#Cor x Oc | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

outofconcheol · 1 year ago

Text

Collision (LMH x F!Reader)

pairing: football player!Minho x RA!reader (afab) genres/au/rating: smut, fluff, some angst, college au, 18+ summary: The school year was a chance to start fresh - make new memories, meet new people, and most of all to leave the past behind. But Lee Minho is determined to make sure you never forget the one summer night you’d spent with him - no matter how hard he has to work for it.

warnings: alcohol, swearing, some crude jokes, OC is a bad RA, Minho is very whipped, such poor communication, minor mention of weed, bad poetry, disciplinary action against students

word count: 14k

a/n: it's finally finished! this was the result of me spiraling after seeing this tiktok edit of Super Bowl Minho? also totally not because i was also an RA who lived next to a pack of frat boys in college (don't jump into fountains with boys kids). this also might be a good time to confess that i know nothing about football, so that's fun! i'm so sorry it was so slow coming out, i hope you enjoy!

smut warnings under the cut!

smut warnings: brief, non-graphic smut scene, but also: kissing (so much kissing), dirty talk, marking, nipple play, fingering (f!receiving), oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it pls)

The common room was oddly quiet. Normally, you’d hear people shuffling around and chattering in the halls, their laughter echoing off the dull grey tiles. But right now, silence. With the dingy wood and fluorescent lighting, it felt like a ghost town. It wouldn’t have bothered you on any ordinary day. Except today was your first meeting with the new residents of your dorm as their RA. And it was five minutes to eight and they were nowhere to be found.

You honestly couldn’t understand why anyone hadn’t shown up yet. The bulletin board had been decked out in the colours of your school football team, the Stray Kids, and you’d even promised snacks! In fact, a lot of the people you’d run into in the halls had been excited to come - or maybe they just felt pressured into it by your overeagerness. Now, looking at the different spreads of cookies and brownies you’d baked with the help of your roommate Felix, your heart sinks. Speaking of Felix, where was he?

You’d been looking forward to the start of the school year all summer, so excited to finally embrace this job and your new responsibilities. But even more than that, you were so excited to make a handful of new friends heading into your senior year. Your entire college career had been consumed by studying and getting involved in a million different clubs, and although you hung out with Felix, and a few others, you felt like you’d been lacking in the experiences that made college… well college. And what better way to get access to college experiences than to be left to look after a rowdy group of students?

You hear footsteps thudding down the hallway, and heavy breathing, and all of a sudden, Felix’s freckled face comes into view. You shoot him an angry glare, before softening when you realize he’s not alone. Three other boys walk in after him.

“____, this is Jisung, Jeongin, and Seungmin. They’re down the hall from us.”

“Welcome you guys!” you set aside your anger, putting on your best smile for them. The three of them greet you happily, not even lasting five seconds before descending on the snacks, and you giggle at the way Jisung’s cheeks puff out as he stuffs chocolate chip cookies into his mouth.

Soon enough, more people shuffle in, until the common room is filled to the brim with residents, and you let out a sigh of relief. Maybe they didn’t hate you after all. Before, long, everyone is settled in, and you waste no time, heart pattering as you launch into an explanation of the rules and expectations for the year.

As expected, a handful of people are nodding off, while others have their eyes glued to their phones. However, Seungmin, Jisung, and Jeongin are hanging off your every word attentively, smiling after every phrase, and despite it being corny, you can’t help but find them endearing. You’d have to make a mental note to visit their room later and get to know them.

While you continue on, not wanting to keep everyone too long, you notice a couple of guys sneak in the back, twenty minutes late, and immediately your smile drops. The blue jerseys tell you immediately that they’re the players from Stray Kids. A few heads turn when they walk in, and suddenly, there’s a hum in the air, the residents thrumming with excitement at the sighting of campus celebrities. Suddenly, all the attention is off you and on them.

Felix shoots you a look of apology, and you huff, watching the meeting go down in flames. You don’t know how many minutes pass before the crowd dies down, people spilling out one by one, until only the four players and Felix are left.

Putting on your fakest sweet smile, you stomp up to them, ready to give them a piece of your mind, when you bump into a solid chest, strong arms wrapping around you to steady you.

“Whoa there, you good?” A deep voice booms out, and you look up to see Chan, the captain of the team, looking down at you with a smirk.

“I—,” you begin, nostrils flaring in anger, but you’re interrupted once again by Chan.

“Sorry for crashing your little party, practice ran late, you know how it is.”

His eyes are alight with a glimmer as he says it, taking you in.

“I’d appreciate if next time, you could let me know, so I can plan ahead,” you grit out through your teeth, watching another one of the guys, one with arm muscles so huge he could probably rip a tree in half, descend on the cookies you’d laid out.

“That’s Changbin,” Chan chuckles. “And over there is Hyunjin.”

You look to the door, where another tall, lanky player is leaning against the frame, a look of casual disinterest on his face. He gives you a nod, and you scoff under your breath, hoping he doesn’t hear you.

“And this is Minho, our other roommate.”

You freeze on the last introduction, finally taking in the final figure in the room. He’s just as paralyzed as you are, unable to move, lips parted in shock. Feeling like you’ve been struck by lightning, you feel your throat tighten, unable to look up. The ground beneath you feels like it’s about to give way, and you’re suddenly aware that Felix is no longer in the room, mentally cursing him out in your head for leaving you alone right now.

“Hey,” Minho finally manages to get a word out, and your eyes snap up to his, watching the way he shoots an easy smile in your direction.

You hate the way your heart reacts to that smile because you’d promise yourself once already you’d never let it get to you again. All of a sudden, a distinct memory from the summer comes rushing back to you, one you’d tried so hard to bury in the back of your mind.

Twinkling fairy lights, red solo cups on the table out back, and Usher blasting from the speakers. The one house party you’d snuck out to that summer with your best friend, Ryujin. The one where you’d met him.

Those same lips had smirked at you from across the room, dark and serious eyes inviting you to come over and take a chance. And you had. Lips crashing onto his, Minho’s kisses swallowing your moans. The music from the party gradually fades as he leads you upstairs, the soft click of the door locking behind you before he pushes you onto the bed. The cute outfit you’d chosen to wear that night was discarded carelessly to the side, Minho’s hands tracing circles across your skin, his lips latching desperately onto your neck, sucking blooms across your skin. Minho is on his knees, your legs thrown over his shoulders, eyes completely blown with lust, looking like he wants to devour you. Watching the dim light hit the lean lines of his body as he strips, his soft groan when he pushes into you, digging your heels into his back.

Minho’s low voice when tells you how pretty you sound, how good you are for him before you’re exploding, falling apart at the seams.

And then, regret. Slipping out before dawn could come around, watching Minho snooze peacefully, unaware that he’d wake up to an empty bed, unaware that thoughts of that night with him would continue to haunt you the entire summer.

The boys’ boisterous laughter breaks you out of your daze, and you watch Chan and Changbin wave to you before grabbing a handful of snacks and slipping out the door. Hyunjin isn’t far behind, eyeing your shocked face with a curious expression.

Minho lingers for a moment, studying you with the same hypnotic gaze. You’re painfully aware that you haven’t been able to get a single word out, but his stoic face twists into a salacious grin. He trails after his roommates, but not before pausing and shooting you a wink.

“Well damn, this year just got a whole lot more exciting.”

Kim Namjoon was extremely good at his job – or so he thought. As the grad advisor for the resident assistant program at the university, he’d painstakingly read through hundreds of applications, combing through many impressive resumés in search of the best of the best. And he thought he’d found it in you. Which is why the situation he found himself in was completely and utterly baffling to him.

“It’s literally the first week of the school year, and you’re telling me you already want to quit?!”

You fidget in your seat uncomfortably, looking anywhere but directly at Namjoon, knowing that if you caught his gaze, you’d be finished. Over.

“Are those pressed resin flowers?” you gesture over to the wall, hoping you can distract him.

“____.”

“W-well, it’s not exactly like that, it’s just…”

“I fail to understand what could be so horrible about your current group of residents that you’d give up free room and board,” Namjoon quips, before pausing. “I mean — great responsibility as well.”

You want to scream. How were you supposed to tell your boss that the reason you wanted to quit the job you’d worked so hard for is that, in one drunken night, you’d slept with one of your residents and now didn’t have the gall to face him for an entire year?

Your cheeks burn, thinking of Minho’s smirk, the one that had you screaming into your room. In the few days since the meeting, you’d managed to successfully avoid him, and his roommates, making a mad dash for your room straight after class. Oh well, you could always branch out and live your best college life next year. After the football players graduated.

Namjoon could put you anywhere, even banish you to the hell of a single room in that maybe-haunted residence hall on the edge of campus. The one where there was an alleged ghost wandering around? Yeah, you’d take it. Anywhere away from Lee Minho.

“I chose you for this job for a reason, ___, because I saw great potential in you,” Namjoon continues with a heavy sigh. “I’m confident that whatever you’re anxious about, it’ll resolve itself. Now, you should head out. From the schedule, I saw you have a room meeting scheduled.”

And with that, you’re ushered out of Namjoon’s cosy office, left with more questions than you started with. Huffing as you sling your bag over your shoulders, you make the trek across campus back to the dorm, trying to muster a weak smile for the meeting you had coming up.

Only for that smile to disappear completely when you check your calendar, seeing exactly who’d signed up for the slot.

Room 103. The football players’ room. Minho’s room. Could your luck be any worse?

Apparently, the answer to that was yes, because just as you lifted your fist to knock, the door opened, leaving you face-to-face with a smirking Minho.

“Just the person I wanted to see,” he drawls, the smirk fading when he sees you look past him at the wall, shuffling your feet.

“Come in,” his voice softens, stepping aside to let you through. For a moment, he pauses behind you, and you can feel his breath fan the back of your neck.

“Listen, I just wanted to, uh–” he’s interrupted by a loud holler, one that wreaks havoc on your eardrums.

“Well well well, if it isn’t the girl-next-door!” Changbin comes into view, slinging an arm around Minho’s shoulder, before the other man scowls, brushing him off.

“Guys,” Chan’s captain voice has their heads turning, “I know you’ve all got a boner for the pretty RA, but she’s here doing her job.”

You could have sworn you saw Minho go pale.

Changbin snickers, but abides, plopping onto the couch, dragging Minho with him. That made three of them. But where was…

“Hyunjin,” the tall boy appears out of nowhere, his sharp eyes taking in your presence. For a moment, you wonder if he knows about you and Minho, but you shove the ridiculous thought from your brain. They were just guys, and you were just doing business as usual. Nothing to worry about.

“So guys,” you manage to get out. “I’m just here to talk to you about your expectations for each other this year as roommates.”

“Expectations?” Changbin throws up an eyebrow. “Yeah, like some ground rules you want to establish for the room,” you clarify. “As roommates.”

“We’ve been living together for three years at this point,” Hyunjin gives you a pointed stare. “I’m sure we have it down.”

You chew mindlessly at your lower lip, realizing that you aren’t getting anywhere with them. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Minho draped over the side of the couch, one leg dangling off onto the floor.

“Well,” the sudden addition of his voice shocks you, a small smile lighting up his face when catches you looking at him, “We obviously need to follow bro code.”

“Bro code?” You raise an eyebrow. You knew what it was, but that didn’t make you any less confused.

There’s a sharp ow! followed by Hyunjin shuffling in the corner. Minho is gingerly nursing his arm, his eyes narrowing at his teammate.

“Pretty sure one of the rules of bro code is to never lie to your bros,” Hyunjin quips, casting a glance between you and Minho.

“Not lying! Okay! Okay, we can work with that —,” you straighten up, a grin on your face. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Especially not about girls you’ve slept with,” Changbin adds with a smug expression.

Minho’s face immediately twists into a pained expression, and for a moment, everything is silent. You wonder if this is it, the moment where everything finally blows up in your face and the truth about what went over the summer is revealed.

“I’m so sorry, ____,” Chan gives you an apologetic look, standing up to usher you towards the door. “I’ll have a chat with them, and we’ll draw up a list of rules and send it your way by the end of the week!”

Everything happens so quickly, Chan’s hand on your back, the brief flash of Minho’s concerned eyes looking at you before the door closes, slamming shut.

The rain patters against the window, making the fluorescent lighting of the common look even more bleak and grey than usual. You let out a heavy sigh. The dorm meeting should have been enough of a sign to you that very few people would be interested in the events you held this year. Now, you were alone, surrounded by far too many tubs of ice cream, and Felix was in class.

Deciding to wallow in your sorrow, you pop open one of the tubs, scraping at the frozen top with a spoon, the sweet ice cream melting on your tongue.

“I told you, Jeongin, she just bought the ice cream to eat herself,” a voice at the door startles you, and you look over to see Seungmin beaming at you through the door. And he’s not alone. Jisung and Jeongin trail in after him, and your heart swells in relief at their presence.

“I thought no one would come.”

“And miss ice cream? Please, they’re either stupid or even more stupid for turning down free food,” Jisung chuckles, sliding up a few chairs next to you.

The three boys settle in, wasting no time digging into the ice cream, happily chatting about their days to you. Something about their presence makes the unbelievably rainy weather seem not so bad. You learn that Jisung and Seungmin are in the year below you, studying math together, and Jeongin, the poor freshman, was their random roommate.

“You guys are worse than the football players,” you chuckle when they explain their tactics of how they get Jeongin to run errands for them across campus.

“I think it’s cool how we have the players living here with us!” Jeongin’s eyes shine with excitement. “Do you think they’ll invite us to one of their parties?”

“We’re losers, Jeongin, in case you haven’t noticed,” Seungmin jokes, but his face is strained.

“That’s not true, you’re currently my favourite people in the dorm,” you respond, watching Seungmin relax, and Jisung’s cheeks flush. “And those parties are lame anyway.”

So lame. Lame enough for you to sleep with one of those aforementioned players.

You think back to the summer, memories flooding you. In your defense, you hadn’t even known Minho was a player. It was just a random party, full of random people neither you or Ryujin had known. And he’d been there, leaning against the wall, taking it all in quietly.

If you’d had any idea Lee Minho was one of those ever-loving frat boys on the football team, you might not have given him a second look. But then he’d smiled at you - a small one, soft but also teasing, and that was all it had taken for you to drift over, Ryujin smirking behind you.

The conversation flowed as easily as the drinks went down, the two of you managing to talk about nothing yet somehow also everything at once.

“You see,” Minho’s low voice rumbled in your ear, leaning in closer. You can smell the warm spice of his cologne, and it makes you even dizzier than the beer in your hand. “Those two definitely look like they’ve got some shit to sort through.”

“They’ll ignore it though,” you counter, watching Minho’s eyebrows raise. “Probably go upstairs and fuck instead.”

Minho’s jaw hangs open, and it takes a moment to process what you’d just said out loud – and how much of your own intrusive thoughts were contained within the simple statement. Looking over, his eyes have gone impossibly dark, their sole focus on you.

“Maybe we should follow them? Just to confirm.”

Those same dark eyes are now filled with a flicker, one that matches the flames building inside your chest.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the door to the common room swinging open, bringing you face to face with a flustered and panting Minho. His hair is windswept, and there’s a deep flush on the back of his neck. Raindrops plop, plop, plop onto the carpet as they drip from his clothes.

“Did I miss it? I came as quick as I could after class.”

His voice is hoarse and gravelly like he’s struggling to catch his breath after running for too long.

“Miss what..?” You feel like the air has been knocked out of your lungs at his sudden appearance, completely missing the way Jisung, Seungmin, and Jeongin begin to shuffle behind you, whispering amongst themselves.

“You were hosting something? I tried to convince the other guys to come along.”

Your chest tightens at his admission. He paid attention to those egregiously long newsletters you spent hours making and mailing out to the floor? It makes you feel dizzy inside, a thousand tiny butterflies fluttering inside your chest.

“Uhm, yeah of course! Help yourself, you know I just remembered I have something like really, really important to take care of for one of my classes,” the words tumble out in a rush, your cheeks burning at lie, but you honestly weren’t expecting to come face to face with Minho so many times in a matter days.

“Hey Jisung, do you mind cleaning up after you guys are done? Please.” You shoot the other boy a desperate look, and his eyes go round, looking in between you and Minho, who remains at the threshold. He gives you a subtle nod, and you take it as your chance to escape, hastily slinging your bag over your shoulder.

You feel Minho’s eyes on you while you brush past him and out the door, wondering why you’re the one shivering when he’d been caught in the rain.

. . .

“Jisung, is it?” Minho sees the boy jump at the sound of his voice, his chair nearly toppling over from the shock. He looks in between a flustered Jisung, to the other two guys, who are equally surprised, their mouths hanging open.

It’s times like these where Minho remembers he’s not just any normal guy. Being a player for the Stray Kids came with its own headaches. He’d never gotten used to the stares. Or people becoming tongue-tied around him.

But you hadn’t been like that, he recalls. Talking to you had been easier than making a catch, the way your eyes lit up underneath the dim lights of the party and how your bubbly laugh remained burned in his memory for the entire summer.

Minho wants to laugh at the thought of him hung up over some girl he’d fucked one time, but nothing could have matched the cold feeling that washed over him the moment he’d woken up to find you gone, the bed empty. And he found himself actually missing it - not the sex, but everything else. The laughing, the people watching, the inside jokes.

Damn it, he was turning soft for you.

He stalks over to Jisung and his friends, plopping into the chair across of them. The three of them remain frozen in place, stiff as a board, and Minho lets out a loud groan.

“What do you want?” He raises an eyebrow, a smirk pulling at his lips when he sees the taller one cross his arms over his chest in an attempt to look intimidating.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you want like, tickets to the game, fake IDs, weed? I can hook you up.”

“F-frat parties,” the younger one elbows him, voice barely above a whisper. “Tell him we want in on the parties.”

“The bigger question is, what do you want? I mean, why are you even talking to us?” “Can’t a dude just be nice to other dudes?” Minho grins, but the tall one is unwavering. He looks over to the one whose name he actually knew, Jisung, and judging by the way his eyes are still wide as saucers, and the manga he’s clutching to his chest, Minho knows he’s found a target who’ll fold.

“Is that Spy x Family? I love that one.”

“Y-you do?”

“Yeah, I actually have all the volumes in my room? You could always come by if you wanted to borrow one.”

“I could?”

“Hmmm, only if I get to ask for your help with something.” “Anything!” the youngest one pipes up again, choking when the tall one hits him in the back. “We’ll do anything.”

And suddenly, Minho sees his in – these three dorks. Who despite knowing you for even less time than he has, have somehow managed to win over your heart. And he’d be next.

“Well, let’s start with introductions first of all…”

The 8am walk to your psychology class was one of your favourite parts of your schedule this semester. Campus was just waking up, birds were chirping, and you had time off to just think before getting swallowed by a sea of schoolwork and RA responsibilities. Except lately, your thoughts had been running wild - Minho in every corner, his tired, rain-soaked figure the other day making him look like a wet cat. A very cute wet cat.

You didn’t want to go down the rabbit hole of what it meant for him to show up like that – you didn’t want it to mean anything at all. The simple fact was that guys like Minho, and the rest of his teammates, barely ever gave a damn about anything that wasn’t pratice or their loud ragers. But he’d actually made an effort.

Namjoon will be so happy I’m getting the team involved in dorm life, you stupidly rationalize the warm, fizzy feeling in your chest. I’ll have something to be proud of.

Trudging up the hill that takes you from the dorms to the heart of campus, you look through the cover of trees, the faint rays of sun peeking through them. In the crisp morning air, they look beautiful, and you sigh happily to yourself. You could romanticize this morning walk, even if your actual romantic life was in shambles.

You close your eyes for a bit, having committed the path to memory, and walk, walk, walk until suddenly — you’re colliding into a hard object, falling backwards through space. Before you can feel the impact of the ground, an arm is reaching out to steady you. A lean, muscular arm, filled with veins. Looking up through the sunlight, you see Minho’s face looking down at you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, a soft smile on his lips. “Why were you walking with your eyes closed?”

“Crap, you weren’t supposed to see that,” you turn away in shame. Were you going to be doomed to a whole school year of embarrassing yourself in front of him?

“Hey, I’m not judging,” he holds up his phone, and you can’t help but laugh. A cat video is playing on the screen. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

“Thanks for catching me.”

“It’s kind of what I do,” he chuckles, another reminder of who he is. And who you are.

“Oh yeah.”

You don’t remember when you started moving again, but somehow, he’s right alongside you, facing backwards yet still matching you stride for stride. Looking around, you breathe in relief when you spot no one else around – being seen with Minho would definitely have people talking, and you weren’t sure if you could handle that right now.

“Can we talk about what happened over the summer?”

Minho’s voice is tinged with something you can’t pinpoint, taking on a weird sort of lilt. Could he possibly be nervous? Then again, what reason would he have to be nervous? He wasn’t the one with an entire reputation on the line right now.

“There isn’t that much to say, Minho. It shouldn’t have happened. I should have known better.”

Minho narrows his eyes at your statement, clearly taken aback.

“Oh my god, please don’t tell me you feel guilty because we live on the same floor now. There’s no way you could have known! I’m not holding it against you. Let me make it up to you – maybe we can have another shot, hopefully more sober this time.”

In your head, you know he’s right, and that you’re being completely irrational. But wouldn’t starting something now also be irrational, and falling into that very same trap you’d worked so hard to avoid.

“Look Minho, I’m really grateful that you forgive me. I know it was an asshole move, just disappearing like that. But whatever this is, I can’t do it right now. I promise if we run into each other I’m not gonna sprint off in the other direction, but I can’t date you. I can’t date anyone right now.”

You watch the way his shoulders completely deflate, rustling his backpack over his shoulder. More and more students have begun to slip out of their dorms, joining you on the main campus quad, and you know the conversation is over. For now.

“Hey,” you whisper softly, watching Minho jump slightly at the sound of your voice. “Isn’t your econ class the other way?”

“Nah,” Minho stutters, and you watch his cheeks tinge red. “I dropped it. I’m taking a new one - fermentation sciences.”

“Fermentation sciences?”

“Yeah, you know in this economy, I wanted to learn how to brew my own alcohol,” he looks wistfully over at the science building. “I should probably get going.”

You watch him retreat wondering why you felt such a crushing wave of sadness when you’d been the one to shut it down in the first place.

. . .

Fuck! He was late. Minho knew he should have spent more time on cardio this summer, his heart pounding in his chest as he ran the other way across campus to the business building.

While part of him was relieved by your assurance that you harboured no bad feelings toward him after everything that him, another part of him was deeply unsettled. For some reason, he couldn’t let it end like this, the two of you just being people who resorted to acknowledging each other with a wave across campus.

The thought bothers Minho all through his econ class, and through football practice, Changbin’s obnoxious chuckle echoing in his ear.

“Fermentation Sciences? Really, dude?”

“Stop laughing, punk,” Minho grumbles. “It’s not like you could have come up with anything better.”

For all they knew, Minho was shamelessly flirting with the girl next door, and failing miserably. They didn’t know any of the history between you two - and Minho wanted to keep it that way, or else he’d never hear the end of it from his roommates.

Changbin grunts, his pass landing a little harder than usual. Minho makes the catch, the air wooshing out of his lungs.

“Lino,” Chan’s stern captain voice echoes from behind him. “It’s our final year. Are you really sure you won’t get distracted by this?”

Minho sighs. He knew that this final season hinged on him having his head on straight - if not for his sake, for his teammates’. While he and Hyunjin had jobs waiting for them after graduation, Chan and Changbin were trying to make a career out of football.

“Yeah dude, it’s nothing I promise.”

Defeat sinks into his bones, realizing that maybe you were right. Perhaps there wasn’t time to be distracted by anything, or anyone this year. Yet, as he strips off his jersey and slumps onto the players’ bench, he mellows in the one part of your statement that had given him a fraction of hope.

You hadn’t said “never”, just “not right now.”

“Remind me why we’re here again?” Hyunjin groans, chewing the tip of his pen. In the corner, a group of students fall into hushed whispers at the sight of Stray Kids’ running back and tight end, hunched over pieces of paper.

“Stop acting like you didn’t take an entire class on 18th century poetry last year and help me figure out what rhymes with perfect,” Minho shoves the end of the pen into his arm.

“Imperfect,” Hyunjin counters. “What the hell are you doing anyway? I thought we were supposed to be colouring for stress relief.”

“None of your goddamn business, Hwang,” Minho shuffles his paper towards himself, scribbling down the word, only to cross it out ten seconds later.

“Are you, are you writing a poem?” Hyunjin’s eyes go wide at the various words scribbled on Minho’s sheet. Beautiful, delicate, exquisite, perfect. A faint smirk tugs at his lips.

Minho himself never thought he’d see the day where he put pen to paper in hopes of wooing someone, but it seems life had other plans. Because ever since you’d basically told him there was no chance of anything happening between you, it had made him unable to keep thoughts of you out of his mind.

He wondered sometimes if he was chasing his own ego, going after you just because you weren’t interested in him. But as he dwells on it more, he couldn’t remember the last time he was this determined to win someone over.

“I have questions, many of them,” Hyunjin starts. “But I’ll start with one? Is this about–”

He flicks his head towards the front of the room, where you’re hard at work on your own drawing. Your sweater looks beyond soft and cosy, bringing out the colour of your eyes, and Minho feels a weird pang inside his chest when he hears you giggle; Jisung, Seungmin and Jeongin right next to you.

Those fucking punks. They were supposed to be helping him, and instead they were crowding around you? He’d probably have to cave and finally entice Jeongin with an exclusive invite to a frat party if he ever wanted things to work in his favour.

“God, I having to fucking text Changbin about this,” Hyunjin drawls, only to yelp when his phone is swiped out of his hands.

“Send that text and you’ll wish I never looked in your direction, Hwang.”

“My question is when?” Hyunjin looks between you and Minho, lines of confusion marring his face, until realization dawns on him.

“Holy fuck? She’s the one? From this summer? I knew it!”

Minho feels like sinking into his chair and rueing the day he ever ran into Hyunjin on the way to try-outs, but he musters a weak nod.

“___? RA ____?”

“Will you quit asking questions?” Minho continues to scribble, growing frustrated when his pen begins to run out of ink, the four pages of ideas he’d come up with staring him dead in the face.

“Well you’re never gonna win her over if you keep comparing her lips to cherry cough medicine.”

“What would you suggest dumbass?”

“Maybe fucking cherries instead?” Hyunjin grabs the paper from him, shaking his head in exasperation. “Next time you want to pull this shit for a girl, please come to me first.”

“Hoping there won’t be a next time,” Minho looks over at you with a heavy sigh, watching the way Seungmin leans in close to point out something on his page to you.

“Just you watch and wait,” Hyunjin grabs the pen from him, and gets to work.

. . .

“Let me know if you’ll think about it,” Seungmin waves to you from across the room, clearing out with Jisung and Jeongin in tow, and you happily go back to colouring the bunny you’d started. Funny enough, the stress of the last few weeks had melted away, you and Felix easing back into your routine of daily dinners together in the dining hall. Along with new friends - the three younger boys inviting you over to their dorm for movies and video games.

A cough interrupts your thoughts, and you look up to see Minho stop in front of your table, awkwardly bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Guilt fills your chest when you realize you hadn’t even said hi to him, despite knowing he’d come with Hyunjin in tow the moment the previously quiet room had erupted into a faint din.

“Hey,” you smile up at him, hoping it’ll put him (and you) at ease. “Thank you so much for coming.”

“No problem, uh, thanks for hosting,” Minho scratches the back of his neck, and you notice the piece of paper crumpled into his other fist.

“Did you have fun?”

“Fun? Oh yeah! It was super fun! I felt really calm,” the words spill out of Minho’s mouth awkwardly, and he’s begun to bounce on the soles of his feet.

“Are you sure it was calming? You can give me honest feedback you know. I won’t be offended.”

“Oh yeah, you know, I actually just remembered I have to go, but I wrote something down on this paper and it’s for you!” Minho launches the piece of paper at your desk before scurrying out of the room. Craning your neck, you see him run to Hyunjin in the hall, who claps him on the back.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you unfurl the paper, eyes widening when you see the exact “feedback” Minho had left.

It takes everything within you not to laugh - the rhyme scheme is completely off, there are random flowery words that definitely look like they were pulled from the dictionary app, and the poem cuts off abruptly with a scribble. Yet somehow your heart is warm at the thought that Minho had sat there for an hour putting this together. For you.

Perhaps you’d underestimated Lee Minho after all.

“I wonder whose idea it was to load a bunch of college-age kids dressed in stiff-ass clothes onto a bus that’s going who knows where, and to not even have alcohol to compensate” you mutter, smoothing over the skirt of your dress, the chilly winter air sending goosebumps down our spine.

“Don’t let the feds hear you say that, miss RA, but to answer your question, probably some prick at Oxford or something,” Seungmin appears by your side, offering up his jacket. You politely decline, grateful that he offered but also that he doesn’t press. Accepting his jacket would be too much of a romantic gesture for… whatever this was.

“Just two friends hanging out,” Seungmin had reassured you when he’d asked you the other week… the same week you’d received the poem from Minho. The same one that has your heart doing backflips when you even think about it. The same one that’s currently smushed between the pages of your planner, bringing a smile to your face every time you open it.

You shake your head… trying to dispel thoughts of Minho from your mind. Seugmin was your date tonight. He deserved to have your attention. You deserved to not turn it into a miserable time for both of you because you couldn’t sort out anything in your life.

The bus ride helps take your mind off him, Seungmin happily chattering to you about how his year is going so far, and you stave off the chill all the way until the two of you get inside.

Unfortunately, that’s where it all goes downhill. Because the music is too loud, and there are too many bodies crowded on the floor, and you remember that going as dates involves, well actually acting like dates.

A few of Seungmin’s friends from the photography club find him in no time, suddenly swooping the two of you into the middle of the floor, and you’re led down a well-meaning, but incessant line of questioning. Seungmin shoots you an apologetic smile, happy to take the brunt of it for most of you, but it leaves an uncomfortable feeling in your chest nonetheless. Seungmin doesn’t say anything when you drift away quietly, leaving him with his buddies, and find yourself flitting at the fringe of the crowd. An eerie feeling crosses you, one that reminds you of the last time you were in this situation. Only this time the outcome wouldn’t be the same, because Minho wasn’t here.

Mere months ago, you would have been fawning over the experience of finally attending a formal with a date, feeling like you were coming closer and closer to making the memories you craved. But you realized now that those had been empty hopes. Because memories weren’t about the experiences, but the people you shared them with. And you couldn’t deny what you and Minho had shared.

You don’t even realize you’ve stumbled outside until you’re plopping down onto a bench, hugging your knees to your chest, while fresh tears coat your eyelashes. A soft pair of footsteps echo behind you, and you turn to see Seungmin next to you, taking a seat.

“Y-you should go back inside,” you stutter, even more guilt settling in. “I’m sorry for being such an asshole and ruining your night.”

“Hey, you’re not an asshole. And I meant what I said, I didn’t expect anything from you, just two friends hanging out. But now you’re crying.”

Silence falls between you, and you think about how lucky you are to have a friend like Suengmin. Him, and Felix, and Jisung, and Jeongin. How much they care for you.

“You know,” Seungmin interrupts. “He’s not a bad guy. Lee.”

You whip your head around at Seungmin, not expecting him, of all people, to bring up Minho at a time like this. How did he even know him?

“Oh shush,” Seungmin sees the perplexed look on your face. “He comes over sometimes to watch anime. He’s pretty cool. He even said Jeongin might have a shot at trying out for the team next year.”

“What is my life?” you groan out loud.

“I’m just saying, maybe you’re doing too much, trying to fight whatever it is you feel. Maybe he could be worth it. But you didn’t hear that from me.”

“I think what I need to do is catch the early bus back to campus,” you grumble, before softening. “You’ll be okay without me?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine, don’t miss me too much,” Seungmin grins. “Just sleep on it.”

“In your dreams, Kim.”

You’re bounding off the bus faster than the driver can open the door, silently cursing yourself for not bringing a jacket, or at least stealing Seungmin’s. The straps of the way-too-high heels you’d chosen dig into your feet, sure to blister and leave you groaning the next morning, but to be fair, the headache had started long before you’d left your dorm room tonight.

It had started the moment Lee Minho had strolled through the door at that very first meeting, and secured a permanent spot dwelling inside your mind. And now he was befriending everyone you were friends with? You shiver at the potential implications of what Seungmin had revealed at the formal, surprised to find feelings lingering other than sheer annoyance.

The wind nipping at your heels, you set off down the campus path, empty save for a few poor souls leaving the library after a study session, until you’re at the campus green, the large fountain that lights up the way to your dorm in plain sight. You feel relief overtake you at the sight, grateful that you could soon unwind and collapse onto your bed, given you had thinking to do. Lots of thinking.

You’re almost across, the gurgling of the fountain audible in the distance, when a shadow emerges from the path to your right. A lone, slim figure in a blue letterman jacket, a large “S” emblazoned on the front. You think nothing of it until you see the accompanying “25 Lee” on the back, and suddenly you freeze. Only he does too, at the exact same time.

You wonder if it’s too late to duck behind a bush, hiding under the cover of darkness, until you remember that near the fountain is the most well-lit area within a few hundred yards, the rest of the winding path completely blacked out. And Minho is already walking in your direction, even though you both know the way to the dorm is behind him.

He’s clad in sweatpants, his hair damp with sweat, and you wonder why he’s not freezing at this hour. But he’s probably looking at you and wondering the same thing.

“___, hey,” he shouts out, the grin on his face growing when he actually looks at you, his jaw hanging open. “Wow, uh, you look good. Fancy event?”

“Oh yeah a date. I mean a formal. I mean I went to a formal. As a date. With Seungmin.”

Immediately, the grin fades, and Minho’s eyes grow impossibly dark. There’s a strange fluttering in your chest, and you’re overcome with the urge to clarify that it wasn’t a real date, that it didn’t mean anything, but nothing comes out, your throat impossibly dry.

“Oh yeah, he mentioned something about that.”

“Yeah. I guess even RAs need to let loose once in a bit.”

“Did you? Let loose?” Minho raises an eyebrow, and you know that he knows that it’s too early to be wandering around campus, given most buses don’t come back until after midnight.

“You caught me.”

“I told you, I’m good at that.”

Minho gestures to a bench, right in front of the fountain. You know you should say no, that you should run to the safety of your dorm. Because somehow, when you’re around Minho, the control you have comes crashing down. You feel reckless and effervescent, and you wonder if being drunk when you met him was to blame.

When you take the seat next to him, you watch him smirk, and that’s when you realize the bench he’d picked out was the tiniest one, meaning you had no choice but to be pressed up right against him, feeling the warmth that emanates from him. You shiver again, hoping the cold can cover for you.

“You cold?” Minho’s voice is a low rumble, moving to slip his jacket off his shoulders.

“No, no I’m fine—”

He’s throwing it around you before you can finish protesting, his warm sandalwood and cedar fragrance enveloping you, and you burrow into it. Beside you, you can feel Minho’s faint breath fan against your neck, and you flush, turning away to look above you.

“It’s pretty out tonight, isn’t it?” You point above you. “You can see the stars.”

“Yeah, it is,” Minho’s voice is a heavy sigh, and you turn to find he’s not looking above at all. His dark eyes bore right into yours, a whole universe of emotion trapped within their depths, and you feel the fluttering in your chest begin again.

His warm hand skims softly against your cheek, and you stop it with your own, pushing him away.

“Minho… what’s happening? What is this? Because if this is some kind of ego trip, or some sick joke with your teammates…”

“Can’t you see, damn it?” Minho’s expression turns dark, shadows dancing on his face. “I like you, ___. Ever since you walked out of that room this summer, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I keep running it over and over in my head, wondering what I could have done to fuck this up so badly, and how I can make it up to you every day.”

His voice is full of desperation, and you feel tears well up in your eyes at the sheer emotion captured in his rasp.

“Why?” Your voice is barely audible. “Why me?”

“I know we barely know each other, but everything I see about you, I like. The way you laugh, the quirky sweaters you wear, the way you take care of others. And everything I don’t know, I want to learn.”

Your head spins at his confession, at his earnestness, but while your heart is screaming at you to give in, your head can’t take the leap, holding you back from tumbling over the edge.

“Minho, I can’t. My job—” you watch the way his shoulders sag, knowing that you’re right. “I don’t want you to keep waiting for something that I may never be able to give you.”

“Friends then?” He squares his shoulders, his voice shaky, and you turn away, not wanting him to see the tears beginning to form in your eyes.

“Okay,” your voice is just as wobbly. Maybe it was better this way, knowing the distance would inevitably form when it was Minho’s turn to graduate next semester. This way things wouldn’t end badly - they’d just end when it was time.

“Well,” Minho stands up, offering you an arm. “As your friend, I can’t let you end what was supposed to be a fun night on a shitty note.”

He grabs your arms, slipping them into the jacket, before his hand is slipping in yours, the two of you walking up to the fountain. You know friends don’t hold hands, but you say nothing, the two of you staring at the clear water, coins glinting in its depths.

“Make a wish,” he whispers. You look up, just in time to see a star shoot across the night sky, and close your eyes, wishing for everything to work itself out.

“And now we jump.”

“We what?!—” you whip your head around, but it’s too late, Minho is pulling you into the fountain with him, the cold water chilling you to the bone. Shivering, you stand up, cheeks burning and your soaked dress clinging to your body, watching Minho shake his wet hair from his eyes.

“You. Are. Crazy,” you huff out, laughter bubbling in your throat, and his eyes are twinkling, before he joins in, the two of you laughing until you’re wheezing.

“You like it though,” he steps closer, his eyes raking over your body, heavy-lidded with desire. He leans over, almost in slow motion, your heart beating so wildly you almost forget how to breathe. You feel his lips ghost against yours, and for a moment everything is impossibly still—until laughter breaks through the silence, the voices of other students chattering behind you.

Minho is pulling away, his eyes flickering towards the voices, and you hadn’t realized you were clutching his wet shirt. You peel your soaked bodies away from one another, Minho offering you his hand to help you out of the fountain, when all of a sudden the voices soften, indicating that the students were heading in the other direction.

The walk back to the dorms is full of silence, both you and Minho trying to wrap your heads around what had happened in the fountain. It isn’t until he walks you to your door, the tormented look in his dark eyes the last thing you see before it closes behind you, that you realize you’d forgotten to give him back his jacket.

“Morning Lino,” Hyunjin pads out of his and Minho’s shared room, rubbing at his eyes. Minho grunts in response, turning his attention back to the eggs at the stove.

“You know some kid named Yang?” Hyunjin asks through a mouthful of cereal. “Came up to me the other day and said he couldn’t wait to sit in on our practice.”

Minho recalls his conversation with the eager freshman, who was bouncing up and down at the thought of being considered for the football team next year. Of course, what Jeongin didn’t know was that his happiness wasn’t even the cherry on top. It was seeing the dazzling smile on your face when the kid ran up to you to tell you all about it.

You’d looked over, seeing Minho lingering at the end of the hallway, and raised an eyebrow, to which he’d nodded, before promptly disappearing. This whole friendship thing was harder than he’d counted on. But he’d try his damn best.

…

An hour later, he’s watching Jeongin run lines with Changbin, pausing every few minutes to work on some throws. A small smile forms on his face - Jeongin was a nice kid. And he would have never met him if it wasn’t for you. Minho thinks back to how different life would have been if he hadn’t run into you this summer.

Even though he can’t put his finger on it, Minho feels like something’s changed. Before you, he’d never cared enough about anything to want to make an effort. Football was just something he did, relationships were something he never bothered with. Class was just class. But after meeting you, Minho wanted to be someone who was enough. Someone you could be proud of — to call a friend and maybe something more one day.

He feels the bench thud next to him, Hyunjin plopping down beside him. Hyunjin looks back and forth between him and Jeongin, realization glimmering in his eyes.

“He’s friends with her, right? Jeongin. That’s why you gave him a chance. You’re so fucking whipped.”

“If you’re gonna try to lecture me right now, please don’t,” Minho grumbles, knowing that behind Hyunjin’s sarcasm, he’s always willing to chew someone out when they’re doing something stupid. Like Minho is doing right now with you.

“That’s Chan’s job, not mine. I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

“It’s weird,” Minho blurts out, his own words surprising him. He thought he would have dropped the subject.

But he finds himself opening up about you, the way he doesn’t know why, but you just make him feel, and how he doesn’t know what to do about it. The way you hold yourself back, and he doesn’t know how to move forward, because he’d be an asshole for overstepping the boundaries you’ve so abundantly made clear. How something with you was better than nothing at all.

And Hyunjin listens, gratefully, but Minho sees how his eyes dart over to Chan and Changbin and Jeongin. The season was still young. If he wasn’t careful, things could implode, not just for the team, but for you.

He would have to find a way to figure this out. Or else, he could lose you for good.

You hadn’t meant for it all to come spilling out. One minute, you and Minho were cool, agreeing to be friends. The next, his mouth was nearly on yours, and you were confused.

And now, you’re telling everything to Felix in the middle of breakfast. It might be the lack of coffee, or the fact that he’s just naturally baby-faced but Felix is wide-eyed, unable to keep his mouth from hanging open as you recall everything, from summer to now.

When you’re finished, he crosses his arms, his eyebrows furrowing and your stomach drops. Well. You’d managed to make your roommate, also known as one of the nicest people in the world, upset with you.

“Listen, Lix, it’s not as bad as it seems,” you try to reassure him. “We’re cool now.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” Felix whines. “Does our friendship mean nothing to you?”

You feel guilty. You knew Felix was one of the first people who should have known. But honestly, you’d just bottled it up. Even Ryujin didn’t know much beyond you disappearing upstairs with Minho. You feared that the more you talked about it, the more real it would seem. Whatever it was, this thing that you and Minho had.

“I never asked to hook up with a football player Felix,” you groan, taking care to keep your voice down. “I never asked for him to be my neighbour, let alone my actual responsibility. But that’s just what it comes down to. Responsibility. I have a job to do, and being involved with Minho goes against everything that it stands for.”

“___, you’re human too,” Felix offers you the cookie from his plate, and you accept it, chomping down. “You don’t have to be perfect all the time.”

“I just thought this year would be different. I thought I’d have everything figured out, and that whatever I experienced would be fun. But now I’m just stuck with this. A mess.”

Felix’s jaw tenses, like he’s lost deep in thought.

“Do you regret it?” Panic lights your eyes at his question. Because it was one you’d never considered. You’d spent so long trying to push Minho away, creating false distance in between you two, when the reality was, it’d never existed in the first place.

All you wanted was to be closer to him. You wanted to learn the same things about him that he wanted to learn about you. You wanted to know what it would actually feel like if he kissed you in front of the fountain.

“No” you manage to breathe out with a sigh. “I don’t. But it still doesn’t change anything.”

“It could,” Felix counters.

Head spinning, you find your appetite has disappeared. You watch Felix look at you with concern as you bid him a half-hearted bye, telling him you’ll see him later.

Maybe you couldn’t lie to yourself about Minho anymore. But you couldn’t do anything about the truth except live with it.

You thought Namjoon believed in you enough to not stick you on RA duty during your birthday, but apparently not. So, you’d guiltily waved goodbye to Felix, telling him to go celebrate in your honour, and you’re curled up on the couch, notebook in hand, trying to review your reading for the week.

A few hours pass, in which you change the way you’re sitting numerous times, get up to take a water break at least every seven minutes, and are finally situated and focused enough to accomplish something, but then the thumping starts.

At first you’re confused. Was someone working out? Did the room upstairs set up a bowling alley? Both of those explanations seemed more plausible until you actually listened for the source of the noise. It was coming from right next to you.

Room 103.

You groan. Of course they’d be having a party. Midterm season had just finished, and what else did football players do on a Saturday night?

Unfortunately, that also meant it was on you to stop it. And deal with the aftermath of ruining the night for a bunch of salty students. You breathe a heavy sigh, running through countless scenarios in your head to avoid going over. You could just keep studying, maybe bake a batch of brownies. But each one of those scenarios is ruined by none other than Kim Namjoon. His voice drones on in the back of your mind, waxing poetic about how with great power comes great responsibility. The man needed to stop rewatching so many Spider-Man movies.

Setting your notebook to the side, you throw on a cardigan, shuffling over to Minho’s apartment. The cacophonous bass reverberates even from outside, and you give a timid knock, unsure if anyone will be able to hear you.

It takes a few moments, but eventually, the door swings open, the gleeful eyes of Seo Changbin taking in your presence at the door.

“I, uhm, I’m here to uh,” you barely get a sentence out before you’re being swept inside, Changbin’s bellowing laugh echoing behind you. “Look who joined us!” Changbin shouts, and a few heads turn to look in your direction. You catch a couple of questioning looks, one of them being Hyunjin, but for the most part, your presence is ignored.

“Any chance we can get you up on one of the tables?” Changbin offers you a drink, gesturing to the living room. You shake your head, backing up against wall of the entryway.

“Listen, I can’t stay, I just came to –”

“___? What are you doing here?” A voice sounds from behind you, and you turn to see Minho looking at you, shock on his face.

You gulp. You’d hoped you wouldn’t have to run into him tonight, that it would be a quick in and out. Once the party was shut down, everyone would go home in a sour mood, maybe Minho would hate you for it, and you’d be able to get over your feelings for him in peace.

“Leave her alone, Bin,” Minho chastises his roommate, who’s still trying to goad you for a drink. And then he grabs you by the hand, pulling you further into the lion's den.

The first thing you notice is the sheer heat. Not only are there dozens of bodies crowded up against each other, but it’s Minho himself. He maneuvers you through the crowd, keeping you close to him, and it makes you dizzy. Through the stench of beer and sweat, his cologne peeks through, spiking your body temperature even more.

You don’t know where Minho is leading you, but eventually you two end up near the end of the hallway, bypassing many loud conversations and couples making out, until you stumble upon a series of closed doors. Your face burns when you realize it’s their rooms.

“I need to go,” you say quickly, turning on your heel. “I shouldn’t even be here, this shouldn’t be happening.”

“Hey,” Minho rests a hand on your shoulder. “I just wanted to bring you somewhere quieter, where you wouldn’t be overwhelmed.”

“Oh,” you breathed out, heart soaring at the touching gesture. “Still, I should…”

“Can’t you stay for a bit?” Minho begs, his sparkling eyes meeting yours, and you’re unable to do anything but nod yes.

“Lee! How you doing man?” a voice bellows from far away, and you notice Mingyu, one of the forwards on the soccer team, walk up and high-five Minho, slapping him on the back. “Who’s your friend?”

Mingyu’s eyes do a once over, eyebrows furrowing at your sweatpants and cardigan, before looking quizically at Minho.

Minho draws a hand around your waist, coming to rest protectively on your hip. His palm burns through the thin fabric where your tank top ends, keeping you tight to his body.

“This is ___. If you don’t mind, we’re kind of busy.”

Mingyu rolls his eyes, smirking as he disappears in the crowd. That’s when you notice Minho’s leaning back against one of the door frames, his hand resting on the door knob.

“Wanna talk in my room?” he asks softly. And it doesn’t sound sleazy or gross. It sounds earnest. Despite the party raging around him, he hasn’t left your side since you showed up, as if he could feel the anxiety coursing through you. As if he’s telling you he’s got you.

“Or I could walk back with you to your room. Whatever you want.”

“W-we can talk,” you say nervously, fisting the side of your cardigan. Somehow, the idea of returning to your notebook seems wholly unappealing. “Just for a bit.”

“Okay,” he opens the door, leading you in.

. . .

The first thing you notice about the room is that it’s surprisingly clean. For a guy’s room anyway. There are a few stray articles of clothing strewn on the chair, but there’s also a neat stack of books, and a bunch of photo frames on Minho’s desk. One in particular catches your eye.

You pick it up, a smile breaking out onto your face at the photo of Minho, star running back, crouched up to three tiny cats.

“Soonie, Doongi, and Dori,” Minho’s voice echoes behind you. “I adopted them when I was in middle school.”

“I didn’t take you for a cat person,” you giggle.

“There’s a lot about me you don’t know,” Minho takes the frame from you, setting it back in place. His voice sounds distant, like he’s thinking too hard.

“Tell me about yourself,” you blurt out without thinking, watching Minho’s eyes widen in surprise. You realize that you barely knew anything about him, while he’d worked so hard to know you, and his words from the night of the formal echoed in your brain.

Everything I see about you, I like. And everything I don’t know, I want to learn.

You learn that Minho lives twenty minutes away, something you hadn’t expected. And that he goes home to visit his parents every other weekend, checking up on his cats. You learn football is just something he plays for fun – he’s not super serious about it like Chan or Changbin, but he stayed on the team because they’re his friends. You learn he likes fishing, but also pulling pranks on people. He’d nearly convinced Jisung that they cancelled Spy x Family the other week, and the poor boy had believed him before Minho had to chase him down with a bag of chocolate covered pretzels from the campus cafe and apologize. You learn that Lee Minho is so much more than you ever thought he could be, and that you feel more for him than you could have ever imagined, the realization giving you goosebumps.

“Hey,” Minho pokes you in the ribs. “You zoned out. Everything okay?”

No, everything was not okay. You wondered if he noticed how you’ve gone completely still next to him, your breathing shallow. Minho’s eyes have darkened, filled with an emotion you can’t possibly name, but something you want to believe in. And for once, you want to lose control, and fall off the edge together.

“Kiss me,” you whisper, your gaze dropping to his lips. Minho freezes, but doesn’t back away.

“Fuck,” he huffs, heavy breaths filling the space between you. “You sure?”

“Please,” you groan, closing the distance so your lips ghost over his. Minho finally snaps, bringing his mouth to yours, groaning against your lips. You bite back a moan as he nips your bottom lip. The sound stirs him, and with a hard squeeze to your thigh, he’s backing you onto the bed below him. Heart pounding, the look in his eyes is dangerous, sending chills down your spine.

“Let me make you feel good,” he breathes against your forehead.

You’re unable to do anything but whine in response, watching as he pushes your tank top up to undo the ties on your sweatpants, fingers digging into your hips while he pulls the fabric down, taking your underwear with it. His mouth peppers rough kisses down your throat and into your cleavage, leaving splotches of crimson and violet as he grazes his teeth in every spot his lips meet.

“Tell me you want this,” he asks, eyes searching yours.

“Yes,” you groan, head swimming. “I want this, want to feel you, please—“

Your pleas are cut off swiftly as he slips two fingers inside of you, dragging them against your walls with a low sigh.

“Fucking hell, you’re so wet. Is this all for me?”

“Only for you,” you whine, completely lost to what is coming out of your mouth.

“You’re so beautiful, fuck, been thinking about this for so long,” Minho hisses when you gush around him, arousal dripping down his wrist.

You feel yourself flutter at his words, throwing your head back while reaching over to swipe your fingers through his sweaty hair. You tug at the back of his shirt, and he pulls it over his head, his shaking hands slipping the cardigan off your shoulders and tugging the straps of your tank top down.

Looming over you, he engulfs your nipple in his mouth, and you gasp sharply when he bites down with his teeth, swirling his tongue over it quickly to soothe your reddened skin. But Minho doesn’t stop there, his lips trailing all over you, unable to stop kissing you.

It’s a thousand times stronger, more intimate than the time from the summer, the feelings that have built between you mounting and mounting until they’re an inferno.

The first press of his tongue against your folds has you squirming as you desperately rock your hips against his mouth. Your knees buckle around him as he works you with his tongue, fingers dipping lower and lower until they press right against where you need him most. Feeling a harsh suck to your clit, you moan loud enough that you’re sure that anyone who’s outside can hear you. But you don’t care, reveling in what it means to let him in.

Just as you’re about to let go and surrender yourself completely, Minho’s fingers retreat, leaving you clenching around nothing. You open your lips, ready to protest, but Minho cuts you off, stuffing his fingers inside your mouth.

“Suck,” he commands, and you’re left breathless, unable to do anything but comply while wetting the digits, tasting yourself.

“Need to see you come while I’m inside you,” Minho slips off the rest of his clothes. You feel your mouth go dry when his cock springs free, and he chuckles at the depraved look in your eyes, before pushing his cock completely inside, leaving you reeling at the stretch.

“Please, move,” you beg, and he obliges. Fucking you slowly like he never wants to forget this moment. His strong arm slips around your waist, lifting you up against his chest and his lips find yours again, tongue licking into you to steal the moans that escape you, head dizzying at the change in position.

“Minho, fuck, I’m going to come, please wanna so bad,” you whine, feeling lightheaded with ecstasy. Reaching down, Minho rubs tight circles on your clit, messy slick coating his fingers until you feel yourself snap, gushing around him.

“Cum for me ____,” he breathes against your neck.

That’s what does it, pushing you overboard, wetness gushing from you as you moan his name. Minho speeds up his thrusts to join you, groaning when he feels himself explode, before slumping against you, chest heaving with the weight of his breaths.

His sweat soaked bangs are messy, covering his eyes, and his fingertips skim across your cheek, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Stay with me?” he blurts out, head ducking in embarrassment at the silly statement. “I mean, not like that, just..”

And you sigh, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him closer to you, burying your head in the crook of his shoulder, soft breath fanning his damp skin.

Dawn spills into the room, and you sigh, careful not to wake a snoring Minho. He’d fallen asleep quickly, but you’d been unable to do the same, tossing and turning beside him. What scared you was how much regret you didn’t feel over what had just transpired. How much you wished you could just give in and let it happen again.

But you couldn’t. Not only had you completely broken the pact to be just friends with Minho, but you’d also completely forgotten about the entire reason you’d even come here last night, the forgotten responsibilities of your job weighing heavily on you.

Rising, you carefully pick up your clothes, throwing them on quickly. You feel Minho stir softly, before he’s stretching, rubbing at his eyes.

“Morning,” his voice is low and raspy, but also completely content. A sharp contrast to the torment you currently feel. “Wanna grab breakfast?”

“Minho,” your voice is bleak, and you watch his figure slump. He’d fucked up. You both had.

“Last night should have never happened. And I know that if we keep doing this, spending time with each other, it’ll happen again. But I can’t. I have a job, I have responsibilities, and they’re important to me.”

You know the words cut deep, because you also know you’d give them all up in a second to wake up to him again, to feel his lips on yours.

Minho’s expression is blank, watching you scurry around the room to pick up your stuff. You knew the moment you walked out of there, there’d be no going back, even to being friends.

It breaks your heart even more when he doesn’t move to get up and help you, watching you instead with devastated eyes.

But you also knew you couldn’t turn around and look back at him, because you’d drop everything and stay.

. . .

The sun is too bright, hurting your eyes as you walk to the dining hall, what feels like chalk settling in the back of your throat. You feel like you’re battling the worst hangover of your life, despite not having a single drink last night, and you were so grateful Felix was still asleep when you’d slipped inside.

You’d let everything slip out of control, and now your life was spiralling. For a brief moment, you wondered if you should just accept the guilt for everything, leaving Minho behind and handing in your resignation. But then you realized how stupid that sounded, leaving you with nothing.

You swing the heavy door to the dining hall open, not even noticing the figure on the other side until you’re falling backwards. You catch the door just in time, looking up to be met with the tall figure of Kim Namjoon. And he doesn’t look happy.

“___, my office, now.”

. . .

Namjoon rubs in between his eyebrows, his expression darting in between you and the door. Your heart is pounding, fear taking over, even though you already know that whatever is happening cannot be good.

“____, when I chose you for this position at the beginning of the year, it was because I saw so much potential in you,” he begins, his voice trembling. “I thought you’d never do anything to upset me, to disappoint me.”

The word disappoint tells you everything you need to know, and tears begin to prick at the corner of your eyes. Of course there would have been wandering eyes at the party last night. Of course someone would have recognized you, seen what you were doing, and said something to Namjoon. You couldn’t believe you’d been so stupid.

“Getting involved with a resident is a blatant violation of the responsibilities that have been entrusted to you as a resident assistant. Furthermore, you failed to act and de-escalate a situation that was a clear violation of the student code of conduct.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you cry out, hoping Namjoon will rethink everything. “It was a mistake. I’m sorry.”

You watch his eyes flash with hurt at your pleading, but you know from the despondency in his expression there’s nothing you can do.

“I’m sorry, ____ but I have to report this to the advisory board. They’ll deliberate, but as of right now, you’re suspended from your position, and it’s very likely you won’t be invited back next year. Karina will fill in for you in the meantime.”

He stands up, before leading you out gently. “I wish there was more I could do.”

You’re unable to say a word, slipping your coat over your shoulders and ducking your head to try to hide the tears that won’t stop flowing. You wonder if you should try harder, plead your case, but you know that the fault was entirely yours.

Looking up, you see Jisung, Seungmin and Jeongin walk into the dining hall, laughing to each other, and duck behind a corner, your appetite completely gone. Taking off, you run as fast as you can, not stopping until your feet lead you back to the dorms.

Campus in the springtime is a sea of pink - the light, delicate hue of cherry blossoms creating a canopy on the ground, filling up the pathway to the fountain. But their beauty is lost on Minho, who sits by the fountain, staring blankly at the gurgling water.

Two months. It’d been two months since you’d ended things, rushing out of his room. Two months since you’d chosen responsibility over him. Minho wanted to be angry, wanted to hate you. But he just felt empty instead.

He’d tried talking to everyone – Jisung, Seungmin and Jeongin had no idea what happened to you. Felix would only glare at him in anger from across campus, and he wonders if he’d broken your heart just as bad as you’d broken his. As if somehow that would make him feel better, knowing you were in just as much pain as him. But it didn’t.

His own teammates saw how everything ached for Minho, from him burning his breakfast to failing to catch the simplest of throws. And they were worried. But Minho couldn’t fix this – he couldn’t go back to how the two of you had been before. Because in reality, there’d never been a chance for the two of you to begin with. He realized it now. You were just too different.

And yet it hadn’t stopped him from falling in love with you. He’d finally figured it out, when it was far too late. He was in love with you – the way you made him feel alive, like the world was full of possibilities. Only for it all to come crashing down.

“Hey dude,” Chan’s soft voice comes from next to him, taking a seat on the bench. “You okay?”

“Hanging in there, old man,” Minho musters a weak smile, but it falters, and Chan immediately notices. Minho looks at his friend, who can’t stop looking around at who’s passing by, and he realizes he’s keeping a secret.

“Spill,” Minho commands, and Chan furiously nods no.

“Lino, we have our last game soon, you need to stay focused…”

“Say it,” Minho hisses through his teeth, because he knows that whatever Chan is hiding, I t’s about you.

The words come spilling out before Chan can stop them, and Minho takes them all in, everything suddenly becoming clear.

. . .

The roar of the buzzer echoes in Minho’s ear, along with the deafening sound of the crowd, and suddenly he’s being dogpiled by his teammates. Hyunjin and Changbin are screaming in his ear, the school fight song is blaring, but time slows for Minho, and he focuses on none of it.

Everything moves too quickly, the fans rushing from the stands, spilling out onto the field and campus beyond. Minho is being pushed, his heartbeat pounding in his ears, until the locker room appears behind him. He’s stripping off his jersey, hitting the showers while his teammates erupt into joy around him. Minho lets the water drip off him, bracing himself against the wall, heavy breaths escaping him.

The win didn’t feel like a win at all. Not with the guilt that resided in his chest ever since he’d spoken to Chan a week ago. Minho knew the celebrations would go all night, the liquor would keep flowing, that all bets were off and every rule could be broken. But he didn’t care about any of that.

All he knew was that tonight, while campus erupted into a riotous celebration, he needed to find you.

He ignores Hyunjin’s protests while he slips out of the locker room, Chan holding his other teammates back. Minho throws a hoodie on, and steps out into the night air.

The first thing he notices is the swarm – there are people everywhere, screams echoing in his ears. Then it’s the pandemonium - banners strewn on the ground, the blare of an air horn in the distance, the blaze of what he’s pretty sure is a firework.

People line up around him as he moves through the crowd, pushing his way through overzealous fans, and overeager sorority girls offering him a victory kiss. He throws his hood up, ducking his face so that no one else can catch him, setting off to the emptier part of campus.

Eventually, the crowd dies down as he draws closer to the dorms, everyone out celebrating on the main green. Minho walks down the path he’s become so familiar with this year, the familiar sound of the fountain welcoming him.

He knew he’d find you here. Your eyes are turned away from him as you sit on the edge, aimlessly dragging your hand through the water.

“Not gonna celebrate?” He watches you jump at the sound of his voice, quickly rising up.

“Congrats, I’m sure it was a great game,” you whisper, but you’re backing away, and Minho can’t let you leave.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Minho interrupts you, resting his arm on yours, and he watches your eyes meet his, so much pain contained within them when you realize he knows.

“It wasn’t your fault, it was mine,” you counter, looking down at the fountain.

“That’s such crap, they let you go for that?”

“They let me go because I broke the rules, Minho. I deserved it.”

Minho lets out a heavy sigh, watching you shiver in the cold, and he slips off his hoodie. You dodge it, the two of awkwardly dancing around each other, before accepting it, sinking into the feeling of Minho’s warmth.

“You’ve gotta stop letting me steal your jackets, I’ve already got a rap sheet,” you joke, but Minho doesn’t smile.

“I’m so fucking sorry, ___.” He says looking out onto the campus. “We really fucked things up, didn’t we?”

“Maybe this is how it was supposed to be,” you tell him. “You know, I was reading up on things, for my astronomy class and I learned that sometimes, when stars collide, they just collapse into dust. Like nothing else happens – they’re together one moment, and then gone the next, the remnants of their collision floating through the universe.”

Minho watches your breath come out in heavy puffs, and his mind wanders back to the stars on the night he’d almost kissed you in the fountain.

“Can I have one more thing to remember you by then?” He asks, intertwining his fingertips with yours, pulling you close to him, watching you nod before closing the distance in between you two.

Sparks explode across your skin when he kisses you, your hands swinging around his neck. You sway from the wash of emotions that come over you, and Minho’s hands are there, steadying you as you break apart, rubbing his cheek against yours and pressing tiny kisses all the way from your temple to your hair.

Eventually, the sound of the crowd draws closer, and Minho watches you pull away, holding out his hoodie in his hands. Taking it, he watches you retreat, wondering if there’d ever be a time where the universe would let you find each other again to pick up the pieces.

Sighing, you tape up the last box, pushing it to the side before collapsing on the couch. The end of the semester had come quickly after the raucous football celebrations, everyone in campus on a high.

Surprisingly, you’d dealt with the pain pretty well, settling into a new routine after being let go. Felix had been your biggest support, allowing you to cry into his shoulder as much as you wanted, baking plenty of brownies to keep you from descending into too deep of a depression.

Eventually, you’d learned to just let the wound scar over. The night of the game with Minho had provided you with closure in the best way possible, confirming to you that life had had its own plan for you all along. Thought, from time to time, you mind still lingered on the kiss the two of you had shared – for a moment, you’d thought that it could have meant something, but maybe that was your lesson – learning to take things as they were, because the more expectations you’d had, the more things fell apart.

A gentle knock interrupts your train of thought, and you walk over to the door, opening it up to find none other than Namjoon on the other side. Confused, you let him in, silence falling in between you while you wait for him to speak.

“____, I’m so sorry, Minho told me everything,” Namjoon blurts out, and his words have you reeling. What did he mean?

“He told me how he was the one to overstep the boundaries of your job and how you tried to stop it, I knew I shouldn’t have doubted you. The board says you can stay on for next year!”

You remain frozen in place, unable to speak or even think, before the overwhelming urge to find Minho comes over you.

“Namjoon, I’m sorry but I need to go right now.”

And then you rush out the door.

. . .

The door to room 103 is propped open with a six-pack, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes as you barge in, Hyunjin’s surprised figure greeting you right behind the door.

“_____? What the hell?”

“No time to talk, Hwang,” you push past him. “Where is he?”

“Where is who?”

“You know damn well who I’m talking about.”

Hyunjin pauses, before nodding his head towards Minho’s room, the subtle smirk never leaving his face as he watches you bound towards the door.

“LEE MINHO!” your shrill voice causes Minho to drop the book he was packing on his foot, and you smile as you watch him jump around, swearing under his breath.

“____? What are you doing here…”

“How dare you!” Minho groans when you punch him in the arm. “I cannot believe you did that.”

“Damn it, I swore that Namjoon man to secrecy,” Minho chuckles, a whoosh of air leaving him when you suddenly throw your arms around him, burying your face into his neck. “You. Are. Crazy,” you whisper into his hair, feeling him smile against you while he pulls you closer, rubbing his hands on your back.

“You like it though,” he smirks.

“I love it,” you correct him, watching his grin go from tentative to ear-splitting. “Namjoon said you were suspended from the team though. I’m confused, isn’t this your last semester?”

“Well,” Minho blushes. “I may have to stay an extra one. Just to sort everything out, you know.”

“Jeongin will be so thrilled to have you on the team with him,” you giggle, kissing the corner of his mouth.

“And you?”

“I’m gonna need a re-do of that love poem you wrote me. Byron would be rolling over in his grave.”

“I don’t know who the hell that is.”

“Good thing you have time to learn then.”

“So,” Minho grabs your hand nervously. “My parents brought Soonie, Doongi and Dori with them. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to introduce them to my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” you ask him.

“Oh I’m sorry would you prefer twin planet? Or shining star?”

“Watch it Lee.”

Minho wastes no time dragging you out the door with him, Hyunjin waving the two of you off. Stepping out into the sunshine, you see two figures in the distance waving to Minho, and you smile, the collision that had once steered you off course finally leading you and Minho back on the path where you both belonged. With each other.

a/n pt. 2: they are so getting married btw! As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

tagging: @mal-lunar-28

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tragedyofdevotion · 4 months ago

Text

Undertaking

Sagau

Yandere Zhongli x reader, Oc x reader

What does power mean to a feeble worshipped?

What does love mean to a impenetrable devotee?

What does loss mean to a modest darling?

The morning sun pours its light on the marble floor of the sanctuary, reflecting the well-polished beauty of its beige to the resounding hall. The pillars supporting the council hall, carved with intricate patterns of Glaze Lily, boast the Geo Archon's handicraft and his endless dedication toward the creator of all.

In the innermost center of the assembly hall, stood proudly, is the imposing throne, decorated with the purest of Cor Lapis and Noctilucos Jade which are assembled tastefully.

In front of the throne, kneels the gifter of all those offerings, with a frown apparent on his handsome countenance.

"Your Grace," he begins as he looks up to your trembling position in your throne. "You must decide, as a ruler and a god, as a being who watch over the people." His golden eyes as they look at you is soft and kind, unbefitting of the topic coming from his mouth.

"But Morax, I have already told you that I will not permit it. Nothing you say will change my mind."

Despite your determined answer, he continues, "I understand that your kindness is a virtue that is a blessing to Teyvat. However, you are someone who stands above others. Your decisions should depend not on your emotions but on the necessity."

Normally, you would have granted him all his wish if he insisted this much. However, you cannot budge easily, not this time. "But he didn't nothing wrong. All he did was fulfilling my wish of wanting a friend."

"And that, Your Grace, that, in itself, is presumptuous. A mere mortal should know their place."

"Morax, he is not a mere mortal. He is someone I regard as my equal. You should know well that insulting him is equal as insulting me."

Morax's expression, which remained calm the whole conversation morphs into a big frown at the mention of your acknowledgment for the man.

"Your Grace, you may have created this world but you are so ignorant of the ways of life in it, aren't you? There surely is no one equal to you. I grantee that as the being eldest in this world."

The topic is getting nowhere and even the ever collected Morax is showing signs of agitation.

"Your Grace, the man, Yang'asha, is a native of Liyue. It is well within my authority, given to none other than yourself, to judge my own people. I have also gained agreement from Qixing who also bears the same opinion as me on the man's punishment. So, his execution is already decided."

It is quite ironic that despite calling you his deity, he does nothing to follow your command.

That was the reason why you valued your friend so much, a man with a kind smile and a soft heart. In this world filled with your so called acolytes, who worshipped your form but refused to listen to your voice, he was the only one who treated you sincerely. A man who flustered easily when you teased him, who nodded shyly when you confessed him, and who hugged you tightly when you spent the night with him, he was the man who you were blessed to have as a lover.

That is the same man who is on the brink of death because of your devotee.

"Are you making me beg you, Morax? To kneel down and kiss your feet the same way you swore to worship me. Because if that is what I need to do to make you let him live, I will do so. Whatever contract you will bring out, I am ready to sign. Because nothing in Teyvat matters to me more than Yang'asha."

You know you are being very daring to say such words to the God of Contracts. But you have no choice left. You have neither the authority nor the strength to go against him so all you can do is beg for his mercy.

"Please Morax, please, let him live."

You stand up from your throne and walk towards where the Archon is kneeling and kneel down in the same manner. You then lower your head until it is touching the marble of the floor.

You do not look up until you hear his deep voice of "Shall we make a contract?"

........

When Yang'asha wakes up, he realizes he is in a room in the Wanshu Inn. At his bedside, stands a little man with green tattoos.

"Are you awake? Great to see your injuries healing well."

"Are you the one who saved me from the strange domain? Thank you. Ahhh..!" Yang'asha winces from pain as he gets up from his bed. "Where is the man with golden eyes who was hurting me? I should inform millelith about him. He is a monster unseen or unheard of before."

"Monster?" The short stranger frowned.

"Well, you have seen my injuries. There is no way a human can hurt another this much, and they are done without the intention to kill. Not even the notorious fatui can be this inhumane."

"Where are you going?" Seeing Yang'asha heading to the door, in spite of his wounds, the green-head asks.

"To Liyue harbour." The youth replies, smiling.

"You shouldn't go." The little man says with a difficult expression on his face.

"I am sorry but my girlfriend, Y/n, must be worried sick when I disappeared without any word. You will always be here, right? I will come again to thank you properly."

Passing by the Guili Plains, the youth aims for Liyue harbour where his beloved will be waiting in her solidarity palace. And as he reaches the bridge in front of Feiyun Slope, he sees the harbor he grew up in is in a festive mode full of red decorations everywhere.

He goes to the millelith positioned at the bridge to inquire about the out of season festival.

"Sir, sorry to interrupt but may I know why is Liyue harbour being so lively?"

At his question, the millelith looks at him like he has grown two heads.

"You do not know? Where have you been this whole time?! Today is the precious day you will have a chance to catch the profile of Your Grace, the creator."

Y/n is going out in front of public? That is strange. There is no one as introverted as you. He thinks to himself.

"Thank you, Sir, for answering."

"No problem. If you go now, you can still see the procession. Hurry up. I would be running now if I did not have my duty."

Yang'asha thanks the kind millelith once again and leave. He wants to see you as soon as possible too.

As he hurriedly goes up the stairs of Feiyun Slope, he finally sees you, you in your red hanfu being carried away by a carriage. Unlike what the millelith said, he cannot see your face as a red veil covers it. But Yang'asha who knows you like no other could tell from your eyes that you are certainly not in a festive mood.

That is when he notices there is a man beside you, in equally red attire, with a contented smile on his face, that is complete opposite of your own sad expressionm. The golden eyes that are scarily familiar to the ones Yang'asha knew shines under the sun light.

At that moment, Yang'asha heard from the onlooker beside him that "To think our Archon has never left us. And to think Your Grace would choose him as their spouse. There is surely no greater honor for us Liyue citizens than the great fortune this wedding has given us."

No. No. No. No. No. No. This can't be true.

#genshin impact #yandere genshin impact #genshin sagau #sagau #genshin impact sagau #sagau reader #yandere morax #morax x reader #zhongli x reader #yandere zhongli x y/n #yandere morax x reader #yandere zhongli x reader #yandere zhongli

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lacharapita · 7 months ago

Text

ᴇɴᴢᴏ ᴠᴏɢʀɪɴᴄɪᴄ

Inspirado em

Dê

Miranda Kassin & Andre Frateschi

(Link da música tá ali em "dê" lindas)

{Mas confesso que escrevi mais pelo vídeo do Vladimir Brichta recitando essa no ouvido da Adriana Esteves [cliquem aqui porque vocês não vão se arrepender]}

Smut / confort - Enzo Vogrincic x female OC! Lucía Scarone

Sex, oral [F! Receiving], comfortable

relationship, love love love!

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

"𝐃𝐞 𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐫

𝐃𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐱𝐚𝐨"

— Os corpos enrolados um no outro, as cobertas floridas espalhadas sobre o colchão que sustentava os dois. Enzo e Lúcia dormiam tranquilamente naquele nascer de manhã de outono. A temperatura agradável o suficiente para permitir que os dois continuassem agarrados como se fossem um. Enzo abriu os olhos suavemente quando sentiu um feixe de luz iluminando o quarto pintado em azul. Lúcia ainda dormia um sono gostoso em seus braços, sua respiração fraca e quente chegava em seu peito, fazendo com que Enzo se arrepiasse por inteiro. Ele não se atreveria a acordar ela. Não agora. O olhar dele demonstrando amor, demonstrando paixão. Demonstrando tudo, tudo que ele sentiu, sentia e sentiria por ela.

"𝐃𝐞 𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚

𝐃𝐞 𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚"

— Lucía chorou baixo quando as investidas dele dentro dela ficaram demais. Pediu por favor, com desespero em sua voz, para que ele deixasse ela atravessar aquela enorme onda de prazer. Suas mãos seguraram a parte de trás da cabeça de Enzo, onde os cabelos levemente molhados com o suor estavam, puxando-o até que os lábios úmidos dela chegassem perto, até demais, do ouvido dele. Sussurrando, implorando, a voz fraca e dengosa fez Enzo vacilar em seus movimentos. "Dentro de mim." Ele choramingou. Os olhos escureceram. O quarto ficou mais quente. As mãos adornadas com anéis de Lucía acariciaram os cabelos dele enquanto as mãos dele buscaram segurar o corpo dela ainda mais firme. Com uma última investida profunda, ele lhe deu o que ela havia pedido. "Dentro de você."

"𝐃𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐳𝐞𝐫

𝐃𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐠𝐨"

— A lixa de unhas que ela usava foi jogada no chão do banheiro. Talvez estivesse debaixo da pia, talvez perto do chuveiro, não importava. Enzo, vestindo apenas uma toalha branca enrolada em seus quadris, se mantinha ajoelhado entre as pernas de Lucía. A morena de cabelos rebeldes gemia, o prazer oral que lhe estava sendo proporcionado era demais. As mãos seguravam os cabelos escuros de Enzo, pedindo de forma silenciosa para que ele nunca saísse daquele lugar. Enzo era a chama que derretia a tinta da pintura extraordinária que ela era. O calor do banheiro tornava a pele de Lúcia levemente úmida e avermelhada. As mãos grandes de Enzo deslizavam pelas coxas torneadas dela, puxando-a o mais perto que ele conseguia. E parecia que ele sempre conseguia deixar mais perto. Os olhos dele estavam sempre no rosto dela, observando cada detalhe do que ele estava fazendo ela sentir. Os lábios entre abertos, olhos fechados, pele tintada em um vermelho suave, respiração pesada e um leve tremor em suas pernas.

"𝐃𝐞 𝐮𝐦𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐚

𝐃𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐡𝐨"

— A luz fraca do sol de fim da tarde iluminava os dois. Sobre a canga colorida, Enzo e Lúcia, deitados olhando para o céu, ouviam o barulho das ondas. Os silêncio não era constrangedor, era confortável e tranquilo. Para Lucía, tudo com Enzo era confortável e tranquilo. A brisa suave fazia com que pequenos e milhares de grãos de areia se juntassem com seus fios de cabelos. Enzo preferiu olhar para sua visão favorita: Lucía. A moça parecia encantada com a cor que o céu ficava, um amarelo alaranjado de final de tarde. Logo o olhar dela encontrou o de Enzo. Um sorriso bobo surgiu nos lábios dos dois e de repente eles estavam sozinhos no mundo.

"𝐃𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐦

𝐃𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐨

𝐃𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐨"

— Lucía tinha as maçãs do rosto vermelhas. Os risos que escapavam dela eram incontroláveis e únicos, e faziam Enzo rir ainda mais. Ele continuava a contar a história hilária de sua infância, mas se desconcentrava em algumas partes porque seu olhar se perdia em Lucía. - "Mas sabe, apesar da desgraça, foi nessa história que conheci o amor da minha vida."- O sorriso bobo que surgiu nos lábios da moça fez os olhos de Enzo brilharem. Fran olhava para eles com carinho. - "Ai babaca, tão lindos juntos!"- Fran diz, o tom de deboche carinhoso em sua voz faz Lucía rir ainda mais e acaba fazendo com que Enzo a admire ainda mais.

"𝐃𝐞 𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐫

𝐃𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐚"

— O olhar desesperado de Lucía assustou Enzo. Elevadores, o maior medo da moça uruguaia. E naquele momento era a única opção para subir todos aqueles andares. – "Nena, tudo bem?"– Enzo perguntou. A apreensão em sua voz enquanto Lucía encarava as portas do elevador. Ela acenou com a cabeça e entrou no elevador o mais rápido que pode, com Enzo seguindo-a. – "Vem aqui. Vou te proteger, te prometo."– Os braços esticados indicaram o caminho que Lucía deveria seguir. Segurando os corpos com firmeza, o rosto de Lúcia estava colado no peito coberto do namorado. Os olhos fecharam com força e a respiração ficou pesada quando o elevador começou a subir. Enzo segurava o corpo menor com força enquanto sussurrava as palavras mais carinhosas que poderiam sair de sua boca, querendo demonstrar segurança para Lucía. Quando as portas do elevador se abriram Enzo deixou um beijo no topo da cabeça dela, indicando que o medo tinha chegado ao fim.

– "Te amo, nena."–

– "Te amo mais."–

"𝐃𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐚 𝐧𝐚 𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐚

𝐄 𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐚

𝐃𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚

𝐃𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐚"

— Enzo agarrou os quadris de Lucía com força. A mão descendo a curva da cintura até o quadril repetidamente. A respiração dele abaixo do ouvido dela tornava o sono da moça mais leve. Enzo, ainda meio dormindo, podia ouvir os murmurinhos suaves de Lucía, aqueles que formam palavras, especificamente o nome dele. Os olhos da uruguaia se abriram tranquilamente, sentindo-se cheia de Enzo, como se ele estivesse dentro dela. Foram poucas horas de sono, menos que duas com certeza, então ela ainda estava com a mente meio lesa, talvez de tesão, talvez de sono, talvez de Enzo. O uruguaio abriu os olhos devagar, sentindo a movimentação leve de Lucía. – "Bom dia, nena."– O sussurro foi acompanhado de beijinhos doces sendo deixados na lateral do pescoço dela.

– "Bom dia, meu amor."– Lucía diz baixo. O corpo cor de bronze se vira suavemente na cama, fazendo os rostos de ambos ficarem próximos. Lucía pensava que a qualquer momento ela podia morrer de Enzo Vogrincic. Sabe? "Ai, morreu de quê?" "De Enzo." Acompanhado de uma carinha triste. Nos pensamentos bobos do cérebro recém ligado ela pensava sobre como ele havia amanhecido dentro da cabeça dela. Como pode um homem ser o primeiro pensamento matinal de uma mulher? Lucía riu boba com seus próprios pensamentos, mas logo foi tirada de seus devaneios, sentindo o peso corporal de Enzo sobre ela. O sorriso no rosto dele juntado com o feixe de luz deixa a cena fantasiosa para ela. Nem ela conseguia acreditar o quão lindo ele era. Os fios de cabelos pretos e rebeldes adornavam o rosto dele enquanto ele olhava para Lucía, fazendo a moça levar os dedos quentinhos para colocar aqueles cabelos atrás da orelha de Enzo. Os lábios dele se aproximavam do rosto dela para deixar beijos por lá, em seguida descendo para o pescoço e colo do peito. A risada abafada dele fez cócegas em Lucía, fazendo-a rir leve. De repente Enzo se levanta da cama. Puxando as pernas nuas da morena uruguaia até que ela estivesse na beirada da cama, ele a pegou no colo rindo e olhando em seus olhos azuis. As risadas bobas dos dois foram seguindo por muitos minutos, talvez até horas. Quem liga?

Nada mais importava.

Tudo que Enzo precisava era Lucía.

Tudo que Lucía precisava era Enzo.

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

Nós mulheres lobas que temos um medo do caralho de elevador🙋‍♀️🙋‍♀️

Quase chorei escrevendo esse pq eu daria muita coisa pra ter um relacionamento assim, tipo, confortável sabe?

@imninahchan loba, lembrei de você quando escrevi esse😭😭

Sejam solidários comigo e me digam o que vocês acham da minha escrita pq sou muito insegura com ela, beijos manas💋💋

#enzo vogrincic #enzo vogrincic x reader #enzo vogrincic smut #enzo vogrincic fluff #enzo vogrincic fanfic #enzo vogrincic x you #lsdln x reader #lsdln cast #la sociedad de la nieve #the society of the snow #a sociedade da neve #fanfic #brasil #my ocs

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wolvesland · 3 months ago

Text

─── 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐘 ֪

→ Jeon Jungkook x Leitora oc

→ Palavras: 3.5K

→ Sinopse: Jungkook ficou preso por 4 anos e finalmente voltou para ver você!

→ Sugestão da autora, música: Wrong In The Right Way - Chris Brown.

AVISOS: Jungkook criminoso, smut, sexo sem camisinha, vários elogios, daddy kink, dirty talk, fluffy.

NOTAS: Pra quem pediu smut do Jungkook, me desculpem pela demora, mas eu demorei para achar uma história grande e boa. A autora demorou para responder também, por isso a demora. Mas tenho certeza que vai valer a pena esperar 😉

📌 ps:. sempre use camisinha, se proteja, se cuide, é a sua saúde que está em jogo.

📌 masterlist

📌 história original (eng) aqui 𖹭

Era sua primeira noite livre da uma sentença de 4 anos de prisão. Depois de pedir a um amigo uma carona, de carro, que o deixasse na casa dela, ele finalmente estava lá.

Preso por assalto, agressão e inúmeras outras acusações, ele finalmente estava livre e finalmente podia ver sua mulher novamente.

Seu corpo musculoso e cheio de tatuagens estava na porta dela.

— Porra. – Expirou dando uma tragada no cigarro.

Ele estava ansioso para vê-la, depois de telefonemas e cartas intermináveis durante anos. Ele a surpreendeu um dia antes.

Ele finalmente parou de pensar nisso e bateu na porta dela.

— Estou indo! – Ela desceu as escadas apressadamente, não esperando nenhum convidado àquela hora.

Ela estava de pijama, com os cabelos levemente ondulados e o rosto com pouca maquiagem, apenas com um pouco de iluminador para os olhos.

Ela abriu a porta e quase entrou em choque, fez uma pausa de corpo inteiro, praticamente sem cor no rosto quando o viu.

— Jungkook! – Ela disse gaguejando.

Os olhos de Jungkook se suavizaram ao vê-la, vendo as lágrimas, ele deu um passo à frente, a abraçando com força.

— Senti muito a sua falta, Sn. – Ele murmurou em seu cabelo.

As mãos dele subiam e desciam pelas costas dela, a segurando perto de si. Ela soluçou.

— Seu desgraçado! Por que não me avisou que tinha saído mais cedo?! Eu teria ido te buscar, teria me maquiado melhor, teria levado você para jantar. – Ela se lamentou.

Jungkook se afastou, olhando para ela com um sorriso presunçoso.

— Porque eu queria fazer uma surpresa para você, Sn. E você está perfeita assim. – Ele passou a mão pelo cabelo dela, colocando uma mecha atrás da orelha. — Finalmente cara a cara com minha rainha.

— Entra, porra. – Ela fungou. — Não vamos ficar parados aqui na porta da minha casa.

Ela o apressou a entrar. Jungkook entrou, seus olhos examinaram o apartamento.

A aparência era muito diferente da que ele se lembrava. Era muito mais moderno e um pouco feminino, mas ainda parecia um lar.

Jungkook respirou fundo, inalando o cheiro familiar do perfume dela, ele a seguiu até a sala de estar, com os olhos fixos nela enquanto ela se afastava dele. Ele não pôde deixar de sorrir.

Ele finalmente estava em casa.

— Senti muito sua falta. – Ela fungou. — Eu não planejei nada... Merda. Você deve estar com fome, certo? Está com frio?

— Relaxe, amor. Eu não esperava que você estivesse completamente pronta esta noite. – Ele a envolveu com os braços por trás, a puxando para perto de si.

— Mas sim, estou morrendo de fome. Mesmo que eu só queira sentar aqui e abraçar você. – Ele aninhou o rosto no pescoço dela, respirando seu perfume.

— Não querido, tenho que cuidar de você primeiro. Provavelmente você vai querer comer bem. A prisão deve ter sido muito dura. – Ela fez beicinho, brincando com ele.

— Sim, foi. Mas nada é pior do que ficar longe de você, baby. Você sabe disso, certo? – Ele se afastou dela, a virando de frente para ele.

Ele segurou as bochechas dela, com os polegares roçando a pele macia.

— Senti falta do seu sorriso, da sua risada, da sua atitude. De tudo, Sn.

— Senti sua falta mais do que você pode imaginar, Jungkook. – O lábio dela tremeu. — Muito.

— Eu sei, amor. A senhorita sempre fez questão de que eu soubesse. Você sempre foi a única pessoa com quem eu podia contar, mesmo atrás das grades. – Ele se inclinou e encostou os lábios nos dela.

O beijo era suave e gentil, mas continha uma profundidade de paixão que somente eles poderiam entender.

— Eu amo você.

— Eu amo você mais. Muito mais. – Ela o beijou de volta. — Eu cozinho para você. Vou lhe mostrar o nosso quarto, eu o arrumei para você!

Ela o levou para o andar de cima, o apressando devido à sua empolgação.

— Você está pronto para ver isso?

— Estou mais do que pronto, amor. Há muito tempo venho sonhando com esse momento. Senti falta da nossa cama, do nosso quarto, de tudo isso.

Ele a envolveu com os braços, a puxando para perto de si.

— Você está deslumbrante, baby. Você nunca esteve tão bonita para mim.

O quarto deles parecia mais aconchegante e relaxante. Ela comprou para ele um armário totalmente novo, cheio de roupas e calçados de acordo com o gosto dele.

— Comprei alguns cinzeiros novos para você colocar na sua mesa de cabeceira. – Disse ela. — Há alguns isqueiros lá embaixo também.

— Você está me mimando. E estou mais do que agradecido. Já posso sentir o cheiro da fumaça no ar. Você me conhece mais do que ninguém. – Ele sorriu, passando a mão sobre as roupas novas.

— Adorei o que você fez aqui, amor. Você realmente se superou para mim e eu não poderia lhe agradecer mais. – Ele acrescentou, a agradecendo mais uma vez.

— Qualquer coisa para você. Eu queria que você voltasse para casa e se sentisse confortável e relaxado. – Ela sorriu.

— Agora vá tomar banho, trocar de roupa, o que quer que precise fazer para tirar todo esse tempo de prisão da sua pele. – Ela riu. — Vou descer e preparar uma comida que vai deixá-lo bem satisfeito.

Jungkook sorriu, a puxando para um beijo profundo e apaixonado.

— Você é a melhor, amor. Eu a amo muito. – Ele sussurrou, dando um beijo suave no lóbulo da orelha dela antes de se afastar. — Descerei em um instante.

— Não tenha pressa, querido. De verdade. – Ela deu um beijo em sua bochecha, hesitante em deixá-lo enquanto caminhava até a cozinha.

Jungkook agarrou a mão dela antes que ela pudesse se afastar, a levando aos lábios para um beijo suave.

— Mais uma vez, obrigado amor, sério. – Ele deu a ela um sorriso reconfortante, apertando sua mão gentilmente.

Ela o deixou e voltou para o andar de baixo, preparando o jantar para ele.

— Estava com saudades de você! – Ela gritou da cozinha, corando e dando risadinhas de excitação.

Ela não conseguia acreditar que ele estava realmente fora da prisão.

Durante anos, ela passou todos os dias fantasiando e sonhando com a possibilidade de ele finalmente voltar a morar em casa. O fato de ele estar aqui de fato foi inovador.

Ela havia se dedicado àquele homem durante todo o tempo em que ele esteve ausente. Suas amigas tentavam incentivá-la a sair com outros homens para preencher as lacunas da ausência dele, mas ela se recusava terminantemente.

Ela teve muitas oportunidades. Era uma mulher bonita, mas nenhum outro homem poderia se comparar a Jungkook.

Ela começou a preparar uma refeição rápida e saborosa para eles comerem enquanto ele tomava banho.

Ela havia preparado a sopa de wonton para a noite em que ele chegaria, mas tinha ingredientes suficientes para prepará-la para ele hoje.

Jungkook estava no andar de cima. Ele se despiu apenas com sua camiseta branca, revelando seu corpo bem constituído e tatuado.

Ele sorriu para si mesmo no espelho, satisfeito com o quanto havia crescido durante esse tempo.

Ele ligou o chuveiro, ajustando a temperatura a seu gosto antes de entrar. Depois de se esfregar e se barbear, o que pareceu uma eternidade, Jungkook cantarolou para si mesmo ao sair do chuveiro, sentindo-se revigorado e renovado.

Ele se secou antes de enrolar a toalha na cintura e entrou na cozinha, onde estava sua namorada.

— Tem um cheiro incrível, amor, o que é? – Ele beijou a bochecha dela, se apoiando no balcão.

— Fiz uma sopa caseira de wonton com arroz. – Ela sorriu. — Você parece limpo. Alguém já está confortável em casa.

Jungkook deu um risinho.

— Com tudo o que você fez, você facilitou as coisas. – Ele sorriu quando seu estômago roncou, olhando para si mesmo.

— Vá vestir alguma roupa e secar seu cabelo. Você vai ficar doente. Eu coloquei suas roupas na cama. – Ela instruiu. — Use meu secador de cabelo no banheiro.

Ela cuidava dele e se esforçava ao máximo para sempre mimá-lo.

— Sim, senhora. – Ele sorriu, se levantando e dando-lhe um beijo suave na bochecha. — Volto já, amor.

Jungkook voltou para o banheiro, secou o cabelo e vestiu as roupas que ela havia colocado para ele. Ele se olhou no espelho e sorriu, estava avaliando a casa deles desde que chegou, ela tinha realmente bom gosto.

Ele voltou para a cozinha e passou os braços em volta da cintura dela, beijando seu pescoço e inalando seu perfume mais uma vez. Não se cansava de o fazer.

— Muito melhor não é, querido? – Ela cantarolou, perdida em seu abraço.

— Sem dúvida, amor. Você sempre me deixa melhor. – Jungkook sussurrou em seu ouvido antes de lhe dar um beijo suave e demorado.

Logo depois, quando ele ia pegar a comida que ela estava cozinhando, ela o impede.

— Não. Eu o servirei. Vá se sentar.

— Valeu. – Ele agradeceu, sem poder evitar roubar outro beijo antes de se sentar para comer com ela. — Isso tem um cheiro incrível, amor.

Ela lhe serviu a sopa junto com uma xícara de chá quente de jasmim. Colocou a tigela e a xícara dele no lado dele da mesa. Ela se serviu depois dele, sentando-se à sua frente.

— Me diga se você gosta. Muito quente, muito frio, muito apimentado, muito salgado. Qualquer coisa do gênero.

Jungkook soprou na sopa antes de pegar uma colher cheia, queimando um pouco a língua, mas não se importou. Ele estava desesperado por uma refeição caseira.

— Isso é muito bom, Sn... Muito bom mesmo. – Ele olhou para ela, dando-lhe um pequeno sorriso antes de dar outra colherada. — Também não estou apenas dizendo isso.

Ele comeu, perdido no sabor da comida dela.

— Que bom que você gostou. – Ela riu.

Ela saboreou a sopa ao lado dele.

Jungkook terminou a sopa, mas não terminou a tigela inteira de arroz. Ele se sentou e tomou um gole de seu chá.

— Então, como foi seu dia hoje? Além de me fazer a melhor sopa que já comi?

— Passei o dia todo me preparando para que você chegasse. Fiz faxina o dia todo. – Ela exalou. — O arroz não estava bem cozido? Você não terminou.

Ela olhou para ele, um pouco preocupada com sua atitude.

Jungkook balançou a cabeça.

— O arroz estava bom, amor. Só não é minha comida favorita.

Ele tomou outro gole de seu chá e estendeu a mão sob a mesa, apertando o joelho dela.

— Era tudo o que eu comia quando estava lá. Não é realmente o meu favorito no momento.

— Oh, meu Deus! – Seus olhos se arregalaram. — Eu nem estava pensando!

— Querida, você faz arroz a cada refeição. É como uma memória muscular para você. – Ele deu uma risadinha. — Não se preocupe com isso. Você é bonita demais para se preocupar.

— É a primeira noite do meu homem em casa depois da prisão. É claro que sua opinião é importante para mim. – Ela suspirou.

Jungkook sorriu para ela e olhou para sua tigela vazia. Ele pegou a mão dela e olhou para ela novamente.

— Você não precisa se preocupar com nada quando se trata de mim. Fico impressionado com tudo o que você faz.

— Hum, tão doce. – Ela corou. — Vai relaxar.

Ela pegou as tigelas, lavando-as na pia.

Jungkook riu.

— Eu só quero ter certeza de que você está feliz também. Não gostaria que meu bebê ficasse assim em sua própria casa. – Ele se levantou, contornando lentamente a ilha da cozinha.

Ele passou os braços ao redor da cintura dela e levou os lábios ao seu pescoço, dando-lhe um beijo suave.

— Seu cheiro é tão bom, amor. Não consigo ficar longe de você.

Ela corou com a proximidade, continuando a lavar a louça.

Jungkook se afastou do pescoço dela, olhando para o rosto dela. Ele gostou de vê-la corar mais do que imaginava.

— O que está passando pela sua cabeça? Você pode me falar qualquer coisa. – Ele se encostou no balcão, a observando atentamente.

— Nada. – Ela deu de ombros. — Só estou feliz por você estar aqui. Mais do que feliz, estou apenas agradecida.

Ela começou a se emocionar, piscando para conter as lágrimas.

— Eu só pensei... Pensei que você teria que ficar mais tempo.

Jungkook caminhou em direção a ela, seu dedo empurrou seu queixo para cima, a fazendo olhar para ele.

— Não chore por mim, porra amor. Fazendo com que eu me sinta culpado. – Ele enxugou com o polegar uma lágrima que desceu pela bochecha dela.

Ele passou os braços ao redor da cintura dela e a puxou para perto.

— Desculpe, desculpe. – Ela se desculpou se abanando.

Jungkook sorriu depositando um beijo em sua testa, fazendo com que ela limpasse os olhos lacrimejantes.

— Não se desculpe por demonstrar suas emoções para mim. Eu adoro o quanto você se importa comigo.

— Você também cheira tão bem. – Ela murmurou contra ele. — Melhor do que aquele cheiro desagradável de recém-saído da prisão.

Ela riu.

Jungkook sorri, cheirando a si mesmo para lembrá-la do cheiro a que ela se referia, e seus braços a envolvem.

— Se você achava que o cheiro era ruim... – Ele a beijou na bochecha. — Imagine quando eu não estava tão limpo por quatro anos.

Ele brincou rindo.

— Eww. – Ela deu uma risadinha. — Não me importo de não pensar nisso.

Jungkook ri recuando para olhá-la, segurando a bochecha dela e limpando as lágrimas soltas com o polegar.

— Você é tão fofa. – Ele ri novamente. — Senti sua falta, Sn... Eu realmente senti sua falta, porra. Não importa quantas vezes eu tenha lhe dito esta noite.

— Eu também senti sua falta Jungkook... Escrever e ligar para você definitivamente não é tão bom quanto tê-lo aqui em casa comigo. – Ela admitiu.

Jungkook sorri, seus olhos brilham de felicidade.

— Sim, eu sei... Eu odiava o telefone. Mas... – Ele pegou a mão dela com a dele. — Estar aqui agora, poder aparecer de manhã e ver você de novo e de novo vai compensar tudo isso.

Ele lhe dá um largo sorriso.

— Quatro anos foi um tempo tão longo. – Ela resmungou saindo da cozinha e indo até o quarto deles.

Jungkook acena com a cabeça e a segue, observando os quadris dela balançarem enquanto seus pensamentos se desviam para pensamentos mais primários.

Ele se sentiu mal por querer ir direto ao assunto, mas ela o estava provocando naqueles momentos.

— Era, mas... – Ele diz por trás dela.

Ele passa os braços em volta da barriga dela.

— Estou aqui agora. Devemos ir até lá? Vamos arrumar nossa cama juntos?

— Oh meu Deus, você é tão irritante. – Ela dá um tapa no braço dele. — Vá assistir a um filme enquanto eu me troco. Você vai ficar rolando a tela por um minuto. Eu já volto.

Jungkook riu e se soltou, pulando na cama. Ele pegou o controle remoto da mesinha de cabeceira, navegando pelos diferentes serviços de streaming.

Ele não via nada assim há algum tempo, mas já sabia o que estava procurando. Definitivamente, ela estava errada sobre o fato de ele ter rolado a tela por um minuto.

Ela vestiu um conjunto de pijama, se certificando de se exibir um pouco, deixando alguns botões abertos.

Ele passa os braços em volta da barriga dela, apoiando a cabeça em sua cintura.

— Você sabe que me ama, amor... E eu com certeza amo você.

— Eu te amo mais. – Ela riu, o beijou os lábios enquanto assistiam ao primeiro filme juntos.

Jungkook cantarola de contentamento, fechando os olhos e deixando que ela brinque com seu cabelo.

Durante todo o filme, Jungkook não pôde deixar de ficar cada vez mais desesperado. Ele estava nervoso nos últimos meses. Na prisão, eles se telefonaram e escreveram cartas, mas, recentemente, as cartas dela eram mais sedutoras.

Cartas que consistiam em detalhes prolixos sobre o desejo ardente e a vontade incontrolável de tê-lo.

— Mais um? Por favor? É a última vez, na verdade. – Ele implorou.

— Tudo bem. – Ela beijou os lábios dele.

Alguns minutos depois.

— Por favor?

— Ok. – Ela beijou os lábios dele.

Mais minutos se passaram.

— Ugh, tudo bem. – Ela gemeu, bicando os lábios dele mais uma vez.

— Porra, eu não aguento mais. – Ele geme quando ela beija seus lábios, e não consegue evitar se inclinar e dar uns amassos nela enquanto o filme passa ao fundo.

— Não sei como você esperava que isso fosse acontecer quando você está assim. – Ele murmurou contra os lábios dela, com a boca cada vez mais bagunçada. — Quero tanto transar com você.

— Preciso fazer amor com você desde que foi preso. – Os beijos dela ficaram mais exigentes.

Jungkook os vira, prendendo-a na cama e a beijando com mais força em troca.

— Eu precisava que você me beijasse com tanta força quando eu estava preso.

Os quadris dele se chocam contra os dela, esmagando o pênis endurecido contra as coxas dela.

— Sonhei com isso todas as noites.

— Eu sei, porra amor... Eu também. – Grunhiu ela.

Jungkook se aproxima para desabotoar a calça do pijama dela, antes de desliza-la lentamente pelas pernas, a beijando nas coxas enquanto faz isso.

— Tire elas, amor. Quero ver como você já está molhada para mim.

— Quero seu pau desde que você foi preso... Estou molhada desde que você foi solto. – Ela não pôde evitar a expressão tímida que a percorria.

— Sim? – Jungkook sorri, deslizando os dedos por baixo da calcinha dela e abrindo os lábios inferiores dela, seus dedos deslizando e brincando sobre o clitóris dela. — E o quanto você está molhada, amor? Porra.

Ela poderia gozar só com o contato.

— Tão molhada. – Jungkook riu.

Enfiando os dedos bem fundo dentro dela e os bombeando para dentro e para fora lentamente, gemendo com a sensação de aperto e calor ao redor de seus dedos.

— Garota, você está molhada e apertada, hein? Hein baby?

— Tão bom, daddy. – O apelido sensual escapou dos lábios dela, fazendo os ouvidos dele zumbirem com a doce sensação da voz dela.

Jungkook gemeu com esse apelido, enfiando e tirando os dedos dela mais rápido agora.

— Porra baby, você sabe que eu adoro quando você me chama assim.

Em seguida, ele retira os dedos, sugando-os até ficarem limpos.

— Adoro o seu sabor. Precisava disso há anos.

— Não aguento mais... – Ela gemeu ao sentir os dedos dele saindo.

Talvez tenha sido tempo demais para ela. Sozinha, levava uma boa quantidade de tempo para gozar, mas isso a estava arruinando em segundos.

Jungkook sorri com isso, abaixando a calça, com o pênis já duro aparecendo.

— Você vai levar isso numa boa, amor?

— Por favor, daddy...

— Isso é tudo o que você tem? – Jungkook provoca, brincando com a ponta do pênis na entrada dela. — Implore um pouco mais, ou você não vai ter esse pau.

A voz dominante e exigente dele estava voltando a funcionar, quase melhor do que ela se lembrava.

— Quero muito. Eu vou aceitar bem, eu prometo. – A voz dela era de desespero.

— Tão desesperada.

Jungkook geme com a súplica dela, empurrando lentamente para dentro.

— Hum, porra... Tão apertada, assim mesmo, baby. Receba o pau do daddy. – Ele entrou totalmente nela em um ritmo lento, mas profundo.

O peito dela se ergueu quando ele deslizou para dentro dela. Ela engoliu, ajustando-se ao comprimento dele.

Jungkook sorri com a reação dela, a agarrando pelo quadril enquanto começa a empurrar mais rápido, com um gemido baixo saindo dos lábios dele.

— Senti falta dessa buceta molhada, dessa bunda. – Ele a olhava de cima a baixo. — Você sente falta disso, amor? De como o daddy a fode assim?

— Sim. - Ela geme.

— Bunda grande e peitos enormes... E um rosto bonito. Deus, você é tão gostosa. – Jungkook grunhe, acelerando o ritmo, empurrando com mais força e mais rápido.

O som de pele contra pele preenchia a sala, se certificando de atingir o ponto ideal.

— Era isso que você queria, não era, amor?

— Tudo o que eu queria, tudo o que eu precisava. – Ela choramingou. — Incrível, porra.

— Pensei que eu estava desesperado. – Jungkook rosna, dando um tapa forte na bunda dela. — Uma garota tão bonita. Não tentou me enganar nenhuma vez.

A sala se encheu de batidas molhadas ainda mais altas dos quadris dele contra a bunda dela e de suas palmadas. Suas investidas se tornaram mais irregulares, seu pênis ficando desesperado por liberação.

— Tudo por você, toda sua. Não estive com ninguém além de você. – Ela gemeu, falando a verdade.

— Boa menina. – Jungkook se inclina para frente, mordiscando o pescoço dela antes de sussurrar em seu ouvido. — Diga meu nome, Sn. De quem você está falando?

Ele agarra a garganta dela.

— Porra! Você, daddy! Você! – Ela estava uma bagunça no pau dele, com os olhos virados para trás.

— Essa é a minha garota. Toda minha, porra. – Ele estava observando o corpo dela estremecer com seu toque.

Ele admirou a maneira como ela estava se debatendo na frente dele, ficando muda em seu pênis. Pela forma como o corpo dela se contorcia, ele sabia que ela estava se aproximando.

Ele a observava, claramente apreciando sua falta de ar. A maneira como ela se contorce, para ele controlar e usar.

— Vai gozar no pau do daddy, baby? Vai gozar para mim? – Ele está quase lá, querendo terminar com força.

— Quero seu esperma. Preciso dele. – Ela gemia, com os olhos lacrimejando de tanto prazer. — Por favor, daddy.

— É tão difícil dizer não para você. – Jungkook bufa, batendo nela sem piedade.

Ele estava buscando a dose necessária para poder gozar junto com ela.

O casal atingiu o orgasmo, gemendo o nome um do outro antes de ceder e gozar juntos.

— Porra, estou tão apaixonado por você. – Jungkook grunhe, a preenchendo completamente.

Ele recupera o fôlego, ofegando com ela.

Ela mal conseguia se levantar da cama por causa dele, estava mole, tremendo por causa do orgasmo. Suas pernas estavam trêmulas.

Ele a observa se recompor, adorando vê-la. A maneira como ela parece tão usada e satisfeita, apenas com as mãos dele.

Depois de se recompor, ela voltou para a cama com ele, o beijando e brincando com ele enquanto os dois ofegavam juntos.

— Eu ainda a tenho.

— Maldição, Jungkook. – Ela escondeu o rosto. — Sim, você sabe.

#⠀⠀𖹭 ⠀⠀⎯⎯⠀⠀⠀*⠀⠀𝗇𝖾𝗐⠀⠀𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗅.⠀⠀💌#story © chunghasweetie #tradução © wolvesland #mood © ap0clypsie #dividers © cafekitsune #bts pt br #jungkook #jungkook imagines #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook cenários #jungkook au #jungkook x leitora

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fluoxetinehcl · 2 years ago

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Happy Valentione!

My comms also open

#ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #cor leonis #cor x oc #oc #miqote

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icarusignite · 1 year ago

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These Violent Delights (2)

Chapter 2: In the Absence of God

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x OC, Sejanus Plinth x OC (not a love triangle lol)

Word Count: 3k

Masterlist

Diana Lazarus loved mornings, and today was no different. She lay in the grass, nestled within a canvas of rolling greenery bathed in the soft hues of dawn. The golden tendrils of early sunlight stretched across the horizon, brushing the earth with a gentle warmth that filled her heart with ease, and she'd be damned if she let reaping day take away her daily tradition of hiking up to the meadow behind her house to watch the sunrise. Dew-kissed blades of grass caressed her bare feet and she raised her hands above her head to watch the sky through charcoal smudged fingers.

It should feel different today, but it didn't. The sun still ascended with breathtaking punctuality, painting the canvas of the sky with a kaleidoscope of colours. Once upon a time, it used to scare her, the thought of being chosen as tribute, but after four years, she had been lulled into a false sense of security. If she worried for anyone, it was her sister, but today even that familiar feeling of anxiety eluded her. Mel turned 18 in a few weeks, and then she'd be free from it forever. It would be cruel of the gods to send her to her death now, after sparing her for so many years.

"Diana!"

Ah, speak of the devil. A distant voice intruded upon her reverie. At first, it was a mere whisper carried by the wind, barely audible over the symphony of nature's awakening. Yet, like a persistent melody, it crescendoed into a call that tugged at her consciousness.

"Diana, you better come back here right this minute!"

Diana hesitated, caught between the allure of the tranquil moment and the summons from the world beyond. With a resigned sigh, she gathered the discarded sketchbook that lay by her side along with the rest of her belongings, brushing blades of grass from her pale dress, and trying to rub the stains from the thin fabric.

She swore in her head then. Mel was going to kill her, but at least the stains blended in with the green of her dress and you couldn't even see it. She slowly traversed the familiar path back home, idyllically dreaming about the sunrise she'd see tomorrow. Perhaps she might even be able to convince her sister to accompany her this time.

A figure waited for her in the doorway when she arrived, the silhouette taking form in the growing light.

"Mel!" Diana exclaimed.

The raven-haired older girl rolled her eyes, a frown marring her features as she met the gaze of her starry-eyed sibling.

"How many times have I told you not to disappear off like that without telling me?"

Diana rolled her eyes, "But you know where I am. And besides, I just had to see it today. You know, for good luck."

Mel scoffed. As if luck had anything to do with any of this. Or perhaps it did, and they simply had the unfortunate luck of being born as they were, fit only to be carted off to the slaughter. She couldn't say this out loud though, not with Diana looking at her so earnestly.

"Sure Di, if you say so," she finally conceded. "Now get inside and get cleaned up. It's going to be quite the trek today."

Diana nodded, bounding up to her with an excited smile to place a wreath of wildflowers in her hair. She stepped back to admire her handiwork and the sight almost made her laugh. Her sister was all harsh lines and angles, a perpetual pinched look adorning her face. The flower crown looked somewhat comical, clashing terribly with her sensible clothes. Diana followed Mel inside, the modest interior of their home greeting her pleasantly. They were luckier than most.

Although District 2 was one of the wealthiest districts, poverty still lurked in the outskirts. They were lucky that their quarry worker father had left enough for them to live on. It was a meagre sum but it was better than nothing, because neither of the girls was old enough to work yet, and Diana could easily imagine herself in place of the frozen corpses she sometimes saw on the streets when she made the occasional trip to the village for supplies. Winters were desolate in the mountains, for some more than others.

The interior of their cottage exuded an inviting warmth, the air carrying the comforting scent of dried herbs mingled with the earthy aroma of the surrounding mountainside. Diana, her fingers still tinged with remnants of charcoal, set down a woven basket brimming with freshly gathered herbs upon a worn wooden table. Her daily expeditions needed to serve a greater purpose than simple contemplation after all.

With a sense of urgency to appease her sister's concerns, Diana hastened to the corner of the room where a tub of water awaited. Swiftly, she submerged her hands, scrubbing away the earth and traces of nature that clung to her nails, a task completed with practiced efficiency.

Mel, approached her sister with a strict reprimand, guiding Diana to sit before their old, slightly warped mirror, a cherished relic that had witnessed countless moments of their lives. Mel clicked her tongue impatiently as she plucked stray blades of grass and leaves from Diana's unruly mane of brown locks, which haloed her head in an outburst.

With great difficulty and an even greater deal of complaints from both sisters, Mel managed to tame the wild tresses into a neat plait. Then, with a deftness born of familiarity, she removed the flower crown adorning her own head, untangling the blossoms from one another to weave them into Diana's braid, interspersing the fragrant flowers amidst the chestnut strands.

"There, now you look less like a swamp gremlin," she gave her the most minuscule of smiles.

Diana liked her sister's smile. She'd look much better if she did it more often, but witnessing Melpomene Lazarus’s smile was an occurrence as rare as an eclipse.

"Don't be mean, Melpomene!" Diana giggled.

Her sister swatted her with the hairbrush in her hand at the familiar catchphrase.

"Don't call me that!" she snapped, but her lips remained turned upward goodnaturedly. It made Diana feel as though the odds were in her favour and as she basked in the warmth of her sister's smile, she felt her spirits lift. Today would pass by swiftly indeed. She could almost feel it.

The walk to the town square was a lengthy one, and Mel used it to observe her humming sister. Diana insisted on holding hands and although Mel objected, rebuking her for her childishness despite only being one year younger, she secretly relished the warmth of her sister's fingers wrapped tightly around her own. She protected Diana in every way that she could, and tried her best to ensure that she remained the blissfully ignorant child who hummed uplifting melodies and spent most of her time daydreaming. Still, there was only so much Mel could do, and she was utterly powerless against the reaping. Just the thought of her sister getting swept away to the capitol to fight a bloody battle to her death filled Mel with a dread that squeezed the breath from her lungs. Diana couldn't even kill the insects and occasional vermin that found their way into their house, how could she be expected to kill people? They'd devour her in mere seconds.

The anguish she felt at the thought of her sister's pain welled up in her chest and threatened to register on her face, so Mel smoothed her features back into the mask of indifference she always wore so that no one could ever read her thoughts. She squeezed her sister's hand for good measure nonetheless and hoped for the best.

The town square was already filled to the brim when they arrived, people filing in silently and signing in. The reaping was a good opportunity for the Capitol to keep tabs on the population as well. The twelve- through eighteen-year-olds were herded into roped areas marked off by ages, the oldest in the front, the young ones, toward the back. Family members lined up around the perimeter, holding tightly to one another's hands as they waited with bated breath.

The space became tighter, and more claustrophobic as people arrived. The square was quite large, but not nearly large enough to hold District 2's massive population. Diana and Mel found themselves standing next to each other, their hands still tightly intertwined and drenched in sweat under the sweltering afternoon sun. They focused their attention on the temporary stage that was set up in front of them, complete with a makeshift podium and Mayor Longfellow's bulbous figure clearing his throat as he prepared to address the audience.

Diana found herself zoning out as he droned on about the purpose of the Hunger Games. It was a spiel he gave every year, and those familiar haunting words had long since passed their effectiveness. They were once meant to instill debilitating fear, and Diana imagined that they still did, but she believed they inspired other things too.

Hatred.

Anger.

Rebellion.

Diana wasn't a fool. She knew to keep her mouth shut and her traitorous thoughts to herself, but she was a wanderer, her mind wandered the most.

The rules of the Games were simple. Simple yet harrowing.

In punishment for the uprising, each of the twelve districts had to provide one girl and one boy, called tributes, to participate. The twenty-four tributes would then fight to the death. The last tribute standing won.

Taking the kids from the districts, forcing them to kill one another - this was the Capitol's way of reminding them that they were at their mercy. How little chance they would stand of surviving another rebellion. District 2 liked to boast of its close relationship to the Capitol but it was all an illusion. An elaborately constructed one, but a ruse nonetheless. They were no dearer to the Capitol than the slums of District 12 because, at the end of the day, all the tributes were reduced to flesh and bone in the arena.

The mayor announced the male tribute for that year first, his deep voice carrying over the silent square solemnly.

Marcus Flint.

Mel stopped breathing. In a population as large as District 2's, she never had the misfortune of seeing someone she knew personally being reaped in the past ten years, but now they had called Marcus's name. They had called Marcus's name and Mel felt sick. He was in her year at school, and he had always been…well pleasant to her. As pleasant as someone like him could be to someone like her. There was a camaraderie in their mutual gruffness, their desire to keep the world at arm's length, and their jagged edges.

Now he was leaving.

Mel felt like throwing up.

When the mayor smoothed a second sheet of paper between his fingers to read out another name, Mel felt a prayer slip past her lips. She had never been particularly religious, no god had ever helped her when she needed it, but the reaping had a way of turning the most sacrilegous of hearts. Mel prayed for the safety of her sister. There was no one else. Her thoughts began and ended with Diana, and in that brief moment, before the mayor's pallid lips formed the syllables of another name, Mel pledged devotion to every god in the universe in exchange for her sister's life.

"Diana Lazarus."

Mel felt like laughing. Mel felt like laughing until she cried, but she did neither, her face passive and indifferent.

The gods never listened. There were no gods. Or maybe they were there, mocking her plight from above as they sniggered behind golden chalices of ambrosia and nectar. After all, why would they listen to one such as her, stained and filthy beyond recognition.

Time shattered into myriad shards, each fragment a shard of agonizing realization that carved Diana's name into her eardrums.

It was as if her limbs had been submerged in cement and left out to dry, heavy and suffocating. it took Mel every last bit of energy to turn her head toward her sister. Around her, the crowd murmured unhappily. Diana was a favourite, and how could they not adore her. Diana with the elaborately constructed stories she told to the village children and all the hours she spent reading to the elderly. Mel remembered the stories that their Ma used to tell them, particularly The Parable of the Good Samaritan. That's Diana, she had thought, even back then, in the tender clutches of childhood.

Mel saw her then, the blood drained from her face, hands clenched in fists at her sides, walking with stiff, small steps up toward the stage. Most of the flowers had wilted in her hair and the grass stains on her skirt seemed stark. It was her hands though, that drew Mel out of her stupor. Her hands that, despite her best efforts, were still stained faintly with charcoal.

Charcoal and not blood.

Never blood.

"Diana!" comes the strangled cry from her throat, as if the words too must wade through cement to slip past her lips.

It took every last bit of strength for Mel to make a break for it. She pushed past the crowd, ducking under the approaching peacekeepers to sprint after her sister. She reached Diana just as she was about to mount the steps to the stage, her entire body trembling so hard it took her a few seconds just to lift her foot.

"I volunteer. I volunteer as tribute."

She looked straight at the mayor, shoving her sister behind her with a force that sent her stumbling. The Peacekeepers surrounded them now, guns raised menacingly as they waited for the matter to be resolved.

"Let her come forward," the mayor nodded, finally making eye contact with her.

Mel wondered briefly what he saw, who he recognized in this moment. The daughter of his dead friend and the girl whom he saw grow up, or the girl whom he paid to visit him in the night. She wondered which one of them deserved such a fate, if any of them did, but what did it matter really. They were both her, and she was them.

"No, Mel! No! You can't go! Please, Mel!"

Daina's hysterical shrieking echoed behind her as the Peacekeepers dragged her away. She broke free of one of them and he retaliated by striking her in the face with the back of his gun. Diana was relentless though, and she managed to wrap her arms around Mel like a vice, with all the tenacity of a tempest-tossed soul seeking refuge amidst the tumultuous seas.

"Di, let go," Mel said softly at first, trying to pry her locked fingers away from her.

The brunette girl shook her head resolutely, her sobs wracking through her body like a tempest.

"Diana. Let. Go," Mel said, harsher this time, and when the Peacekeeper from earlier came to drag her sister off her, she did not move. He hit her face again and Diana crumpled, her cheek marked by the cruel kiss of cold steel. There would be a bruise, Mel knew it. Diana bruised so easily, like soft fruit, and her sister would not be there to rub salve over it that evening.

Mel was beyond crying at this point. She had not shed a single tear throughout the entire ordeal and she was not about to start now. She climbed the steps of the stage calmly, but when the mayor put his fingers on the inside of her elbow to guide her further down the stage, she fought the surge of bile that rose in her throat.

She took a deep breath.

Then two.

Then three.

This was simply a trade of flesh, Mel thought to herself, and she had become an unwilling expert in that field. She had traded herself for her sister countless times before, so what was yet another time? She had given all she had left to give, and today she gave her sister the last of what was left of her.

There was nothing more.

Melpomene Lazarus was no more.

If her sister shed no tears, then Diana Lazarus shed all of them. She was anguish incarnate, fighting against her captors with a ferocity that bordered on primal desperation. She lashed out, raw screams tearing past her throat in bloody agony, kicking and clawing at the Peacekeepers who hauled her away. She bit them where she could and slammed elbows into chest plates, digging fingers into whatever bits of skin she could find. She even drew blood, although she couldn't quite tell who it belonged to.

It was a good thing Mel's back was turned as she was led away, for it would have been a disappointing sight to see that the gentle hands she so desperately sought to protect were now covered in blood anyway.

She heard the screams though, and the dull thunk of a weapon against skin. Mel winced, but she did not turn around.

The only constant was her name on Diana's lips.

A prayer and a plea, but there were no gods here.

A God that never interfered was indistinguishable from a God that didn't exist.

#coriolanus x oc #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #sejanus plinth #sejanus x oc #sejanus x reader #the hunger games

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