you thought he had already finished. The noise he made was a mix of pain and pleasure. 

He moved slightly and it only seemed to intensify the sensations from the beads pressing against his prostate. His head was spinning and he couldn't focus on anything except the overwhelming pleasure coursing through his body. He couldn't stop moaning. 

Feeling full to the brim caused his cock to throb even more.

"I'm going to pull them out now, and you can cum for me," you said softly, giving him time to process your words.

Obanai's muscles clenched in anticipation as you pulled at the string once before continuing at a steady pace. As soon as the first bead popped out, he let out a broken moan and then opened his mouth in a silent scream. 

Before you could even react to his orgasm, his cock was pulsing in your hand. This wasn't the first time he had orgasmed untouched, but it was always a sight to see. 

By the time you had removed the final bead, Obanai was a complete mess. Covered in cum and panting like he had just run a marathon. He was sweating and his chest was red from the strain of the beads throughout the night. 

As you got ready for bed and cleaned him up, you couldn't help but feel proud of him. 

You wondered if he could handle a sixth bead.

taglist: @nousija @kanamethekasugaicrow @muisan098 @akechisleftleg 

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[lale-txt]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄, 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 (𝐊𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐨 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫) ❦ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟎𝟏: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐲

♫ Sleeping At Last - Two

I don't even know where to start // Already tired of trying to recall // When it all fell apart // I just want to love you, to love you

word count: 3.2k

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Kuroo moves in the next day.

Or at least that is when she puts his name up on the doorbell and the mailbox. He stands next to her when she does, their shoulders almost brushing and the keys to his new place jingling in his palm. Before that, he watched her type up his name on an old typewriter and she gave him a slightly disgruntled look when he asked why she’s not doing it on the computer. 

“It’s faster this way, believe me,” she muttered and then sent him off to go feed Jiji as if that’s something he’d done countless times before. Like he belonged here already. Backoffice, top shelf, the tuna one. Half a can is enough. Don’t let his big round eyes fool you. (He did, in fact, let the cat’s big round eyes fool him.)

Yesterday, after he viewed the apartment, she told him to sleep on it for a night to see if he really wanted it or if it was just the whim of a moment. Kuroo wanted to protest, but he figured she had a point. It’s been a day for him–a burst water pipe in his old apartment, almost getting hit by a car on his way to work, the one comment by his boss that made him write his resignation letter while he was still in the meeting–all before noon.

On top of that it’s been pouring all day, too. Of course it was. 

He knew he had to get out of here. The buzzing heart of downtown Tokyo didn’t excite him anymore, it drained him, scared him. The monotony and the loneliness, the anonymity and the coldness of the people around him. It’s like he couldn’t breathe anymore. He left the office on autopilot and walked to the closest station, took the next train out of the city and just got off somewhere in the outskirts of town, an area which's name he only read on the map before. 

It was all intuition that brought him here. Maybe the stubborn refusal that this was his life. There must be more to it, right? There had to.

Kuroo was tired. He had been tired for a very long time. 

After walking out of the station he rented a bike, earning himself a slightly concerned glance from the shop owner (because surely he must have looked like someone on the verge of a nervous breakdown) and started exploring the neighborhood in the pouring rain. Because it was either this or going back to suffocating in his shoebox of an apartment. An easy choice. 

Calm. That’s how he felt while he explored these narrow streets, all sounds of the world muffled by the pitter patter and his own huffs and puffs while he pedaled. It was kind of freeing, feeling the rain on his skin and the clear air in his lungs. As if he could really breathe for the first time in ages.

All buildings here were much smaller than the big skyscrapers in Tokyo, and it was greener, despite autumn being around the corner. There were a lot of local shops, none of the usual chains with the same clothes and the same food you see in Shibuya, no–stores that still had a soul. He passed by a flower shop where he saw the owner arranging a beautiful bouquet, a record store that blasted early 2000s J-Rock, and eventually stopped by a sandwich shop to grab himself a bite.

While he waited for his order, he spotted the flyer in the window.

It broke all rules of good graphic design but somehow that only made it more endearing. Someone slapped half a dozen different Wordarts on one page, printed it out, then apparently added more handwritten notes–in a really messy handwriting on top of that–to it and afterwards made a few low-quality copies at the local copy shop on a printer that’s running on ink from the past century probably.

Kuroo was intrigued by it.

>> Apartment for rent >> 3 rooms + kitchen + bath + backyard >> comes with a cat (Jiji. you have to get along) >> everything’s a little broken (the cat is not. however he is the reason for it at times) >> more info at The Heirloom (open monday-saturday; 10am-6pm or just knock)

The flyer also contained a photo of said cat, or at least traces of it–due to the poor quality and the presumably black fur of Jiji all that could be seen were two small orbs in a void. When he tried looking up the address of the store mentioned, he didn’t get any results which made him wonder if the flyer was as ancient as it seemed. The shop staff who handed him his order noticed his confusion and shook their heads and laughed, then kindly explained that the data online probably wasn’t up to date since the owner preferred to do things the old school way. They drew him a small map on a napkin that would lead him there, to The Heirloom.

On his way there he wondered what kind of person the owner was like. Someone elderly maybe? Or was he just biased because in his head an antique shop had to be run by someone who was at least 300 years old? At least the people in the sandwich shop all smiled at the mention of the shop owner, one of them the girl from the flower shop he passed by earlier. Each of them had something nice to say which he took as a good sign.

Oh, she bought the broken necklace I inherited from my mother, said she could give it a new life. I spent my entire uni years at her shop, the book collection there is endless. It’s impossible to leave without buying something, right? Yesterday I saw a girl walking out with three vases and two bags dangling from her arms, really got the full Heirloom experience it seems. 

All Kuroo had was a name, the crumpled flyer in the pocket of his shirt and the gut feeling that they were destined to meet.

The first thing he noticed when he reached the store was the sign above the door, faded letters and the coating of them peeling a little, but it only seemed to add to the overall charm. It was an antique store after all. The entire building seemed a little older than the rest of the street and from what he could tell through the fogged up shop windows, the inside glowed warm and welcoming, even more on a rainy day like this. The old door bell announces his visit when he takes the first step into his new future. 

He’s overwhelmed by the masses of antiques, some of them stacked up to the ceiling. There’s bookshelves that look as if they’re about to collapse at any moment and at the same time as if they’ve been built to last a thousand years, possibly longer. Ailes leading in the depths of the store, like a maze you could get easily lost in. There’s a bit of everything–furniture from various decades, racks with vintage clothing of all kinds, porcelain in every shape and color possible, vinyls and cassettes, paintings in all sizes, vintage rugs stacked over each other… never has he experienced a place like this before.

A cat rubbing against his legs draws him back into reality. Jiji, he remembers from the flyer, and then another pair of footsteps shifts his attention towards the direction they were coming from.

Kuroo is a goner the moment he sees her.

He heard about the phrase before, to have one's breath taken away, but to feel it quite literally happen to him–that was something he hasn’t experienced before. With the flyer clutched in one hand all he can do is stand there, starstruck and drenched to the bones, a small puddle forming at his feet. He’s smiling like a fool and barely registers what she’s saying, too distracted by the drumming sound of his heartbeat in his ears.

Not only is she beautiful–she also radiates the aura of an old soul, someone who has experienced life in all its glory and gory. It’s as if she can see right through him the moment their eyes meet, see everything that shaped him into the person standing in front of her today. The almost painful tug in his chest is impossible to ignore, as if his soul wants to stumble towards her. He finds himself yearning to bask in her light, even if it was just for a fleeting moment. 

“Hi, I’m here for the vacant apartment?”, is all he can stammer out, but he might as well have gotten on one knee and asked if she had been his beloved wife in a past life.

And so he moves in the next day. 

Due to her connections in the neighborhood Kuroo is able to borrow a truck from the nearby flower store–Calla Lily, she and the owner are close friends, he learned–and move his few belongings from his old apartment to the one above The Heirloom. 

It wasn’t a lot to begin with: A futon, a few boxes with clothes and one filled with memories, the old rocking chair he got from his sister when he moved out for college and a few pots and pans, some of them still in their original packaging. The kitchen in his old apartment had been tiny and most of the time he’d been too tired to use it anyway. He lived off conbini food and whatever lunch the cafeteria at his job offered. 

By the end of the day, Kuroo sits down on the wooden floor of his new apartment, surrounded by the remains of his old life in moving boxes. A strange feeling blooms in his chest, something between exhaustion and satisfaction. It’s like everything is slowly falling into place, the universe making room for him to finally grasp the life he’d been craving the whole time. 

He could just curl up here on the floor and sleep for three days, he thinks, when a knock at the door interrupts his trail of thoughts. 

“Come in,” he calls out and rises to his feet again, brushing a bit of dust off his old jeans–first time he wore these again after spending the past couple of years in a three-piece suit most of the time. 

The door was only left ajar and pushed open slowly. First in is Jiji who hastily rubs against Kuroo’s legs before he struts off to explore the boxes and new scents of the apartment; second is her, lingering in the doorframe, not as brazen as her cat. She smiles brightly when she sees him and holds up a basket for him.

“Thought you might be hungry after today,” she says and lifts up the cloth, revealing an old stoneware pot that radiated a heavenly smell and one half of a sourdough bread. It smells freshly baked. “It’s stew. Old family recipe. Nothing exciting, but hearty, something to warm you up. Since you got soaked yesterday, you know? Don’t want you to catch a cold in the long run.”

Kuroo is a little too baffled and a little too moved to speak, and when he takes the basket from her, her attention drifts to Jiji who is in the middle of claiming Kuroo’s rocking chair as his new favorite spot. She clicks her tongue and looks back at Kuroo apologetically.

“This cat, I swear. You can just kick him out if he gets on your nerves, though I can’t promise that he’ll weasel his way back inside when you blink,” she sighs and Kuroo shakes his head and laughs. 

“I really don’t mind. Honestly it’s nice to have a cat around again. Used to have one when I was a kid,” he says and reaches for his phone in the pocket of his jeans. He taps the screen a few times before handing the phone to her. She takes it from him like it’s something alien or a bomb that could go off any second, but her face relaxes when she sees the photo of his childhood cat. It was an old calico named Kiki they adopted shortly after his parents divorced, his father’s poor attempt to make him feel a little less lonely. 

He steals glances at her while she swipes clumsily through the gallery, her tongue poking out a little from between her lips. It was endearing to watch. 

“You were a really cute kid,” she snickers after her third attempt to zoom into a photo of him napping in the garden with Kiki on his chest. “Same hair, too.”

Kuroo puts the heavy basket down on the kitchen countertop and looks back at her over his shoulder with a smirk.

“Were? What, am I not cute anymore? You wound me”, he quips back and she looks up from the screen with the most serious face, a small frown across it even. 

“I did not say that. Obviously you still are very cute,” she replies bluntly, and the words hang in the air for a few seconds until it dawns on both of them that they’ve been flirting just now and neither of them knew what to do with this realization. Kuroo busies himself with lifting up the lid of the stoneware pot while she puts his phone down on the kitchen table to grab Jiji from the rocking chair instead.

“That’s a beautiful chair you got here,” she says and breaks the awkward silence that was about to settle between them, and Kuroo feels a small wave of relief wash over him. He would have hated it if their first night as neighbors was off to a bad start. When he turns around again, her hands are running over the wood, her gaze focused with a hint of admiration. He had a feeling she would really like this rocking chair. Not that he had pictured her in it or anything, with a book across her lap and wearing one of his sweaters. Surely not. 

“Right? It’s a bit worn out and broken, but I guess I don’t have to tell you of all people that it’s not a bad thing,” he replies, a little quieter now. His gaze softens when she looks back at him and smiles. 

“These are my favorite kind of things actually.”

Jiji is hanging over her shoulder while she inspects the rattan lining and Kuroo thinks he could spend hours just watching her. Every movement of hers is done with care; from her fingers tracing the grain pattern to her eyes racking over the small notch in one of the armrests. He can tell that she’s already thinking about how to kindle his chair without taking away its charm from the past. 

It’s what she does apparently, fixing things that have been loved for a long time. Breathing new life into them while acknowledging their past. 

“Do you want to eat together?”, he asks, rubbing the back of his neck. He catches her gaze and neither of them looks away. “It… I’d really like it if we could eat together. Neighbor.”

"Neighbor," she echoes and mirrors the smile that’s forming on his lips. Kuroo isn’t sure if he’s imagining it, but he can see a flicker of relief wash over her, as if she had waited a very long time for someone to ask her for a shared dinner. 

Kuroo swallows, his throat feeling a little tight all of sudden, and tries to distract himself. Dinner. It dawns on him that he has never had anyone over for dinner ever since he moved out. How does that even work? You’re supposed to set out plates and glasses and…? 

“Uh. Don’t laugh but I don’t have any cutlery,” he admits with a small sheepish smile while his head rattles a hundred miles per hour. All of sudden he was feeling nervous. Who at his age doesn’t own cutlery? Someone who doesn’t have his life together. Kuroo could quite feel the self-deprecating thoughts crawling up his spine. 

Uncool. He felt so damn uncool. 

Only when she touches his arm does he snap out of it, looking back at her and remembering how to breathe again. She smiles up at him and something inside of Kuroo unravels, making him feel present again. 

“Boy, do I know the store for you,” she laughs and it’s like a hundred suns are rising all at once. 

There is something magical about walking the aisles of The Heirloom after dark, hours after the store had closed its doors. In the dim lights, Kuroo follows her around in wonder. She seems to have memorized every single trinket here, which shelf it rested in and what’s the story behind it. He could listen to her for hours without ever getting tired, he realizes. 

They came down here for cutlery, and while Kuroo was rummaging around the sets she had, she appeared behind him again with a stack of plates and some tea towels made from linen cloth, one corner embroidered with a trio of small mice dancing together. Isn’t it silly, she laughed and showed it to him, and Kuroo could feel his heart stumble against his ribcage from the sound of it. 

“Very silly. I love them,” he agreed. They put all the things they gathered on the counter and Kuroo pats the backpocket of his jeans for his wallet. She stops him right there by reaching for his hand and holding it in hers, shaking her head. 

“Don’t even think about paying any of this,” she says with a small roll of her eyes, but she’s laughing while she does. She’s also still holding his hand, and Kuroo can’t help but brush a thumb over her knuckle. “It’s a welcoming gift, alright? So this place will feel like home to you a little quicker.”

She squeezes his hand and Kuroo squeezes back, knowing there was no use in protesting. He’ll think of something else to make up for her kindness. There’s many things he wants to say at this moment, but the words just won’t come out, which is strange, because usually he was very good at them–just not in her proximity, it seems. 

Not letting go of his hand, she tugs him behind her, gesturing to him to follow her to the back of the store again.

“Come, I need to show you a rug that I think would be perfect for your living room,” she says with a smile. “I also have some heavy wool blankets you can put on your rocking chair until I fix the rattan lining for you. I think Jiji would love that, too.” The cat meows at the mention of his name and follows them like a shadow. 

They spend over an hour unrolling every other rug and in the end Kuroo picks three of them, because according to her you can never have too many rugs and Kuroo thinks he’s a rug person now. Maybe he’s also falling a little bit in love with her, or maybe it’s just the warm light that makes her look angelic, and her calm voice narrating all the stories of people who have once loved, a piece of them kept alive by not forgetting them in the walls of this store. 

Kuroo wonders if one day someone will tell their story with the same gentleness; their love, preserved.

a/n: serving you the lale special - the down bad (and soon to be lovesick) man. really my favorite genre of men. calla lily is the flower shop from wyr's love's nectar and the poor girl mentioned who left the heirloom with three vases and more trinkets is y/n from ellie's homemade love! the kuroocember trilogy holding hands all the way through.

✰ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:

@staygoldsquatchling02 @gigiiiiislife @kameyyy @grassbutneo @kentocalls

@jellychannie @starry-magicshop @anonymity-222 @rriwyu @loveyislost

@stargirllost @fushiguruuzzzz @boosyboo9206 @wyrcan @nekozaki

taglist open! fill out this form to be added (or removed, no hard feelings ♡)! minors DNI!

[aleskie]

BEAUTIFUL | Nico Hischier x Reader

SUMMARY: Nico lives with your ghost. And yet, he still thinks you're the most beautiful thing he's ever had.

Word Count: 1.7k Warnings: no warnings but imagine breaking nico hischier's heart. couldn't be me. but here's what it might look like if you did. ♫ Listen: You Were Beautiful by Day6 ♫

Nico wakes up to the soft sound of his alarm and the faint rays of sunlight peeking through the curtains. His hand instinctively reaches across the bed, expecting warmth, only to find cold, empty sheets. He blinks himself awake, staring at the space beside him, trying to make sense of the empty side of the bed. And then he remembers.

Oh, right. You left.

He shifts onto his back, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of the silence in the room. It’s too quiet. Too empty. 

You always looked so beautiful in the mornings. He loved the off-days when he could wake up next to you—the way the sunlight would hit your face just right, causing you to stir and shift in your sleep, brows furrowed and a soft pout on your lips. The way your hair would fan out over the pillow, tangled and messy, but perfect in a way that was only you. He loved how you would slowly wake up, your sleepy smile pulling at the corners of your lips when you caught him watching you.

On the days he had to get to the rink early, he’d shuffle out of bed as quietly as he could, careful not to wake you. The only light in the bedroom came from the bedside lamps, casting a soft yellow glow over your sleeping form. You were always bundled up in the duvet, curled up against a pillow, your hair a mess of tangles. He’d lean down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, knowing you wouldn’t wake up at this ungodly hour. Yet somehow, you always did.

Without fail, you’d stir, blinking sleepily up at him with half-closed eyes. “Good morning,” you’d mumble, your voice thick with sleep. And then you’d pull him in for a kiss, even though you were barely awake. “I love you,” you’d whisper against his lips, your voice hoarse and warm, still filled with the softness of sleep.

Those words were all he needed. No matter how bad the day ahead might be—traffic, a rough practice, a game loss—it never mattered. He could get through it all knowing that you loved him, that you were waiting for him at home.

But now…now there’s no sleepy smile. No groggy whispers of love. No warmth beside him. Just the cold, empty sheets and the heavy reminder that you’re gone.

He lets out a long exhale and drags himself out of bed, the cool air of the apartment making the silence even heavier. The quiet is unsettling—devoid of the usual hum of your morning playlist. The absence is tangible. There’s a weird gap in the rhythm of his day that he doesn’t know how to fill. He takes in the familiar surroundings, everything marked with shared memories.

The photos of the two of you still hang on the walls—snapshots of happier times. Trips to the beach, weddings where you danced the night away, the annual anniversary photo booth strips where you’d both pull goofy faces and kiss in between takes. There’s that one from your first year together, where you’re laughing so hard your eyes are closed, and he’s looking at you like you’re the only person in the world. He tears his eyes away, feeling the ache in his chest tighten.

The plants by the window catch his attention—your little indoor garden project. You’d joked that they were your ‘practice children,’ something to take care of together. Now, they sit neglected, their leaves drooping and their soil dry. He should water them, he thinks. But he can’t bring himself to come too close to them. It was too soon.

He closes his eyes for a moment, and it’s like he can hear your laughter again, echoing from the living room. The sound of it used to fill the apartment. Especially on those nights spent curled up together on the couch, watching movies and shows, losing yourselves in conversation. You’d talk for hours about everything and nothing—random thoughts, silly dreams, what part of a car you’d eat first. 

Sometimes, you’d get up, put on a love song, and pull him to his feet, swaying together in the soft glow of the living room lights. The memory of those nights hits him hard—slow dancing around the room, bodies pressed together as you whispered to each other promises of undying love and a future together. He loved the way you’d look at him in those moments, eyes soft, filled with a love so deep it made him feel like the luckiest man alive. He still doesn’t know how he got so lucky to have you.

He wonders where it all went wrong.

His gaze drifts toward the kitchen. You aren’t there, leaning against the counter like you usually were in the mornings, elbows propped up as you sipped your coffee. He can almost see it—the way you’d steal one of his oversized shirts, claiming it as your own. It was those shirts you’d always chosen to wear on those lazy mornings when there was no rush to go anywhere, no need to leave the warmth of the bed. Just the two of you, lingering in each other’s presence.

"You’re wearing my shirt," he’d say, voice teasing but affectionate, eyes tracing the way the fabric hung loosely on you.

"It’s our shirt now," you’d smile back, giving him that playful, mischievous grin that always made his heart skip a beat.

He never thought he’d wake up one day without you there. But here he is, standing in the quiet, wondering if you’re out there somewhere, thinking of him. Wondering if there’s a chance that you’ll come back, that maybe—just maybe—you’ll slip back into the kitchen, wearing his shirt, smiling at him like you always did.

He tries to shake off the memories, attempts to focus on something else—training, the game later in the evening, anything—but no matter how hard he tries, you’re everywhere. You’re in the throw pillows on the couch and the colorful rug on the floor. The curtains that you picked out together. The scented candles on the coffee table, your favorite ones that made the whole apartment smell like lavender. He can’t escape you.

You linger in the books on the shelf, the art on the walls, even in the empty space where your mug used to sit on the kitchen counter. The scent of your morning coffee may be gone, but your presence lingers in the small details of the life you built together. There’s no way for him to forget, no way to run from the constant reminders of what used to be.

You were the most beautiful thing in his life. Every smile, every laugh, every time you call his name, he never wanted to leave. He felt like he could stay in that moment forever.  

You were the most beautiful thing in his life. Every smile, every laugh, the way you’d call his name from across the room—he never wanted to leave those moments. He always thought he could stay in them forever, live in the warmth of your love. The way you looked at him, like he was everything, made him feel like nothing could ever tear you apart. He believed that, once. 

It was easier to keep you off his mind when he wasn’t home. When he was at the rink or with the team, pushing himself in practice or lost in the flow of a game, he could almost forget. He could forget the ache in his chest, the emptiness that settled there when he came home to an apartment that no longer felt alive. He could forget about the small velvet box tucked away in the top drawer of his bedside table, the ring that had been waiting for the right moment. The moment that would never come.

But when the day drags on into the evening, and he walks through the door to silence, it all comes rushing back. The weight of your absence presses down on him, heavier than before, as he drags himself to bed. The apartment feels suffocating in its quiet, every corner a reminder of what he’s lost. He crawls into bed, feeling the cold, untouched side of the mattress where you used to sleep. It’s like staring at a ghost—the imprint of your body still there in his mind, even though the sheets haven’t been disturbed since you left.

He stares at the empty space, as if willing it to fix everything. As if, by some miracle, you’ll suddenly materialize beside him, and he’ll wake up from this nightmare. He remembers it all too clearly. The first time he saw you, the way you flashed that brilliant smile at him, the shirt you wore that night. He remembers the first time you spent the night together, the passion, the way love filled every breath between you. And he remembers the hurt in your eyes when you told him your things were packed, your words hollow as you said you were leaving.

You were beautiful, even then—beautiful and devastating—when you turned your back on him and walked out the door, taking his heart with you.

He doesn’t know if he did everything he could or if he should’ve tried harder. Maybe he should’ve fought more for you, for what you both shared. But the look on your face, the finality in your voice, said your mind was made up. But your eyes…they make him think he could have convinced you to stay. They made him think that, maybe, if he had just said the right words, done the right thing, you would’ve still been here.

He nestles into his side of the bed, pulling the duvet tight around him. He tries to will himself to sleep, hoping that maybe—just maybe—he’ll see you in his dreams. See your smile, hear your laugh. Feel your touch again. Because in his dreams, you forgive each other. In his dreams, you fight for this, for the love that once felt unbreakable. In his dreams…you stay.

"Beautiful," he whispers into the quiet, the word hanging in the air, like a plea.

And as sleep finally takes him, he prays he’ll find you there. Even if just for a little while.

[doawks]

reminder, yoon jeonghan.

pairing. father’s bestfriend!jeonghan x f!reader.

warnings. some crying. dirty talk. unprotected sex━ missionary. some degradation mixed with praise. possessiveness. sir kink (2). hard dom (ish)!jeonghan. angst ?? or maybe not i could be exaggerating lol. age gap.

♫ reminder, the weeknd. 

˗ˏˋ#XiMENA SAYS! not proof read, per usual. ANYWAYS!!! this felt kinda rushed & i don’t know if i like it yet && it’s 4am so i’m tired lol ´ˎ˗

“Do you enjoy disrespecting me, YN?” 

Jeonghan was highly upset━ fuck that, he was enraged. The tips of his ears tinted a cherry red, nostrils flared, veined hand tightly wrapped around your throat whilst his lips were slightly parted - his warm breath fanning against your face. 

He had you placed on your knees in front of him ━  rough material of the woven floor covering underneath bruising your skin. 

He looked so fucking scary and honestly you should’ve felt intimidated or frightened, but it would be a complete lie if you said you were. Though he looked daunting, he also looked so, so good. Strands of his black hair partially covering his eyes, the light weighted gold jewelry delicately dangling from his neck, the head of his tongue prodding at his inner cheek━  God, you should not feel this turned on right now. 

“I asked you a fucking question, slut,” His lips were so close to yours, you almost thought he was going to kiss you. Oh how painfully wrong you were. “You enjoy sneaking behind my back and having boys fuck that dirty pussy of yours?”

No matter how it may sound, Jeonghan doesn’t get jealous. Or that’s what he tells himself, at least. 

You shake your head, jutting out your bottom lip, “No, Sir.” 

He chuckles, so dryly and humorlessly, an unamused look taking over his handsome features, “No?” His unoccupied hand reaches down to your panty clad pussy before his fingers sneak under the soaked fabric. He then scoffs in what sounds like disbelief, “What a messy little cunt,” Licking his lips, he begins to toy with your clit while looking into your eyes with a glint in his, “Can’t believe you let some little ameteur frat boy stick his dick in my pussy.”

Jeonghan clicks his tongue, tilting his head to the side, “Did he fuck you nice and good, at least? Did he hit that spot that has you arching and begging for more? Hm? I guess not since you’re here on your knees grinding onto my fingers like a little bitch in heat.”

At this point, you’re a complete mess and Jeonghan hasn’t even done anything yet. He seems to have that effect on you.

“Please, Hannie . . . I’m sorry.” 

Jeonghan lifts a eyebrow, “Hannie?” Shaking his head as he continues to speak again, “That shit isn’t going to work on me, YN. Not tonight. So save all that whining and pouting ‘cause it isn’t going to get you anywhere.”

There was no doubt in your mind that Jeonghan was going to go anything but easy on you tonight. You deserved everything he had coming your way.

When Jeonghan was mad, he could get mean. Very, very mean. Eye watering and lip trembling mean. And rough. Not too rough, though. 

As soon as he entered his spacious room, with you tailing along, of course, he simply turned his body around and gripped your waist - instantly pressing your bare back to closest wall, causing to softly wince at the coldness. For a split second it looks like Jeonghan’s eyes hold softness before they’re switched back to his dark gaze. “Should I fuck you up against this wall?”

The question was rhetorical. He didn’t expect you to answer though even if you did it would fall on deaf ears. 

His lips attach themselves to your collarbone, “Leave your legs a wobbly little mess while you’re gripping onto my shoulders for balance as I pound your cunt? It’s not like whores including yourself deserve to be properly fucked on a bed.”

“I-I’m not a whore.” You mumbled, coming out more brattier than you intended for it too. Immediately causing Jeonghan’s attentive ears to perk up in response.

He scoffs and removes his lips, peering at you with irritation, “Shut the fuck up. You are a whore and a nasty one at that. Getting fucked hours prior by some douche and now you’re here wanting to get fucked by your father’s best friend,” He shakes his head in disbelief, “It was silly of me to think that you were my good girl.”

It’s sad and embarrassing that out of everything Jeonghan had said, his last sentence is what caused your heart to clench. Jeonghan always referred to you as his good girl.

The day when you had your legs spread for him diligently as he brutally and animalistically lapped at your sopping pussy, after you came prettily on his tongue, he kissed up your soft, silky skin whilst whispering “my good girl.”

Or, the day you came home excitedly because you got the highest test score in your class and instead of squealing about it to your father, you found Jeonghan in your kitchen and decided to tell him about it in lieu. He was so, so proud of you and took you out shopping, fucking you in the backseat of his car after the long spree. The sounds of skin clapping was loud but not louder than Jeonghan’s praises as he was constantly telling you how much of a smart girl you were and how you were also his good girl. 

Jeonghan, noticing your long silence, brings a hand up to grip your chin, “Are you my good girl, YN?”

“Yes,” You nod slowly, “I’m your good girl, Hannie.”

A sigh flies from his divided mouth before he, finally, presses a kiss to your lips. One, soft singular kiss. It was so quick and unexpected. 

His hand releases your chin and comes up to cup your cheek, stroking the flesh tenderly, “I know, baby. But you’re also my little slut and I’m gonna fuck you like one.” 

Without saying anything else, Jeonghan guided you over to his bed, pushing your body down onto the mattress. He wastes no time as he’s unbuckling his belt, not breaking eye contact with you for a split second, after he’s finished, he pulling his boxers down and grabbing your ankles to pull you to the end of the bed. 

“You think you need my fingers to stretch you out a bit first?” His tongue pokes out teasingly.

“No! Please fuck me, Sir, please. . .” 

Jeonghan laughs, “You like calling me Sir, huh? You like me having authority over you?” He takes his painfully hard cock into the palm of his hand, giving it a few strokes before guiding it over to your pussy, tapping the reddened head on your puffy clit. “Can I slide in, angel?” 

“Yes, please,” You whine out, back arching off the mattress, “Want you━  Need you so, so bad.” You sounded so desperate, but honestly you couldn’t find yourself to care. You needed Jeonghan. You always needed Jeonghan. Truthfully, Jeonghan was one of a kind and it was extremely idiotic to believe that someone could even come close to him. 

“Of course you do. Needy little thing,” He tsks, shortly letting out a throaty groan afterwards once sliding into your fluttering hole. “Fuck,” His head drops, sweaty strands of hair dangling in front of your face. 

“Pretty fucking pussy,” He punctuates each word with a particularly hard thrust, “And it’s all mine, right?”

You heard him ask the question, but he was fucking you so hard, you really couldn’t find a voice inside yourself to answer. Which, of course, was not going to slide with Jeonghan. 

His hand comes to your neck for the second time tonight, the cold rings on his fingers contrasting with your warm skin, “I asked you a question. Don’t tell you’re that fucked out? I barely even started, YN. Fucking ridiculous,” Annoyance was laced in his gruff tone, “Don’t worry - you don’t even need to answer. You hear how loudly you’re squelching for me, baby? I bet she doesn’t do this for anyone else. This is all the proof I need.”

He was right. So right. 

Your hands sneak underneath his arms, placing your hands on his sides and pulled him closer to you, “Love your cock - Love you, I’m sorry . . .” 

You were a blubbering mess. The pleasure was so overwhelming, though so euphoric. You couldn’t think and could hardly speak properly. Tears began to prick your eyes, vision blurring. He was the only one who could do this to you. 

“You shouldn’t say things you don’t mean,” He places a kiss to your forehead, hooking a hand under your knee and pressing it to your breast - giving him better access to reach deep inside you. He was basically balls deep. “But I love you too, angel. My pretty girl.” 

The way your cunt was clenching down on Jeonghan so greedily was enough to make a sane man go mad. And Jeonghan could admit, he was a sane man who was about to go absolutely mad if he was in your pussy any longer.

“Ah!” You cry out when you feel Jeonghan’s scheming fingers toy with your sensitive clit. “Gonna - Gonna come, Hannie!”

Jeonghan’s pace instantly quickens. At first, before his cock was even near your cunt, he had it stored in his mind that he wasn’t going to let you orgasm. He was going to fuck you, though, nice and good, but as soon as you felt like you were going to come, he was going to pull out. But now that the time is here, it feels criminal to stop. And besides, you looked so pretty as you were going to coat his cock. Plump lips slightly parted - drool trickling out your mouth, Lashes wet from all the crying, cheeks red and flushed━  God, you were such a heavenly sight that would never get tired of. 

Jeonghan leans forward, huskily whispering in your ear, “Come for me, baby. Make a pretty mess all on my cock.”

Jeonghan’s voice never failed to push over the edge. Whether he was talking you through an orgasm or asking you something as simple as “how was your day?” 

“Jeong━  Hannie!” You were a broken record stuck on repeat. It was like the only two words you could properly say was Please or Hannie.

He lets out a breathy titter, “C’mon. Come for me.” 

You came, Jeonghan shortly following afterwards. He takes a breath. Then another one. His forehead rests on top yours, “I’m not gonna let this shit again. I said I love you and I do, baby, but if I catch you fucking somebody else who isn’t me, it won’t end well. You understand?”

“Yes, Jeonghan. I’m sorry.”

“Mhm,” He nods slowly, you can tell he has a lot more he wants to say, but he doesn’t, and you didn’t want to pry it out of him so you drop it. “Now let’s get you cleaned up.”

[kestisvrse]

headcanon collection: dating cam cameron

♫ - new romantics by taylor swift

(slightly suggestive at the end?)

· belly or jere introduced the two of you

· instantly drawn to each other (or atleast he is to you.)

· even if you were a party person, if he ever was at the same one as you you found yourself escaping to a quiet place with him

· if you were in the same school i imagine him always leaving little notes in your bag or locker

“you look pretty :)”

“i like that colour on you”

“hang out after school? □ yes □ no”

· study buddy, also how you got to know him better and what led him to even asking you out

· he loves when you talk about your interests, he just stares in awe and nods as you speak

· he goes over to your house one day while you were baking cookies and that just becomes your guys thing, always baking together

· meaning cliche movie flour fights, all. the. time

“we need to start keeping track of the winners”

· STARGAZING.

· like i swear if the skies are clear he is asking you to go on a walk or drive to look at the stars

· as you get closer and he gets a bit more confident he definitely gets touchier

· he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything so its always subtle

· shoulders pressed together, knees hitting or your fingers interlocking

· you’re cold? he will give you his hoodie

· if he doesn’t have one on him he will immediately go and buy one it doesnt even matter

· i dont see him owning many hoodies, but he definitely owns less when he starts dating you because he keeps giving them to you

· having them returned to him awhile later because they ‘lost their smell’

· he will fall asleep if your hands touch his hair in the SLIGHTEST

· ok exaggeration but seriously playing with his hair is actually his favourite thing ever trust

· not big on nicknames but would probably drop an occasional “babe”, “angel” or “sweetheart”

· but saying that, he loves when you call him nicknames, like will melt at anything you call him

· so if you had asked to call you a nickname he definitely would do it more often

· not big on pda, minimum he has to be standing next to you, holding your hand or resting his hand on your back, he’ll place a quick kiss to your lips or forehead but not often

· he makes up for it when you’re alone, taking every opportunity to show you how much you mean to him

· for some reason i just imagine like, your first kiss being underwater

· like you’re both pushed into the pool and while under the water just say fuck it and lean it

· even if people are around, it’s just so in the moment

· as much as he loves staying in, cuddling and watching a movie, he LOVES taking you out on dates

· it doesn’t have to be public, he likes bike rides or picnics, scenic things he gets to experience with you

· makes you playlists

· like he doesnt just update one, he’ll make a new one every few months, or ones for certain moods

· you’re sad and he can’t be there? he makes you a playlist of songs so you can think of him and hopefully feel better

· the BEST at comforting

· he’ll listen and only give advice if you want it, or even if you don’t want to talk he is there rubbing your back or tracing shapes on your hand to calm you down

· he like is definitely secretly easily jealous

· like you would never be able to tell if he was, and he would never tell you

· unless it’s someone like, touching you or obviously flirting with you, he will immediately have his arm around you hoping they will get the hint

· but usually he hates getting jealous, especially if its just a friend or he is misreading it

· so he stays silent because he trusts you and know you wouldn’t talk to or encourage anyone trying to get with you

· even while dating he still does the note thing, this time scattering them around your room, in your draws, placing them so you could keep finding them for months

· definitely has a million photos of you, and has a problem with printing them off and putting them everywhere around his room

· he’s absolutely WHIPPED for you

· he loves putting his hands under your shirt onto your waist, feeling how warm you are as you blush

· nose kisses.

· i don’t think hickies happen a lot

· like he loves kissing your neck but he never leaves a mark

· but occasionally slip ups happen, and he’ll feel so bad but you don’t even care, because it shows everybody that you’re taken

· i don’t think he would be a huge fan of you kissing his neck

· probably tickleish so he ends up squirming and giggling

· he likes when you kiss his face though, it doesn’t matter where, he just loves it.

[luneshallshine]

more than friends. (m) | choi san

ღ " i'm catchin' you starin' again, i swear all this shit isn't just in my head. i know that we're more than ... " more than friends by isabel larosa

you and san have been friends since you were little kids, you and him just clicked in a way that no one could describe. with how lovely he was, how could you not harbor feelings for him? he was so good to your parents, your friends, anyone and anything you loved basically. you two were like glue. so when you two slept together and san became distant, you became worried that you had ruined it all. fucking alcohol.

f!reader, childhood friends to lovers, mentions of drunk sex, college!au, unrequited love but not rlly, happy ending, light angst, fluff, san's going to be irritating but he'll come around.

...

warnings for the smut: explicit, praise (both ways), mild body worship, lots of emotions (aka crying), oral sex (f and m receiving), san likes to bite n kiss, slight dirty talk but nothing too cringy, petnames (darling, my love, princess, good girl) , protected (wrap it up! you fuckers.), aftercare ofc !!

ღ word count: 3.3k

ღ a/n: i luv the singer's new ep/album so i had to write to it !! oneshot !!

♫ playing now : more than friends/butterflies/heartbeat by isabel larosa, stay/hush by ari abdul, stargirl interlude by the weeknd, & needy by ariana grande

dedicated to the loml @meifasol enjoy my luv :)

you rolled around in your bed, your head pounding, you groaned and whined from the pain. you stirred slightly and then someone else groaned, you nearly screamed your head off before your mind recognized the voice.

"... san?" you spoke, your voice hoarse.

"yea? good morning to you too," he replied, and that's when you felt his hand around your waist.

that's when you felt everything. your lower half was sore beyond repair, your throat ached and your vocal chords were tired, and you felt san's body, a mere t-shirt separating the two of you. clearly, something had happened the night before.

"let me go. i want to get up," you said, fighting against san's grip.

you two had cuddled when you were younger, but you hadn't ever since you both hit puberty, seemed like his iron grip never changed. san whined in response and you smacked his hand lightly, causing him to yelp and let go. you stood up with mild difficulty, quickly stretching yourself out before walking to the bathroom.

"what happened last night?" you wondered as you washed your face with cold water.

as you slowly woke up, your lower half suddenly felt extra bare. you shifted slightly and gasped.

"where's my underwear?!" you whisper-screamed.

you didn't have the full picture but you were sure you knew what happened last night, you and san fucked. you slept with your childhood bestfriend, but you couldn't even remember it.

"dammit, why did i drink so much? i wanna know what happened...!" you whined.

you had liked san ever since you guys hit high school, something changed in the way you looked at him. he had gotten into volleyball and started going to the gym, growing into his body nicely. sure you had liked him prior, but you were more sure of it in high school. you liked him even more now, even as san changed physically, his personality and morals never shifted, he was forever your san.

"y/n. you done yet? i needa pee," you heard his voice outside of your bathroom door.

"shit, yea, sorry," you replied, wiping your hands on one of your towels before opening the door.

seeing san now after you had deducted the two of you had slept together, he was so much more attractive. he was shirtless and had put on some sweats after you left him in your bed, his hair was messy and his face was still puffy from waking up, but you couldn't help the feeling in your heart. you really loved this man.

you walked past him and decided to try to eat something. you looked through your cabinets and fridge, deciding on something that would quell your hangover. as you ate in silence, you heard footsteps nearing the kitchen. san stood in front of you and looked at you, more awake now.

"do you remember what happened last night?" he asked, playing with the strings on his sweats.

"... no i don't. do you?" you honestly replied, what if you were wrong and nothing had actually happened?

san's face dropped, he sighed and turned around.

"i got something to do today, i'll catch you later y/n. you can call me if you need me," san spoke, leaving you alone.

ok. you two definitely slept together, if only you could remember.

you haven't seen him since that day, it's been around two weeks. he hadn't texted you at all, posted on his instagram, his friends haven't seen him at all, you were running out of clues to find him.

wooyoung said that san hadn't been to dance practice in a long time, that their teacher said that he had been sick.

yunho and mingi, san's roommates, said that he hadn't been home in a while, saying that he was visiting family in namhae.

seonghwa, san's coworker at the coffee shop you two liked, said that he had not shown up to work because byeol had gotten sick.

"that's all his friends, they're all giving me different excuses! i don't know where he could be jongho!" you whined, cradling your head.

jongho hummed deep in thought. you called over your friends jongho and hongjoong to your apartment, desperate for their advice.

"well he's definitely avoiding you," hongjoong spoke.

"thanks captain obvious," you replied, rolling your eyes.

"hey i'm just trying to help!" he yelled, offended.

"you're not very good at it!"

as you two bickered, jongho was deep in his thoughts.

"wait, you haven't asked yeosang yet. go ask him, maybe he'll know," jongho spoke.

"oh my god. you're right! thank you, you're the best!" you exclaimed, patting his head lightly before leaving the two men in your living room.

hongjoong grumbled as jongho smiled in satisfaction.

you called an uber to drive you to the gym, you knew san liked to gym around this time.

yeosang and san were gym buddies, meaning they spent a lot of time together. once you made it to the gym they frequented, you walked into the reception area.

"shit i don't have a membership, how do i get in?" you whispered under your breath.

the workers stared at you weirdly, likely wondering why you were just standing there. you quickly sat down and pulled out your phone, searching for maybe a trial membership or if you could afford one, when you heard a voice say your name.

"y/n, you're starting to gym?" it was deep and soft.

"yeosang! no, i was just looking for you!" you replied, smiling.

yeosang had just walked into the gym, likely ready to start. he laughed and gestured for you to follow him outside, you walked after him and the two of you walked into the parking lot.

"do you know where san is? i've been trying to contact him for the past two weeks but he won't answer," you asked, waiting for yet another excuse.

"... san? oh he's coming to meet me soon! you can talk to him then," yeosang said, smiling.

"oh yeosang, you savior! thank you!" you exclaimed, hugging him.

the two of you talked about nothing in particular, when a male voice called out.

"yeosang-ah! you ready?" san yelled, not that far away.

yeosang must've covered you because san didn't seem to react to your presence yet. the latter got closer and yeosang moved to reveal you, san stopped in his tracks.

"... what are you doing here?" san asked, his voice cold and distant, a tone he never used with you before.

"... 'what are you doing here?' why so cold to me, huh? what did i even do to deserve being ignored by my best friend? answer me, san!" you yelled, an unspoken frustration apparent.

the man of your desire stayed silent, avoiding your eyes.

"look at me you coward. you tell me what happened that night, if you're not scared," you tried to provoke him, "or will you stay distant and watch us drift? it is your call choi san."

he visibly gulped.

"yeosang, sorry, i can't gym today. let's go y/n, we can talk at my apartment. yunho and mingi are at a party tonight and you know how they can get, they won't be back until tomorrow afternoon," san offered his hand.

"just go. you're taking too long," you ordered, watching as he turned around and walked to his car.

yeosang waved you guys goodbye before walking back into the gym. you and san walked in silence to his car. he opened the door for you, like always, before going to the driver's side and starting the car. usually that gesture would warm your heart, but now it just confused you.

you felt like a teenager again, fangirling over any miniscule thing a guy would do for you, but then again, this wasn't just some guy, this was san.

he lowered down the music in his car as he drove, perhaps he was silently hoping you'd talk to him. the angelic sound of the singer's voice calmed you down.

"that was 'more than friends' by isabel larosa, up next is ..."

he pulled into his parking spot in his apartment complex, getting out and opening your door for you on the other side. the two of you hadn't so much as whispered a word the whole car ride. you two walked up to his apartment, you felt like you'd honestly die from the awkwardness. once you made it in, san threw his gym bag to the side before engulfing you into the tightest hug.

"i never meant to upset you y/n, i never want to hurt you ever, you're of the most important people in my life," he began, "i'm so sorry for ignoring you."

"why? just tell me if i did something. say if i did nothing at all, do you know what i've thought about while you were ignoring me like a little kid? 'i must have done something horrible.' 'something happened that night.' 'i fucked up.' 'he hates me.' all of that," you spoke, tears threatening to fall.

"no. no i could never hate you. i ... realize now that i overreacted. i don't really remember either, what happened that night, i just remember ... that we kissed at the bar. we were both a little tipsy, but i guess you more than me. you said you loved me. and i, i don't know if you were saying the truth but it didn't matter to me. i've loved for you for years y/n. years! after you said you loved me, i downed more shots and then i don't remember what happened after."

"... why did you run away?"

"i thought i messed up. that you had regretted it and-"

you grabbed his hands tightly, tugging him down and kissing him.

"please shut up. we both know what happened right? do you regret it? i don't."

"i only regret not being able to remember our first time darling," san replied.

you laughed, san smiled in response, tugging you with him to his room, walking past yunho's and mingi's.

you heard the click of the lock on san's door, as he kissed you.

"surely we'll remember tonight, right?" san asked.

—smut below.

san kisses you nice and slow, gently and loving, as he always is with you. his hands float up and down your body, almost ghosting over your skin. you can feel the slight tremor in his hands as he battles his own desires.

"you can touch me san, you can touch me now, don't worry," you whisper into his lips.

he hums and finally you feel his hands on the parts he had never touched before, the parts he had never dared to. his hands ghost over your chest, your waist, your lower back, your butt, your thighs, and back up to cradle your face.

"bed, please?" san almost whimpers, "i want you so bad. i want to see your beauty, let it imprint onto my mind. please, my princess?"

"undress first."

he frantically nods and immediately begins to take off his clothes, his eyes never leaving you as he watches you removes yours. he keeps his boxers on and you leave your panties on.

"... now?"

you nod and allow him to push you onto his bed, him caging you in his protective arms. he leans down to kiss you once more, before travelling down and he lingers over your chest.

"... can i?" san asks, you can feel his breath on your skin.

"yes, please san, i want you," you reply, relaxing into his bed.

he hums as he leans down to lay butterfly kisses on your chest, down to your stomach, cradling your thighs as he lets his lips linger on your inner thighs. you couldn't tell if he was teasing you or he was stuck in his thoughts before he opened his mouth, letting his teeth run on the inside of your thighs.

"can i bite? please?" san mutters, his voice muffled by your thighs.

"... yes you can."

san bites down gently, you can feel him humming in pleasure as he bites and kisses to his heart's content. it felt nice, yes, but he was so close to where you really needed him.

"saaan ... please touch me," you whine, pushing his head slightly away from your thighs.

"... but i am touching you darling," you can almost hear the smirk on his face, if only he wasn't muzzled by your thighs.

"you know what i mean! don't be such a tease!"

he laughs softly as he ghosts over your panties, leaving a kiss on the wet spot that has formed, causing you to shudder.

"... if you don't touch me i'm leaving your bed, i mean it."

"but i want to take my time with you my love, i've been waiting for years," san says, kissing at your clothed clit.

you squirm away from his lips, shoving your panties off, watching as san's eyes never left you.

"don't you want to touch me, lover boy?"

"... i always want to touch you, my love."

"then do it, or your princess will find another prince," you smile.

he grabs your hips and pulls you closer to where his mouth waits for you, when his lips finally touch your bare clit, the jolt of pleasure you get is like no other. his lips are soft and full of love for you, you can feel it as he kisses your clit and rolls it tenderly on his tongue.

"you taste good, princess."

"worth the wait?"

"of course, your prince would've waited another decade to have you."

you know that you're not his first, he isn't yours either, but you do know that this is both of yours first time making love. the true first time.

"your princess hated waiting, you know," you reply.

"... sorry," he briskly replies before going back to your pussy.

his tongue dives into your folds, the wet sounds filling his bedroom. you can feel san rutting into the bed, low moans leaving his mouth as he gets off on your taste and the accompanying friction.

"god i can't get enough," you can hear him groan, though he doesn't separate from you far enough for you to clearly hear him.

he adds two of his fingers into you as he moves back up to your throbbing clit, but he's slow. he's so slow and gentle that you feel like you're getting rocked to sleep. of course you're not going to fall asleep, not when you have your dream man between your thighs, getting off on your taste and moaning just for you.

"s-san, saaan, i'm gonna cum, i feel it," you alert him, he hums in response, causing further simulation to your clit.

"please cum on my tongue, i need to taste you. come on, my good girl, on my tongue now."

the simulation gets too much and you cum onto his awaiting tongue, san humming in approval.

"taste so good darling, you were such a good girl."

you watch as he sits up, wiping off his mouth and chin, then your eyes drift down to his crotch. he's got a boner that anyone could see from a mile away, maybe you're exaggerating but who cares?

"can i return the favor?" you ask, looking at him expectingly.

"well, what prince would reject head from his princess? a crazy prince is the answer," he replies, taking off his boxers.

san's well endowed, nothing too cartoonishly ridiculous, but you can't say he is small, that's for sure. he giggles as you pause for a minute, just admiring his dick.

"i-i'm getting a little worried, darling. how long you gonna stare for?" he breaks your thoughts.

you laugh before moving towards him, he watches as you gently grab his dick.

"aaah... please," he moans.

"i didn't even start yet sanie!"

"i-i'm sorry! you'd be sensitive too if the girl you've dreamed of for so long was touching your dick! god please, you feel so nice already, i need you, please, i need you," san rambles, getting more whiny as he sees your mouth close around his tip, "mmh! so warm, i'm going crazy already."

you slowly lower your head onto his dick, guiding his right hand onto your head. san gently grips onto you, exhales of "oh shit" and "oh fuck" fill his room. you're slow too, but he doesn't mind as he hits the back of your throat.

"god..! yes! just like that, good girl, taking me so well."

you hum in response, causing him to flinch in surprise at the vibration it causes around his dick. he groans as you bob up and down, you zone out around his dick, getting drunk off his noises.

his eyes have never left you, he refuses to close them as he tries to imprint the sight of you deepthroating him into his mind. when you look up at him, he moans loudly and he swears he almost cums at the sight of you.

you're so focused on his dick that you don't hear his first whine of "stop", but you hear the second one and immediately back off.

"is something wrong?" you ask, wiping your mouth off.

"n-no nothing wrong. i just want to cum while i'm inside you, is all. your mouth is way too good darling," san replies, blushing.

"where are your condoms, san?"

"i'll get them, hold on, i know yunho shoved some into my cabinet a few weeks ago... here they are! come on, i wanna fuck you so bad."

you laugh in reply, letting san lay you on his bed once again, pumping his dick softly before positioning to enter you.

"you'll tell me to stop if you want to, right?"

"yes i will san."

"good girl."

he enters you slowly, you clutch onto his broad back and shoulders, the stretch so plesant and nice.

"so good sanie, you feel so nice," you moan out, causing him to kiss your neck in response.

"y-you, aah, you feel nice too. god, i won't last long, i'm sorry," san says.

"mmh that's fine, i won't last long either, just do what will make us feel good."

"of course my love."

he ruts into you roughly, the soft persona he had gone by now, your soft moans turn into loud ones as he pounds into you, rubbing your clit in circles. his moans almost overshadow your own, his eyes are mostly closed in euphoria, but he opens them to look at you.

"kiss, please kiss," san moans, leaning down to messily kiss you.

the two of you moan into the kiss, his pace gradually building up as he gets closer.

"i love you, i love you, i love you so much y/n."

you two cum at once, you almost trembling in his hold as you two ride out your highs. you look up at him and you see that tears have escaped his eyes.

"you ok sanie? too much?"

"n-no, i just, i can't believe i have you. you have me, never in my life did i think you'd find me good enough."

you tear up at that, the two of you ignore that he's still inside of you as to two cry it out.

"i love you more, my prince."

"never."

you two bicker as san pulls out and carries you to the bathroom, making you pee as he readies the shower.

"let's shower and go to sleep," san speaks, you nodding in agreement, slowly drifting off to sleep.

"can i just say i called it?" wooyoung said, almost gagging at the sight of san feeding you grapes whilst you sat in his lap.

"called what?" san asked, glaring at his best friend.

"that you too were more than friends! gosh everyone could tell! even yeosangie!" wooyoung yelled, yeosang looking at him in shock.

"i couldn't tell. i just thought you two were really good friends, but you're cute regardless!" yeosang said, causing wooyoung to whine and hit him, yeosang laughing as he did so.

san laughed and leaned to kiss you.

"i am so glad you love me."

okok, this is my first actual smut. don't come for me.

ღ lune

[mintchoco-cream]

♫ Was it casual now? ➴ Purinz

Warning ࣪ › Homosexuality, Stupidness, i don't know

Prompt ࣪ › None, just the song casual

Word count ࣪ › 1.18k

Yunjin sighed, as she took a sip out of her water bottle. The girl scrunched her face, realizing it wasn't even hers. Yunjin recognized the taste. It was chamomile tea. The tea Kazuha always happened to bring around with her.

Yunjin quickly closed Kazuha's water bottle, and picked up hers. She took a sip of her ice cold water. Yunjin felt relief wash upon her. This week has been exhausting, and Chaewon's sudden reveal of having a ''boyfriend'' wasn't helping. Yunjin knew she had no chance with the short haired woman, but she didn't expect Chaewon to get a boyfriend. Atleast not while they were in Le sserafim.

It's been messing her up so badly, to the point of affecting her idol life. She recalls the number of times she's been called out by their dance instructor because of her recent behavior. Yunjin hates it. She hates how whipped she is for the older woman.

''Yunjin unnie? Hey, Hey! Yunjin unnie!'' Eunchae's sudden shouting woke Yunjin out of her daze. She turns around and meets Chaewon's eyes.

Yunjin stops for a second, taking in Chaewon's heavenly figure. She snaps herself out of it and heads closer to her members. Chaewon shakes her head, and instead tells the other members to excuse her and Yunjin. The blue haired woman is then pulled out of the practice room by none other than Kim Chaewon.

The girl sighs, and starts, ''Are you okay Jinnie? You've been spacing out lately, and haven't been performing well. That isn't like you. Is there something wrong?''

Oh how much Yunjin wishes she could just kiss Chaewon and tell her she was the problem. But the older girl was taken, and Yunjin knew not to overstep her boundaries. But how was she supposed to hold back, when Chaewon says her nickname for Yunjin oh so sweetly?

Yunjin forces a smile and says it's nothing, feeding Chaewon random lies she made up in a matter of seconds. Chaewon didn't buy it, and wanted to get to the bottom of it, but knew not to push too much.

Chaewon sighs once more, ''Okay, fine, if you don't wanna tell me now, then it's alright. But just know, I'm here for you all the time, yeah?'' Yunjin nods as she bites the inside of her lip. A flash of pain reflecting on her eyes. A flash too fast for Chaewon to catch.

They head back in, and continue the practice session.

It was your average Saturday. Or atleast it was supposed to be, that is. Tonight was the night Chaewon was supposed to introduce her ''boyfriend'' to the members. Yunjin stood infront of her mirror, looking at herself.

She smiled, a tear drop making its way through her face. She quickly wipes the tear, and considers herself presentable. She exits her room, and is met with the other three members all giddy and happy about meeting their leaders boyfriend.

A knock on the front door could then be heard. They were here.

The door opens to reveal Chaewon and... Beomgyu? Beomgyu walks with Chaewon towards the living room, and he bows, formally introducing himself as Chaewon's boyfriend.

Yunjin smiles, and greets him like how she usually would. Happily and cheerfully. Eunchae starts asking him questions about their relationship, and Yunjin could see Sakura slightly nudge Chaewon.

''You picked the right guy Chae, He's a good man.'' Yunjin overheard Sakura say, and Chaewon responds with a smile,

''I know! He treats me so well, and always prioritizes my feelings. I can't help but feel like he's the best thing that's ever happened to me.''

Yunjin couldn't hold it in anymore. She quickly fumbles for her phone, and opens a fake call app, fake calling herself as an excuse and she then heads out of the house as fast as she could. She felt like puking, the weight of her emotions unimaginably heavy.

Chaewon watches as Yunjin leaves, worry on her face, simply because she could sense Yunjin hasn't been herself lately.

Yunjin hops onto her motorbike, not even bothering to take her helmet with her. She drove, and drove, and drove. Feeling the calming air of the night, the moon her only companion. Her tears falling gracefully as she swerves through the roads, her headlights guiding her through the darkness and emptiness of the unforgiving night.

She stops on a steep cliff near the ocean, parking her motorbike nearby. She climbs up, and sits on top of it. She looks up at the stars, reminiscing the times when she thought she had a chance. The good old times.

Chaewon yells shouts of amazement as she held onto Yunjin's waist, their motorbike nearing the speed limit as Yunjin drove through an intersection, the light turning red a second after they passed.

Yunjin could only focus on the fun they had riding her newly bought motorbike.

''Wanna see a spot?'' Chaewon is intrigued, and shouts a ''hell yeah!'' out loud. Yunjin softly laughs, ''Say no more.''

Yunjin skillfully swerved through incoming traffic, a few close calls meeting them every now and then. The brunette stopping at a seemingly steep cliff near the ocean. The two get off, and Yunjin helps Chaewon take off her helmet.

Yunjin dragged Chaewon over to the cliff, and helps her climb, or atleast tries to. Chaewon accidentally slips and almost falls, but Yunjin catches her hand, and pulls her up. The two girls couldn't help but giggle at the accident. They lied down on the soft green grass, and Yunjin points to the stars.

Chaewon gasps, slowly taking in the beauty of the moon and stars.

''The moon looks beautiful tonight.'' Yunjin confesses, hoping Chaewon would get the hint.

''Yeah. The night sky looks amazing tonight... how'd you find this place?'' Yunjin's smile drops for a second. The brunette thankful it's reasonably dark around the area. Her smile reappears, and explains to Chaewon she found it on one of her random test drive nights.

The two sit there in comfortable silence, Yunjin slightly saddened by the fact that Chaewon does not know about the quotes meaning.

''You know Yunjin.. You are one of the best things that's ever happened to me. I'm.... thankful that you're here.'' Chaewon faces Yunjin, and the brunette does the same. The two giggle, and Chaewon's hand makes it way to Yunjin's.

''Likewise.''

Yunjin bit her lip as she remembered the now bittersweet memory. Was it all just casual to Chaewon? Were all their deep emotional talks casual? Were their nightly talks about life and how they would stay together forever casual? Were the time whenever Chaewon would comfort Yunjin late at night thanks to her nightmares casual? Were the sweet ''I love you''s casual to her? Were the cute nicknames and pet names casual? Was calling Yunjin the ''best thing to ever happen to me'' casual?

Oh wait, that was wrong. Yunjin was only one of the best things to ever happen to her. According to Chaewon, Beomgyu was the best thing ever.

''Was... was that drunken kiss just casual to her too then..?'' Yunjin whimpered to herself. The girl shut her eyes closed. ''I thought drunk actions were sober thoughts but...'' Yunjin broke down in tears, no longer holding anything back.

''Maybe it was just casual to her....''

''But it sure as hell wasn't casual to me.''