#I wanted to be more dynamic with this one and honestly i had a lot of fun

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 55: Finding Home

Summary: Moving on to your new lives, you and John hunt for the perfect home.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 6,282 words

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, explicit sexual content, p in v sex, oral sex, fingering, unprotected sex, alpha/beta/omega dynamics, a/b/o, alternate universe, the barest hint of angst, language, the author knows nothing about real estate in the UK

A/N: I'm excited for this one and I'm sure you will be too...

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“You really enjoyed your time on the farm.” John says, his arm wrapped around you as you lounge on the couch in your Airbnb. He’d already gone through and searched for anything suspicious, checking every room for possible cameras or listening devices. You let him do it, staying out of his way as you knew that would make him the most comfortable.

“I did.” You say, your head resting on his chest. It feels good being close to him, even if it was only two weeks you were apart. “It made me feel useful. Gave me something to do.”

“You want to look at places with a lot of land?” He asks.

You nod. “If that’s a possibility. I think it might be good for both of us. Keep us busy. Idle hands and all of that.”

John huffs. “Lily lives by that proverb.”

“You’re telling me. The woman never stops.” You smile. “She was so gracious though.”

“The MacTavishes are wonderful people.” He says, his fingers tracing patters on your arm. “It’s hard not to like all of the in-laws.”

“I’d like to meet all of them someday.” You say wishfully. “You’ve met them all, haven’t you?”

He nods. “I have. The Garrick’s are exactly as you’d imagine. Kyle gets all of his best qualities from them. They live in Birmingham, where Kyle was born. I’ve only met Ashley, though, not the oldest sibling.”

“Sounds about right.” You say. “What about Simon’s family?”

“I’ve met his mother and brother once.” John says, his hand rubbing your arm. “Not long before you joined the pack. I’m honestly surprised he introduced me. He’s very protective of them, but I suppose with everything they’ve been through…”

“I know some of it.” You say. “He told me after I told everyone what happened when I was taken to the institute.”

John hums. “I wouldn’t get your hopes up about meeting them. They’re...a sensitive subject for Simon.”

You fall silent for a moment. You figured that would be the case. You wonder if Kyle or Johnny have even met his family, or if he really does keep them that guarded.

“What about your dad?” You ask. “Could I ever meet him?”

John is silent for a moment. “He’s...complicated. Gruff old geezer now. He still lives in the house I grew up in, in Leominster. About 12 miles from Hereford.”

You frown. “So close but you don’t visit him?”

John sighs. “Only on occasion. We’re happy living our separate lives. I could take you, but I can’t guarantee it would be a good visit. Old man always has something to say.”

You don’t push anymore. He’s told you about his relationship with his father before, and you’re not willing to try and pry anything else out of him. A moment of silence settles over the two of you, a comfortable silence. You press closer to him, trying to get as close as you can. You missed him more than you thought, now that you have him close again.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, leaning his head against yours. You breathe in his scent, the damp woody smell permeating your being. He nuzzles his head against yours, taking a deep breath in. He lets out the breath, a sound almost like a purr rumbling in his chest.

You wrap your arm tighter around him, nearly climbing into his lap. “Missed you.” You whimper.

You’ve been missing him longer than he’s been gone. You had such freedom at the cottage to do what you pleased. The week at the barracks had driven a wedge between you and your pack, your own fear pushing you apart from them. It’s been three weeks now since you’ve been close to him, since you’ve had a chance to really take him in.

A low growl rumbles in his chest, his body pushing against yours. You let him lead, laying back until you’re flat on the couch. He shifts over you, slotting his body between your legs. Warmth starts to pool in your stomach, flowing through your veins as he lowers himself down, nudging your head to the side so he can press his face against your neck. Your arms wrap around his back, one hand trailing through the short strands of his hair. You wonder if he’ll grow it out now that he has that freedom, if he’ll let his beard get wild again like it had at the cottage.

The mental image of him with a beard and long hair has you purring.

An echoing rumble vibrates from John’s chest, his teeth nipping at your scent gland. You whine, trying to pull him closer against you.

“Fuck,” he groans, his teeth sinking into your skin lightly over the scarred over mark he left just a year ago. You shiver, nearly mewing from the pleasurable sensation.

His arms slip under you, pulling you up as he stands. “Let’s get you to bed so I can make love to you properly.”

You shiver at his words, clinging to him as he makes his way down the hall to the bedroom.

You drop onto the bed with a bounce, the springs squeaking. John wastes no time, ripping his shirt up over his head, exposing his chest to you. He’s still soft from his time at the cabin, three weeks back on base not enough to carve it away. The sight of him as you licking your lips, your thighs rubbing together as wetness starts to pool between them.

John undoes his belt and jeans, pushing them down his legs before stepping out of them. There’s a prominent bulge in his briefs, the musky scent of arousal seeping into the air. You breathe it in, your nipples hardening in arousal. You sit yourself upright, tugging your shirt over your head. John’s hands are on you before you can do much else, sliding to your back to undo your bra before tugging it off. The bed dips as he kneels on it, bending his face down to take one of your nipples into his mouth.

You let out a quiet gasp, your head tilting back as he scrapes his teeth against the sensitive bud. Your hand cups the back of his head, holding him there as he suckles on your nipple, swirling his tongue around it before pulling off with a pop. He moves to the other one, giving it the same attention as his hands slide down your stomach to tease the skin above your waistband.

He undoes the button of your jeans, pulling the zipper down. His hands slip under the fabric, sliding around to your ass, lifting you as he pushes your jeans down. He releases your nipple, sliding down your body as he tugs your jeans down off your feet. He kneels on the floor, tugging you forward until you’re seated right on the edge of the bed. You spread your legs for him, his hands pushing them wide as he stares down at your panty-clad pussy.

“Fuck.” He groans, staring down at the wet spot on the fabric.

His hands slide down your thighs until they reach the waistband of your panties. He slides his fingers under the fabric before tugging, ripping them apart.

“John!” You cry in protest, lifting yourself up onto your elbows to stare down at him.

“I’ll buy you more.” He says, pushing your legs back open before dipping his head down between them. “I’ll buy you as many pairs as you want.”

Any more protests die on your tongue as his mouth closes over your throbbing clit, sucking hard. You fall back onto the bed, letting out a quiet moan. It’s been a long three weeks without him, without any of them. You’ve missed your alpha, you’ve missed your pack. You missed the kind of freedom you had at the cottage to be with them whenever you wanted, however you wanted.

Now you have nothing but time and freedom.

Another moan leaves your lips as John drags his tongue through your folds, gathering some of your slick before he focuses on your clit again, circling it with his tongue. His beard scratches the sensitive skin of your thighs, a feeling you’ve come to miss.

You grip the sheets as he eats you out like a man starved. Well, he probably is. It’s been a long three weeks for him too. You wonder if any of them sought comfort in the others, or if they all were too torn up in the emotions of their missing omega and the knowledge their captain was about to leave. You’d almost be mad at them for wasting the opportunity, but at the same time, it’ll make the next meeting all the sweeter.

You wonder if they all slept in the nest even after you were gone, if that will forever be a staple for Johnny and Simon, a memory of what once was as they move on to this new chapter.

You want a nest. A big one. One that can fit all five of you with room for movement. Lots of movement. Five bodies all tangled together...

A harsh suck on your clit brings you out of your thoughts. You yelp, your head jolting up to look at John. He’s staring at you, pulling himself off your clit with a pop.

“Back with me?” He rasps, his beard shiny with your juices.

You nod breathlessly. “Yeah.”

“What were you thinking about?” He asks as he dips his head to your folds again.

“I want a big bed.” You say, your breath hitching as he sucks lazily at your clit. “A really big bed. One that can fit all five of us.”

He hums. “Having thoughts?”

You nod.

“Like what?” He asks, dipping down to prod at your opening with his tongue.

“A-all five of us,” You moan as his tongue pushes into you. “Together.” You channel all those fantasies you’ve been having since that day at the cottage the thought had entered your mind. “Me between Johnny and Kyle, full of them while they kiss over my shoulder.” You swallow thickly, hands curling into the sheets. “You and Simon...Simon on his knees, your cock in his mouth, watching while Johnny and Kyle fuck me-”

Your words cut off as his thumb pushes against your clit, rubbing tight little circles. You’re soaked after replaying those fantasies in your head, toes curling where they rest against John’s back.

“What else?” John’s voice is muffled by your thighs.

“Simon fucking Johnny while you fuck me as we take turns sucking Kyle’s pretty cock.” Your breaths are getting shaky, the words trembling from your lips while you get closer and closer to the edge. “Simon making me squirt in Kyle’s mouth.” Your back arches off the bed, heels digging into John’s shoulders. “You and Simon…both at the same time…sinking your teeth into me again…”

You cum with a cry, slick gushing out against his face as your orgasm rocks through you. It’s been so long, the pleasure coming on quick and hard. John laps at you, licking up every last drop as you twitch and shake.

John finally pulls away as the edge of overstimulation begins to burn between your thighs. His face is shiny with your slick, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. You follow its path, your tongue slipping out to do the same.

“Lovely fantasies.” John says as he crawls over you, shifting you up the bed slightly before settling his weight on you. “Perhaps we can make those come true.”

You shiver in anticipation for him to make good on that. You know he will. No doubt he’s been having his own fantasies. They all likely have. You’ve all been waiting for the moment to arise, for them to get their chance to have you together. You’re surprised it’s taken this long. You would have welcomed them at the cottage, but it hadn’t felt like the right place for it.

Perhaps once you finally find a place to call home, you’ll all get a chance to properly break it in.

You can only imagine what its going to do to your libido.

John’s hand grips your chin, turning your face back to the center so you’re staring up at him. His eyes are lidded as they stare down at you, lips slightly parted. “Back with me again? Still picturing all the depraved things you want us to do to your body?”

You gulp, nodding.

He chuckles, lips turning up in a grin. “File those away for later. We’ll get our chance. For now, I want you to focus on me.”

“Yes, sir.” You say.

A low growl rumbles in his chest, a thrill of danger and excitement pulsing straight between your thighs. You’re still slick, need throbbing between your legs. You need his cock, you need him to ease away the ache steadily building there.

“Need you alpha,” You whine, pushing your hips up to grind against him. He’s hard, cock trapped between your bodies as you press up against his chest.

He grunts, his hips dipping to grind against you, his cock leaking against your stomach. He’s just as needy as you, but he’s always been better at self control.

“Needy little omega.” He says, sitting up on his knees to press your thighs apart, opening you right up to his gaze. You lay there on display, feeling no nerves, no desire to hide yourself from him. You’ve long since passed that insecurity.

His thumb drops to drag through your slick folds, pressing against your clit for a moment before releasing. You practically mewl, thighs pushing against his hands. “You want it?” He all but growls.

“Yes,” You breathe, staring up at him, holding eye contact. “Need your cock alpha.”

He growls, satisfied with your answer. The tip of his cock drags through your folds, gathering slick there before he’s pressing into you, easing his way into your body.

You let out a breath, relaxing for him. It’s been a while, long enough that the stretch burns a bit. He goes slow, feeling the resistance squeezing around him. “Good girl.” he breathes, his hand caressing your cheek. “You can take it.”

You whine, pushing your hips up to draw him deeper into you. He presses his hips forward, your body shuddering from the stretch as he bends down, pushing in until his hips are flush with yours. He presses his chest against yours, dipping his head so his forehead rests against yours. You’re breathing the same air, the scent of your pussy still faint in his breath.

You wrap your legs around him, pulling him down as close as you can. His hand snakes beneath your head, closing around the back of your neck. It rests there, not squeezing, not controlling, just resting there against the most sensitive part of your body. Goosebumps form on your skin at his touch, the vulnerability you’re allowing sending shockwaves through your body. How easily he could dig his fingers in, pull you under his control and have his way with you before you wake up and realize what happened.

He doesn’t, though. He just holds his hand there, holds the back of your neck as he starts to move, grinding his hips against you. You tilt your head back into his hand, baring your throat for him in submission. His mouth presses kisses against your skin, tracing your pulse, dropping to your scent gland and your mark before moving to the other side. He skirts around Simon’s mark, not touching the sacred area that Simon has claimed, that marks Simon’s claim to you as well.

John starts to move his hips faster, his cock dragging in and out, in and out. You meet his thrusts, lifting your hips to pull him in deeper, as deep as you can take him. You want to meld together, melt into one being in this moment, be locked together for all eternity. You’d crawl into his skin and settle there for the rest of time if you could.

God how you’ve missed him.

“Fuck, so good for me.” He breathes, face pressed into your neck, his breath tickling your skin. “Taking me so well.”

“Missed you, alpha.” You whine, your nails sinking into the skin on his back as pleasure builds inside of you with every drag of his cock.

“Missed you too, omega.” The sound of your status coming from him has you whining again. “Missed you so much.”

You moan, getting closer and closer to the edge with every drag of his hips. His thrusts have grown harder, sloppier. He’s getting close too, as he growls against your throat. He could sink his teeth in so easily, yet he doesn’t. You have so much trust in him, so much faith that he’ll take care of you, that he’ll be a good alpha.

He is.

“Cum for me.” he groans, snapping his hips against yours. “Be a good girl.”

You whine, your body trembling, legs shaking as he drives you into another orgasm. You come undone under him, squeezing around him like a vice. He growls, snapping his hips into you a few more times before he stills, warmth filling you as he cums inside you.

His weight settles over you, pressing you down into the mattress. You’re still clinging to him, wrapped around him like a snake. His cock throbs inside of you as you milk every last drop of his cum that you can. He’s still hard, and you know this isn’t the last round, but the two of you sit in silence for a moment, just comforted by the weight of each other.

It had been long enough without him.

You never want to go without him again.

The tickle of calloused fingers on your skin pulls you from the sweet arms of sleep.

The fingers draw patterns on your back, tracing shapes and lines into your skin. You let out a quiet groan, pressing your face further into the pillow. You’re on your stomach, the sheet bunched down around your hips. It’s warm, the scent of sex still in the air.

“What time is it?” You groan, voice muffled by the pillow.

“Just past 9.” John says quietly.

You frown, turning slightly so you can see him. “You’re still in bed?”

“Couldn’t bring myself to move yet.” He says. “Not from this beautiful sight.”

Your face warms and you press it back into the pillow bashfully. He chuckles, his hand flattening against your skin. He rubs your back gently as you float in and out of consciousness, the pull of sleep still heavy in your mind. Yet, you can’t quite reach it, the warm hand on your back keeping you grounded in the waking world.

You hum, rolling onto your side so you’re facing John. His gaze is soft as he stares down at you, his hand sliding up to cup your cheek. His thumb strokes your cheek, the moment soft and domestic and intimate. You doubt you’ll ever get him to sleep in, but you like this change, this new side of him willing to lay in bed with you as you sleep. Of course, if you do win him over and get your farm neither of you will be sleeping in, but right now, it’s nice.

“If you’re up for it, by the time we get ready we could go out for brunch.” He says. You can’t stop the laugh that escapes you, his brows pulling in a frown. “What?”

“I just never expected you to be a brunch guy.” You say, shaking your head.

He shrugs. “I’m retired. I can be a lot of things now.”

You smile, pressing a kiss to his palm. “Brunch would be nice. I’m hungry after last night.”

He grins wickedly, leaning in closer. “Give you a workout, did I?”

You hum, closing the distance to kiss him. “Almost as hard as farm work.”

He growls, rolling you over and pinning you under him. “Then I didn’t do enough.”

You squeal as he nips at your neck, laughing as you wrap your arms around him.

“I’ve got a few places lined up to look at.” John says as he drives along the highway.

“So you picked an area?” You ask.

“A couple.” He says. “I can’t promise a view of the ocean if you want land, but we’ll be minutes away from the beach.”

“That’s okay.” You say, sitting back in your seat. “Can’t have everything I guess.”

“The first place we’re looking is just outside Troon. Then there’s a couple more just outside the Three Towns.”

You give him a look. “The what?”

“It’s a conurbation between Ardrossan, Saltcoats, and Stevenson.” He explains. You pretend to know what that means. “I’m liking one of those properties more than the others.” He continues. “I think you’ll see why.”

You hum, staring out the window as green farmland goes by. You can almost smell the sea air as you get closer and closer, excitement bubbling in your stomach. The temptation to give up the desire for a farm in favor of a place closer to the sea is strong, but you know it will be better for both you and John to have land and later a farm. It’ll keep John busy, something you know he’s going to be grateful for. Going from constantly having things to do, to having nothing at all to do is going to be rough for him. He’ll go stir-crazy, like a working dog stuck in an apartment. You know he’d never get violent, but without an outlet...you’re not sure what it’s going to look like.

Maybe you can convince him to go to therapy.

“Here we are.” John says, pulling up a small driveway.

It’s...cute. A bit dated, but your expectations were low to begin with. You get out of the car with John, a real estate agent waiting for you already.

John introduces himself and you to the agent, Angelica. You take John’s arm as she tells you about the house, leading you to the front door.

“Three bedrooms, one bath, 108 square meters. It sits on two acres of land, I know ye said ye were lookin’ for land.” She opens the front door, leading you inside.

It’s...something alright. The entryway is nice, if a bit narrow. One door opens on the left to the living area, small with the worst patterned carpet you’ve ever seen. The staged furniture doesn’t help any either.

“The kitchen and bathroom are newly updated.” Angelica says as she leads you across to the kitchen.

It is nice looking, new and clean and fresh. “Spacious.” You say, looking around. Plenty of room for two or three bodies.

The bathroom is new but small and only has a shower, something that could prove difficult during your heats. You were spoiled on base having a tub to soak in afterward.

“Oh, blue carpet.” You say as you head into the hallway leading to the bedrooms.

It’s very blue.

Angelica laughs, nodding her head. “It could use a little updating, but you can’t deny it’s charm.”

She’s not wrong.

There’s one bedroom downstairs and two upstairs, small and simple. You’d really only need two max, but it might be nice to have an extra for visitors. You’re not sure if you could fit the bed you want in them though. There wouldn’t be much room for anything else. Maybe you could convert one room into a closet and storage.

“So what do you think?” John asks when you get to the car after viewing the house.

“It’s cute...needs a lot of work though.” You say.

He nods. “It’s cheap, but that leaves more money for fixing it to how we want. We can even add a second bathroom.”

“That would be nice.” You say. “I’m not sharing one bathroom with four men.”

He chuckles, driving down the road towards the next house. “The next house is bigger.” He says. “I think you’ll like it more.”

It is bigger. Three bedrooms, three bathrooms. Newer looking though the kitchen is a bit dated. You’re not sure how you feel about the linoleum floors though, or the strangest looking bathtub you’ve ever seen. Then again, you’re glad it at least has a tub. The rooms are spacious, just big enough for the bed you want.

“What do you think?” John asks as you drive to the final house you’re viewing that day.

“Better.” You say. “I think it could work.”

“Just wait until you see the last one.” He says.

This one is just outside Ardrossan, one of the ones he said were in this area. It’s the nicest of the three, judging by the outside. Brick, you think, not uncommon for houses in the UK. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, four acres. The largest plot of land you’ve seen today.

You’re in love as soon as you walk in.

It’s spacious, the entryway well lit and no weird carpet. The living area is nice and spacious with a fireplace. The kitchen is big and newly renovated, plenty of space for bodies to move around. The dining area is a bit small but you can live with that.

The three bedrooms are nicely sized, the main bedroom big enough for the bed you want. The carpet is new in them, soft under your shoes. They could use some repainting, but that’s easy to do. The bathrooms are new too, and one has a very spacious tub. There’s also a loft area upstairs, perfect for a cozy space, well lit that maybe Johnny could turn it into an art studio.

The back yard is nice too, a stone patio that leads out to some grass and enough space for a barn and a garden. Just exactly what you’ve been looking for.

“You like that one?” John asks as you sit in the car.

You nod, unable to keep the smile off your face. It’s the first you’ve been able to picture yourself in. You and your pack living domestically on your little farm, just a short drive to the beach. You can make that place a home, all nice and cozy like you need.

“We’ve got a lot to think about.” He says, pulling out of the driveway onto the road to make the drive back to Glasgow. “And a few more places to see tomorrow.”

You’re trying not to make your mind up already, having hope that there might be something better tomorrow, something more suited to your needs.

You take John’s hand, holding it as he drives. The reality hasn’t quite set in that this is really happening, that you’re looking at houses to live in permanently. John is retired and you’re moving on to this new chapter in your lives. It still feels like a dream, like you’re walking through some wishful daydream of what might be, and you’ll be forced to return to base soon where you’ll live for who knows how long.

That’s not the case, though, and you know that, but to you it still feels unreal.

You can’t stop thinking about that house.

The others you view are nice, but none of them quite feel like the other one did. They’re not as comforting, as inviting. You can’t picture yourself being at home in them like you can the third one you saw yesterday. Even John doesn’t quite seem as enthusiastic either, perhaps picking up on your energy. He must know you’ve already made up your mind, but you know how dangerous it is to get attached to houses. There’s no guarantee you’ll get it, if there’s other bidders.

You’re trying not to think about that too much.

“So, what do you think?” John asks as you sit in a restaurant for lunch. It’s a nice day outside, the sun shining, the sea bright blue.

“I still really like that one house.” You say.

“Yeah?” He smiles. “That’s the one singing to you?”

You nod. “It feels the most like home.” You shrug. “I don’t know how else to describe it. I can see myself settling in there and building a farm and living out the rest of our lives there comfortably.”

“I like that one too.” He says. “It has the most land and will need the least amount of work.”

“Just some painting.” You say. “Get rid of that red in the bedroom.”

“You don’t like it?” He grins.

You shake your head. “I want something cooler, less harsh on the eyes.”

“Well let’s put an offer in first, then we’ll talk about painting and furniture.”

Right. You’ll have to do that too. You don’t even have a bed to sleep in, much less anything else to furnish your future house with. You don’t even have much in terms of decorations besides your things from base. John had packed up your room for you to go through things you want and don’t want once you get settled in.

“You want to do it?” He asks, reaching across the table to take your hand.

You nod. “Let’s do it.”

He smiles softly at you, his thumb brushing your knuckles. “Let’s do it.”

The waiting is the hardest part. You’re on edge, unsure what to do, how to channel that energy as you wait for a response on whether or not the owners will accept your offer. John had gone above asking price, just to try and make sure there was a greater chance you’d get it. You really want that house.

“I hate waiting.” You say, your feet nervously tapping the arm of the couch.

“I know.” John says, his fingers scratching your scalp as you lay across his lap. “We should know soon, though.”

“Hopefully.” You say, stretching your arms up overhead. “I’m not sure how much more I can take.”

John smirks, wrapping his arms around you to tug you so you’re seated in his lap. “You need an outlet for that energy?”

You wrap your arms around his neck, leaning in. “Why, you offering?”

His hand slides up your leg. “I think I can hep with it.” He leans in, pressing a kiss to your lips. “At least work some of it out.”

You smirk, kissing him back. “I don’t know, I’m pretty anxious.”

He hums, his hand sliding to the inside of your thigh. You can feel him getting hard under your ass. “Let me take the edge off, then.”

He kisses you again before shifting you so your back is against his chest, legs spread over his. His fingers slide up your thighs, trailing over soft skin before they reach the edges of your shorts. He doesn’t bother removing the fabric, instead lifting a hand to slip it under the waistband. Your pussy is already pulsing in anticipation, slick starting to wet your folds.

He slides his hand further under your shorts and into your underwear, his fingers ghosting over your clit. You twitch, letting out a quiet sound. He rumbles low in his chest, the sound vibrating against your back. You spread your legs further, pressing your hips up into his hand.

He presses his fingers against your clit, rubbing slow circles. You whine, your head dropping back against his shoulder. His nose presses into your neck, inhaling your scent from the source.

“So sweet.” He groans, his fingers quickening into slow, tight circles against your sensitive bud. “My sweet girl.”

You moan, one arm curling around to grip the back of his hair. He growls low in his chest, his fingers sliding down to prod at your entrance. You let out a sigh as two of them push into you, stretching you open despite the fact you’ve hardly been able to keep your hands off each other.

It was a long three weeks.

He sinks his thick fingers into you, reaching as far as he can. You let out a long breath, pressing your hips against his hand to try and take him as deep as you can. Your inhale catches in your throat as he curls his fingers, pushing up against that spot inside of you. His free hand drops to your thigh as you attempt to squeeze them closed, forcing it open.

“So fucking tight and wet for me.” He groans into your ear, licking at your throat. “Taking my fingers so well.”

“Alpha,” you whine, squeezing around his fingers as he pushes against that spot with every thrust of his fingers into you.

Your toes are curling already, still sensitive from your morning romp between the sheets. His palm pushes against your clit, the calloused skin dragging against your sensitive bud with every push of his fingers.

“Fuck,” You whine, back arching as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge. “Gonna cum.”

“Cum for me.” He grunts, picking up the pace, pushing his fingers fast and hard against that spot.

Your legs are shaking as you cry out, body squirming in his hold as your orgasm slams into you. You gush around his fingers, coating his hand in slick. He keeps his fingers pressed against that spot as you writhe through your orgasm, legs squeezing around his hand.

He chuckles, against your throat, pressing a kiss to your pulse point before pulling back. “Not quite as good at that as Simon.”

You’re breathing heavy, letting out a quiet sound as he pulls his fingers free. “Simon has magical hands.”

John hums. “He is very good with them.”

You grab John’s wrist, pulling his hand up before taking his fingers in your mouth. You lick at the digits, cleaning your cum off of them, moaning at the taste of yourself on your tongue.

John is breathing heavily, his scent thick in the air. You pull his hand from your mouth, sliding off his lap onto your knees. You turn to face him, pushing his legs apart, your eyes locked onto the bulge in his pants.

“Let me return the favor.” You say, hands going for his belt.

You undo it and unzip his jeans, pushing them down just slightly so you can free his cock from his briefs. It’s hard and heavy in your hand, fully aroused and all he did was finger you. He’s such a good alpha.

You spit into your hand before dragging it along his cock, pumping up and down a few times. He twitches against your hand, likely still sensitive as well after you milked him for all he was worth twice this morning.

You lean forward, dragging the tip of your tongue across the tip of his cock. He lets out a groan, his head falling back against the couch as you tease his sensitive head with your tongue.

His hand sinks into your hair as you take him into your mouth, dragging your tongue down the length of his cock, careful not to catch him with your teeth. You close your lips around him, sucking hard as you pull back up to the tip. His hips jerk just slightly, a deep groan leaving his lips. His head tilts down to watch you, your eyes locking with his as you sink down on his cock again.

You take him as deep as you can, feeling the edge of your gag reflex as his cock pushes at the back of your tongue. You’re out of practice. You haven’t been sucking Johnny’s dick as often as you used to, missing the quickies before he had to go to training, always late and getting reprimanded, despite the fact John knew where he was and what he was doing. You never told on him, but one look at your face and John knew.

You continue to suck John’s dick, using your hand for what you can’t reach. His hand tangles in your hair, not pushing but holding you there as you suck him off, his cock twitching against your tongue. He’s close, you can tell by the restrained way he tries to keep his hips from bucking, his fingers tight as they grip your hair.

You keep eye contact with him, squeezing the base of his cock as you suck extra hard, dragging your lips up his length. You prod at his slit with your tongue before taking him into your mouth again, sinking as deep as you can. You slide a hand down, squeezing his balls and he cums, spurting into your mouth with a growl. You take it all, swallowing his cum and licking him clean.

He lets out a long breath, falling back against the couch as you wipe the drool off your chin. There’s a moment of silence before his phone starts ringing where it sits on the coffee table behind you. You reach back and grab it for him, still on your knees, his soft cock in your hand.

“Hello?” He answers, leaning back against the couch. It’s not one of the guys, his face too serious as he listens. He’s back to the professional, as if he wasn’t just having his cock sucked less than two minutes ago. “That’s great.” He says, his eyes lighting up.

You hold your breath, tucking him back into his pants as you stare at his face, trying to hear what’s being said but you can’t.

“Great, thank you so much.” He says before hanging up.

He stares at you for a long moment, phone in hand. The anticipation is killing you, nerves and excitement twisting deep in your stomach for what he’s about to say. You know it, you can tell just by looking at him, but you need to hear it out loud.

“We got the house.”

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[wvffles]

eeeeeeeeeeeee i'm loving this series so much already !!💙

Ben’s grip tightens a fraction. “All I need is a fucking ride. That isn’t too much to ask, now is it, sweetheart?”

well ben you're not exactly asking now are you 🤠 also i do love how she's still snapping back at him, even if it's not the best idea with the temper he has 🤣

For all Vought claimed to care about diversity, your boss once commented on your “wild” hair shedding on the tile floor.

the familiarity of this made my eye twitch a little bit loll

“Where are you from, exactly?” he asks. 

oh no...

He rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean. What are you, Mexican or something?” You raise a brow, your lips pursing when he begins to smirk.   “I do like me a juicy taco,” he says. 

jesus christ ben 🤦🏽‍♀️ I actually had to take a moment to pause and take a deep breath lmfao he's just soooooooo, out of pocket sometimes like dude pls 😭

“All right. Calm down, Chiquita. You should take it as a fucking compliment,” he says. He raises a brow at you. “You’re a real spicy one, aren’t you?”

oh i'll show you spicy alright, lmfaoooo he's ridiculouss 😩😂 i'm only laughing because it's ben, and also fictional (<3) but it's wild to me how there really are people like this irl, just boggles my mind

“I’ve gotten with a few Latinas in my time,” he says as he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as his thighs splay out a little wider in the sweatpants you let him borrow. “Always with that fuckin’ feisty little temper. But you know what, I got no problem with a hot tamale.” 

yeahhh i'd have to start cussing him out in spanish 😭 show him what a 'feisty temper' really looks like lmfao pinche cabron 🤣

“I know for a fact you can get basically whatever you want on this fucking thing within half an hour,” he says. “Do what you need to do to get some grub over here, but you’re not leaving this fucking apartment until I say so."

some of us are poor, benjamin 🤦🏽‍♀️ it really does cost an arm and a leg to get anything these days it's the worsttt :/

honestly I thought I was gonna yap some more but I realize now that i'm thinking of the whole story so far, including the next two chapters 😩😅 it's so good already !!💗

what I feel is a bit different from this story compared to your other SB stories is that in this, the reader seems a lot more civilian-like. idk if that makes sense like, in the bmd-verse I feel that given the nature of that mc's job, she was a bit more used to "combative situations" and in lost on you that mc is a supe herself, whereas in this story she's really just like, your average person working in an office, which to me adds an extra sense of like vulnerability to this dynamic.

and I mean i'm not saying she's a complete damsel in distress because she is certainly holding her own lmao, but she is being thrust into this whole new dangerous world, thanks to the unfortunate luck of working at that hellish company ;_; like poor girl just wanted to pursue her interests and stay afloat then boom, the building is crumbling and she's harboring a fugitive 😭 one with outdated morals at that ay no, pobresita 😔

+ after listening to the podcast episode I do just wanna put this out there — you're doing super well with navigating this challenging dynamic !!💙 as a fellow latina poc i’m absolutely lovinggg this and i’m excited to see how they got from point a to point b (aka lost in translation) lol <333

UNRAVEL ME - Part 1

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Afro-Latina!Reader

Summary: In the wake of Vought Tower finally falling, you find yourself crossing paths with Soldier Boy. Rogue, weakened, dangerous, and hunted, he needs a place to hide. You’re not about to offer up your own home to shelter a supe wanted by Homelander and the CIA…but he’s also not going to let you refuse.

AN: Finallyyyyy lol. I know I've been talking about this series for months now, but it was genuinely challenging for me to write this prequel for Lost in Translation (which was requested by various Tumblr friends and anons who wanted to see Soldier Boy matched with a woman of color). I think maybe it's because this is now my third Soldier Boy series, and getting this guy to show character growth is hard to do three different times. 🤣 But let's see how it goes with another post-season 3 misadventure! 💜💙 This series also fulfills a hilarious prompt for @jacklesversebingo!

Song Inspo: “Unravel Me” by Sabrina Claudio

JVB Prompt: Accidental Old Person Acquisition

Word Count: 6K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, threats, SB being his typical asshole self, obnoxious flirting, racial elements, Ben drinks Cuban coffee, among other ethnic mini adventures in the future. The reader is a mixed-race Afro-Latina with textured hair. 

💜 Series Masterlist

💙 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

Part 1: Hot Tamale

Vought Tower is falling.

Or at least, that’s what it feels like: the ground trembling like a Magnitude 7 earthquake, overhead lights flickering, a line of rubble falling on your head as you finally manage to squeeze out of the stairwell and into the main floor's reception area. You take in a large gulp of air, breathing past the oppressive clog of warm bodies, sweat, fear, and a hint of piss.

The walls quake along with the tile floor; you spill onto it hard, hitting your knees, though you curl your fingers fast when a woman from Legal almost steps on them in her dagger heels. Fuck!

Fear and adrenaline compel you to scramble onto your feet and claw your way through the gift shop. Maybe you'll be able to cut through the aisles of overpriced Starlight plushies and Special Edition Black Noir Funko Pops to get to one of the east exits.

It's Vought’s very own 9/11. You were told to evacuate over the intercom, and now you're about to find out why.

It’s taken over an hour to try and escape. You’re still trapped in the building, obviously, caught up in the lobby. It's backed up by the clusterfuck of people squeezing themselves through the narrow exit doorways to the garage, like rats clamoring over one another to avoid extermination. Somehow they've broken through the glass to override the security protocols that had first tried to lock you all in.

Just when you make it past the display of red, white, and blue Homelander mugs, a blinding light catches your eye through the tall windows and the growing darkness of the evening. The light falls and falls, what looks like a tangled ball of red and orange and green.

It explodes into the ground, shaking the very foundations of New York City. You cling to the display table and manage to dive underneath it.

You hide there until the shaking stops.

Tears sting in your eyes as the unsteady screams of your coworkers ring out in the lobby, even though you don’t recognize most of them. You suddenly remember your boss; you lost sight of him on the way down the first five flights of stairs. You morbidly wonder if he was one of the ones who got trampled along the way, or blown off the side of the building in the crash.

When the outside world is quiet again, you crawl out from underneath the table. Everyone who still can is slowly getting to their feet, picking themselves up, some of them helping the people closest to them. You don’t know what the hell is happening, but you have a strong feeling Homelander is involved. He’s been playing at CEO for weeks, now that Stan Edgar has been deposed.

Instead of leaving out the front, you continue your plan of going through one of the east side exits. There’s a narrow alley that leads to the garage farther down. You step out into the evening light, made darker in the alley behind what’s left of the Tower. You know the metal door to the garage isn’t too far away, but before you can get to it, you see a man stumbling right toward you.

It's too dark to see him clearly, and even though you back up a couple of steps, the green of his uniform captures your attention.

“Oh my God,” you breathe. “Soldier Boy?”

He glances up at you through furrowed brows. The state of him, ragged and soot-stained, his labored breaths, and the way he’s leaning against the wall—it all tells you that he’s been through some major shit.

“Uh, a-are you okay?” you ask shakily, clutching your messenger bag.

“I’m fine,” he says, though his eyes bore into yours with an intensity that makes your spine prickle with unease.

In record time, your brain collects what little you know about the ancient relic of a supe that’s mere steps away from invading your personal space. Homelander has been calling him a rogue in the press, but even though your role at Vought barely makes you a blip on anyone’s radar, you know enough about what really holds the company together…which means you know better than to believe even one iota of what that star-spangled prick told the public. 

Your gaze flits over Soldier Boy, now with some concern despite your wariness.

“Are you hurt?” you ask.

“I said I’m fucking fine. Do I look fucking hurt?” he growls tiredly. When he tries to stand a bit straighter, he almost stumbles against the wall.

Part of you twinges with sympathy, but still, your lips purse at his attitude.

“Dude, you don’t want me to tell you what you look like,” you say.

His eyebrow twitches. He opens his mouth to retort, but that’s when a man’s voice can be heard nearby. You turn your head at the sound.

While you’re distracted, Soldier Boy grabs you with more strength than you anticipated and drags you along with him against the wall. You gasp, but he holds a dirty half-gloved hand over your mouth.

Voices begin to echo from down the other end of the alley, closer to the main road. The supe has already turned his head in that direction, but your gaze flicks there next, your eyes wide and fearful.

“I don’t need a fuckin’ doctor,” says a man. His accent is thick as hell, like a Mary Poppins chimney sweep. Cockney? He’s tall, wearing a long black coat to match his black hair. He’s also arguing with a black man and a skinny white guy. A couple of ambulances zoom by, for a moment overtaking their voices and casting their bodies in the red glow of the siren alarms.

“Considering you coughed up blood on my fucking shoes, I’m dumping you off at the nearest hospital within a mile, and then you lose my number for good. Got that, motherfucker?” says the black man. He’s just as intimidating as the other guy, if not more so, considering the way the Brit's leaning against the wall like he might keel over right there.

The skinny guy breaks the tension between them. “Look, we should go. Annie’s got Maeve, and Homelander could be circling the sky looking for us right now.”

Queen Maeve? What happened to her? She was supposed to be in rehab. Who's Annie? Oh shit. Annie January. Starlight broke Maeve out? No. I should've known that rehab story was bullshit too. Who fucking knows what actually happened there. More importantly, what's happening here?!

Your thoughts tumble into one another while your heartbeat pounds in your ears. Your breathing comes out shallower through your nose, considering the big meaty hand covering your mouth.

If Homelander's looking for these guys, then none of this little scene is good. It makes you a fucking witness. Shit...

Soldier Boy tightens his hold on your arm. Slow and quiet, he opens the door to the parking garage with his elbow, since his other hand is still locked over your mouth. He guides you in. 

“Don’t scream, or I’ll start squeezing,” he warns. At least he releases his hand from your mouth, instead, grabbing the back of your neck. “Where’s your car?” 

“Wait, come on,” you plead, your voice shaking. “Whatever you did, I don’t want to know, but I didn’t sign up to be your getaway driver.” 

Ben’s grip tightens a fraction. “All I need is a fucking ride. That isn’t too much to ask, now is it, sweetheart?”

“Depends on where you’re trying to go,” you say. But you decide that not getting snapped in half is good enough reason to lead him to your car. You rarely have cause to drive it, so it mostly just stays parked here in the garage. For once, you’re grateful that you shell out a portion of your monthly paycheck to reserve this space. 

You fish your keys out of your car and unlock the door with shaky hands. Soldier Boy watches you press the button on the small key remote with furrowed brows, but he takes it from you after forcing you in the driver’s seat, so he can enter the car on the passenger side.

The second your tiny blue Kia rumbles pitifully to life, your music blares loud enough to feel the bass in the floor. Soldier Boy smacks the radio buttons roughly until it stops.

You give him a thin smile. 

“Not a fan of Bad Bunny?” you ask.

Irritated, he grabs a hold of the small plushie swinging from your rearview mirror. He yanks it off despite your protest, nearly breaking the mirror, and stares in gruff bewilderment at the white fluffy heart. It has a Dominican flag embroidered on the front and a Cuban flag on the back—custom made on Etsy.

The supe raises a brow, but he dismissively tosses it somewhere in the back seat. When you look at his grumpy face, he just reminds you of Oscar the Grouch. He reaches down and shifts the seat back, but he barely has any leg room for those thunder thighs and combat boots.

“Just fucking drive,” he says, his voice like sharp gravel.

Again, your annoyance sparks at his rudeness. Are all supes assholes, or is it just the ones you’re forced to interact with?

“Okay, but where the hell do you want me to take you?” you ask. “The subway? The airport? The Hudson River? What?”

He thinks about it, drumming his fingers against his leg. His uniform is a bit poppier than military green, yet more classic than Homelander’s with the stretch of that silver-plated eagle across the chest. 

“Too many eyes at the airport. I need to lie low for a while before I get outta dodge,” Soldier Boy admits. Then he sits back in your passenger seat, adjusting the recline until his broad frame is below the view of the window. You think it’s both for his own comfort and so he’s less likely to be seen. 

“Your place should be all right,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest.

Your mouth falls open in shock. “Are you for real?” 

He just gives you a stern look. He’s not fucking kidding.

“Look, you may be a superhero and all, but I don’t fucking know you! And…” Just then, clarity strikes you as you remember what’s been going on in the news for the past week. “Didn’t, uh, didn’t you…blow up a building in Midtown?”

He doesn’t seem to want to answer at first, leveling you with that stoic, bearded face. His gaze eventually drifts away from yours. 

“That was an accident.” 

Your breath gets caught in your throat. “That’s a pretty big accident.”

Again, Soldier Boy doesn’t answer you. You try to focus on the road, but it’s pretty impossible when you have a supe that’s supposedly risen from the dead in your passenger seat, who also exploded 19 people on accident, who tried and failed to kill Homelander.

Speaking of, Homelander himself is looking for this guy…which means you’re helping a fugitive escape. What’s worse, he wants to crash on your goddamn couch.

One of your hands leaves the steering wheel to cover your mouth. You press your hand there until the mix-match of gold and silver rings start to bite into the sensitive flesh of your lower lip. 

“Coño su madre,” you mutter the curse under your breath. I’m so fucking screwed.  

You unlock the door to your third-floor apartment with a heavy sigh. As usual, it gets stuck the first time you try to swing it open. You throw a little more strength in your arm the second time, and the door finally budges. 

You flick the lights on inside and unveil the shoebox that is your home. It’s barely a one-bedroom. The open kitchen lies to the right with a small two-seater table nestled against the wall, while the “living room” lies to the left. There you managed to fit a faded violet loveseat couch from your college days, a bookshelf from Goodwill, and your TV perched on what’s supposed to be a coffee table.

Straight ahead is a narrow hall that leads to your bedroom door on the right side and the one and only bathroom on the other. 

Well, this is gonna be fun. Slumber party with America’s Most Wanted, you think, with no small amount of Jesus fucking Christ weighing your steps.

Soldier Boy’s broad shoulders barely clear the open doorway. He shuts and locks the door behind him and takes stock of your apartment with a slow turn of his head. He doesn’t seem impressed, except for the paintings, funky ‘60s style shelves, and other canvases decorating the walls.

“You some kind of artist?” he asks, giving a cursory glance to each one.

“Uh, yeah, kinda,” you nod. “But most of these aren’t mine.”

On every wall, there’s a cluster of art, from canvases to pottery, glass, burnished clay, and brass. There are replicas of paintings by Salvador Dalí and Frida Kahlo, Picasso and Basquiat, Monet and Amelia Peláez, even a sculpture of a woman that you tried to replicate from Ana Mendieta. It’s meant to represent the suffering of women. Hell if today doesn’t qualify.

You toss your messenger bag onto the couch and throw up your arms at your sides.

“Well, since the police, Homelander, and probably the rest of the government are looking for you, you should do the whole ‘get outta dodge’ thing in the morning,” you say. You clasp your hands together in the facsimile of a prayer and politeness all in one. “But if you really wanna spend a night on my couch, then that’s okay.”

We’ll get through this. Just one night of insanity and then this’ll all be over. 

“That bed looks big enough for two,” the supe says. He nods at your open bedroom door and smiles suggestively, his gaze roaming over your form.

You get that shiver down your spine again, even as you blush. You take a pointed step away from him.

“Uh, how about fucking no,” you snap. “That door will be locked, and I have a taser that I’m not afraid to use on any tender bits.”

He raises a brow at you, but he snorts. He steps toward you, his gait slow and arrogant. You cross your arms while he closes the distance, his hair falling forward across his forehead as he stares down at you with a hint of a sneer. His chin and forehead are still stained with grime, just as his red gloves are scuffed and half burnt from whatever happened in that blast.

Your heart trips up faster. A tremble of fear runs through you, but you refuse to move.

“You do realize that that’s tantamount to flicking me with a rubber band,” he says. His half-lidded gaze runs over you with a note of interest. The corner of his mouth raises in a smirk. “Besides, whatever we might get up to, I can guarantee you’ll enjoy it. Just ask Loni Anderson. Farrah Fawcett. Hell, Molly Ringwald. Love me a fuckin’ redhead once in a while.”

You give him a look that could (proverbially) crumble Empire State.

“Don’t fucking bet on it,” you say.

Yes, your voice is quiet. Yes, you have to work past a swallow. But you don’t ever drop your gaze. You meet him head-on with every bit of stubborn fire you have left inside you.

“If you touch me, I’ll scream," you say, a wary trembling in your chest. "Even if you kill me, they’ll find you that much quicker.”

His smirk falls away. His gaze roams over you again, this time in a different way. Maybe he sees the way your entire body is tense, locked up tight, prepared to recoil and scream if he tries to grab at you. He relents.

“Christ, relax. It’s your fucking loss anyway, sweetheart.” His eyes roll dismissively as he turns away from you. “I need a shower.”

He strides down the hall in search of it. You move quickly to get ahead of him. The last thing you need is him rifling through your bedroom drawers.

“Ah, wait! I’ll get you a towel,” you say. It irritates you to have to treat him like a “guest,” but you don’t know what else to do. The man can literally snap your neck. Even for that big ass bluff you just pulled, you really, really don’t want to die.

You could try calling the police while he’s in the shower, but you don’t know what he’ll do if he finds out. And who’s gonna be quicker on the draw—the human police force, or the literal super soldier?

No, it’ll be more painless to just wait this guy out and see him off in the morning. For now, he doesn’t seem inclined to hurt you. He even took a rejection of you “sleeping” with him pretty well, for a supe. They tend to think they're God’s gifts to humanity. Working at Vought, you’ve been propositioned more than enough times. Though God forbid you say no for a ride on their magical dick. You’d rather not jump on that potential steel trap. You know a guy in Marketing who had his happy place literally frozen and chipped off.

After finding a fresh towel for Soldier Boy, he shuts himself in the lone bathroom across from your room. Soon, the old pipes roar to life. You retreat into your room for a long, slow breath. It’s less steadying than you’d hoped.

You also shut and lock the bedroom door behind you, for whatever good that might do you. 

Not much, you realize warily. 

You sink your fingers into your hair and blow out a sigh of frustration. What even is my fucking life right now?

Tugging on the knotted curls, you loosen them from the bun you wrapped tightly this morning. For all Vought claimed to care about diversity, your boss once commented on your “wild” hair shedding on the tile floor. 

Taking in a few deep, yoga-style breaths before you lose your shit, you dig into the recesses of your closet and dresser drawers. Your most recent ex had left at least one shirt, maybe a pair of boxers. Soldier Boy will have to make do with your favorite sweatpants. They’re stretched out enough from years of wear and washes that they’ll probably fit him. 

Juuuuust great. You're really contemplating this asshole wearing your clothes.

By the time you gather your bearings, shove your soul back into your body and leave your room, Soldier Boy is exiting the bathroom, the fluffy purple towel slung low around his hips. 

“Jesus!” You jolt and instinctively step back. There’s nowhere far to go in the hallway, so your ass ends up bumping against the hollow wall. 

Once again, he wears a smug sort of smile as he stares down at you in amusement. 

“Like what you see, huh, baby doll?”

“Put your tits away, please,” you snap, handing him the bundle of clothing while trying not to look at him directly. You can’t help glancing at his muscular frame out of the corner of your eye. 

Good lord, it’s like he was chiseled from marble. Make that marble with a golden tan, and a patch of hair across his chest that you could run your nails through.

His lips curve with a cockier smile. You quickly look away.

Great. He caught you ogling for one tiny second. And with that moment of human weakness, all that strong talk you accomplished earlier had probably just withered away into nothing. Is he going to take that as an invitation to slide into bed with you tonight while you’re trying to sleep?

Yeeeah. Who the hell are you kidding? You’re going to tape your own eyes open if you have to, but you’re not dropping your guard around this guy. He doesn’t seem to actually want to hurt you. He wants to use you for convenience’s sake. But it doesn’t change the fact that he’s dangerous, hunted, arrogant as fuck, and weirdly horny for a guy who just threw himself off a building.

Subtly clearing your throat, you move past him to the living room. There you set up the couch for him to sleep on. He ventures back into the bathroom to get dressed, which gives you a small break. You’re mentally counting the seconds. 

He comes back somewhat fully dressed. The shirt is a bit small for him, as are the boxer shorts. 

“Christ, who did this belong to, a fucking eunuch?” Soldier Boy asks. “Tell me you’ve got a brother. Because if this was your boyfriend’s, then he wasn’t doing shit for you, sweetheart.”

You begin to blush on reflex, shooting him a steely glare. Those clothes did belong to your ex, but that’s none of his damn business. 

“As promised, here’s the couch,” you gesture to the neatly fitted sheets, blankets, and even a fluffy(ish) pillow you so generously laid out for him. “Again, I will be locking my bedroom door, and if you make even a step in that direction, prepare to get tased in the dick. It’s already set on the max setting.”

Soldier Boy smirks. You fail to see how what you’ve said is in any way funny. You’re definitely not laughing, but you do blink in surprise when he takes your hand and brings the back of it to his lips for a kiss. His beard briefly rasps against your skin. He looks down at you, meeting your eyes with his own. The green in them makes you falter. 

“Believe it or not, I appreciate the help,” he says, turning on the charm. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

Your lips purse. Does he really think hitting you with that Brad Pitt tone of voice is going to work on you? He fucking kidnapped you, and not to mention, is currently holding you on house arrest.

“Oh, now you want to know my name? After conning me into being your Uber driver and your Airbnb in one?” You try to slip your hand out of his, but his grip tightens. He’s still smiling, amused by your struggle. 

“Come on, what’s your name?” he cajoles.

You sigh. Despite your better judgment, you give it to him begrudgingly.

"What's yours?" you ask, mostly drenched in sarcasm. Though a small part of you is...curious.

He stares back at you for a moment, something almost like surprise flicking through his gaze. His lips twitch at the corners, wry and humorless.

"Ben," he says, finally letting go of your hand.

“Okay, cool. So nice to meet you, uh, Ben," you reply, gesturing at his overall form. You still can't believe he's standing here like an iron lamppost in your living room. Are you about to step into the portal to Narnia now and continue this fever dream, or fall straight down to hell?

"All right, mind if I go now?" you say, crossing your arms as the snark escapes its cage. "I’ve had a bitch of a day and I need my beauty sleep."

Ben raises a brow.

Shit. You bite your lip.

Okay, you know you’re being a bit too hostile to a man who can all too easily snap you in half, but he’s got this way of pushing every single one of your buttons at once. Not in a good way. In the wish I could fucking scratch your eyes out kind of a way.

You're frankly lucky that Soldier Boy just seems amused by your attitude. Silly woman with her silly fits of belligerence.

His green-eyed gaze slides from the curve of your jean-clad thighs to your hips, over your breasts concealed by a red blouse, and finally up to your chin, your lips, your eyes. You can’t help the way your skin tingles at his scrutiny, even as you frown.

“From where I’m standing, sleep isn’t what you need,” he says. He somehow manages to sound both flattering and suggestive. 

Your face flares hotter, and your lips press tightly together.

“Sweet dreams, Soldier Boy,” you say, somewhat sarcastically as you head back to your room. You intend to grab your pajamas and take them with you into the bathroom. You’re going to have to bring your taser and lock yourself in there for a shower, even with the obvious safety hazard. What-fucking-ever at this point, as long as it keeps out Hungry Like the Wolf out there. But his reply makes you pause. 

He snorts. “Good night, sweetheart.” 

You turn to look at him over your shoulder. He spares you one final look, less arrogant and more taciturn, before he turns away and lowers himself down onto the couch.

You sigh, but you can’t help peeking around the corner at the supe sitting in your living room. His broad frame takes up the entire center of the little couch. You’re not all that sure he’s going to be comfortable there, since his long legs are definitely not going to fit across the loveseat, but he’s going to have to deal with it until tomorrow. 

You watch him rest his elbows above his knees and blow out a long, tired breath. He raises a hand to rub between his furrowed brows. For a long beat, he just stares vacantly at the floor between his knees. 

Then he leans back against the couch, crosses his arms, and closes his eyes. He seems…lost. Exhausted.

You wonder if he has anyone in his life worth getting back to. Anyone at all.

Shaking your head, you quietly make your way back to your room.

Ben finds himself watching you the next morning. He sits at the two-seater table while you putter about in the kitchen.

You’re cute, he has to admit, all sleepy and barely awake as you slide around in your fuzzy red slippers. A large Knicks shirt hangs off your body, exposing one smooth shoulder. Your sweatpants are overlarge as well, which only makes him think about the generous curves you’ve got hiding underneath. He took notice yesterday. You had a lot to work with under that little blouse, jeans, and chunky heels.   

Yesterday you were put together, even though you’d clearly had a rough time escaping the Tower. Today you've slunk out of your room with baggy pajamas, your hair a mess of curls running down your back. 

“Want a cafecito?” you ask.

Ben raises a brow. “If you mean coffee, then that’d be good. Something hot to eat would be even better.”

“First of all, this isn’t a bed and breakfast,” you say, turning to him with an edge to your voice. “Look, I’m exhausted. There’s a bakery down the street. I can pick something up.” 

As a matter of fact, your favorite Colombian bakery is right around the corner. You start thinking about all the pastries you’re going to treat yourself with, even though it does make you miss the Cuban bakeries back home. You would absolutely kill for an empanada with guava and cheese right now. 

Instead of cold-blooded murder, you set the tiny espresso cup of coffee in front of Ben. His face shifts to confusion and bewilderment. 

“I asked for a cup of coffee, black, not this baby doll tea set cup of coffee,” he says. 

“It’s a Cuban espresso,” you inform him. “And believe me, you don’t want it any bigger than that.”

Unless he just wants to spend the rest of the day on the toilet. Maybe he needs to clean out his system. 

“Just try it,” you encourage. “I think you’ll like it.” 

He eyes you with skepticism, but he takes a sip.

It’s sweet, but the rich, robust taste hits him between the eyes. His brows raise high.

“Okay,” he says with a growing smile. “I see what you mean.”

“See? Now you don’t gotta doubt me again,” you nod. He watches you pour one for yourself, stirring in a frankly alarming spoonful of sugar. 

“Where are you from, exactly?” he asks. 

You glance over at him, taking issue with the way he asks the question. 

“New York,” you respond tartly. You're really from Miami, but he doesn't need to know that.

He rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean. What are you, Mexican or something?”

You raise a brow, your lips pursing when he begins to smirk.  

“I do like me a juicy taco,” he says. 

His slutty grin is too much for you. Your hand tightens around your coffee cup.

“Okay, a lot to unpack there, Romeo, but no. Not all of us are Mexican!” 

“All right. Calm down, Chiquita. You should take it as a fucking compliment,” he says. He raises a brow at you. “You’re a real spicy one, aren’t you?”

You gape incredulously. “Excuse me?” 

Chiquita?! What the hell is that? Is he saying you look like a goddamn banana, or does he actually know a few words in Spanish? Is he actually calling you a little girl? And for the cherry on top, did he really just call you spicy?!

Either way, he’s about to get slapped across his pig-man mouth. 

“I’ve gotten with a few Latinas in my time,” he says as he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as his thighs splay out a little wider in the sweatpants you let him borrow. “Always with that fuckin’ feisty little temper. But you know what, I got no problem with a hot tamale.” 

“Oooh.” The sound is pure and unadulterated FED UP. You down your espresso like a shot. You’re already contemplating another dose, because you don’t have the energy for this.

But you’re also reminded then, that this man came to fame in the 1940s. He was born, what, before the damn Dust Bowl and the Great Depression? He’s literally an ancient relic, a walking black and white billboard of tóxico, and he acts like one too. 

You fairly slam your ceramic cup on the dining table as you slide into the seat across from him. 

“Just so we don’t have any more conversations like this in the future, here it goes,” you say with a sharp sigh. “My mom is Cuban. My dad is black and Dominican. I’m as mixed as it gets, but I’m in no way spicy. If you’ve got me mad fucking tight right now, it’s because you clearly have no idea what decade you’re in.”

Your insult strikes a nerve, making his eyebrow twitch. Soon, however, his lips curve. 

“I’ve got you tight, huh?” he says, cocking his head. A lock of his hair falls roguishly across his brow. “Gotta say, wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had that effect on a woman.” 

You freeze, another hot blush burning in your cheeks. You can feel it making its way down your neck. “That’s…that’s not what you think it means.”

His lazy, arrogant, salacious smirk really makes you want to slap him, but you have a feeling that it’ll hurt you way more than it would hurt him. You get up from the table and ignore the loud scrape of the chair on tile.

“You know what? Forget it! I’m hungry. Don’t follow me.”

You go back to your room and lock the door behind you. You come back out a few minutes later dressed in what he thinks is your way of teasing him—in some ass-hugging jeans and a shirt that clings to your form. Ben watches you cross the room, smiling at the way you give him some narrowed side-eye while twisting your hair up into a wild ponytail. It’s a simple thing women do that’s always attracted him for some reason.

He also likes the shade of red you painted on your lips. 

“You are a feisty little thing,” he remarks, sipping his espresso. “Can’t say I mind.”

“Good. Stay here,” you hotly retort. Or better yet, get the FUCK out of my apartment.

You don’t say that last bit out loud, but he can read it loud and clear in your eyes, filled with that Latina fire. He remembers it all too well.

He grabs your wrist before you slip by him though. He hears the way your breath hitches, your gaze snapping down to meet his. You manage to hide most of your fear.

Maybe it makes some part of him twinge, deep down. You don’t know that he mostly finds you amusing. That he’d rather not hurt you, considering you don’t pose even one fraction of a threat to him. That like it or not, he needs to stay in your rathole apartment until he can figure out how to get out of the city unseen, let alone out of the country.

“You think I’m fucking stupid?” he asks.

You say nothing, but the look on your face tells him what you want to say. His eyes narrow.

“You’re not leaving,” he says.

“Well, I’m not cooking,” you counter. “There’s nothing to cook—”

“Order a damn delivery.”

“You know how expensive that is? Between delivery fee and tipping nowadays, Doordash charges a whole other meal on top of the meal! UberEats isn’t much better. Plus, none of the good places around here deliver like that. Not for breakfast at least. And anyway, I really need to go grocery shopping. What do you expect me to do, open a can of tuna and a jar of olives for breakfast?”

Ben’s not going to pretend he knows what the fuck you’re talking about, but his patience is running out.

“All right, enough. Give me your uh, your phone,” he demands. His tone gains an edge, a warning.

You expel an irritated huff, but you reach into your purse and all but slam it on the kitchen table. He takes it and examines it with some curiosity, but mostly, he retains his stoicism.

“I know for a fact you can get basically whatever you want on this fucking thing within half an hour,” he says. “Do what you need to do to get some grub over here, but you’re not leaving this fucking apartment until I say so."

He raises his brows and meets your eyes in a not so subtle warning.

"Just so you know, I've got a sharper ear than you think," he adds. "If you get stupid and try making a call for help, it's gonna be the last thing you fucking do. You understand me?”

Your teeth grind together, but ultimately, your sense of self-preservation reminds you not to poke the bear anymore. You force your anger and fear to dim to embers beneath your skin, and you nod in agreement. You then lower your gaze, waiting for him to let you go.

When he does, you slip away from him as soon as possible, taking your phone as you go.

For what it’s worth, you lock the bedroom door behind you. 

AN: Aaaand we're off! lol Did you expect him to basically force her into house arrest? 😅 We're gonna have some fun on this one, but there's also going to be a fair bit of action and slow-burn moments.~

Next Time:

You suddenly stand from the table, your chair scraping across the floor. You can tell the sound irritates his sharp ear as he glances up at you with a frown.

“You are a goddamn fugitive. You get that right?” you say, regarding him with an incredulous tilt of your head. “Now you’ve hooked me into this. I could get into serious shit because of you, and you don’t even seem to care! What…what kind of fucking superhero are you supposed to be?”

At the same time, you don’t know why this surprises you. Most of the supes you’ve met couldn't care less about the average person. The entire purpose of Vought’s Legal Department springs to mind.

Still, you thought America’s first supe ever—the one who supposedly fought in WWII, pounded Nazis up the ass, and represented the ideals this country was supposed to be founded on—might actually give a shit. Yet again, it stings to be proven wrong.

Ben’s expression had been verging on apathy, but now, he’s irritated and angry. He pushes back from the table and stands up to his full height. Even wearing your ex’s plain gray crew shirt and some threadbare sweatpants, the man’s frame is intimidating. He makes slow steps closer until he’s looming over you.

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Soldier Boy Masterlist

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Soldier Boy Tag List (Part 1)

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@stoneyggirl2 @sl33pylilbunny @spnfamily-j2

[akookminsupporter]

Rosie!! D-3 😭 I honestly don't think people realize how long 18 months is. That's 547 ish days! How the hell did we survive this? You know, I don't think we'll ever know how Jimin and Jungkook came to the decision to enlist together, considering how many risks/cons there were versus just enlisting individually. But man, I'd definitely be interested to know more.

Out of all the duos in BTS, these two have been attached to the hip for over a decade, and yet, we never really had any kind of conversations/discussions on how their relationship really is compared to their relationships with the other members where they've openly expressed and describe them. It's always short and sweet, just enough but never delving deep. And I respect that, truly. If that's something they don't want to open up. It just always made me curious why we've never had that. So excited for ch 3! We've made it!

Don’t you feel like these past few days have just dragged on forever? I honestly can’t explain it, but it’s got that weird January feeling where time moves painfully slow and each day feels like it’s stretching out for a whole century. It’s kind of ridiculous, ajaajajaj.

Eighteen months is a seriously long time when you think about it. However, I must say that BTS handled it all so cleverly. They really thought about how to keep us engaged during that entire period, and it worked. It felt like every two months, there was something new to look forward to. It made the wait feel a bit lighter and kept the energy alive in the fandom. Honestly, I still can’t believe how well they pulled that off. It just goes to show how professional and thoughtful they are when it comes to their work and their fans.

And let’s be real, a lot of people were convinced that their popularity would take a hit while they were away. But if anything, the opposite happened. I mean, have you seen how many baby ARMYs there are now? It’s insane.

As for Jimin and Jungkook, I really doubt they’ll ever sit down and explain why they decided to enlist together or why they chose to do it in the way they did. That kind of decision probably comes with a lot of personal reasons, and I get the feeling it’s something they’re going to keep between themselves. I mean, I would absolutely love to be wrong ajajajajaj. It would be so interesting to hear their thoughts on it, but I don’t see it happening any time soon, if ever.

One thing I’ve been thinking about is whether they’ll ever say anything about Are You Sure?! It was such a beautiful and unexpected series, and people really responded to it in a big way. I hope they’ve seen how much love it’s gotten. It would be so nice if that encouraged them to make another season at some point.

Look, I honestly think that after everything we’ve seen, trying to argue that Jimin and Jungkook aren’t the closest pair in the group just doesn’t make sense anymore. And it’s not even about suggesting anything romantic. That’s a whole different conversation and not really the point. Even without going there, they clearly share a connection that is just incredibly strong. What they’ve been through together during this time is something very personal and unique. No matter how close the other members are or what they’ve experienced, it won’t quite match what Jimin and Jungkook have now. It’s their own shared moment in time, something no one else can fully understand.

It’s definitely interesting how their dynamic is rarely brought up by the other members. There are moments where they say or do things that are kind of brushed aside, but if another pair in the group did the same, you’d see everyone reacting, making jokes, teasing or even mimicking them. With Jimin and Jungkook, though, it’s like there’s this quiet respect or maybe just something people don’t really know how to comment on. I remember us talking about this before, and unless I’m totally misremembering, I know I’ve mentioned it here at least once.

Anyway, I’m honestly just really excited about what comes next. There are so many possibilities waiting for us. For the group and of course, their solo stuff too., I feel like we’re about to enter a really exciting chapter. It’s such a good feeling to have something to look forward to again.

[fir-fireweed]

Hi, sorry for the longish message, I just really need to talk about the new chapter!!

Calliope has very very quickly just become my favourite. I have never felt so happy to play a tall MC because that scene where we can grab something off the shelf had me feeling all giddy and kicking my legs. Like, yes, anything for you Calliope, I will lift things off the shelf any day of the week. And her leaning baCK AGAINST ME-

And helping her off the desk by literally PICKING HER UP (my weakness, oh no, whatever shall I do?) hoo boy- *tugs on the collar of my shirt* HOO, is it getting hot in here or what? The mental imagery of my tall ass introverted MC with the muscles of a marble statue, big hands picking her up to help her get down from the desk like the great husband he is- I need to stop, I’m getting flustered over here.

I love her, she could tell me to do anything and I’d just go with it. I’m sensing a running theme that I am weak for her. Hmm.

Thank you for making a character like this by the way. Maybe I just haven’t read enough IFs but a lot of them either don’t have characters like Calliope or they don’t take the MC’s appearance into account during scenes. So having Calliope here being the short one and having me just… looming over her and having the game acknowledge that is great. Adorable imagery :).

Also she is so freaking cute!!! Not just the way she looks but her personality too. She’s a very cute person!! She is my wife now >:D

Eva has also grown on me a lot. I wasn’t sure about her at first because I’m very close with my own brother and having a somewhat rocky relationship with someone I'm meant to love like a sibling felt weird to me. It shows that she’s a great character with her own wants and feelings and I like that it sometimes doesn’t align with ours!

But she has definitely grown on me this chapter. I love her and I will defend her with my life if I have to. That future husband of hers better watch himself, I have a muscly mountain of a man for a MC and I am not afraid to use him. He's watching you Nikolaos.

Looking forward to where things go next (ending was diabolical). I cannot wait to see my husband, the one and only Bayram Durmaz, in the next chapter. And, of course, my wife Calliope.

Sorry again for the long ramble, I just really like Calliope😅

You never have to apologize for rambling at me, I love it! I know there’s a lot of secrecy around the end of the chapter, but SOO much other stuff happened here and I’d love to talk about it! 😁

I’m happy to see more love for Calliope! I love the imagery of your MC with her. I’m trying to make a conscious effort to include your choices, things like height. But honestly, I credit the MC’s muteness with that scene. It is extremely difficult coming up with flirt options when your character can’t talk, lol. So I have to rely on physical interactions more. 😊

And yes! I’m converting more readers over to Eva, mwahaha! I love exploring those family dynamics that are good and loving, but not always easy, and seeing the characters grow through that. And between your MC and Jonah, Nikolaos better fear for his life! 😆

Bayram will be coming in with the cavalry next chapter like the showstopper he is, don’t worry!

Thank you again for this ask! Seriously, ramble at me anytime! 🫶🏻

[zephyrus-gremlin]

Pt. 2 of my Monster Hunter brainrot featuring Wind and his Lagiacrus!

Lagiacrus are massive gator leviathans that roam the seas and hunt their prey with electrical shocks produced from its spiked back!

Although Wind doesnt wear armor, he does wield a Lagiacrus Switch Axe! (A weapon that can change from a sword to an axe and vice virsa)

The colors on a Lagiacrus (especially in Monster Hunter Stories) are very bright and reminiscent of the Great Sea, and the bits of red on its horns and tail make me think of the King of Red Lions.

The rest of the chain:

Sky - Four - Time - Twilight - Wind - Legend - Hyrule - Warriors - Wild

[wellhalesbells]

ehhhhhh

I have rarely felt so bad about watching/enjoying a show as I do about watching/enjoying Hawaii Five-O???

I'm trying to tell myself it's okay because the fact that I have all these issues with it clearly means that I'm engaging critically with the media I've been presented but.... well, most of the time I would drop shit that sucked this hard. Also.............. I'm pretty sure it's going to cause me to develop an eye twitch.

The racism is nooooon-stop (especially towards Arabs, like, if my brother-in-law caught me watching this, I would be both embarrassed and ashamed... there are three times - so far - that we get to see Muslim/Arab men not be the villains and each time is so wrapped up in white savior narratives that it's entirely moot), the sexism (Danny listing how great his team is and then just goes: and Kono's a fox I had a crush on, that's not a personality trait, that's not even an action she performed, that is literally just what she looks like which SHOULD BE the least important thing about any human you know??? let alone someone you've worked with for seven years. She is also made to consistently be around men who are disgusting and creepy with her - could be anyone's job, somehow is Kono's - and then the show eventually tries to redeem these men by giving them more complex backstories than Kono gets to have... if not for her mother/surfing, her only backstory is her relationship [*coughs*what Max praises her for when he leaves.... also not a personality trait*coughs*], NO BUT THE SEXISM (there's a group of girls locked in the cargo area of a truck and Steve is fighting their (1) captor and he knocks his gun away, has him completely distracted, and you don't think any of those girls might.... help? Join in? Want to shoot this fucking dude with the gun that has been dropped practically at their feet? Nope, nuh uh, they're just there to watch Steve be heroic, to be audience to his epic masculinity. EW. JUST EW.), these specific examples are all from season seven too so what should be improving is literally nose-diving into even deeper depths of misogyny. There's also classism in nearly every episode in some fashion and fatphobia almost every time Jerry or Kamekona or Flippa make an appearance. Plus, y'know, the police brutality that the show is built on.

I'm also pretty sure Peter Lenkov (based on the articles that have come out about his on set abuse, particularly in regards to Lucas Till) really has a chip on his shoulder about Scott Caan/Danny (who is short, blond, has attractive qualities that rely more on bone structure than ruggedness) and regularly tries to back him into traits he considers more 'feminine': wanting to stay out of danger/wait for back-up/you know... use brain rather than brawn, makes him more fashionable (including that scene about the lingerie that definitely could be read more than one way), making him be 'the nag,' etc. I just REALLY HOPE it bothered the fuck out of him that Scott Caan has more of the traditionally masculine qualities than his rock hard ode to masculinity that is Steve McGarrett/Alex O'Loughlin.

[cent-scratchnsniff]

More sketchy employee profile images. Mostly made to be able to replace the picrew I had in the template I made since I can draw. I did end up just putting it as back and white though but the color is just nice to have. I'm STILL trying to tweak the template since it is very finicky and there is an example of what it looks down below if you're interested. It is a lot. It will happen. I am just not the quickest

There are typos and inconsistencies I missed but in general it should be fine...

[freakinator]

if i had it my way i would love a zam/leo/clown/red/mapicc/bacon/minute/mid alliance/team next season

[queerwolfdog]

I find another reason of why M's familial attitude and treatment towards me are impacting me so deeply much is the fact— taking this in now— that while I had a dismissive and emotionally distant father who pulled the abandonment card when I was thirteen, my mother is never as truly caring and understanding as he is.

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Oh being a GM is so fucking fun

[chicksmoothie]

• Lovedrunk — mingi

Pairing: bf!mingi x gf!reader

— Mingi and you finally decide to move in together, but truth to be told you didn’t have time for each other more than for the basics. This means you are desperate to spend time just enjoying the other’s company (and fuck, and well, it shows)

! Long fuck fic

! based on Say it like you mean it characters but not mentioning its plot

W/C: ~4.8K

Genre: smut, fluff, established relationship, madly in love

Warnings: +18, mdni (seriously), cursing (a lot), dirty talking (another lot), teasing, edging, slight possessive behaviour (from both parts), breeding kink, praise kink, size kink, honestly this is a kink compilation, raw sex (you know you shouldn’t), needy mingi & needy reader, both vibing in the same horny kind of tune, pure hornyness, dry humping, a lot of spit, oral (f receiving), making out, multiple orgasms and therefore overstim, squirting, switch dynamics (rather bratty power bottom reader x service top mingi but also kind of switching so idk?), filming, this counts as a warning too cos really madly in love should be a warning, let me know if I forgot something i hope not cos this warnings are longer than the fic already

A/N: at the end

Also: this oneshot is fiction and in no way aims to portrait anyone involved in the story

Taglist: @i01233 @tinie03 @thesupreme316 @esmedelacroix thanks for waiting ♡

His scent was all over the room after taking a shower. His arm still a bit humid and warmer than usual had you hugged close to him under the blanket. And you couldn’t see it well since it was dark in the room, but the red and white highlights flashing from the tv painting his beautiful profile and the screen reflecting on his glasses had you totally distracted.

you were trying so hard to focus on the anime you decided to watch together. You were so, so trying it…

But the way his casual and cozy look caught your breath each time you had the chance to see it since you moved in together had no hopes in changing, ever.

It had been some time since you had had a quality time and chill night together due to hectic schedules at work and all the move in process, so now that the stars aligned and you had the same days off you wanted it to be as actually chill as possible and restricted every single dirty thought about pulling his glasses off and kiss him to start with.

If only his fingers were not playing with yours under the blanket. If only his shampoo wasn’t the same as yours and you didn’t weirdly get off to that because it meant you were actually living together. If only you weren’t so pent up after nearly a week without seeing each other for anything else but eating and sleeping if you were lucky.

If only you didn’t feel your heart skip a beat every time he chuckled when he found something funny happening in the anime that you were totally not watching.

If only you didn’t love him so fucking much.

Mingi turned his face your way while still smiling to check if you found the scene as funny as he did.

And you will never know what he saw on your face at this very moment, but his smile dropped and his eyes narrowed in only one second. “What’s up babychick? You don’t like the series?”

He knew exactly what was up, but he chose to play dumb for a moment. “Yes, yes, i am loving it,” you recovered quickly from your trance ”it is so interesting” and decided to play along. You smiled, lovingly, not showing how sarcastic you were actually being and on the contrary making it sound as genuine as possible.

You turned your face to the screen just in time to catch a smirk slowly growing on his face. He wanted to play? This you could do it. No problem at all.

—

The voices coming from the tv were white noise and ambient sound at this point. You had been silent since your little conversation earlier, but no words were needed when both of you were anticipating what was going to happen. You knew each other already, so you could tell that Mingi was getting impatient by how he looked at you from the corner of his eye. His tease was backfiring completely and all he could think about was him eating you out, but he didn’t want to lose just yet.

It all started to get complicated for him with you pulling up slightly at the hem of his shirt and placing your hand on his lower stomach pretending you were looking for some kind of warmth, your hand was cold you said. Sneaky girl… and eventho his breath hitched for one millisecond he continued with your little edging game.

He put his hand over yours, saying that by doing so it would warm up quicker. And it could have been an innocent gesture if only he wasn’t tracing random forms and decorating your fingers in suggestive caresses. Fucking tease… Good thing someone died in the anime in this exact moment, that way your little pout could pass as unbothered.

But you were bothered. Both of you were since long ago. All the second intentions behind the caresses, all the low whimpers you could hear from one another at every single touch and trying to contain yourselves from just lose it all and finally fuck were agonizing at this point.

You knowing he was already half hard and that your hand was dangerously close to his crotch but intentionally not daring to touch him wasn’t easy.

Him knowing you were probably already soaking through the grey leggins you used as a pijamas and he had done nothing but sit beside you and hug you yet was even less easy. How bad would it be when he got started…

You realizing the hands you originally had interlaced under the blanket were now somehow resting on your tit made you sigh.

Him realizing that your nipple was perking out and begging to be pinched, squeezed, bitten, sucked and anything possible was almost unbearable.

You and him panting quietly, suffocating in the tension that you both had slowly been creating by doing nothing but know that you wanted each other very, very badly.

You were also getting impatient, so you decided to push his buttons further and you knew exactly how. Without saying a word, you broke your cozy (yet hot) hug to slowly get up the sofa. “Where are you going?” His voice was husky and a little pouty because of your sudden distance. “I am sleepy, I think I am going to be-“

You couldn’t even finish your sentence as he grabbed your arm and pulled you down, placing you on his lap right over his hard bulge. Both of you moaned at the contact. God he was harder than you thought he would be. This rilling up game was going to be one of your favorites… “stop with the teasing, you win” you smiled in victory “i always win” well, he had to agree on that.

As soon as you leaned in to take his glasses off and give him the long awaited kiss both of you were a panting mess already. The kiss was slow and nasty, drinking in each other as if you had been wandering in a desert for ages and just found a fountain.

His hands were gripping your hips hard, knuckles white and head empty, bucking up every time you grinded your pussy along his dick through your clothes. The friction so good you could cum from just that after all the built up tension, your fingers tangled in his shirt and pulled to bring him even closer. You had the feeling that he had been too far from you for too long, otherwise you wouldn’t be this extremely horny, so needy for his touch and his skin on yours already.

“I need this out of the way” you pulled his shirt off slowly, taking your time on the motion, then yours went after, both ending rumbled on the floor.

You had to take a second to admire his topless figure under you, the dim light of the tv outlining his strong figure, and you looked at him with real adoration written in your eyes “my hand is cold again…” you bit your lip shyly, putting your hand back on his lower tummy as you had done earlier, but this time you traced the pattern of his slightly defined torso up to his chest, both hands meeting at his back and feeling his wide shoulders with featherlike touches.

“You are gonna be the end of me babe, you doing this on purpose?” his head rested on the back of the sofa, eyes lidded, tensing under your light touch and waiting impatiently for you to snap and continue what had already started.

You looked at him with such a fake surprised expression, “what do you mean? I am only admiring my pretty boyfriend” and you knew what you calling him pretty would do to him.

“I thought the game ended” he growled, eyes now on the roof and his adam’s apple bobbing while swallowing a moan at the praise “yes, and I won, so I am going to savor my price” you leaned back and took his chin to make him look at you “see how I am already? You made me wet through my pijamas, anything to say about that??”

He looked down where your leggins were indeed as soaked as he had imagined, the dark patch too close to his cock for his brain to not malfunction. “I am going to fuck you so good babychick you wont be going out of bed in three working days” that you didn’t see it coming. He was never so aggressive from the beginning, but he was in such a horny state his hands were already shaking in your hips.

“Please let me eat you out” you moaned at his begging “its all I can think about” he closed his eyes and sighed just at the thought of your dripping cunt smearing his face and your sweet flavor filling his mouth. “You are so needy…” you said and he nodded slowly and deadly serious “only for you”.

One of his hands run up to your back, the other one still gripping your hip tightly. Your boy was so strong and so big it took him zero effort to stand up carrying you on top of him. “You wanted to go to bed yeah?” You grinned “I knew you would get the hint at some point”

He had been between your legs for two orgasms already. His face a dripping mess and his thumb circling your clit slowly compared to the quick pace his tongue had set on you. Slurping, moaning in your cunt, drawing random patterns in your inner thighs with his free hand to feel your soft skin somehow. He was fucking the mattress to get some kind of friction for himself although he could cum untouched by just the sound of your moans and the way you pushed his head impossibly close to you.

The overstimulation of cumming twice with just his mouth was torture but you couldn’t think about pushing him away, that would be worse. “My girl likes to go wild with overstim?” He slurped up a drop of your cum, pulling out his tongue to show you your own creamy arousal “you think you are stretched out for me already my love?”

You couldn’t take this any longer, having him inside was your top priority in this moment so you grabbed a handful of his hair and dragged him up as he moaned in pleasure due to the sudden pain while you cried “mingi, pants off” you were already naked, but he had still these black home sweatpants that normally drove you crazy but in this moment drove you mad.

He obliged and pulled them down, revealing that he had no boxers on and letting his dripping cock spring out, red, all veins on display and you swore to god you had never seen him this hard in all the time you had been together.

You were already salivating… the stretch of his cock was always good, but this time.. oh my god you couldn’t imagine it, you had to have it.

Wide open on your bed, waiting for him to put the condom on and his dick to finally fill you up, anticipating that stretch you were aching for with little whimpers trying to escape your mouth.

And he knew it.

He was sliding his tip along your entrance, covering the condom in your slick and his own spit after his make out session with your pussy. “mingi, fuck off…” you were desperate for him “baby I really want to slam in, but I have to put it in slowly” this was half true given his size and half him getting revenge for his loss, but you were not having it.

You were always the winner for a reason: whatever he did you took it further.

You rose your hips and pushed against the tip. finally, finally opening yourself for him inch by inch. You couldn’t see it because you had closed your eyes at the feeling, but he kept them wide open in a completely fucked out expression, savoring the sight of your relaxed face for having him inside you at good fucking last.

Mingi tried, but he couldn’t keep your slow pace until the end and bottomed out in one go, gasping and falling over you, completely worn out already. “god, fuck, mingi” After a few seconds of both of you adjusting to the feeling he started moving, his body still flush against yours, he didn’t bear thinking about being the slightest bit apart from you and not feel you tense, squirm and tremble underneath him. Your sweat making it easier for you to meet his movements as if you were water.

“God…Your pussy hugs me so good baby, I love it. My fucking girl… you are mine, yeah? Answer me baby please…” and he sounded as he really needed you to give a response to that question, eyes shut and forehead pressed against yours. “Mingi…” you cupped his face with both your hands to kiss him “i am yours” you whispered between his lips and dragged your fingers to his hair to pull slightly.

His beautiful reaction every time you did so made you clench around him, making him open his eyes in shock at the sudden tightness and turning his growls even deeper.

He pretended he wasn’t, but he was so needy and so clingy. So lovedrunk for you that you saying that you belonged to him had him already close to cumming.

“There is no other one for you either” you looked at him in the eyes through your lashes, pulling off your best sultry face, “you are mine too, say it” he was shuddering, loving the way you demanded his response, bossing him around from underneath him as if the one being fucked to the brim wasn’t you.

You had him so in the palm of your hand he wouldn’t mind you closing it and crush him, how could he answer anything else than that? “I am yours baby… fuck…” and that made you giggle.

“Thanks” you pecked his lips, hugging him around his neck, legs around his waist pushing him deeper and earning a low moan from him, “baby I really won’t last today”, and it was a given since you had been fucking each other really since the moment you sat on the sofa this afternoon, “so take it easy on me and behave yeah?” he was fucking you slow, the way he knew you liked it. The way he could fill you completely and leave no single untouched spot inside you. But also the only way he would be able to keep going for a while.

And just because you were dying to see him lose his mind completely were you determined to do everything you knew he loved at the same time. Pressing kisses all over his neck till you reached his earlobe and bit it, “I am behaving right? I am being so good today, what you gonna give me, hm?”

He was panting heavily, eyes shut, both his hands at each side of your head, the vision so good and his dick so deep you nearly started crying at the unbearable thrill.

But you decided to slowly move your arms down from his neck to interlace one of his hands with your own instead. Your other hand landed on your lips, tongue full of spit ready to coat your fingers in your saliva and leaving a string behind once you finished with the task, never breaking the eye contact.

Mingi couldn’t win against you being a dirty brat, but he had even less chances of winning against your hand going down where your bodies met to push one of your soaked fingers inside your cunt, stretching you even more but making it even tighter for him.

His jaw clenched and his eyes were silently asking you if you were being fucking for real right now. And oh my god you were, so fucking for real that you started moving your finger slowly inside you and rubbing his dick on your way, moaning loud and grabbing his hand tightly, needing to hold onto something for how good it was feeling for you too.

“Fuuuuuuuuck….” Fuck it, he really didn’t stand a chance from the beginning “I am gonna cum, where do you want it? Tell me babe I won’t last much more” he knew that you loved to feel his cum all over you and you were already trembling, so close yourself.

You couldn’t imagine him pulling out from you right now nor for too long, this past weeks without any intimate contact at all were working hard on you so you didn’t have to think it twice “mingi please… cum inside”

He could never have figured you would say that, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he thought about how to answer.

“Raw baby?” He finally asked with a cry, just to make sure he was understanding it right “please…” your affirmation whisper froze him and made him almost nut on the spot.

He slowly carried on with the roll of his hips, struggling with the pace while the only thing on his mind was to piston fuck you into the bed after what you had asked him to do “you can’t say shit like that”. He was struggling, gritting his teeth and he really wanted to obey but you would regret this tomorrow, this had been said in the heat of the moment, or at least this is what he was telling himself in order not to breed you full.

But you blinked, you fucking innocently blinked pretending to be surprised, knowing how bad he wanted it and quickly slid your sticky hand out of your cunt and between your bodies to push him off and pull him out “but I can tho”.

In one swift motion and in a record time you took the condom off, tossed it somewhere on the floor and aligned his pulsing cock inside you again, painfully slowly sinking him in as you watched his face contort in pure ecstasy by the contact of your wet walls around him for the first time in months using protection.

Nothing could describe the way he felt about having you split open and raw underneath him, completely his to take. You put your arms around his neck, dragging him down to look him in the eyes again as you always liked to watch him when he reached his climax “now you can cum baby” your voice was merely a whisper, small but commanding “i will look so good with your cum dripping out later”.

And that was it. Something animalistic took over him and he started to move rougher, faster and more desperate than he ever had .

“Yeah?? You want to be full of my cum that bad??” His voice deep in the crook of your neck sending shivers through your whole body. Shit, you wanted to see his face!! but you were feeling so good at the way he thrusted into you, grinding his pelvis against your clit each time he went back inside, that you couldn’t be arsed complaining about it.

“Not enough with having me ballsdeep inside you that you also want to keep me there after I pull out??” He was testing the waters, trying to find out if he could say what he actually wanted to. But your loud moan at his words told him that he could carry on and so he did.

“You want me here?” you were far gone, dripping from your pussy to the bed and your skin burning, goosebumps all over and making the prettiest noises he had ever heard.

Never knew this would thrill him so much, but as his hand reached your belly, pressing down slightly and feeling himself moving in and out of you over your skin and going back to kiss you desperately he understood that no other raw pussy was ever gonna have him “you want me to get you pregnant tonight or what?”

Finally. He met your eyes just in time to see them roll back and flutter shut, your cry immediate “yes yes yes yes” you were begging, your cunt squeezing and sucking his cock in so hard it was getting difficult for him to slide out, seeing white ass stars as you came around him repeating his name since it was the only word you could remember.

The noises of your wet bodies crashing every time he thrusted inside you filling his ears and the warmth of your cum soaking his pelvis felt too good, “you drive me fucking insane” he growled and was now letting go, feeling you milk him dry and trembling in a pleasure he was sure he was going to get addicted to.

Cumming raw and inside after holding it in for so long only for you, he really wanted to see how your tummy grew big. “mingi…” he covered his nervous smile with your lips, still panting over your worn out body, never pulling out even after both of you came down from the shared orgasm.

Wait, “you are still hard??” you couldn’t believe it “give me another one babes, i know you can” there was nothing else in this world that had him in more bliss than your whole body response when you were cumming and he knew that nothing could ever compare to the way your walls hugged him perfectly, massaging his cock in ways nothing could do. He needed to feel it some more “you are having my kids no? we need to fill this up”. His words were going to turn you into burning ashes.

He started to move slowly again, the painful overstimulation not being enough to make him stop “but mingi I don’t think I can cum anymore” your eyebrows were beautifully frown and a tear was about to roll down your cheek when he suddenly flipped you over, you being still flush against his body but now on top of him. He fucking knew you loved being on top, completely able to adjust to his length and set your own pace. Watching him from above was one of your most personal moments.

You looked at him in disbelief, he was seriously going to play this game with you??? You straighten up, watching him dangerously challenging but still catching your breath. As soon as you leaned back and rolled your hips your thoughts about not being able to cum were already gone, his dick filling you up so good you couldn’t believe you ever said that.

You put one hand over his leg to balance yourself while grinding over his dick nice and slow “actually maybe I can…?” your other one gently reaching your belly and caressing it in a wide circle, your own touch giving you goosebumps, the gesture making him flinch at the thought of his cum inside you right where you were touching yourself, yours and his imagination going fucking wild.

He closed his eyes to savor each sensation you could pull out of him, hands running up your legs and landing on your hips to help you grind. But he really wanted to see you, so when he opened his eyes again you were still watching him, all the love you felt for him showing on your face and basically dancing on his lap, little moans escaping your mouth. His eyes on you were so raw and sincere it had you melting, a hot drop of your slick running down your boyfriends lap. How the fuck were you this lucky you didn’t know.

He was biting his bottom lip, all his feelings over the place. he loved you so much. And knowing you felt the same for him sometimes blew his mind “how am i so lucky?” you smiled at his words matching your exact thoughts, “look at me mingi, am I not lucky too?” he indeed looked at you, from your pretty face to your pretty hole sucking his cock, a husky moan leaving him.

He brought his hand to your pussy and split your lips open to watch how his cock disappeared inside you “fucking god…” he nearly came again at the sight of his release forming a ring around his base “I wish I could see this forever” and he could tell when you had a bright idea pop into your clever head, like right now.

You stopped for a second to reach out for your phone, your change of position making him pant and trying to hold you still. You popped the camera app on your screen and pressed record then offered it to him. Seriously, how was he so lucky? He was too horny to argue or question you so…

His eyes were fixed on the screen, watching you go back to moving gently on his dick but quickening your pace until you were sliding him out and bucking back in, jumping and moaning nonsenses. His dick felt so right inside you, so where it belonged to that you stopped thinking what you were saying, completely lovedrunk yourself.

“I love this dick” he groaned and struggled to keep the recording and it took everything in him to not throw the phone away and keep looking through the screen, “no one else is ever cumming inside me, I am all yours” you cried and threw your head back, letting out a high pitched moan as you sensed his free hand grip your hip tighter and buck up to meet your movements.

The hand where he was holding the phone completely trembling, the dirty feeling of this happening to him but also watching you getting fucked through anything that wasn’t his own eyes made it look like something nasty. And hell was he getting off to that shit, “mingi I am gonna…” “yeah, yeah please cum babychick, I am following”

Mingi had this rare gifted talent of making you cum as soon as he commanded, and so you did. The scream was loud from both parts, your pussy tightening harder than it ever had around him, not wanting him to ever leave that place “I am cumming inside again baby is that okay?” you couldn’t even manage to answer, your orgasm so hard it was taking forever for it to go down, so you only nodded fervently as a yes.

All the edging and the overstimulation from earlier skyrocketing your sensitivity. It wasn’t easy for it to happen to you but it did this time and it was recorded forever for commemorative purposes; your pussy started to spray over everything reachable around you, all his torso drenched in your squirt, the camera lens soaked and the image blurry.

Fuck it, you didn’t need to save anything else. Mingi stopped the recording and tossed the phone somewhere over the bed, sat up straight to hug you while you were still crying out his name and started to thrust harsher from bellow.

You hugged him back, curling your legs around his waist to keep him as close as you could and started to kiss him desperately, no rhythm no attention, waiting for this rollercoaster climax to end. His movements were already unsteady due to his own incoming orgasm, calling your name and saying sweet praises into your mouth as the string finally snapped and he finished inside again, making your insides warm with his hot cum.

Once he calmed down he fell on his back over the bed, hugging you still over on top of him, totally worn out and suddenly cold after what you thought had been the best orgasm you’d had.

“shit” you sighed “it is so cold” mingi smiled, completely satisfied, “let me get a towel, I will clean this mess up” he reached down to get a sample of the said mess in his finger. You couldn’t help it and licked it without thinking, “baby… don’t go there again” he was being half serious, but his still inside cock twitched weakly. You laughed at him, “baby go get that towel, I am seriously cold”.

He slid out of you, leaving you to get the promised towel, both relieved and sad at the sudden emptiness in your cunt. But… wait, it is not that empty? Your cheeks burned beet red, remembering how you had been begging him to get you pregnant. How many kinks were you gonna collect with this guy?! Your hand moved by its own, trying to find its way to your slit.

As soon as you felt it in your fingers you couldn’t stop yourself, you were putting all the cum that dripped out back in, moaning quietly at the single thought of your belly full of him again.

“need any help with that?” you looked towards the door, he was leaning against its frame, towel in hand, his smile showing his front teeth that you loved so much. You had to smile back, “yeah?”

—

A/N: Hellooo haha this took me a while.

I know it was meant to be the continuation for Say it like you mean it, but it has been so long already (two whole years to be exact) that I found no joy in these characters anymore. And as much as I tried to start them over again (seriously I had like 9 drafts about them) it always ended up being just not too good. I really wanted to give them a hot and steamy (and really long wtf) chance with this one. I think my writing got better too (not posting at all but still writing), even if english is not my mother language and therefore I am a bit limited!

I would like to improve some more for the next one, which will also be set on mingi & the chick since i am biased and i kinda got attached to some of the topics I was writing about in Say it like you mean it. So for now we have this one, but possibly the next one will fiiiiinally be SILYMI part.2? When? Who knows, no one when it comes to me i am afraid.

Anyways! I hope you enjoyed. Comments are welcome ♡

[obsessivevoidkitten]

The Omega Knight

Male Alpha Dragon-Hybrid x Male Omega Reader CW: Noncon, stalking, reader fucked into the mud, reader fucked so hard he pisses himself, overstimulation, emotional manipulation, stockholm syndrome, omegaverse, a/b/o dynamics, mating cycles/heat, two-dicked dragon-man, double penetration, knotting, biting, claiming bites, combat, medieval dystopia with shitty gender roles, praise kink Word Count: 4.9k (This is a comm for somone wishing to remain anonymous. I hope everyone enjoys it. I made it much longer than it was supposed to be.)

In a time defined by the prominence of magic, the might of kings, the power of knights, and discriminatory sex and gender views, it was extremely difficult to be an omega. They were commonly looked upon as sex objects, incubators, and the property of whoever they ended up forced to marry. Male omegas, given their rarity, were treated as particularly fragile trophies.

You were one such male omega. Not wanting their only son to be looked down upon as someone’s property or prize, your parents raised you as an alpha. They were not the highest house of nobles, but they were still very wealthy. They used their connections and power to get you the very best magically enhanced suppressants and fake alpha scent.

With a combination of careful planning, staying as far from others as you could, and suppressants you manage to become one of the knights of the realm. Despite your smaller stature, everyone thought you were an alpha given your fake scent, dedication, and skill. It took a lot of effort to push your omega body so hard, but you persevered, not willing to besmirch the honor of your house through failure. Your father helped train you, and you paid for your station with sweat and bruises.

Once you became a knight you were one of the very few who worked alone. Knights were responsible for defending the country from the more dangerous bandits and the ever present threat of highly dangerous monstrosities. As such they typically worked in groups and went on missions that could take days to weeks. But you couldn’t risk getting caught applying suppressants and fake scent while out on the road. This required you to be better trained and more skilled than anyone else could hope to be.

The result was that you were quick and lethal on every single mission, quickly racking up kills. You started out by being sent to take down bandits, as every new knight is. But that isn’t what you stayed doing for very long.

You quickly graduated to the occasional ghoul or wandering undead, though these were little more than slow moving beasts. Honestly, rarely as dangerous as a bandit.

From there you went on to put tougher foes in the ground. Chimeras, gargoyles, and the like. They were still feral but they were much more cunning and moved without the stiffness that plagued the undead.

Finally you were regularly slaying werewolves and vampires. Considered to be the deadliest of foes. The king himself had assigned you some of your tasks and awarded you medals for your courage and skill. You became renowned across the land, your name muttered far and wide for your impressive service. Though, as always, you never lingered after receiving praise or rewards. To be discovered at this point would mean enduring certain… consequences…

One day you were summoned to meet the king privately. As you passed the guards and presented your summons you weren’t nervous at all, you assumed that there was a threat to the kingdom that only you could be trusted to resolve. Probably one that was a bit too discreet to share via messenger. Something that could cause embarrassment or panic.

Your assumption was dead wrong.

When you reached the king on his throne you saw he was accompanied by one of the princes, the one who was around your age and also an omega. Prince Orleias stared at you eagerly. It was rather unnerving, though not something that was entirely foreign to you. There were many omegas that looked at you like that.

“Ah, there you are, prompt as always.”

You gave a smile and curt nod at his praise.

“Of course your grace, I would never keep you waiting.”

“I have something very important to discuss with you. You are a well decorated knight of this land and have saved hundreds of lives, if not more. You are also high born and the heir to your house name.”

He paused and looked at you and then back to his son for a moment.

“I am giving you my son’s hand in marriage. He wholeheartedly agrees.”

At this Prince Orleias crept towards you and clung to your arm, looking at you with unfettered admiration. Uh-oh.

You didn’t know what to do, if you declined it would surely enrage the king and possibly bring his ire down upon your entire family. He was not known to be an angry man, but he took note of traditions and honor as most in this society did. He wouldn’t behead you, but it would be highly offensive.

On the other hand, if you accepted, then your secret would be found out. And that deception would be received very poorly indeed.

Luckily, as if the very gods were interjecting on your behalf, a messenger came scurrying into the room to interrupt.

“Sire! Sire!”

“What’s the meaning of this intrusion!? I am discussing a very important personal matter with our top warrior here!”

“Yes sire! I beg your apologies! But we have reports of a dragon terrorizing the small town of Umbrafell!”

Your head was immediately filled with images of villages fleeing in terror as a flying beast rained down fire and fury down from above. You had to help, no one else had as good of a chance to defeat such a creature! This was also your opening to remove yourself from accepting the proposal… or at the very least buy yourself some time to think of a more permanent solution… You extricated yourself out of the clingy grip of the amorous prince.

“My king! I will go at once! It is one of the mightiest beasts in all of the world and I have the best chance to defeat it!”

You quickly dashed from the room and out of the castle and made your way home to don your armor and set out on your newly acquired quest before the king could object, not that he would have. You were obviously the best choice for the job.

Once you had your weapon, armor, and pack of supplies you set out at once on one of the knight’s horses. As grateful as you were from the reprieve that the situation had afforded you, it was still a very serious situation with the lives of many potentially in danger. You had never even fought a dragon before and it was not a fight to be taken lightly. You couldn’t even recall if any living knight had ever encountered one.

The best plan was to talk to the locals once you got to the town and ask them what exactly they had seen of the beat, find out its size, age, speed, and elemental attributes. It was probably a fire dragon, that was the most common from the old tales and songs.

The town of Umbrafell was on the southern outskirts of the kingdom. It would be a journey of a few days to get there.

You continued on at a steady pace that wasn’t too demanding of the horse but still gave you good progress on your journey. You had to stop and camp a couple nights, and stop when necessary to eat and allow your mount to rest and get hydrated, but the weather was pleasant and you made remarkable time. You arrived in Umbrafell late in the morning on the third day of your quest.

The questioning of several of the locals had you believing that the dragon was a giant beast that descended upon the villagers and their livestock, devastating entire flocks and burning to cinders entire fields. Definitely an adult dragon of fire.

The question was how would you fell such a creature? Charging in blindly was not an option. You decided drugging would be the best option. But you didn’t even know if dragons were susceptible to such things. And even if they were it probably would be far too clever to take any form of drugged bait. No, the course of action most likely to end without your smoldering corpse was to find the lair, stake it out, and wait for it to sleep before attacking.

The locals pointed you in the direction the dragon came from. A thick forested area with many hills and slopes. Not the best area to take a horse. You left your mount at the local livery stable, you paid well and knew the knightly steed would be well looked after.

You trekked through the forest for several hours, there was no telling exactly where the dragon had set up its den and you only had a general direction to search in. Whatever lodgings the dragon had found or made for itself had to be massive so you were sure that you’d know it when you came across it.

As you continued your search you cursed your omega biology. Something you did frequently. You felt a familiar tingle in your belly that was unmistakable. Your body was getting ready to enter heat. Even with magic suppressants there was just no way to completely avoid a heat. Or to hide one if someone got too close to you during one. The best modern magical marvels could do was shorten one and make it less intense.

Another reason you’d have to avoid marrying the prince. But that was something you could worry about at a later time, it would do you no good to have your mind head elsewhere while trying to locate and kill a dragon.

Little did you know that the dragon had already located you, long before you had entered its territory. The only warning you had was the swoosh of wings as he descended upon you. Your reaction was fast though and you managed to block the strike of his sharp claws with your blade. What the hell? He wasn’t a giant dragon… he was a half-breed… A race of dragon-human hybrids originally created with a magical blood pact between ancient dragons and wizards. The locals let their fear overtake them and greatly exaggerated the threat.

That didn’t mean you could take him lightly, dragon hybrids were known to be powerful and swift. Well they were rumored to be, at least. They were even less common than dragons.

A more ferocious foe you had never encountered, clawing and slashing at you with grace and brutality. The scales on his hands and arms allowed him to strike your blade with no weapon other than his relatively short claws. They were black and shimmered with each movement. They covered his well muscled arms, legs, and framed his face. To get a good strike on him you’d have to hit his face or chest.

Easier said than done. He was nearly 7ft. tall and exceptionally strong. He wasn’t making this simple for you. What was worse than that though were his mounting pheromones. As the battle went on he sweated more and more, and with no clothing other than a barbarian style fur loincloth it was easy to smell him. The musk of a normal human alpha was something you had long since learned to ignore as if it was damn near nothing, but this wasn’t like that at all. It was making you a little dizzy.

“You should just give up omega.”

His sensitive nose could pierce through your false scent. You shook your head and redoubled your focus and determination. You stared right into his fiery red eyes as you deflected a harrowing blow before tackling him with your metal clad body, opening him up to an additional attack. You slashed into his torso, causing him to recoil in pain. You pressed the advantage and stabbed him in the abdomen.

The dragon almost sliced you to ribbons before you could withdraw your weapon from him. Were he a regular man he would likely be on the ground bleeding out by now, but he was no regular man and roared as he began attacking you wildly.

Every strike was either dodged, deflected, or uselessly glanced off your armor. You got a few more solid strikes in, one on his bicep above where the scales started and another across the chest. He was breathing harder.

But for some reason so were you.

“Y-you should just give up alpha,” you sneered mocking what he had said to you earlier. Though it sounded a lot less intimidating than you had intended.

You started shaking and had to kneel down, leaning on your sword in the dirt. Pain in your stomach, a biological demand, slick rolling down your thighs beneath your armor. You were burning up. His pheromones hung thickly in the air, they had brought forth your heat much faster and harder than you had ever experienced before, completely negating any effect of the suppressants in your body.

All your experience and combat skill and taken down by a dragon’s musk and your own omega biology? It was a disgrace.

Now given the proper time to recover he used healing magic on his wounds. Combined with his already naturally enhanced healing abilities this resulted in him having only faint scars where he was previously injured. “Aww, all helpless because of your little heat darling~”

He sauntered over to you and looked down with a smug expression.

“Sorry for getting the drop on you, but you would have gotten it on me had you found me first. Anyway… now that you are a bit less feisty I think we can do a proper introduction now can’t we?”

Your heat was so strong now that you could barely focus on breathing evenly as you tried to stumble away. There was no way you could find the words to respond.

“I am Ivos, your mate. Don’t worry, I already know your name and everything about you.”

He pushed you down to your knees and kicked away your sword. At this distance his pheromones demanded your attention. He removed your helmet and started prying your armor apart plate by plate, totally scrapping the armor that had been so important to you. Soon you were in nothing but your regular clothes and then not even those as he sliced them up with his claws.

Now you were completely naked before him. The smell of his arousal was palpable. You glanced up towards him and noticed two large bulges poking out in his loincloth. He put his hand on your cheek and rubbed it with a scaled thumb. All it took was that touch for the last of your resolve to melt.

“I have been waiting for this for so long, have been following you for over a year now. Came across you taking down a horde of undead. Then watched you fight battle after battle. Scared the town because I knew it would draw you out. So strong. The only mate worthy of me. But an omega still shouldn’t be forced to live like an alpha.”

All you could do was whimper in need.

“Don’t worry, I won’t make you wait any longer. Couldn’t hold out if I tried.”

Ivos pulled off his loincloth and revealed two large slimy cocks, proud and erect, protruding from his genital slit. He sat down right on the ground then pulled you into his lap, he grinded his dicks against your hole then stretched it with a couple fingers before lifting you up and slamming you down. Both of his cocks firmly impaled your weeping hole. You gasped in pleasure. You had never put anything inside of you to relieve your heats, you thought giving into your omega nature would be like giving in to something you shouldn’t.

He grinded slowly into you, back and forth, making you drool as you leaned against him weakly. He teased your neck with his long tongue, swirling and lapping at your sensitive gland there. Your toes flexed and writhed as he did so. This felt so good. So so good. This is where you wanted to be for the rest of eternity, on his lap skewered on both of his cocks while inhaling his smell.

The dragon wanted to take your bliss to a higher level though, he increased the speed of his thrusts into you while carefully stroking your cock with the hand he wasn’t using to caress your back. He kept at it for a while, gradually increasing the pace as he went. You came hard, panting and shaking as your seed coated his abdomen.

Over the course of the next two hours you were entirely at the mercy of his sexual desire, too overstimulated to do anything other than twitch in pleasure and drool as he broke your brain with orgasm after orgasm. You gasped as he came inside you, stretching your virgin hole to its absolute limit with not one but two girthy knots. He did what came to him instinctively, biting your neck and claiming you as his with a mark. The stimulation was so extreme you not only emptied your balls once more but also your bladder, piss getting all over the both of you.

Ivos didn’t seem to mind at all, in fact he seemed pretty pleased with having fucked you so completely that you lost control of your entire body. He licked the bite mark he had branded you with free of blood before picking you up and flying to his lair, knots still firmly inside you. He took your sword with him, figuring the blade you had come so far with may be of sentimental value to you, but he left the destroyed armor and his loincloth.

Ivos held you as tightly as he could, the cold air returning you to your senses and making you very uncomfortable. When his cocks slipped out of you and retracted back into him gobs of cum dripped out onto the forest below. He smirked at how strongly you clung to him. It wasn’t like you wanted to, but you were terrified at being up so high. You certainly wouldn’t struggle when it could mean your death if you fell.

Your new lover had made his residence in a relatively small tower abandoned beyond the hills. By the time you got there you were so sore and tired from holding on so tight, and the brutal fucking you had endured earlier, that you were in no condition to rebel. You were so obedient when he cleaned you up and fed you. It made his heart flutter, his strong mate being so good for him.

“Such a good boy~”

A grunt of defiance was all you could muster in the way of a rebellious response.

Ivos would quickly learn that you would not be staying so well behaved. You fought him at every opportunity. And he fucked you back into compliance every time he needed to. It took a long while but at least you stopped struggling at the sex. It actually felt quite amazing. And afterwards you were always so good for him.

Even so, while he admired your rebellious spirit, he wanted you to like him all the time. Not just when you were drowning in his pheromones and bouncing on his knots. He caught you the best food, took care of all your needs, brought you trinkets and gifts that would have otherwise gone to his hoard. Sometimes it seemed like you resented these gestures, you were trying so hard to not be a typical omega, and he supposed you really weren’t to some extent.

He had an idea of what to do to get you to enjoy his company more, though he could tell you were planning an escape soon. Your scent was one of someone on edge. Someone deceptive. Luckily you had no idea he could smell such a thing.

The hybrid wanted to start taking you out to hunt with him, maybe even fight some monsters. He had come to the conclusion that maybe you weren’t entirely forced to act like an alpha, maybe you enjoyed some aspects of it and he needed to ease back a bit on catering to you as if you were a princess.

But he had to get you to give up hope of escape before he could trust you going on long outings, not to mention letting you wield lethal weaponry… he didn’t even let you have access to your sword...

Ivos was spot on about you trying to get away. You had spent a couple weeks with him and were constantly thinking about potential plans for getting away. You were also studying his behaviors. Testing how deep a sleeper he was, for example. You weren’t just going to bolt at the first chance. It had to be calculated.

To make your move, you needed a rainy day. The sound of the rain would help hide the sounds of your escape. Of course, you realized that even if your armor hadn't been reduced to scrap, you still would have had to abandon it whenever you made your bid for freedom. The pang of water on metal would give you away along with the weight adding to your footprints and slowing you down. You mourned its loss, not for the first time.

You also needed rain to help mask your scent from that damned sensitive dragon nose of his.

It was grueling. Having to wait for the perfect weather when you had no idea when it would finally rain. Having to act good and behave. Keep your head down and bear the sexual and romantic harassment that were damn near unrelenting. And those damnable pheromones of his. But finally, you had what you so desperately wanted.

A glorious downpour. You couldn't ask for a better chance at escape. Dark clouds late at night. Loud booming crashes of thunder. Pounding rain that would soak you in seconds. You just prayed that it would be enough to wash away your pheromones without your suppressants.

As stealthily as you could, you made your way down the tower and slunk out into the concealment of the storm. The only thing you brought with you were the clothes on your back and your sword for protection from whatever may dwell in the night. Unknown to you, Ivos had let it “fall” from the high place where he had mounted it. Didn’t want you to get hurt by something during your escape attempt.

Once you had traversed the nearby hills and then the forest, you'd be near the village he had terrorized to bait you and could get your horse there.

But one thing at a time, you still had to clear the sloping terrain and trees before you could worry about that. You went as fast as you could go without slipping in the mud or splashing through puddles, but it was going to be a long journey.

Ivos had been asleep when you crept out, or so you thought, but you couldn't be sure how long he would remain that way.

As you continued on through the rain filled night, you began to feel gradually more confident and hopeful about your freedom. You were going to make it. You had been worried if you had been able to maintain the correct course given the darkness and disorienting thunder, but after hours of hiking there it was, the edge of the forest. And when lightning flashed, you could see the town in the distance.

You were so close! You increased your pace, spurred on by the promise of successful liberation. Then, beneath the constant patter of rain, you could have sworn you heard the swoosh of wings. Probably the wind rushing through the tre-

The next thing you knew, you were on your stomach, pushed into the mud. Your sword kicked away uselessly. Your hope was shattered. You struggled, but you might as well have been a mewling kitten.

"If you wanted to play cat and mouse, darling, all you had to do was ask."

You clambered to get away, clawing at the wet ground, as he pulled you back towards him and slashed away all your clothes before sighing laboriously.

"You had been behaving so well too... I guess I'm going to have to give you a little attitude adjustment..."

Both of his large cocks protruded at full length from his genital slit. The rain had quickly faded to a light sprinkle, and the smell of his musk had quickly grown overwhelming. The smell of his desire rolled off of him and quickly had you once more slicked up against your will.

"There's a good boy~"

Your hole twitched around his fingers as he teased you by slipping them inside. You struggled to contain a whimper as you grinded your ass against his fingers.

"Beg for it."

You tried to resist, but his scent and touch had completely taken over your brain. You didn't even have a heat to blame it on this time, and he wasn't in rough. Just his aroused musk could reduce you to a throbbing ball of need.

"Pl-please just... do it already..."

You were glad the darkness of night and the grime that clung to you covered the shame on your face.

"Good enough."

He smoothly slipped both slimy cocks right on into you.

"Damn, that's gooood."

Once more, his twin pricks pounded into you at an increasing pace, filling you far better than any one-cocked human alpha could ever hope to.

Ivos smirked at your wanton moans. They were like candy for his ears. Proof that if you ever got too far out of line he could just fuck you back into obedience. With your armor and blade, you may have been a skilled combatant, but what did it matter when he could make you so helpless?

He kept right on railing you into the mud. His cocks filled you to the brim with cum as he renewed his claiming bite on your neck. You shuddered and came as he knotted you up, the girth of both knots firmly adhering the two of you together.

But he was far from done with your little "lesson." He didn't stop until both of you had come several times, and you lay beneath him trembling and barely conscious.

When his knots went down and his cocks slipped out cum splooged out all over your ass, thighs, and legs. You were covered in mud. Calling you a mess was a serious understatement. Though you were in no state of mind to care.

"Aaaah, that was great~"

The dragon picked you up bridal style and flew the two of you back home. He ran you a bath and cleaned you of all the mud, sweat, and cum.

The next thing you knew, you were in bed with his arms wrapped firmly around you. As the events from last night came back to you, you silently cursed yourself for having been taken so easily.

It became a new pattern in your defiance of him. One carefully curated by Ivos. You'd run off and, just as you were about to escape the forest, he'd swoop right in and fuck you damn near senseless. Then he'd take you back, and you'd wake up clean and in his arms.

You tried in various weather conditions, times of day, you tried fighting, you tried plugging your nose to shield against his scent, but no matter what you did it played out exactly the same.

The final time you had ever tried to escape went much like all the others, up until you neared the tree line. You paused, eyeing the divide between the forest and grassland that would lead you down into Umberfell.

Though you could not see him, Ivos was watching you intently, ready to pounce upon you at the last possible moment. A growing sense of unease gripped you. You even started shaking. No no. You couldn't go forward... Ivos would have you on the ground and fuck you into the dirt... It was all pointless.

You turned and ran back to the dragon's tower.

Ivos smiled brightly from his hidden position in the trees. Your training was complete, you knew what would happen if you tried to do something silly like running off. Now he could, at long last, execute his idea.

It did take much longer than Ivos would have liked, but the alpha was patient and ultimately he had gotten the results he wanted. Taking you out to hunt, letting you prepare and cook your own meat half the time, taking you out for some good old fashion monster slaying, not doting on you too much outside of your heats while at the same time tending to your biological needs by supplying you with all the dick and musk you could want, had gradually made you happily in love with him.

It was much better than your old life, you came to realize that. Being allowed to do things that alphas typically did and no longer having to repress your scent and omega instincts was liberating.

What’s more, you no longer had such weighty responsibilities. The burden of the kingdom’s safety, a kingdom that would have shunned you had they known your secret, was an immense weight to shoulder. And if you had made it back what would have happened anyway? Be a hermit forced to live alone as an alpha for the rest of your life? Thrown into a life of dishonor for refusing the king’s request that you marry his son? No matter what, you would have been miserable.

Ivos had actually freed you, and you loved him deeply.

[starrbishops]

⟡Just a Little Meddling⟡

(John Walker x f!Reader)

Summary: Walker's feelings for you are obvious to everyone except you. Tired of watching him pine, the team decides to do something about it.

Word Count: 4k

Notes: Set after the events of Thunderbolts*, love confessions, first kiss, reader is described as wearing a dress and being shorter than John (he's 6' 2" so that's pretty much everyone but thought I'd mention it) New Avengers team shenanigans, John Walker yearns

a/n: I've wanted to write a Walker fic feat. the rest of the team so bad so this is it! I do love the family dynamic of the group and this was really fun to write.

“We are out of Wheaties!” Alexei yells out, jolting everyone seated around the dining table. Ever since they’d put the group of you on the box, Alexei had refused to buy any other cereal.

“Oh no.” Yelena deadpaned as she took a sip of orange juice. “This is tragic.”

“Whatever shall we do.” Ava sighed as she leaned back in her chair.

“We will get more!” Alexei declared, storming over to the table. “Bob, you will join me on  trip to the supermarket.” he pointed at the man as he spoke. “We need food anyways, Walker uses every ingredient when he cooks.”

“Hey!” John raised his hands in argument. “I make you all breakfast and this is the treatment I get?”

“Oh come on, Walker, we all know why you do this.” Yelena took another bite of her own food.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” he insisted.

Bob shrugged from his seat by the blonde. “I mean, no offense, Walker, but you’re kinda obvious.”

“What’s going on out here?” you walked into the room, rubbing our eyes as if you’d just woken up. John immediately jumped out of his seat, grabbing the extra plate of pancakes that he’d made. 

“Hey, made sure to make some extra for you.” he handed you the plate before nervously shoving his hands into his pockets. You smiled as you looked at the dish before you.

John was a surprisingly good cook. None of you could have predicted he was actually competent in the kitchen, but he’d become the designated chef of the group. Today, he’d taken the liberty of making you all blueberry pancakes ‘out of the goodness of his heart.’

“I love blueberries! Thanks John.” you grinned up at him before taking your seat, his eyes trailing after you. Yelena and Ava each gave him a knowing look, to which he scoffed before sitting back down next to you.

“We are in crisis.” Alexei announced to you, slamming the empty Wheaties box in front of you. “We have no Wheaties!” You held back laughter, glancing over at John with a grin at the ridiculous situation. Yelena groaned and covered her face out of embarrassment.

“I think we’ll survive, Alexei. Besides, John’s a great cook, he can tide us over till we go to the store.” you pointed at Walker with your fork, not looking over to see the way his face went red and his smile widened just a bit at the praise. Ava chuckled under her breath at it.

The five of you sat together, conversing as Alexei finally broke his no-Wheaties hunger strike and ate some of John’s pancakes. Walker couldn’t care less, honestly. Yelena may have been mean, but she wasn’t stupid. He liked you; a lot. You were sweet, smart, beautiful. And you would never go for someone like him, so he was left with nothing to do but small things like these. Making your favorite breakfast, looking out for you on missions, saying dumb things just to make you laugh. Anything to see you smile.

“Shit, it’s Val.” you groaned as you looked at your phone. “I gotta take this.” you stepped away, John staring as you left the room. Before you, he’d never been one to gawk at women, but it was getting to the point where when you were in a room, his adult brain turned off and his monkey brain turned on.

“Christ, Walker, you have no shame.” Ava laughed as she noticed John staring, snapping him out of it.

“What?”

“You’re like a lovesick puppy.” she joked, Yelena laughing with her.

“What are you talking about?” Alexei questioned, looking confused between Ava and John.

“Nothing, they’re just being annoying-”

“Walker likes her.” Yelena tilted her head to where you’d just left from.

John just hid his face in his hands, sighing as Alexei processed the information.

“Is this true, Walker?” he asked, seeming genuine in his questioning.

John shrugged. “If I say no, would you even believe me?”

“No.” Yelena and Ava spoke in sync, Bob shaking his head as well.

John threw his hands up, leaning back in his chair. “Fine, okay, I do like her. Are you happy?”

“YES!” Alexei practically jumped up from his seat, moving to smack John on the back.

“Ow!” he recoiled at the super soldier’s touch, Alexei hitting much harder than he intended to. He leaned down to squeeze John into a hug, all but suffocating him in the process.

“Ah, young love. You would make beautiful couple, John. Strong super babies. Would be great for marketing as well.”

“Dad!” Yelena called out from across the table. Alexei just waved her off.

“I joke. But it’s true, you would be wonderful together.”

“Thanks.” Walker choked out. “Please let go.” he caught his breath as Alexei released him. 

“Why have you not told her this?”

“He’s scared.” Ava piped in. “Thinks she’s too good for him.”

“Well…” Alexei shrugged.

“Hey, you just said we’d be a good couple!” John cried out.

“Yes, but in terms of leagues, she is up here-” Alexei held his hand up horizontally. “And you are here.” he held his other hand up lower than the first. Yelena again laughed, even Bob chuckling a little.

“You are very handsome man, John, very strong, but you need to be firm. Tell her your feelings. Say, ‘I love you, and I want to be strong man for you. Let us make passionate love.’”

“I am not saying that!” John said as the rest of the table burst into laughter.

“What’s happening?” Bucky yawned as he walked in.

“Alexei is trying to get Walker to admit his crush.” Yelena explained between giggles.

Bucky looked confused. “What, you still haven’t told her?”

“Is it that obvious?” John threw his hands up before covering his face again, prompting more laughter from the others.

“Hey, just saying, you’d be a cute couple. I think she likes you.” Bob leaned over, trying to encourage him.

“Thank you Bob, but I know I have no chance.”

Bucky chuckled. “You give up real easily, don’t you Walker.”

“Look, all of you-” Walker gestured around the table. “She’s out of my league, okay? She can do better. And none of you are going to tell her about this, got it?”

Yelena shrugged, face red from laughter. “Okay, if you’re choosing cowardice, that’s your choice.”

“We won’t stand in your way.” Ava laughed as she stood, taking her plate to the kitchen sink.

“I think you should just tell her. Get it out of your system.” Bob shrugged.

“Yes! Be brave, that is what women want. Strong provider who is not afraid of feelings.” Alexei added.

“I don’t know about all that.” Bucky patted Alxei’s shoulder. “But he’s got a point. She’s gonna find out at some point, Walker.”

“Not if I can help it.” he insisted as he began cleaning up dishes. 

“Hey, what’d I miss?” you walked back into the room, John straightening up nervously.

“Nothing!” he yelled immediately. Yelena giggled again as Bucky just sighed. 

You looked around at the group, observing Ava holding back laughter, Bob looking nervous, and Alexei looking up expectantly at John. “Okay.” you finally said. “John, do you mind coming with me to this stupid meeting thing later? Val’s insisting I bring someone.”

“Yes!” John immediately replied. “I mean, no of course I don’t mind.”

You smiled, a look of relief that John had memorized. “Thank God, I cannot do this alone. It’s at 11, I gotta go get ready now.”

“Yeah! I mean, I’ll get ready too. For the meeting.” he all but ran to you, following you into the hallway as the others watched.

“God, he’s pathetic.” Ava chuckled as she rinsed off her dish.

“Give him a break, Starr, he’s in love. It’d make anybody crazy.” Bucky warns as he sits down at the table.

“So we are going to do something about this, right? I don’t know how much more of this I can stomach.” Yelena asked the group.

“Walker seems like he needs a little push.” Alexei made a pushing motion as he said the word. “Something to make him act, finally.”

“You want to meddle behind both of their backs?” Ava asked as she rejoined the group at the table.

“Yes, obviously. They both need it.” Yelena gestured to the hall where the two had left.

Bucky ran a hand through his hair. “Listen, this isn’t our business.” he sighed. “But watching Walker like this is kind of sad.”

“So what’s the plan?” Ava asked.

The five sat in silence, thinking on how to get the two together. 

Finally Bob chimed in, with “I have an idea!”

You flopped on the couch, John joingin you as the two of you arrived back at the tower after Val’s meeting. After three hours of her droning on and on, it was a relief to be in the quiet of the Watchtower.

That was shortly interrupted by the entrance of the others into the room, ALexei immediately beginning his questioning of how it went.

You turned to John with a pleading look on your face. Please field his questions for me.

John just sighed, unable to say no to you, turning to Alexei to summarize the meeting. Bucky took a seat between the two of you.

“How you feelin’?” he asked. You just chuckled.

“Like my brain is mush.” you put a hand over your eyes.

“Val’ll do that to you.” Bucky jokes as he leaned back. “Hey, I wanted to ask you something.”

You moved your hand, facing the super soldier. “Shoot.”

“Mel’s got this friend, nice guy, good looking, smart, your age.” he listed off. “He works for Val too, thinks you’re pretty cool.”

John tunes into the conversation, focus shifting from Alexei’s questioning to suspicion as to what Bucky was getting at.

“Mel wanted to know if you’d be okay with us setting you up with him.” Bucky explained. “Obviously, it’s your choice, but I thought I’d put it out there.”

“Oh!” you replied, face one of surprise and confusion. “So, like, a date?”

“Yes, a date.” Bucky nodded.

Alarm bells went off in John’s head as he listened. What the hell was Bucky doing? Trying to kill him? It could be genuine, he knew he and Mel were close, and of course there were plenty of guys who’d kill for a date with you. He just never thought Bucky would go there.

“Well, I’m not really sure, it’s been a while since I’ve dated.” you nervously replied.

“Well that’s why it’s good. Get you back out there.” Bucky patted you on the back. “Doesn’t have to be serious. I just want you to be happy.”

Your eyes flitted over to John briefly, catching his look of concern as Alexei droned on in the background. “Okay. Yeah, sure, why not?”

He was so screwed.

“So, how are you feeling?” Yelena sat down next to Waker with a cup of coffee, interrupting his blank staring at the TV.

“Hm?” he hummed out, still barely in reality.

“You know, about your crush going on a date with some other guy.” she elaborated. “One who’s not you. Even though you’re in love with her.”

“I never said that.” he snapped back, although he didn’t move from his spot. “It’s fine. It’s her choice.”

“You’re seriously not doing anything?” The two jumped as Ava phased in behind them, looking disappointed at John. “You’re just going to keep wallowing here?”

“I’m not wallowing.” he muttered.

“You’ve been sitting there for three hours now watching all the Mission Impossibles. It’s sad, Walker, very sad.”

“They’re good movies.” he mumbled under her breath, eliciting a sigh from Yelena.

“Walker, please, just do something. She likes you, you just need to man up and tell her.” she insisted. Walker just stared down at the floor

“Don’t you think if she liked me she wouldn’t go on a date with another guy? I’m not exactly subtle, you all figured it out.”

“Yes, but she’s ridiculously oblivious.” Ava climbed over the sofa to sit next to John. “You both are. It’s why you’re perfect for each other.”

“Exactly! You just need to do something about it.” Yelena grabbed Walker’s shoulders and shook him, startling him out of his misery.

“Jesus, stop, okay! Look, she made her choice, and I’m not gonna get in the way of her being happy, alright? She deserves better.” With that, he stood up and walked away, leaving the two women looking at each other with disappointment.

“Oh God.” Ava flopped back onto the couch. “He’s worse than I thought.”

“Let’s hope Bob knows what he’s doing,” Yelena said, Ava nodding in agreement.

Meanwhile, you stood in your room, fiddling with your dress as you got ready. The longer you stare at yourself, the worse you feel. 

You were unsure of this from the minute Bucky brought it up, but it wasn’t like you had any excuse not to. You’d been harboring feelings for John for a while now, something you’d held close to your chest, afraid and unwilling to admit to them. You hoped this would take your mind off of him.

A knock at the door startled you from your thoughts, followed by Bob entering the room.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” he joined you by the mirror, staring into it alongside you.

“Like I’m gonna puke.” you admitted, arms crossed as you evaluated yourself. Yelena and Ava had helped you pick the dress; it was dark blue, shorter than you’d usually wear (“It’s sexy! You need to maximize hotness for this.” yelena had insisted) and hugged your curves tightly. You’d thrown on an old leather jacket you’d found in your closet to combat the awkwardness you felt, though it was still there, and combined with the guilt you felt about John, it was eating you alive.

“That’s fair.” Bob agreed, putting on a hand on your shoulder. “You look great, though. From an objective standpoint. I wouldn’t-”

“I know, Bob. Thank you.” you cut off his nervous ramblings, smiling over at him. “I just feel like crap for some reason.”

“Is it because of John?” you whipped around at the mention of the name, Bob just staring at you like it was a normal question.

“I- what- what do you mean?” you stuttered out.

“Nothing, it’s just, you guys seem really close. He’s been mopey all day, I thought maybe you had a fight or something.”

You sighed, aptly in relief and partly out of sadness. “Yeah. I don’t know what’s up with him. He’s been weird for days.”

“Yeah. Wonder what it could be. Started around when you agreed to the date, right?” Bob pointed out.

“Yeah, I, uh, guess so.” you nodded, confused at what he was pointing out. “You think that has something to do with it?”

Bob just shrugged. “I don’t know. Just stating the facts.” he peered down at his phone. “It’s almost 6:30. You might wanna get going.”

“Yeah, yeah I should.” you grabbed your purse from your dresser, joining Bob as you walked out of the room.

The other four members of the group sat on the sofa, watching some old action movie that's been left on. 

Ava whistled as you walked in. “Lookin’ good. That guy’s not gonna know what hit him.” she smiled at you. You gave a small grin back, trying to force yourself to be excited.

“What a beautiful young lady.” Alexei stood, rubbing your shoulders with a fatherly smile on his face. “And a very lucky young man is waiting for you.”

“Thanks, guys.” you grinned at them.

“In fact, everyone should see you. WALKER!” Alexei yelled out. “GET IN HERE!”

“Oh, John been in a mood all day, he doesn’t need to-”

“Jesus, what is it-” John stopped in his tracks as you turned to face him, wearing a nervous smile. He looked you up and down, admiring how the dress almost molded to your body, the larger jacket hanging from your shoulders. God, he wished that was his jacket right now. And you’d done your makeup, somehow becoming more radiant than you usually were. He always found you attractive, whether you were bloody and dirty from fighting, or done up like this.

The two of you just stared at each other in silence, you unsure what to say, John’s brain attempting to process the sight before him. “She looks nice, eh, Walker?” Alexei chuckled as he patted you on the back.

“Um, yeah.” Walker finally managed to choke out. “You look beautiful.”

You smile and nod sharply. “Thanks, John.”

Alexei turned you to face him. “Well, romance awaits! Let’s get you to your date.”

He pushed you towards the elevator gently, the others saying their goodbyes and giving good luck wishes as you walked away. As you stepped in, you gave one last glance at John, who still stood frozen in what seemed like a state of shock, eyes boring into you. You didn’t realize you’d been holding your breath till the elevator doors shut, and you couldn’t see the others anymore.

“Well, there she goes.” Yelena announced, turning back to the TV. “Nice work, Walker.”

John didn’t even respond to her tease. He just kept staring out at the elevator doors, as if he was trying to melt them with his mind, somehow bring you back up.

“John, you alright over there?” Bucky asked, sounding a million miles away to John.

He was stupid. He was so, so stupid. How could he just let you leave like that? Let some random guy, who didn’t even know you, know how amazing you were, take you out? It wasn’t right. Jealousy burned in his chest, imagining him getting to hold you the way John thought of constantly. Getting to touch her, to feel the warmth of you close up, do things to you JOhn could only imagine as he tried to fall asleep at night. He wouldn’t know how to treat you. How could he? John knew you; knew the small things, like your favorite foods, your nervous ticks, the way you laughed when you were faking and when you genuinely found something funny, how you picked at your nails when you were bored, how you fidgeted with her clothes when you were nervous.

And the way you looked at him-hesitant, nervous. Not in an excited way. In a way that he knew meant you wanted to get out of this. That you were unsure, unhappy. 

You weren't happy.

That thought was all John needed to make him run to the stairs, the others calling out after him. He didn’t even listen as he descended, running as quickly as possible to reach her before it was too late.

Out of breath after scaling the steps, he looked around the lobby frantically, searching for you out in the crowd. He spotted you heading for the door, calling out your name as he sped over to you.

You turned confused as a red-faced and panting John stood in front of you, trying to catch his breath. “John, what’s going on?”

“Don’t go.” he panted, “Don’t go on that date.”

You stared blankly at him, confused at his sudden fervor. “What?”

“You can’t.” he insisted. “Please, don’t go.”

Your mouth hung open, perplexed and surprised. “What, I-why not? You couldn’t have said this earlier?”

John looked down at you, eyes full of desperation and humility. “I was- I was scared.”

“Of what?”

“You.” he said, taking a step towards you. “You fucking terrify me. Because you’re amazing, because you make me feel like nothing else in the world.” he sighed, eyes not moving from yours. “God, you scare me more than anything because I’m in love with you and I don’t know what to do about it.” he ran a hand through his hair, still breathing heavily as he looked down at you.

You just stare back, shocked and unsure. “You mean all that?”

He nodded fervently, taking another tentative step forward. “I do. And I’m so dumb for not telling you sooner, and for even thinking I could have a chance, but I’m here now.” he reached out, gently taking one of your hands in his. “And I love you. I really do. Please, don’t go.”

You stand, mouth hanging open, unsure what to say, if anything. John just looks defeated and terrified, letting himself be more open and raw than he’d been in years.

You close your mouth, settling on a decision. You reach your other hand around the nape of his neck, pulling him down to your level as you kiss him, hard and intense, an act built from months of longing and suppressed feelings, all let loose with his confession.

He’s still for just a second,  brain catching up to his body, before he’s kissing you back, snaking a hand around your waist and cupping your face with the other, tongue slipping into your mouth as he tries to pull you infinitely closer to him.

In that moment, John feels perfect bliss; you against him, your soft lips against his, hand running through his hair mussed from his frantic run to catch you. He could stay like this forever, he thinks.

Unfortunately, you do finally have to pull away to breathe, panting as you lean into John, his arms rising to hold you against him.

“God, I’m so in love with you, John.” you mumble against him, breathing in the scent of him. “And I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, and the team, but god, you’re so great.”

John smiles, planting a kiss to the top of your head. “God, you’re perfect.” he hugs you tightly against him as you rest a cheek on his chest. “You’re everything. I swear, I’ll give you everything, if you’ll let me.”

You nod, opening your eyes to look up at him. “Yes.” you nod fervently. “I don’t need anything, I just want you, John.”

He chuckles, leaning down to give you another kiss. This one is softer, a promise of more to come.

You smile, leaning your forehead against his as he breaks the kiss, only to be interrupted by sudden cheering behind you.

The two of you turn to see your teammates clapping and smiling at you, Alexei holding up his phone as he takes a video.

“Finally!” Yelena yells out, coming over to hug you. “Took you too long enough.”

“You planned this?” you ask, looking out at your friends. John just stands still in shock, hands still firmly planted on your hips.

“Well, it was Bob’s idea.” Ava nudges the man next to her, who gives a nervous grin. “We all just helped.”

“God, this is beautiful.” Alexei suppresses a sob as he pockets his phone, walking over to join the two of you. “I feel like a proud parent.”

“You planned this.” John states, still processing as he glares at Bob, who just shrugs.

“You said you wouldn’t do anything about it. We thought you needed a little push.”

“And clearly it worked.” Bucky gestures to the two of you, prompting you to laugh at the insanity of the situation you were now in.

“You didn’t want to tell me you liked me?” you peered up at John, who somehow got even more red than before.

“Well, I uh… I figured you were out of my league.”

“And you are.” Ava adds as she phases over to you. “But if someone deserves the privilege of dating you, I guess he’s alright.”

“Hey.” Walker’s voice has no bite to it, smiling as he looks back down at you. “Really though, are you sure about this? You want me?”

You chuckle, moving a hand to his cheek, him leaning into your touch. “Yes, John, I’m sure.” you pull him down to kiss him once more, not caring about your friends around you. Yelena and Ava make disgusted sounds as Bob claps, Alexei cheering in the background.

“Shut up!” you push your friends away as you pull back, although you smile doing so. Alexei wraps the two of you in a bruising hug, taking your breath away.

“I’m so proud of you two!” he yells. “It’s like my beautiful daughter and my big strong son are in love!”

“How would that work?” Yelena asks as he releases the two of you, giving John a slap on the back. 

“Good work, Walker, I told you, express your love, be honest, and then, you make beautiful passionate love-”

“Okay, Alexei, thank you!” John cuts him off, brushing the others away as he pulls you to him. You laugh as the others move to file back into the elevator, looking up at John.

“Beautiful passionate love, huh?” you joke.

“Alexei has some interesting advice.” John just grins as he puts an arm around your waist, walking with you to join your friends in the elevator.

a/n: This is my longest fic to date and it was written in one sugar high induced sitting and I really don't know how I did it. But here it is! Ain't much but it's honest work :)

[svtiddiess]

Hey! He's Mine!

Synopsis: Sometimes, you have to wonder if your boyfriend is really yours. With Seungcheol constantly hogging him (and lowkey being obsessed with him), fighting for Jeonghan's attention has become part of your daily routine. But you're not one to back down—if Seungcheol wants him, he'll have to pry Jeonghan from your cold, dead hands (and honestly, don't be surprised if he actually does).

Pairing: Jeonghan (SVT) x afab!reader, Seungcheol (SVT) x afab!reader (platonically!)

Genre: fluff, crack, established relationship

Rating: sfw

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: Seungcheol and yn bicker a lot but they have a sibling dynamic so it's all good fun, Jeonghan menacery, lemme know if I missed anything!

Note: This was requested! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it anonie!

Click here to join my taglist!

Read on ao3

Reblogs are appreciated ♡

.ᐟMinors/blank/no age indicator blogs will be blocked.ᐟ

You're not the jealous type—really, you're not. But there's something about seeing Seungcheol constantly stealing Jeonghan away from you that tugs at your heart, just a little. And it's a valid feeling, you tell yourself. After all, you're his girlfriend, and it's not exactly ideal to have your man constantly being claimed by someone else. Yet, here you are, day after day, battling for your boyfriend's attention against his best friend.

"Hey! I was cuddling him first!" you protest, glaring at Seungcheol as he strolls into Jeonghan's apartment and shamelessly pulls him away from your cozy moment.

"You've had your turn—now it's mine," Seungcheol retorts, tightening his arms around Jeonghan, who looks far too amused by the whole situation.

"Excuse me? I'm his girlfriend. That gives me cuddling priority over you!" you fire back, crossing your arms.

Seungcheol just smirks. "Best friend of 12 years here. I've known him longer, so I think that trumps your claim."

"That's not how this works!" you argue, throwing your hands up.

"Actually, it's exactly how this works. Longer history means more cuddle rights," he teases, sticking his tongue out at you playfully.

"Hannie!" you whine, turning to Jeonghan for backup.

He just chuckles, shrugging. "Sorry, bubs. You're on your own for this one. Gonna have to fight him fair and square."

You let out an exasperated sigh, watching as Seungcheol smugly pulls Jeonghan even closer, clearly enjoying his victory.

You hug yourself tightly, trying to ward off the chill as you wait for Jeonghan to pick you up. The sound of a honk snaps you out of your thoughts, and you glance up to see a car pulling up. Squinting, you notice Jeonghan in the passenger seat and Seungcheol behind the wheel. Of course, Jeonghan probably talked Seungcheol into driving—classic Jeonghan behaviour. You can't help but chuckle to yourself as the car comes to a stop in front of you.

Jeonghan hops out and immediately pulls you into a warm hug. You melt into his embrace, the cold instantly fading as he holds you close. He presses a soft kiss to the top of your head and murmurs, "Did I keep you waiting long?"

"Not at all, I just got out here," you reply, smiling up at him.

He kisses your temple once more before guiding you to the backseat and sliding in beside you.

"Why are you sitting in the back?" Seungcheol pouts, glancing over his shoulder at Jeonghan.

"Because I want to sit with Y/N," Jeonghan replies with a grin.

You shoot Seungcheol a smug look, wrapping your arms around Jeonghan and sticking your tongue out playfully.

"The front seat is way more comfortable," Seungcheol mutters under his breath.

"Maybe, but he's happier sitting with me," you say with a smirk, hugging Jeonghan tighter. "Now step on it, Uber driver, or I'll have to give you a one-star review and complain about your attitude. And trust me, I'm very detailed in my feedback."

Jeonghan snorts, trying to stifle his laughter, while Seungcheol glares at you through the rearview mirror. "You know, I don't even get paid for this," he grumbles.

"Consider it a charitable act," you shoot back, grinning. "Now, less talking, more driving. Chop, chop."

Jeonghan's laughter fills the car as Seungcheol mutters something about "ungrateful passengers" and finally hits the gas. You lean back, feeling triumphant, and snuggle into Jeonghan, who's still chuckling at your antics.

You let out an exasperated huff, glaring at the man sitting across from you. Turning to your boyfriend, you pout dramatically.

"Hannie, why is he here?" you grumble, pointing at Seungcheol, who's too busy shovelling noodles into his mouth to notice your irritation.

"Because I was bored at home and missed Jeonghan," Seungcheol remarks, barely looking up from his food.

"We're on a date," you remind him, crossing your arms.

"And I missed Jeonghan," he repeats with a grin, stuffing another forkful of noodles into his mouth.

"You see him every day! Probably more than I do!" you argue, your voice rising slightly.

"There's nothing wrong with missing my best friend and wanting to hang out with him," Seungcheol shrugs, completely unbothered.

"I'm on a date with my boyfriend, and you're ruining it," you grumble, shooting him a pointed look.

"Don't act like the three of us haven't gone out together before," Seungcheol fires back, rolling his eyes.

"Well, I don't want you here this time," you deadpan.

Seungcheol gasps dramatically, clutching his chest like he's been wounded. "Well, I don't want you here either!"

"You're the one crashing our date!" you exclaim, gesturing wildly.

"You're the one crashing the time I was spending with my best friend!" he retorts, matching your energy.

"You guys weren't even together before this date!" you counter, your voice rising.

"And how do you know that?" Seungcheol challenges, raising an eyebrow.

"Because I was with him the whole time!" you shoot back, exasperated.

"Well, I was texting him, so technically, he was spending time with me too," he says smugly, leaning back in his chair.

"That doesn't even make sense!" you groan, throwing your hands up.

"It does!" he insists, grinning like he's won the argument.

"Nu-uh!"

"Uh-huh!"

Meanwhile, Jeonghan sits between the two of you, happily munching on his pasta, completely unfazed by the chaos. Damn, this place makes really good pasta, he thinks to himself, blissfully ignoring the bickering.

You lean back in your seat, resting your head on Jeonghan's shoulder and getting comfortable. He wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer, and rests his head on top of yours. The two of you sit there, perfectly content, listening to the sizzle of meat on the grill and breathing in the delicious aroma filling the apartment.

"I should've changed the passcode to the front door," Seungcheol grumbles from his spot by the small electric grill in the corner. He's busy flipping pieces of meat, clearly annoyed but still committed to his role as the designated grill master. Tonight was supposed to be a BBQ night for Seungcheol and Jeonghan, but, well, you decided to tag along as Jeonghan's plus one…without letting the both of them know.

You glance over at Seungcheol and smirk. "Even if you changed it, I would've figured it out eventually. Seriously, what kind of passcode is 0001?"

"A perfectly good one! And I only changed it because you figured out the last one!" Seungcheol fires back, defensively waving his tongs in the air.

"Oh yeah, your super secure passcode of 0000," you snort, rolling your eyes.

Seungcheol pouts and turns back to the grill, muttering something under his breath that you can't quite make out. Meanwhile, Jeonghan leans over, grabs a few pieces of meat, and feeds you one. You hum in delight as the flavour bursts in your mouth.

"Cheol, your barbecuing skills suck," you comment, chewing happily as Jeonghan continues to feed you more meat.

Seungcheol's head snaps up, and he stares at you, visibly offended. Jeonghan stifles a laugh beside you.

"What do you mean my barbecuing skills suck?!" Seungcheol exclaims.

"The meat could be cooked a lot better. Just saying," you shrug.

Jeonghan pops another piece of meat into his mouth and nods in agreement. "She's right, Cheol. It could be better."

Seungcheol looks back and forth between the two of you, mouth hanging open in disbelief. His shoulders slump, and his lips form a dramatic pout. "You guys are mean," he whines.

"We'd be nicer if you grilled the meat better," you tease, grinning as Jeonghan feeds you another bite.

Seungcheol huffs and lets out an incoherent grumble, turning his attention back to the grill. You can't help but snicker as Jeonghan continues to spoil you with more meat, the two of you enjoying yourselves at Seungcheol's expense.

Sitting in the corner of one of HYBE's practice rooms, you watch as your boyfriend and the rest of SEVENTEEN rehearse for their upcoming performance. A proud smile spreads across your face as you see how hard they're working, their energy and dedication filling the room.

When they finally take a break, you rush over to Jeonghan and wrap him in a tight hug, showering him with praise. "You're doing amazing! I'm so proud of you!" you gush, your voice full of admiration. He hugs you back, laughing softly, and peppers your face with kisses as his way of saying thank you.

Just as you're basking in the moment, you spot Seungcheol heading your way. Instinctively, you step in front of Jeonghan, blocking him like a human shield.

"Hey, hey! No! This is my time with Jeonghan!" you say, holding your hands up to stop Seungcheol in his tracks.

"I just want to talk to him!" Seungcheol whines, trying to peek around you.

"You can talk to him later! I've been patiently waiting for my turn," you huff, standing your ground.

"Stop hogging him!" Seungcheol complains, crossing his arms.

"I'm not hogging him! You were with him the entire practice!" you shoot back, glaring at him.

Jeonghan just stands there, a soft smile on his face as he watches the two of you go back and forth. Seungkwan walks over, clearly over the drama, and groans. "Jeonghan, stop egging them on. We all know what you're doing."

Jeonghan chuckles, completely unbothered. "But it's so fun to watch them bicker. Why would I stop?" He grins, clearly enjoying the free entertainment.

And honestly, who can blame him? Free entertainment is free entertainment, after all.

Taglist: @tinyelfperson @gyuguys @stay-tiny-things @unlikelysublimekryptonite @miyx-amour @iamawkwardandshy @codeinebelle @brownbunnyb @do-you-remember-summer-127 @sclovreina @theidontknowmehn @toplinehyunjin @gyuhao365 @mysticfairies @cherrylovescheol @cookiearmy @4shypotato @lxnnrobin @sashaaahh @xueisaaa17 @aeriyell @eshia16 @dreamingofpcy @archivistworld @kyeomiis @iwannakisspoutycheol @foxiesgf24 @livelaughloveseventeen @kwanniehae @ateez-atiny380 @junnhuisworld @horangipower17 @aliiikareed @jennwonwoo @brownsugarbaybee @adiknyamingyu @smiileflower @cherrybb96

[cherspastries]

Cher!! I love your writing and you aesthetic so much :)

You’re a graphic designer yeah? What driver do you think would work well with a graphic designer reader, and on that note, what occupation do you think each driver’s s/o would have?

And do you do emoji anons? 👀 If so can I be 🫧?

I LOVE HER AS SHE IS,

DOING HER THING!

WORK IT!

2025 Grid x Reader

SUMMARY 𐙚 What jobs I think each driver’s girlfriend would have + how you first met.

WARNINGS 𐙚 Fluff, reader is described with feminine terms, mentions of alcohol / handling alcohol, not proofread

WORD COUNT 𐙚 6.3K

A/N 𐙚 Hi!! Tysm I love my theme, and yes I do accept emoji anons! Hello 🫧 !! Also, before I actually write, I love all the WAGs and respect their jobs, but I wanted to romanticize this a bit so… All the drivers are getting hypothetical new girlfriends with weird and interesting occupations and personalities

DIRECTORY | MASTERLIST | REQUESTS: OPEN

RedBull ෆ

Max Verstappen

Bartender

You cannot convince me this man isn’t always in need of a drink. Whether he’s celebrating or he’s upset, Max likes a good gin and tonic. Sure, he can make his own, but nobody makes it as good as his lovely girlfriend: a bartender. That’s right! He met you at a club in Monaco, of course. It was after he had won a grand prix, and he kept coming back for more and more alcohol until he was blackout drunk. You had to call him a cab home, and he kept mumbling about how beautiful and perfect you were. When he came back to retrieve his lost phone the next day, he apologized and properly asked you out.

But it’s also nice because Max’s favorite way to relax with you is to lay across the couch, drink in hand, and watching a show you both enjoy. He doesn’t want to overwork you, but if you offer to whip something up real fast, he’s definitely not going to say no to your hard work and encourage you to keep doing what you love. Side note, I genuinely think he loves being able to party at the club you work at. He loves getting to enjoy a night out, but also being able to visit you whenever he wants. His friends have stopped wondering where he’s ran off to after they found out who was behind the bar. They shouldn’t be surprised when he disappears every five minutes to go chat you up again. Sometimes regular patrons give him dirty looks because they think he’s hitting on you inappropriately, but then you flash the matching set of rings and they simmer down.

Yuki Tsunoda

Seamstress

I’ll be honest, I was unsure about this one, but I honestly think it makes a lot of sense. Yuki has really good style, so I had a feeling his partner should be related to fashion. However, seamstress was a bit of a stretch. I think you’d make a lot of clothes for him, which is why he has such great style to begin with. He’s wearing handmade, high quality patchwork hoodies and jeans and shoes that you decorated yourself, all made by you! So yeah, whenever someone compliments his very fitting form of fashion, he lets you know that the people are certainly admiring your work. Do we all remember when the internet went crazy over Yuki wearing his RedBull shirt unbuttoned? Yeah. All you.

He first met you when you were still just a fan. Some might argue the dynamic seems inappropriate, but you were never a huge fan of him specifically. Just… An F1 fan. You sewed shirts for the RedBull team, and they weren’t the typical tacky wear that the team usually received. These had lots of thought and enthusiasm put into them— He could only imagine how hard and how long you have slaved away making those, so he wore it with pride… Even if it was a tad bit too big. After that, he kept seeing you in the paddock, communicating with various engineers and drivers, collecting autographs like it was your job. He complimented your work, you introduced yourself, and the rest was history. So yeah, you ended up falling for the irresistible charm of Yuki Tsunoda, and honestly who can blame you?

Mercedes ෆ

George Russell

Graphic designer

Yes, okay. This is my line of work, and I honestly believe George would be the most supportive for a graphic designer out of everyone. I mean, he at least thinks he knows fashion and technology, so he assumes that he’s being helpful. I can see the two of you being high school sweethearts that pursued different paths, but stuck together. Of course you knew George was into racing at the time, because he was karting even back then, but you never expected him to reach such fame. He even managed to get to a job with the FIA, designing graphics for winners and podiums and such, so yeah. People have been silently appreciating your work for years. You’re the one who gets to see all the unused winner graphics.

Whenever you’re working on a project, you consult George. Even though half the time you don’t listen to his advice, it’s nice to get somebody else’s opinion and support. You know he’ll be honest instead of giving you that “it’s perfect the way it is” bullshit, so his unfiltered opinion is just what you need to get a sense of what the right direction might be. He used to sugarcoat it, but you eventually told him that his honesty wouldn’t hurt your feelings, and he started to be more open. Not that it was rude, because his opinions were still helpful and polite! He always tops it off with a kiss and a wish of good luck. He knows you’ll make the right decision.

Kimi Antonelli

Tutor

Alright. We all have fun joking about Kimi needing a math tutor, but what if he doesn’t. Because his girlfriend is one. You know? You’re still in school, just like him, so you make a lot of money by people paying you to help them out in classes. Yes, Kimi needs a nerd girlfriend I feel it in my SOUL. Now, contrary to popular belief, you actually don’t tutor him. Why? Because he gets distracted by you very easily. He can’t stop looking at your pretty eyes, your plump lips, and your soft hair. All he wants is to bury his face in your neck and lay on top of you 24/7/365, because you’re so soft and warm. So no, you don’t tutor him. You can’t tutor him. You’ve tried. You’ve failed.

He brings you to the Imola Grand Prix, happily showing you off and introducing you to all of his track mates with that huge boyish grin. He tells them all that you’re just his tutor, and that afterwards you’ll be in his drivers room teaching him the pythagorean theorem (which he doesn’t even know how to pronounce in any language, mind you, so he’s just stumbling over syllables to get the idea out.) You correct him and politely let them know you’re actually his girlfriend. They all tease him, insisting that this whole story was just an excuse to sneak you into his room for a cheeky make out session, which you both quickly deny with flushed cheeks and slight stutters. Looks like he’s been caught before he could even try.

Ferrari ෆ

Charles Leclerc

Fashion designer

Now this isn’t to say that Charles doesn’t already have good fashion sense, because he definitely does. However, I do think that after the two of you started dating, there was a noticeable change in his choices. He started to dress in a manner that was suitable to his… Well, everything. He had custom made clothes with logos pertaining to him on them, everything matched his face and body shape, and he was dressed to an absolute T. All thanks to you! He doesn’t even have to ask, you just quietly sketch up designs for jackets and shirts that he can proudly show off at races, and you’ve even helped him customize merch that is both affordable, and fits the aesthetic of most of his fans. Goodbye trashy t-shirts with a logo lazily slapped on, and hello well thought out designs.

You were definitely hired to design some of his merch after the team saw your concept sketches. He was completely clueless to your arrival, but once he saw you he knew there was something irresistible that surrounded you. Your aura was undeniably attractive, and you were a genius when it came to your job. Of course. He loved your sense of fashion, so Charles discreetly asked you out to go get coffee and discuss things some more. Except, the two of you ended up talking and laughing the entire time, so of course you had to reschedule. And then you had to reschedule again because the same thing happened. Then finally you realized what he was doing, and asked him out on an official date. From then on, he proudly showed you off as his girlfriend. No more hiding!

Lewis Hamilton

Makeup artist

Yes, both of the Ferrari boys have their fashion girlfriends. I think if they existed in the same universe they’d be really good friends, too. I think Lewis loves to listen to you rant about different qualities of makeup, and how different makeups can affect break-outs on skin, and how to prevent all that. There’s a lot that goes into your line of work, and he never gets tired of hearing it. I think his favorite thing is hearing you talk about different color palettes and how you decide what colors suit a client best. You’ve definitely done similar things on him, and he stays true to your advice and tries to mix those colors in to his outfits. He also refuses to hire anyone but you to do his makeup for events, and he brings you everywhere he can. Trust that you were attached at the hip during the Met Gala, and that he was announcing to everyone he met that you did his makeup, and how talented you are. Watch out because you’re gonna have so many clients coming your way.

Unlike Charles and his girlfriend, you were not hired to work for him when you met. It was actually more of a meet cute— He was asking for advice in your local beauty shop, because he figured you looked like you knew what you were doing and could tell him what the correct shade of blush was for his niece, who was clinging to his side. You were in awe because holy shit, the Lewis Hamilton was asking you for advice, which you gave while stammering to an embarrassing extent. He thanked you, and asked for your number with the excuse that he might need more advice in the future. You did not hesitate to give it to him, and while he didn’t call for advice, he did call to ask you out properly. Your dynamic is very much so “girlfriend who knows a lot about fashion and boyfriend who pretends not to so he can hear her ramble.”

McLaren ෆ

Oscar Piastri

Food critic

Oh yes, the two of you are most certainly bonding over a shared love of food. Oscar Piastri doesn’t present himself as a foodie, but it’s more of a hidden pleasure of his. I won’t lie, when you first mentioned your occupation he thought it was somewhat funny. Reviewing food for a living seemed like something simple. He took it at the base level ideation and assumed that’s all it was. However, when you got really invested with talking about it, Oscar was quick to learn there was so much more. You discussed about different types of recipes, and methods when it came to baking. You ranted about cuts of meat and how each one had its own taste. With your influence, he quickly became quite the enthusiast himself. So, every time you guys went to a restaurant, you both ordered something entirely new to compare and contrast to past dishes. It was fun getting to try new things with you.

When you first met, it was in a restaurant. One of those crowded places where you ended up shoulder to shoulder with a random stranger because of how busy it was. For you, that random stranger ended up being famous racer Oscar Piastri. Although it was awkward at first, you sparked up soft chatter about the meal. He told you he was having the same thing he always did: pasta. You explained your meal, which was exotic to the both of you. When you expressed your disinterest in the taste he teasingly asked what made you so qualified to comment on such a thing. That’s what he found out. Intrigued by your charm, and your passion for all things food, Oscar couldn’t help but ask for your number.

Lando Norris

Teacher

Lando, in my firm opinion, is fantastic with children. He’s a little immature himself, which gives him that natural charm that makes getting along with children easy. He has no troubles throwing on that enthusiastic tone that lights their brains up. One morning in particular, Lando’s dear friend Max had a huge favor to ask of him: Take Penelope to school. Kelly was out for work, and he was running a high fever, which meant ‘Uncle Lala’ was on duty for the day. Admittedly she was a little late, and she showed up with a smoothie from Lando’s favorite coffee shop and a brand new pair of shoes. While he’s good with kids, he’s terrible at saying no. He walked the young girl into her classroom, and he damn near lost his mind. You were perfect— radiant, kind, soft-spoken but not timid. The dream girl that mirrored him perfectly. Even though you playfully scolded them both for being late, all he could focus on was how beautiful you were.

From that day forward, Lando made it painfully clear that something was up. He offered nearly everyday to take Penelope to school, which Max and Kelly would not complain about. She always returned with a huge grin on her face, recommending that her uncle take her again because he was so fun. However, when she started talking about the flirty comments he’d exchange with her teacher, they realized why he was suddenly taking an interest in the life of their child. Lando loves hearing about your day and listening to the various interactions between the kids in your class. He’s smitten with you and your ability to flawlessly interact with children— Unfortunately this means your relationship is destined to be filled with baby fever from you both. 24/7.

Aston Martin ෆ

Fernando Alonso

Wedding planner

As expected, you meet at the wedding of a mutual friend. You planned everything from the venue to the number of flowers in each arrangement, and both the bride and groom were eternally grateful for your help. It was always much easier to have someone else do a majority of the planning for you while you got to sit back and nod along to every suggestion made. In short, your efforts paid off immensely. When you sat down at your assigned table, you were surprised to see the Spanish man in question not far behind you. He seated himself across from you, reaching a hand out to shake yours politely. He was charming right off the bat, his flirty comments flowing with ease. You almost wondered if you were intentionally set up to sit beside this guy, because your fun-loving personalities matched up nicely. He matched your vibe and you matched his.

Now you were going 20 years strong, each anniversary celebrated more profound than the last. You were teased nonstop by friends and friends of friends about the lack of a ring on your finger. “Twenty years and he still hasn’t made it permanent?” was something you heard more often than you were willing to admit, but in all honesty, neither of you were interested in the concept of marriage. Your love was all you needed to seal the deal. You didn’t require a fancy ring to know that. But finally, after years and years of waiting, Fernando dropped down to one knee to give you the opportunity to finally plan your own damn wedding, and you happily accepted. You harbored no anger towards his decision to wait, because ultimately it made the experience a lot more special. You finally got to be on the other end of things and understand firsthand why people hire you to begin with: Planning your own wedding is not all it cracks up to be.

Lance Stroll

Author

Lance needs the peace and quiet that an author girlfriend brings to his life. He’s a well known introvert, which has yet to go unnoticed by anyone that he’s met. Lance prefers to keep to himself, and tends to distance from individuals who are overly loud. While opposites tend to attract, such an ideal is not the case for this fellow. He dreams of a romantically quiet life, and you’re there to fulfill that for him. You meet in the most cliche spot possible: a library. He’s not even that big on reading, but the spot was quiet and it gave him an excuse to brood in a corner and listen to music. You happened to be doing a book signing that day, which made the joint just a tad bit louder than he would have liked. However, when he saw you sitting at a table with a line extending outside the door, a cute smile on your face… Lance was utterly captivated. Your voice was low, your smiles were awkward, and your hands were trembling. Maybe it was weird, but that was everything he yearned for and more. When people started to clear and you started to pack up, he made a move.

Safe to say that said move was successful. The early stages of the relationship were less than ideal with both of you waiting on the other person to initiate every single thing, but finally you warmed up to each other and fell into a comfortable rhythm with your everyday lives. He cherished the days where he came home from loud engines and bustling crowds to the soft clicking of your keyboard, and the occasional flipping of pages. At the end of the day, no matter how stressful things get, Lance will always be grateful for the safety of your warm embrace as you hold him close to you at night. You’re his rock and his anchor, keeping him safe from the extroverts of the world. The media finds the two of you to be the ideal celebrity couple. Matching aesthetics, personalities, and beliefs. Your relationship is private, but it’s far from a secret!

Alpine ෆ

Pierre Gasly

Social media manager

I thought I was funny for this. You’re not a very good manager, because you’re always sitting there beside him, giggling at every post he scrolls by that’s related to him. With that being said, you always reach out and double tap the screen, liking whatever stupid thing had you guys giggling to begin with. So, to the people who wonder why Pierre is always liking every F1 related post, it’s actually your doing. You’re less focused on your actual job, and more on whatever content other people have managed to come up with. It’s really funny, in your defense. You guys first met because you were hired as the Alpine social media manager, but you always ended up laughing just a tad bit too much with Pierre over your ridiculous ideas that he kept building on to. Half the time you barely were able to execute said ideas, and ended up going with something entirely different.

Pierre loves that he found someone to match his energy and be okay with his teasing, along with tease him back. You’re fun— sometimes even more fun than him. Everyone in the paddock would agree. He loves filming videos and taking pictures with you for social media pages, and he loves even more than you get a little bit more freedom with his personal account and have directly spiced up all of his most recent content. Pierre fans have been wondering why most of his stuff has been a lot more enjoyable. Little do they know, you’re quietly working your magic behind the screen. Sorry Pierre, you get no credit. Although, having a hilarious muse does make it much easier.

Franco Colapinto

Florist

With this little flirt, knowing a lot about flowers actually proves to have some value. Franco’s always going out of his way to impress you: fact. He loves bringing home flowers, especially after triple headers, or just generally weekends that felt extra long without you right there beside him. It’s a new bouquet every time. While it is handpicked and arranged by him, it’s safe to say that Franco actually has no clue what he’s doing; his decisions are based off the initial beauty level of the flower. But, we can’t rule out that he intentionally picks randomly, because he does seem to love hearing you lecture him about flower language. He’s got roses being romantic burnt into his memory, but he can’t quite remember that yellow carnations are supposed to mean rejection. He does remember your face the day you brought them home, though, so he decides based on that. You sounded so sad as you explained the initial idea, and Franco was quick to make something up. So now, you guys decided they meant the love of Franco Colapinto— Yeah. He got his own damn flower.

You, as expected, had a meet cute as well. It came straight from a tacky hallmark movie. You had simply been arranging your outdoor stand one day, when a particularly fast biker flew by, clipping the edge of your stand and sending flowers flying through the air. You were devastated to see your hard work flying through the air and drifting away from you. Thankfully, one kind passerby stopped to help you pick up the lost work. He was handsome in his own, unique way. Somewhat familiar, you were sure. He laughed with you as he helped you set things back up, dropping a few flirtatious remarks that had your cheeks growing increasingly warm. It wasn’t until he dropped a joke related to racing that you picked up on it and breathed out a rather distressed, “Oh my God you’re Franco Colapinto!” He barked out a laugh and nodded to confirm your suspicions. He insisted you take his number. You know, just in case you need help dealing with a runaway biker again. It had nothing to do with the fact he thought you were the most beautiful person alive. No, no way.

Williams ෆ

Carlos Sainz

Baker

Get this man a beautiful baker girlfriend who can make him all the sweets in the world. No, but I did have a thought process for this. First date, he still doesn’t quite know that you’re a professional baker, so he’s going on and on about his incredibly pancake recipe when you mention that it’s your favorite breakfast food. You have a recipe of your own, of course, but you’re intrigued by the way he seems so cocky with said recipe, so you let him make you some when you visit him. And honestly, they’re really quite good! You’re considering replacing your own recipe. You repay his kind offer by baking him sweets— and I mean you really got busy in that kitchen, because you’re probably about to hand over 10 large containers full of sweets with flushed ears that tell him everything he needs to know. He’s a little embarrassed that he was ranting about his tasty pancakes to someone who makes them professionally, but he was happy to hear you sincerely liked them.

Now imagine Carlos’ embarrassment when he recounts how the two of you met to begin with. After a long night, he stopped by a local café to pick up a pick-me-up. You were there, but you weren’t behind the counter. You were standing off to the side, leaning over it as you chatted to the barista with a cup of coffee in hand. He approached the register, and you both paused your conversation so said barista could assist him. When Carlos pondered on a dessert from the display case, you very casually suggested that he take a croissant with that ‘trust me’ sort of vibe. He teases you— asks you what makes you a master of breakfast pastries, and you just shrug nonchalantly and tell him that maybe you have ‘insider’ information. He assumes you’re a regular by now, and accepts your suggestion. He gets the croissant. And your number. And a first date… And the embarrassment of finding out way too late into your relationship that you’re the damn baker for the café. That was your insider info.

Alex Albon

Veterinarian

The more obvious choice, yes. While I was afraid this might be too on the nose, I think it makes a lot of sense, really. He has a lot of pets. What does a guy with a lot of pets often do? He takes them to the vet. Alex already takes great care of his pets, so this visit was a little out of the ordinary. His cat had fallen ill, and he needed to get the proper medicine to care for her. But there was you, the newest hire at the clinic who seemed so good with his pet. You gave her treats to keep her distracted as you checked her out, ensuring the man that this was just a common sickness and would pass, but if he wanted he could slip some allergy medicine into her food next time. He was forever grateful. But then, suddenly his pets were falling injured or ill left and right. A man who rarely visited the vet was now becoming a regular, always coming up with some sort of concern. “Doesn’t her leg look weird?” “Nope, looks good to me.” You eventually caught on, and told him that at a vet clinic there was no rules against dating clientele. Now, there was rules against dating patients, but that was because your patients were animals.

He works well with your nonchalant charm. You’re easygoing and laidback, and that’s just what Alex needs. He appreciates having someone he can chill with because his life is often so chaotic that it’s hard for him to take time for himself. Therefore, he has you now. Plus it’s always nice to no longer have to visit the vet when you can now just stop by his house for a quick check up. It becomes even easier when you move in with him, because instead of being worried he can just rely on you to tell him when things are wrong and need to be taken more seriously. All in all, he found an absolute keeper, and the internet won’t stop encouraging him to put a ring on it to ensure nobody else does. Although, not sure anyone needs a veterinarian quite like Alex Albon does. So, I think he’s safe for now.

Visa Cash App Racing Bulls ෆ

Liam Lawson

Actress

I like to think you actually met when filming the F1 movie. You’re a background support character in the film, and Liam was just there to play himself, much like all the other drivers. You two managed to bump into each other, and it seemed like day to day conversations started to take place. You’d share a joke you heard while standing behind him at the coffee making station, or catch him up on the latest set gossip in passing. He was charmed by your wit, and you were charmed by the way he cluelessly fumbled over words around you. Imagine how surprised he was when you asked him out. He felt somewhat disappointed because he had been hoping to have that honor for himself, but he was glad that you reciprocated his feelings.

I think Liam with an actress girlfriend just makes sense anyway. He’s all for the drama you bring to the table, and loves watching every single film you star in, whether it’s a big or small role. He’ll go to every premiere, red carpet, and gala you’re invited to as your plus one. Not only does he love to show his support, but he also realized early on that he gets to meet a lot of his own idols this way. You have lots of connections, and he now has a stack of autographs from famous celebrities at home. It’s a win-win.

Isack Hadjar

Photographer

Your first time meeting Isack was actually a little chaotic. The team hired you to shoot some shots from the first practice on Friday. It was experimental, because it was their first time hiring you, and it was your first time working for a huge company, let alone shooting athletic shots. When it started raining, you hadn’t even noticed. You were so focused on capturing everything perfectly, and with the right settings, that eventually you were completely drenched without a care in the world. It was really down pouring. Subsequently, teams were pulled in from the nasty weather to dry off and warm up. You, however, were still perched in the stands out in the rain, laser focused on your camera. Isack, ever the gentleman, came out with an umbrella and held it over your head. You hadn’t even realized he was there until you felt his shadow cast over you. You looked up, and nearly dropped your camera. You were stuttering all like “Oh- It’s- Oh no, it’s you- Gah, I’m so sorry!” Which only confused him more. You explained you were meant to be taking shots of his team today, but all the ones you got were bad. You were better with portraits. He was stunned by you too. You were beautiful, even with your wet hair plastered to your face and your clothes soaking wet. So, with red cheeks himself, he invited you in to take some portraits, which would hopefully give you a chance at staying with the team. And you did! Which then gave him enough time to work up enough courage to make a move.

You’re a little scatterbrained, it’s true. Every-time you come to the paddock, you’re in a panic as you ramble about how you accidentally left your SD card at home in your laptop, and that your whole reason for coming was now ruined because you didn’t have a way to take photos. Isack reassured you that missing one race wouldn’t be the end of the world. Besides, he ended up finding your SD card in your purse when you asked him to grab your phone. You’re lucky to have found him, because he certainly helps keep you grounded. You’d probably have floated off into space without Isack there to hold you down and keep you steady.

Kick Sauber ෆ

Nico Hülkenberg

Sommelier

You were evidently flawless at your job. You knew everything there was to know about wine, and all of its pairings with food. It was an elegant and refined drink to be saved for fancy events, much like the one you met your beloved at. Your relationship has been in the making for about three years now, and despite its… Awkward start, the two of you have been developing nicely. There was an event for F1 drivers hosted at a vineyard, and you were hired to take care of the wine: a rather simple job. Famous people weren’t a surprise to you anymore, but as you were sharing with your audience the history behind the drink you picked out, you felt your breath leave your body in an untimely manner. That was when he walked in, stealing away your attention. Salt and pepper stubble, a lazy smile, and an appearance that screamed ‘just woke up from a nap in the sun’ in the most endearing way possible. You, a normally charming and easygoing woman, were caught off guard and ended up muttering something stupid like “this wine is… fermented” followed by a nervous laugh, which cued your audience to chuckle along with you.

He teased you later. Of course he did, because how could he not notice the way you’d freeze as you quietly eyed him. When you were setting up glasses, he approached from behind, and you immediately turned around at the sound of his voice, which consequently sent one of the glasses flying. Nico, a man trained in his reflexes, caught it with ease that made your heart flutter. Thank God you managed to snatch him up, because nobody had ever made you feel such a way. It didn’t matter if he didn’t win on the track, because everyday he came home to the most beautiful woman possible, who’d shower him with lots of well deserved love. Plus, you always knew what wine would suit his mood. Yeah. He made the correct choice.

Gabriel Bortoleto

Streamer

We know how brain-rotted Gabriel is. You can’t tell me he doesn’t have a favorite streamer too. It’s you. Before you guys started dating he was a fan. He found your unique commentary on games to be interesting and the way you played— yada yada. Truth be told, he just thought you were pretty and funny. He even suggested through donations (under a secret account name, mind you) that you play one of the F1 games. With the money you earned from the donation, you bought it and showed the whole world just how awful you were. Gabriel secretly messaged you on instagram, claiming he had just found you when you were playing F1 24, and would love to come properly teach you how to play on stream. You agreed, of course. And it was a success. After the cameras turned off, he shyly admitted that he had actually been a fan of yours for awhile, because he felt bad for deceiving you. You just thought it was cute, and offered him the opportunity to come back if he so wanted.

Now, Gabi is a frequent feature on your streams. Not necessarily just as your partner in multiplayer games, but he can be seen on your face cam. Maybe he’s sleeping in the background, or he just happens to pass by. Sometimes he’ll even come give you a kiss in front of thousands of viewers, acting like he forgot you were streaming when in reality it was done intentionally. Sneaky bastard. Your fans love him, but Gabriel also loves to remind them that you’re a happily taken girl. You don’t mind anyway. It’s nice to see your longterm fanboy staking his claim in a way he thinks is secretive. Trust that you know… You always know what he’s up to. There’s no hiding it. Don’t be surprised if he starts spamming your chat with italian brainrot. Imagine having to explain to newcomers that it’s a regular thing, too.

Haas ෆ

Oliver Bearman

Artist

This is a pair nobody expected, to be honest. The Haas team was directed by PR to show up to an art event. Apparently the establishment was sponsoring them for the next race, and it was the polite thing to do. Oliver didn’t really care— He wasn’t a fan of PR events and media. He was outgoing and charming, but he tended to keep his life private for the most part. But he was glad he went, because when he saw you on a shaky ladder hammering in a stubborn nail with frustration, he knew you were someone to keep him on his toes. You had on overalls covered in paint. Some was fresh, but most of it seemed deeply imbedded in the fabric, like you wore them just to get them dirty. Your arms, too, were covered in colors. It was quite the sight. When you saw him, you dropped your hammer. Right on your foot, and then it tumbled down the ladder to fall unceremoniously on the ground. You hissed as you descended the ladder, jittery with excitement. You greeted him with a very enthusiastic handshake, announcing how you didn’t think he’d show up. You kept rambling, and he kept listening. Eventually you asked him if he could sit still, and he said yes, to which you replied with, “I wanna sketch you, then. You have this beautiful angelic vibe and I need that.” So, if that’s not forward I’m not sure what is.

It’s true. You’re his joy, and he’s your muse. And, for what it’s worth, Ollie was right. You certainly do keep him on his toes because he never really knows what’s next with you. You’re vibrant and fun and you love nature— The stereotypical small town girl who falls madly in love with a city boy. You like to run through tall grass barefoot and paint in the middle of giant fields whatever your heart desires, and now you’re dating Oliver Bearman. But it’s a good thing, because you both have changed each other in the best way possible, and even though you’re so different, you work harmoniously in a healthy relationship. You’re both happier than you’ve ever been, truly.

Esteban Ocon

Model

This man is TALL. He needs a tall girlfriend to sit by his side, and that just so happens to be you. You met at a huge gala for F1, where various other celebrities were invited to bring more attention to the sport. You’ve always been a fan, so you were glad to have the opportunity to meet a lot of the people you had admired for so many years. One of those people was Esteban Ocon. He was hated by his own community, regarded as one of the least likable people around, but you saw through that. This was a sweet guy with a bad reputation over one incident that took place many years ago. He was a bit surprised when you intentionally sat down beside him and introduced yourself with a huge smile and a delicate handshake. You were beautiful. It was almost too good to be true. He couldn’t let go of an opportunity like this, so he clung to you the entire night and asked if you’d be willing to see him again. Of course you would.

He supports your career through and through. He admires your skill, and all the thought that goes into modeling. It’s truly impressive. In turn, you support his racing career. You frequently feature his races, and while you do try to avoid the cameras, it’s impossible to not be featured when reacting on occasion. You have a loving dynamic— almost the perfect couple, and everyone in the paddock knows it. You’re the type of people to solve every disagreement by calmly talking it out. You’re the type of people to live by the rule “never go to bed angry.” You both get bad reps. In his community’s mind, Esteban is cruel and vicious and impossible to like. In your community’s mind, you’re stuck up and bossy and rude. So, together you make a perfectly misunderstood pair that understands one another. Delightful, right?

[niningtori]

freudian

pairing(s): choi beomgyu x you, choi soobin x you

summary: freudian - susceptible to analysis in terms of unconscious desires. or, your parents have forced you to be "best friends" with minji, a woman you're convinced was put on this earth specifically tailored for you to have a mutual hatred with, since elementary school. she's confident, beautiful, and charming; and her boyfriend, beomgyu, is just as formidable. he's been a pain in your ass, an asshole to you to the most severe degree, since they got together in college. now, you're roommates with minji, but you begin to secretly take interest in beomgyu's best friend, soobin. it's just that... beomgyu's been acting weird these days.

genre: angst, romance, smut (mdni), lowkey yandere

warnings: smut (mdni!!!), yandere!beomgyu but more like pathetic!beomgyu, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, impregnation kink, no real dom/sub dynamic bc it didn't feel right but sub!gyu is coming back in a big way in "our deal"

word count: 13.1k

notes: hello my friends! i know i've been gone for a minute and i told myself i would post this on my bday at the latest... mind u it was in may LOL but this is a bit long for me so i hope that makes up for it a little 🥹 thank you all for being so patient with me. i hope you enjoy, and if you do, please leave feedback—it is truly so encouraging! if you don't like it please spare me i beg you cuz i'm still riding the struggle bus n don't want my feelings hurt

( ཀ͝ ∧ ཀ͝ )

“human beings are funny. they long to be with the person they love, but refuse to admit it openly. some are afraid to show even the slightest sign of affection because of fear. fear that their feelings may not be recognized, or even worse, returned. but one thing about human beings that puzzles me the most is their conscious effort to be connected with the object of their affection, even if it kills them slowly within.” - sigmund freud

-

you’ve never been one to try to work against the inevitable. some would call it pragmatism, others would call it simply being a fucking loser, but you try not to dwell on its meaning. as it is, when your parents forced you to become “best friends” and “practically sisters” with minji in elementary school, you just let it happen. and when she inevitably drew the attention of every boy your eyes happened to linger on for longer than ten seconds, you also let that happen. as the years passed, and your parents forced you to tolerate all of minji’s, frankly, bitchy behavior, you stopped trying to avoid your fate and became as seemingly unflappable as you are now. 

to say that minji is cartoonishly evil would simply be a lie, no matter how much you feel that way, but even you can recognize that she’s nice to a lot of people. it’s just, for some reason, you’re not one of them. when you two were forced to hang out together with friends, she would always bring up embarrassing stories to try to get them to laugh at you, and she's so damn charming, it worked. and on the rare occasion in which you felt kind of confident in your looks, she’d wait until you all were in public to point out insecurities you didn't even know you had. and the one time in middle school when you finally tried to tell your parents how awful minji was to you after she lied to the boy you liked by telling him that you called him ugly—which somehow resulted in her “comforting” him and becoming his first girlfriend—minji bawled like a baby during the mediation. in the end, you had to apologize to her for hurting her feelings. 

even so, forced proximity is a breeding ground for understanding, and you understood minji from the start. in the same way, she understood you. honestly, regardless of your wishes, she probably understood you better than anyone else; but that is no longer the case. for as much as you two have always hated each other, there used to be fleeting moments of connection. her making a snide comment about an obnoxious neighbor when they compared you to her, and you taking care to make sure nobody ate the rest of her favorite dish when she was late to family dinner. you two may have disliked each other, but there was an undercurrent of… something. it was a twisted relationship, you won't deny that, but it was a relationship, nonetheless. however, all of that dissipated like smoke once you reached early adulthood. to this day, you're not sure why. 

yours and minji’s parents pretty much forced you to room together in college, both stating that it was the only way they’d feel comfortable with you two being on your own. regardless of how quickly the two of you would now dismiss such a ridiculous notion, you were both relieved at the idea. it was almost like having a built-in companion. however, very shortly after you two settled in, things went from mildly bad to absolutely abysmal. undeniable, but ultimately menial, feelings of derision from minji became outright disdain towards you. you won't lie and say you didn't become petty in return, and you’ve never cared enough to fix such a strange dynamic, though you sometimes wonder if you should. 

as it stands, minji could hear you getting slandered to pieces, and she’d probably join in. as for you, you’d indifferently watch someone gorge the rest of her favorite dish at family dinner rather than speak up for her. now, after both having graduated and joined the workforce, you no longer have to worry about threats to cut your livelihood off. realistically, you could stand up to your parents and say, “fuck minji, fuck her parents, and fuck you both for manhandling me into being her friend!” but that sounds awfully dramatic, so you won’t.

besides, minji, for all of her raging bitchiness, is actually the best roommate you could ever ask for. for example, she never leaves her stuff lying around, and she always rinses off her dishes before putting them in the dishwasher. the only consistent downside has been the men she’s brought home since freshman year of college, which you declare are none of your business, but the sounds of her… passionate encounters are a real drag. still, you could mostly tolerate them, but her current—and seemingly permanent—boyfriend seems determined to elicit the most perverse sounds he can out of her. at first, you prayed that it was just the honeymoon phase, but it’s been literal years at this point, and the screams reverberating through the walls of your apartment would be an inconvenience to anyone; but it’s especially troubling on nights like tonight, in which you have to be up extra early tomorrow morning for a meeting at work. 

as you clutch a pillow to the top of your head in a vain effort to muffle out the lascivious noise, you contemplate maybe sending a text message asking minji to try to keep it down. maybe you could knock on the wall, and maybe that'd remind her that you're also a sentient human being who happens to occupy the room right next to hers. but you know it'd be fruitless, know it’d do nothing to actually help your situation. in fact, on the rare occasions that you’ve politely requested that they be considerate of your poor, battered sleep schedule, or even just subtly hinted to having something important in the early morning you needed to be well-rested for, it's always seemed to come back around and bite you in the ass. it's almost like they become even more unhinged than usual when they know you need your sleep, so there's absolutely no point in trying to get them to quiet down. still, as the hour ticks by, you become more and more anxious that you'll be unable to wake up tomorrow morning, so with a sigh, you tentatively knock on the wall between your bedrooms. 

surprisingly, the noise ceases, and you really think standing up for yourself might have just worked out in your favor for once, but then you hear minji and her boyfriend snicker, and then there's the damning sound of their resumed activities. she was loud before, but now, it's like minji is being mauled or something. so much for being well-rested.

-

you wake up the next morning feeling like you got hit by a truck, and you just know you look like shit. you try your best to cover your dark circles, but at this point, who are you fooling? when you finally leave your bedroom, you run into minji’s boyfriend, the one she's been obsessed with since college. beomgyu. 

“good morning,” he says with a lazy smirk as he leans over the counter. “did you sleep alright?” god, he’s such a fucking asshole.

“yep,” you mumble as you push past his shirtless body and reach into the fridge for your lunch.

“really? doesn't seem like it. you look like shit,” he chuckles, and while you don't even spare him a glance, you can just feel the smug look on his face emanating off of him and boring into the back of your head.

“thanks,” you say flatly as you fill up your water bottle. you're unsure why he even talks to you, but if you had to put it into words, it'd probably be something akin to the phenomenon of a cat watching a mouse as it backs itself into a corner. even so, you don't know why he bothers with trying to get a reaction out of you. you've never reacted to his taunts very much, but he still seems hellbent on making life difficult for you.

“you know, maybe if you got some good action, you’d understand why minji's as loud as she is,” beomgyu continues, almost as if he doesn't sense your unwillingness to participate in this—or really any—conversation with him.

“i'll keep that in mind,” you say perfunctorily as you shuffle over to the doorway and slide on your shoes before shutting and locking the door behind you. you don't see the way beomgyu’s fists clench at your unrelentingly dismissive tone, and even if you did, you wouldn't understand it.

-

in retrospect, you didn't have a particularly strong impression of beomgyu when you first met him. you vaguely remember him hanging around minji, and you somewhat recall listening to her rave about him against your will. still, her treating him like he’d been molded by the hands of the muses probably killed any interest in getting to know him in its crib. honestly? you probably should have planted some seeds of doubt in her mind when you two were still somewhat cordial, because if you had, maybe he wouldn't be with her today. your penchant for apathy has cost you peace, it seems, because beomgyu is at every family function and in every family photo, and at this point, it’s only a matter of time before he’s your de facto brother-in-law. 

it looks as though his continuous onslaught of criticisms about your appearance, your demeanor, and your very presence have no discernible end in sight; and minji is more than happy to up the ante whenever he's around, which is fucking always. you almost think that you, in some strange way, make their bond grow even stronger. after all, you're pretty passive prey, and it must be somewhat fun to invent new ways in an effort to push your buttons. still, you're older and more jaded now, and you're pretty resigned to your fate. anyway, there's no way to make a completely clean break from them without your family causing an uproar; and for as much as you resent them, you don't want to do that. 

-

you've been staying out more and more these days. after all, you're not getting much sleep at home, so what's the point of being there? plus, you’re effectively harassed by minji and beomgyu every time you have the displeasure of seeing them, so why bother? at least, that's what one would think your reasoning is, but reality is much more complicated than that. and your reality involves soobin, a guy you met in college, who you happened to reconnect with when you went out drinking with some coworkers a few months ago. 

how do you know soobin in the first place? well, you initially met him through his best friend… beomgyu. so, complicated is putting it very generously. frankly, you’re surprised someone as sweet and mild-mannered as soobin is best friends with an asshole like beomgyu, but then, you’re “best friends” with someone you fucking hate, so you guess that’s just how things work out sometimes. 

even when you are home, you don’t speak to beomgyu, who’s at your apartment so much, you wonder why he and minji haven’t just bitten the bullet to officially move in together and leave you stranded; but you're thankful they haven't because the roommate market is in dire straits. realistically, you never did speak to either of them for any meaningful amount of time outside of deflecting their verbal jabs about how you're an undesirable loser, but now, it’s even less than ever. 

you spend the night at soobin’s pretty much constantly, so tonight, your elusive presence at your own apartment is particularly jarring. the kitchen is dimly lit by the moonlight and the fluorescent lighting above the stove, and the only sounds are from you quietly opening up the plastic of the post-midnight snack you’re making. that is, until you hear the door to minji's room opening as beomgyu creeps out and lightly shuts the door behind him. you immediately register his nearly-naked form, but you're so used to it by now, you don't even blink. 

“hey," he says tentatively, but you've never been particularly in tune with beomgyu's emotions, so you don't catch the hesitation in his greeting.

"mm," you hum as you furrow your eyebrows, focusing on preparing your snack. 

"you haven't, uh, been around much. everything okay?" he asks gently.

“yep,” you reply as you focus on setting the timer.

“have you been working a lot?” he probes.

“not really,” you mumble as you begin to pour yourself a glass of water. it's late, and you've been with soobin all night, only returning home because you didn't bring a change of clothes for work tomorrow, so your inhibitions are lowered. you're not as guarded as usual, and beomgyu is intent on capitalizing off of that.

“you should eat some real food,” he suggests, trying another tactic. “i could… i could make you something, if you want.” this is… weird. beomgyu has never offered to cook for you, and while he's made things before that you happen to like, it’s always been in service of minji; and he’s only ever offhandedly remarked that there were leftovers available to you. of course, you’ve always refused, so his present consideration is daunting, to say the very least. finally, you make eye contact with him.

“uh, thanks, but it's fine. i'm tired, so i want to eat something easy and quick before bed,” you say as you redirect your attention to your timer, willing it to move faster so you can eat and get the hell out of here. you push your hair back as you wait, and you unknowingly reveal a darker patch of skin where soobin had unintentionally sucked too hard on your neck. in the dim light of the kitchen, beomgyu’s eyes immediately zero in on the mark. he draws closer, his tall frame looming over yours as he holds your hair back to get a better look.

“what's this?” you balk at his question and his overly-familiar proximity. you try to pull away, but he just steps closer, essentially trapping you between himself and the counter.

“who were you with?” he asks between clenched teeth, his eyes narrowing with a darkness you’ve never seen from him, or from anyone, really. 

you wave his hand away in annoyance.

“why do you care? you're too close,” you defiantly reply. his jaw ticks as he leans down closer to your face, his intent eyes scanning your annoyed ones.

“who were you with?” he repeats, his voice even lower this time. thank god above that your timer goes off, and you push him off of you as you grab your food and scurry to your room, eager to put some distance between the two of you. you shut your door, as usual, but for some reason, you're compelled to lock it. 

-

you think of your bizarre encounter as a one-time thing, though you're still not sure what to make of it. yours and minji’s families have always tried to push the “family” narrative between you two, and beomgyu by extension, so you briefly entertain the thought that he might actually just be buying into the ludicrous idea, albeit belatedly; but that thought is snuffed out when his previous asshole behavior is dialed up to 100. the groceries you buy are always mysteriously gone before you can even finish eating them, your keys are never where you left them, and you swear minji and/or beomgyu are using your shampoo with the intent of draining it immediately every time you buy a new bottle. is this their way of “hinting” at you to kick rocks and find your own place? if so, how petty. getting a new place on your own would be expensive, and while you're not home much anymore, you feel it's far too early in your relationship with soobin to formally suggest moving in together. you'll just tough it out.

among all the preteen-level hazing tactics, though, there is one thing that genuinely unsettles you: things in your room are always slightly out of place. your mirror is slightly tilted a bit differently than usual, the clothes in your dresser are folded a bit more crisply than you remember, and you're trying not to feel crazy when you can't find a few pairs of your favorite panties.

tonight, you're finally home from a long, long day of work, and all you want to do is relax. you realize that soobin's home is a lot more peaceful, but his parents are visiting from out of town until tomorrow evening, which means they’ll be staying at his apartment until then. soobin still kindly offered to have you spend the night, and while you'd be happy to meet his parents, you’d feel a bit awkward with going any further than a simple dinner for a first introduction. 

so you're home. while you thought you knew beomgyu’s schedule well enough to successfully avoid him, it seems that he's awake far later than usual, and he's lounging on the couch when you walk through the doorway. his eyes immediately dart up when he sees you. 

“damn it,” you mentally curse, and it's like he can hear your unsavory thoughts.

“home late from whoring around again?” he drawls. you roll your eyes while taking off your shoes, but he’s especially relentless tonight.

“that's all you're doing, you know,” he continues. “nobody will ever take you more seriously than that. what do you have to offer other than mediocre sex?” there's a sneer on his mouth, which is normal, but his eyes are burning with the same unsettling intensity you registered when you last saw him; and while you’ve usually considered beomgyu as a mildly annoying pest, you start to feel a real inkling of anger. you don’t care—well, you shouldn't care—but it’s like he's dealing even lower blows than usual. you're about to answer with something —anything—but he does not take kindly to your silence.

“see, even you don't know the answer to my question,” he says with a mean laugh. “that poor bastard must be desperate for pussy to settle for you. but easy is easy, i guess.” 

for the first time ever, you actually do respond, and of all the things you could conceivably say, you unintentionally utter a string of words that happen to be particularly soul-crushing to beomgyu: “you're fucking disgusting.” you don't stick around after that, because he clearly doesn't give a shit, so why should you? you could rub your relationship with beomgyu’s very own best friend in his face, but he's not worth it. you’ll go back to ignoring him like you usually do, and you genuinely consider scouring the web for roommates. you even consider just moving out and paying this city’s exorbitant amount of rent on your own. you'll see.

beomgyu, however, is reeling from what you said. for reasons he can't possibly begin to understand, those three seemingly innocuous words, probably uttered without much thought, seemed to dig at something inside of him he can't quite explain. the pain is there, but its source is buried deep down, down, down in his stomach. he tells himself it meant nothing, that you didn't even think about what you said before saying it; but for some reason, the notion that you didn't have to think about it, that you just said what you honestly felt for him, makes him feel even worse.

he's not sure what outcome he was expecting. after all, he wanted to push your buttons, so why did succeeding for the first time feel so… so strange? he feels a sense of unease unlike anything he’s ever felt before. he’d talk about his feelings, but he doesn't understand where they're coming from, and even if he did, who would he tell? minji? the thought alone is laughable. while she has absolutely no qualms about dumping all of her problems on him, he’s never reciprocated. besides, any mention of you quickly devolves into shit-talking. he could tell soobin, but his so-called best friend has been flaking on him for reasons unknown. 

between the two, the answer is clear: soobin. still, having a non-conversation with him sounds unappealing, so he'll simply make soobin come out with him and the rest of their friend group. even if he can't quite articulate his feelings, just getting wasted with his friends should be enough to tie him over. he texts his group chat naming a day, time, and bar. everyone eagerly agrees, even his recently dodgy best friend.

-

being fifteen minutes late is one thing—even thirty minutes would be acceptable—but when soobin still hasn’t shown up an hour after the agreed upon time, beomgyu is thoroughly irritated. he tries to text, but when they remain unanswered, he harshly pushes out his chair and heads to the bathroom to call his increasingly unreliable best friend. the phone rings… and rings… and rings. beomgyu’s jaw clenches as he begins to accept that soobin, in fact, will not answer. then, just when he’s about to hang up, a groggy voice echoes into his ear. 

“hello?”

beomgyu tries to rein in his temper as he snaps, “soobin, where the fuck are you?” 

“huh?” soobin mumbles.

“you were supposed to be here a fucking hour ago. why are you bailing again? are you hooking up with someone without telling me?” usually, beomgyu couldn't care less about who soobin’s latest fuck is, but he feels the barest amount of dread in his stomach for reasons he will soon understand. 

“uh, no,” soobin replies, his voice a little clearer this time in lieu of beomgyu’s edge. “i’m just… really tired. look, i’m sorry i bailed again. we’ll go out soon, okay?” beomgyu is temporarily placated until the following moment.

“come back to bed,” beomgyu hears someone whine in a sleepy voice. it’s too low for beomgyu to pinpoint whose it is, but the dread he feels makes a resurgence. 

“are you fucking serious right now?” beomgyu snarls. “you keep bailing on me because you're shacking up with someone, aren't you?” he's not sure why, but he's compelled to ask, “who is it?” 

“no! it’s… it’s just the tv, i swear. look, uh, i’ve gotta go. i’ll text you later, alright?” soobin thinks he hangs up the phone, but unfortunately for everyone involved, he does not. beomgyu knows he should end the call and grill soobin for some answers later, but something tells him to keep listening, so he does—which is a decision he will come to regret.

“you're such a baby,” soobin coos as he loudly plants kisses down somebody's body. fuck whatever decision beomgyu thought he was making, he’s hanging up now. but then, a voice he’d know anywhere cuts through the haze. your voice.

“mmm, soobin, i need more.” 

what the fuck? 

beomgyu gasps sharply as if he’s been kicked square in the chest, the breath leaving his lungs until they start to burn. he thinks it can't get any worse than this, but then the real noise starts. it’s all a blur, really, but between the breathy moans, the cries of pleasure, the unmistakable sound of flesh meeting flesh, and soobin’s filthy words of satisfaction, what really stuns beomgyu the most is your stomach-churning praise. he can barely comprehend where he is, can barely register anything outside of the noises that threaten to break a barrier within him that he never even knew existed. 

beomgyu’s eyes squeeze shut, and his voice is nothing more than a rasp as he says, “soobin, i’ll fucking kill you.” he’s surprised at how much he means it, because right now, he really could imagine stringing his dearest friend up like prized game; but soobin’s phone has long been forgotten, tangled up in his sheets as he continues to sloppily fuck you. 

“you feel so goddamn good,” soobin growls. “gonna fill you up, sweetheart.” 

you cry out wantonly, and finally, finally, beomgyu hangs up and rips his phone away from his ear as if it burns him. he’s panting now, and he’s unsure why, but his hands are shaking as he throws his poor phone at the bathroom wall, watching it shatter with reddened eyes.

he won’t let you and soobin do this to him.

-

you’re fast asleep after your passionate indulgence with soobin, snugly curled up in his sheets wearing nothing other than one of his t-shirts. soobin smiles down at you before pressing a kiss to your sweaty forehead, murmuring something about loving you. his head whips up when he hears his front door unlocking, and he carefully extricates himself from your tangled limbs, but he’s not quite fast enough to intercept beomgyu before he enters the bedroom. 

beomgyu is shaking with rage in a way soobin has never seen him do, but if beomgyu had the capacity to comprehend it, he’d notice that soobin seems surprisingly calm in what should theoretically be an unsettling situation.

beomgyu, though, is too shaken to wrap his mind around anything except for the sight of you curled up in his best friend’s bed. it’s a brutal confirmation of what he already knew, but wanted to deny. beomgyu can't bring himself to leave the bedroom, but he keeps his voice as low as he can despite his rage. he does not understand why. 

“you fucking bastard. you’re supposed to be my best friend, how could you do this? you’ve been fucking my girl’s best friend for god knows how long now, and you didn’t think to tell me?” beomgyu snarls, his voice low and dripping with venom.

“this has nothing to do with you,” soobin says flatly.

“has nothing to do with me? she may be a fucking loser, but she’s family to me, and you turned around and fucked her without asking me first?” beomgyu is filled with righteous indignation, and soobin’s incomprehensible demeanor shifts from dismissive to awed.

soobin silently stares at beomgyu with wide eyes and a gaping mouth before he incredulously asks, “oh my god, you really don't get it, do you? even after all this time… jesus, you’re either stupid or in denial.”

“what the fuck are you talking about?” beomgyu says fiercely, but soobin only sighs in exasperation.

“beomgyu, i knew you were clueless, but i didn’t think you were this clueless. look, she’s your girlfriend’s ‘best friend’, and even that is debatable, and you’re just the guy who happens to be dating her friend. so what? you won’t marry minji, won’t even officially move in with her, even after all of her ‘hints’ for ages now, so what exactly makes you family?” beomgyu falters at soobin’s words, but he doesn't back down. not yet.

“because i’ve known her for years! i’m still a part of her life, and she… she’s basically like family to me. i mean, i see her every day, i’m at every fucking holiday with her, every family dinner, and i know her better than you do.” beomgyu feels a bit pathetic having to explain his place in your life like this, but the words are still asserted with conviction. his next words, though, are not. “and she’s… she’s not like all your other flings. she’s not supposed to deal with bastards like you who only want to use her.” 

soobin, again, sighs. 

“there’s only so much shit you can do behind your ‘protective brother figure’ bullshit, but if you want to go there, we can go there. what kind of brother figure jerks off to his sister figure after he gets done fucking his girlfriend? and don’t lie, because i used to live with you, and i’ve heard you whine her name in the bathroom a million times.” beomgyu turns beet red as his jaw drops in sheer shock at the brazen accusation, no matter how true it may be; but soobin is not near finished. 

“and what guy threatens every man who ever takes an interest in a girl that's 'basically his sister’ before they can even say anything to her? you’ve been doing that shit since college, beomgyu, and the real reason you’re so scared to see her with someone else is partly because you’re terrified that they’ll turn out to be exactly what you are: obsessed—not because you’re waiting for the right guy.” beomgyu opens his mouth to retort, but he finds any words he might say dying in his throat before they can quite make it through his lips. soobin continues matter-of-factly, no room for debate.

“the rest of it is because you want to be the right guy for her, but you know you can’t be, because to her, you’re just the asshole who’s shacking up with the girl she’s hated all her life. you won’t live with minji, because that means you two would probably have to live alone, so you wouldn't be able to see the person you really want. and you won’t marry minji, because then, things would really be over, and you’d have no chance.” 

beomgyu feels like he can’t breathe, let alone speak, at soobin’s merciless deconstruction of his repressed feelings. he desperately wants to deny it, but when he looks at your sleeping form, the only thing he wants even more desperately is to hold you. you look so devastatingly beautiful like this, and he would say he wants to see you like this forever, but that’s not true. what he really wants is for your eyes to flutter open just to look at him, and for him to be the only one you see, just like you’re the only one he sees. he wants you to sleepily smile up at him before letting him touch you, hold you, kiss you, just like he’s wanted from the day he first met you. his eyes turn red as they begin to ache with unshed tears.

beomgyu swallows thickly as he feebly chokes out his next words. 

“i know. i know i'm… i’m a coward. but i love her. what am i supposed to do?” despite soobin’s unforgiving speech, beomgyu has no one else to turn to with this. he momentarily forgets that the man he’s pleading for guidance from is the very man who’s taken you away from him. and that man is now irritated.

“you're not getting it,” soobin scoffs. “you already have no chance, and you never will. instead of just approaching her like a fucking normal person, you were too much of a coward to risk being rejected, and because of that, you’ll never be anything to her. i’m not going to sit here and help you win my girlfriend over. you don't deserve her, and even if you did, i still wouldn't help you.” 

… girlfriend? girlfriend? soobin is many things, a man-whore being one of them, so beomgyu had assumed soobin was just hooking up with you behind his back. truthfully, the thought of anyone in this world having you in that way, the way beomgyu never could, makes him feel like he’s going to vomit; but to know that you’re not just one of soobin’s flings, to know that soobin sees what beomgyu’s seen in you since the moment he first laid eyes on you… that’s what truly makes him feel like he’s going to be fucking sick. 

he's angry. of course, he's angry. but more than angry, he's distraught. he’s never felt so stripped bare—naked and vulnerable for anyone with eyes to see—his usual arrogance failing to cover the ugliness that's been the crux of his true nature for longer than he can remember. he’s been exposed, belly up, with his insides torn out and put on display like a fucking frog stuck under a microscope. and all the while, soobin has been sitting and watching beomgyu squirm as he futilely tries to free himself.

“so, you… you knew how i felt this entire time, and you still got with her?” beomgyu chokes out between strained breaths. this makes soobin pause, and for the first time, he looks like he feels somewhat guilty for what he’s done.

“... yeah. yeah, i did. i thought, well, if you're never going to do anything, why can’t i? i… i’m sorry.” beomgyu knows soobin is not a malicious person, and deep down, he knows he can't blame soobin for seizing the chance to be with you. if he were in soobin’s shoes, if he had a fraction of his bravery, he’d have done the exact fucking same. but still. still, how could soobin do this to him? he could have chosen anyone else in this world, just not you. anyone but you.

“sorry? you’re sorry? you just sat there and fucking ripped me apart, and now you're telling me you’re sorry?” beomgyu accuses with a bitter laugh, his voice unconsciously raising with every word. how could soobin make him confront his unrequited love for you only to rip it out from underneath him? soobin’s supposed to be his best friend, and now he's stealing the love of his life away. but then, he supposes you were never really his in the first place. he's panting now, flushed and angry and at the very precipice of snapping into something unrecognizable. 

soobin pauses before he placatingly says, “look, i know you're overwhelmed right now, and i know you're hurting. but you—”

“are you seriously trying to fucking level with me right now?” and he's pretty much shouting now. “you don't love her the way i love her. you don't even fucking know her. i know everything about her. i know what she loves, what she hates, what she eats, what her favorite words are, what kind of medicine she prefers to take when she's feeling sick. i know fucking everything about her. you don't love her like that, you can't love her like that. nobody can love her like that, besides me!” how dare soobin say beomgyu doesn't deserve you? beomgyu has hurt you, yes, but he still loves you the most. he loves you so much, it hurts.

beomgyu feels his restless fingers aching, and though he's never really been much of a fighter, he wants to wrap them around soobin’s neck to choke some sense into him. 

but then, he hears the bed creaking. you're awake.

you rub your eyes before you sit up with the sheet precariously clasped to your chest, looking disheveled and beautiful and like everything beomgyu’s ever wanted. you're tired from your activities with soobin, but you're also a little disoriented from the wine you two drank earlier. your voice is hoarse when you ask, “beomgyu? what are you doing here? what the fuck’s going on?”

beomgyu feels his heart clench in his chest at the sight of you. he wants to shush you and cradle you to his chest as he coaxes you back to sleep, but you're not in his bed, you're in soobin's. with a longing he's never acknowledged before, he gently pleads, “c'mon, get up and get dressed. i'm getting you out of here.”

the fog over your mind clears and your eyes widen as you finally grasp how potentially cataclysmic this situation is. beomgyu is probably pissed that you're dating his best friend, and who knows what kind of machinations minji will create to tear you two apart when she finds out. you already kind of resent your parents, so if she spreads lies to them about soobin, you wouldn't really mind cutting them off; but how would that make soobin feel? and if minji wants to destroy your reputation to soobin’s friends and family, you know she'll have no trouble doing it. soobin would try to defend you, of course, but you don't want to put him through that.

beomgyu’s deeper intentions fly over your head, and you warily hiss, “what do you want from us?” 

beomgyu’s breath grows even more ragged when soobin’s shirt slips off your shoulder and he sees the mark he left on your neck. god, he wants to scrub every trace of soobin off of you, wants to erase every memory of soobin's treacherous touch from your mind. he wants to occupy every cell of your body, wants to make you forget about every other man who's dared to touch you. he tries to force the thought of what you two and soobin were doing before he got here out of his mind, but his eyes are watery as he pleads, “i want you to come home with me, okay? please? we need to get out of here, we can’t—”

“i’m not going anywhere with you,” you snap. “you're not my fucking family, you're not even my friend. you don't get to tell me what to do.” 

“don't say that, and please… please don't look at me like that.” beomgyu is fully crying now, and the haze of shock finally makes you register how distraught he looks. you're about to ask what the fuck is happening yet again, but he says something you could never imagine he’d say. 

“i love you. all i want to do is love you. please, just let me show you how much i need you, okay? just come home with me—i'm begging you.”

… love? as a pseudo-sister-in-law? you want to believe that's the case, because no matter how far-fetched the notion is, it's still a million times more believable than a romantic explanation. but even so, you simply can't dismiss the way he's looking at you like he needs you to breathe, which is certainly not platonic, let alone familial. 

you're absolutely rendered speechless, and you look to soobin for silent confirmation; but he's not calm, cool, and collected like he’d usually be. he grabs the trembling beomgyu by the collar and drags him out of his apartment. after he pushes beomgyu out of the door, he yells, “i don't give a shit about your fucked up feelings, leave us the fuck alone!” 

beomgyu is far too stunned and distressed to comprehend what's happening until the door is slammed in his face, but when his mind finally catches up, he goes from distressed to hysterical. he's bawling now, tears streaming down his reddened cheeks as he hiccups pleas to you—and threats to soobin—from outside the door amidst his frantic knocks. 

but it's not enough. he can't hear if you two are shuffling around or talking about him, even when he presses his ear to the door and tries to shush his own cries before going back to pounding on the sturdy wood. before any progress can be made—if such progress were even possible—apartment security is dragging him out of the complex and warning him not to return unless he wants to be thrown in jail.

beomgyu trudges back to his apartment. it's quite a bit of a walk from soobin’s place, but he would rather stumble home than call for a ride and risk someone seeing him like this. he cries until he can't cry anymore, and he's still shattered about it all when he finally makes it home. all he wants to do is pass out in his bed so he can briefly forget any of tonight ever happened, but he knows he'll somehow end up producing a few more waves of tears before he can do that. he unlocks his front door and he can already feel his eyes preparing for more tears to fall. 

but, like always, minji has a nearly preternatural knack of appearing when he wants to see her even less than he already does.

“beomie, baby, what's wrong?” she asks concernedly as she walks up to him from her spot on his couch and fusses over him. he knows he looks utterly defeated, like he's just got done being steamrolled, and she seems eager to console him. in a way, he thinks she's probably a bit happy to see him so vulnerable, because he never is in front of her; but he doesn't have the time to dwell on that.

he's not really sure what to say, honestly. how does he verbalize tonight's events? how does he tell her soobin uprooted his most twisted feelings for the girl minji has an equally-twisted relationship with? he decides that the best thing to do is to let her go, and that he needs to tell her the truth for once. he sighs and pries her gentle hands off of him. 

“minji, i need to tell you something,” he says shakily. 

“what is it, babe?” she asks with furrowed brows. “what's got you so worked up?” 

he pauses and bites his lip as he tries to figure out how to word things delicately. he may not like her very much, but she still deserves better than what he's given her. he settles on telling her, “i think we should break up. i just don't… don't think i'm the right person for you. i'm sorry.” 

surprisingly, she laughs. “don’t be stupid, you are the right person for me, just like i'm the right person for you.” 

beomgyu blinks as he tries to process her reaction. he finds his voice and tries again. “no, i'm not. and no, you aren't. i—”

“why?” minji interrupts. “because of your weird obsession with my ‘best friend’?”

beomgyu is speechless for the millionth time tonight. all he can seem to squeeze out of his throat is, “w-what?” 

“you heard me,” she shoots back, disturbingly calmly. “what, did you finally tell her how you feel and get rejected?”

“... what the fuck?” beomgyu gasps, too taken aback to say anything else. 

“it's been a long time coming, i guess, but i could’ve saved you the suspense and told you what she'd say,” she snorts. “you didn't have to get all worked up over nothing.”

“you… you’ve known about it all these years, and you never said anything? what the fuck is wrong with you?!” he exclaims. did everyone in the world know besides you and him? he hates the very idea of it. he hates that he's been suffering in silence, and hates that you’ve never cared enough to notice.

minji has been incredibly tame during this bizarre discussion, but now, she’s hurt, and she’ll say anything at all to hurt him back. 

“oh, please, beomgyu,” she sneers with a grating, teary laugh. “you were so fucking obvious with everything you ever did. the way your eyes trail after her like a goddamn puppy, the way you never want to hang out at your place instead of mine, the way you always get so pissed off when she wears a skirt that’s a little too short. do you think i’m stupid? do you think i don't realize that touching me makes you fucking sick? come on, beomie, you make that pretty goddamn clear with the way you only ever fuck me with the lights off, and how you only really want to touch me when she can hear us.” 

beomgyu feels like he might throw up, or maybe even pass out, he’s not sure, but he thinks he’ll find out soon. he’s utterly humiliated and disgusted with himself to a level he previously couldn’t fathom, even more so than before, but he just can’t wrap his head around one last thing.

“then why did you stay with me if you’ve known how i feel this entire time?” he asks weakly, and she lets out a scoff at his cluelessness.

“because i love you. because you belong to me. we just make sense together. she doesn't deserve someone like you, i do.” she says it like it's the most natural thing in the world—like she's mulled over her ridiculous reasoning a million times over, and she has.

“you’re… you’re fucking crazy. you don't—” 

“beomgyu, be reasonable. look at her, then look at me. nobody else in the goddamn world would pick her over me!” her words falter a bit as she says that, a few pesky tears unconsciously escaping her beautiful eyes; but she composes herself enough to continue. “listen, i know you think i'm a crazy bitch, but don't you get that i'm the only one who really understands you? i know who you really are, and it doesn't bother me. as long as you take your feelings for her and put them towards me, i won't be disgusted by you like she is. i'll accept you, no matter what. don't you want that?” 

“why the fuck would i want someone like you?!” he snarls. “you're—”

“i’m what?” she asks as tears finally fall freely from her eyes. “insane? i hate to be the one who has to break it to you, but you're just as bad as me. that's why we suit each other. from the start, you’ve only ever seen her, not me. it’s not fucking fair that she gets to have you when she doesn't even have to try! she doesn't have to try to take you from me, she doesn't have to try to get people to like her, she doesn't have to try at all. i try so hard to be perfect for you, and here you are, telling me you don't want to be with me because of someone who doesn't even like you.” 

no, no, no. this isn't how it's supposed to be. his world has been thrown off its axis in the span of one night, and he’d rather fucking die than hear another word. minji latched onto him because she couldn't comprehend someone wanting you over her, and in her own way, she loves him. and you… you're with soobin because beomgyu is a coward above all else. he wants to go back in time and never call soobin tonight, he wants to live in the thinly-veiled ignorance he's been occupying for years now, he wants to be the person he thought he was mere hours ago. lastly, he wants to feel used by minji, but he doesn't even deserve the dignity to feel that way, because he was using her right back. 

“get out,” he murmurs.

“beomie, come the fuck on. you’re letting your emotions get to your head. think about what you're doing!” minji borderline shrieks.

“you're right, you know,” beomgyu replies after a pause, and minji is temporarily relieved. she steps closer to him and tries to reach for his face, but he snatches her hands and keeps them in his firm grip as he continues. “i'm just as crazy as you are, but that doesn't make me want you. i hate myself, but i hate you, too. all your life, you've been trying so hard to be better than her, but no matter what you do, you can't force me to want you. i love her, and i'd rather keep wanting and never having her than keep pretending that i can fucking stand being around you. now get out,” he growls as he forces her out of his apartment and slams the door in her lovely face.

-

if beomgyu really thinks about it, he's always teetered right on the brink of knowing the truth, but he's been successful in fooling himself just enough to keep his feelings tamped down. when minji made a mocking comment about you losing your virginity in college, he'd gone home and cried, but he told himself it was because of the stress of finals looming over him. when he consequently spread a rumor about you being a mediocre fuck around campus, he told himself it was because anyone who'd believe him simply didn't deserve you. and when he'd zoom into the background of photos taken with minji just to get a better look at you, he told himself he was simply scrutinizing your appearance.

every time he stole your panties, he'd blame it on the taboo principle of it all rather than it explicitly having to do with you in particular. every time he’d get turned on only when you were around, he'd blame it on some secret exhibitionist kink he didn't know he had. every time he’d pretend to come in his condom during yet another unsatisfying fuck with minji, he reasoned that he was only pounding into his fist in the bathroom while imagining it was you because… well, he didn't really read into his actions for fear of what he might find.

it's a miracle he was able to live in denial for so long, and he should be grateful that the truth didn't come out sooner. still, as the weeks since the night he pathetically confessed his feelings to you pass by, he doesn't feel grateful in the slightest. he could stalk you, probably. he could threaten soobin and make him pay for what he's done. there are a million twisted things he could do to get you back in his sight, but he doesn't want to do any of them. because you wouldn't like them. because you might hate him even more than you already do. and if he's learned anything from minji, it's that you can't force someone to love you in any meaningful way.

so, he rots. he wakes up alone, goes to work on autopilot, comes straight home and drinks until he's incoherent, then goes to sleep, well, alone. he should probably try to go back to how he was before he met you, but he feels like that was another life—like he was a different person. time seems to be split before and after he met you, as much as it pains him to admit it.

it's a lonely, rainy night like any other when he's home late from work. he’s been here more in the past month than he has since he began dating minji, but he's adjusting to his newly single life as well as he can. the apartment is devoid of many personal pieces, furnished sparsely and lacking any real character. he cracks open a bottle of whiskey and begins drinking directly from it, not bothering to even use a glass. he sits on his uncomfortable couch, like he always does, and thinks about all the things he's done wrong. he doesn't even get the chance to get tipsy when he hears a knock on his door.

it's probably minji again. she's come by a few times since he dumped her, and while he could probably get a restraining order or something, he kind of enjoys seeing her suffer the way he suffered. it's not healthy, he knows, but it's one of the few forms of pleasure he feels these days. something is different tonight, though. the knocking isn't frantic, it's almost hesitant, and it doesn't last for very long. he furrows his eyebrows, and for some reason, he shoots up from the couch and rushes towards the door. his breath catches when he looks through the peephole.

there you are, standing awkwardly—almost like you're not even sure why you're there. you're drenched from the rain, and one of your arms is wrapped protectively around yourself as the other reaches towards the door, perfectly poised to knock again. just before your fist can quite make it to the door, you pause and retract it—folding it on top of your other arm. you stand still for a moment, and beomgyu is simply too stunned to move. at least, he is until you turn and begin to walk away.

with a speed he didn't even know he possessed until now, he wrenches the door open and grabs your arm before you can even react. 

“wait,” he pants, not from exertion, but from adrenaline. “what… what are you doing here?”

he thinks he sees you gulp, but that could just be wishful thinking. your lips part and close again a few times before you manage to ask, “can we talk?” 

“y-yeah, of course. um, come in,” he stammers awkwardly as he reluctantly releases his hold on you.  

what is this? some kind of psychological torture? you’ve never sought beomgyu out until now, which should give him a spark of hope, but he knows better than to delude himself. 

he steps away from the doorway to let you in and lightly shuts the door behind you. he clears his throat and asks, “if you're—do you need anything? a towel, maybe, or clothes. and i have… i have water, if you want. i mean, if you're thirsty.” he hates how fucking stupid he sounds right now, but it's almost like he can't stop talking.

you're quiet for a moment before asking, “can i have some clothes and a towel?”

his eyes widen a bit before he eagerly nods. “o-oh, yeah. just give me a second.” he tries not to sprint to his room, and he prays to god that he has clean pajamas for you. luckily, he's able to find something suitable. he returns to the living room and offers the clothes and towel to you with trembling hands. “here,” he says. “you can change in the bathroom down the hall. i… i’ll put your clothes in the dryer, okay?” 

you purse your lips and nod. he watches you pad down the hallway until you're no longer visible. he lets out a deep breath he didn't realize he was holding and seats himself on his stone slab of a couch. fuck, he should’ve gotten a better one like minji nagged him to. also, he’s been meaning to wipe down his bathroom mirror for a while. most importantly, though, what the fuck are you doing here?

he doesn't have time to dwell on it before you're walking back into the living room. his eyes snap up, and he feels a lump in his throat when he sees his clothes on you. his clothes, not soobin’s this time. it feels like he's hallucinating, to be perfectly honest, but he's fine with that. he just hopes the illusion continues.

it’s all too real when you plop down on the couch beside him, maintaining a respectful distance. fortunately, the couch is not only hard as concrete, but small to boot, so you end up only being a few inches away. maybe it isn't so bad after all. his thoughts are halted when you clear your throat and speak.

“soobin, uh… well, he told me everything he knows, but i just… i mean, i wanted to hear it from you,” you stammer. he knows exactly what you’re talking about, but he wishes he didn't.

“what do you want to know?” he asks in resignation. 

“everything,” you tell him, and he purses his lips with a stiff nod. he's had plenty of time to think about the unfortunate circumstances that led him to his sorry state, so the words tumble out of his mouth before he can stop them.

“i’ve always thought that you were so… so pretty. i saw you laughing with your friends on the way to class one day, and i knew i wanted you to look at me like that. and when i listened to you talk to your friends, i thought you were so smart, funny, and… and nice.” his lips are turned up in a wistful smile, and his eyes are uncharacteristically gentle. “but you never saw me, not really. you just saw me as minji’s friend, and i thought—i don't know—that if i just hung around her more, you'd warm up to me. i don't even think you remember, but i tried to be nice to you, to include you in conversation, to stand up for you. i swear to god, i did. but… but i saw the way you looked at someone else one day in the library. i remember it so clearly—you actually smiled at him and laughed at his jokes, and he wasn't even trying like i was. i was so fucking angry, but i thought i could make you see me if i made you as jealous as you made me, and i thought that there was nobody better to do it with than the girl you hate the most.” 

oh, god. you actually feel… kind of guilty? is guilty even the word? you haven't done anything wrong, you know that, but you feel like you've unintentionally twisted the knife in his chest with your apathy. for as much as you've always wanted him to drop his antagonizing demeanor, you don't like how pitiful he looks right now. “beomgyu, i…”

“yeah, i know. i was wrong,” he continues, his soft smile twisting into a self-deprecating one. “i went from being nothing to less than nothing, and it just… it made me desperate. so, i kept trying, got mean; but you never cared, no matter what i did. i guess i thought that if i could never have you, maybe i should stay with minji, because then i could make you feel something for me. even if it was only hatred and disgust—anything was better than nothing.”

“beom—” you begin to say, but he's so lost in his feelings, so lost in the foreign sensation of talking to you and actually having you listen to him, he can't stop himself.

“i just wanted you to pay attention to me. and i could—you know—keep an eye on you. but you… you don't give a shit about me, you don't even consider me as a man,” he laughs. “if i think about it, maybe i was trying to make myself an option for you, at least, and that i could show you what you're missing if i tried hard enough. but you could never actually see me that way, and… and it's all my fault.” he lets out another harsh laugh, making you wince. 

“i… i didn't know,” you say awkwardly. he takes a shaky breath before continuing.

“i've been begging for you just to give me scraps of you, because i thought it'd be better than nothing. all i ever wanted was for you to at least consider me, but you don't, you never did, and because of what i've done, you never will. i know i was wrong, i know everything is my fault; but i just wanted to be important to you, can't you understand that?” his eyes are pleading like they were when you last saw him. he's not asking for much, not even really asking for anything, and for some reason, it hurts your heart a bit.

because beomgyu is right, of course. you’ve never really cared about him, but that's not all of it, is it? you were resolved to your indifference before he even uttered a word to you, and while the disgust you've always felt for him is his fault, can you truthfully say that you’d have given him the time of day if he were nice to you? probably not, because of his association with minji. in your mind, there was no reason he’d like you if he knew her first, so his intentions were rejected before he could ever even understand them.

“i really didn't know,” is all you can think to repeat.

“i know,” he says with a bitter smile. you lick your lips before continuing.

“but i do know that i wouldn't have liked you even if you were nice to me. i don't… i don't talk to guys who are involved with minji. there's just… no point, i guess. and she liked you, and i thought you liked her, so… so i didn’t bother to get to know you.” beomgyu’s eyes are watery, but he retains his smile. he was doomed from the start, it seems. 

“i should’ve just talked to you myself instead of using her to get close to you,” he whispers.

“yeah,” you reply, and his smile finally drops; but what else could you possibly say? if he hadn't gotten involved with minji, you'd have probably liked him. he's handsome, of course, and you can't deny that he's funny. and, well, you two do seem to have a lot in common based on what you know from small talk he'd make with your parents during family dinners.

“i'm sorry,” he murmurs. “i'm really, really sorry. even if you didn't like me, even if you never would've no matter what, i shouldn't have treated you the way i did. i don't blame you for hating me, and i should be grateful you haven't done anything other than ignore me.” he means what he says, but it doesn't sound like it, because he doesn't feel grateful at all. he feels utterly hopeless. in the end, your indifference was more painful than any intentional retaliation could’ve been. 

you are silent. he's not trying to make you feel sorry for him, and you know it, but that makes you feel even sorrier. you're still struggling to form an appropriate response when he breaks the silence.

“i like listening to you talk,” he blurts out, making your eyes widen. “well, you don't really talk to me, but i overhear you a lot. i like listening to everything you say, and i like the way you say it. i like how you look, how you dress, how you laugh. and i… i like how you see the world.”

“don't you think i'm a little pessimistic?” you ask, your lips subconsciously curling up in a small smile. of all the things beomgyu could tell you he likes about you, that is truly something you never anticipated.

“i think it makes you interesting,” he says quickly, his smile tentatively returning. 

you let out a soft laugh—the first one you've ever directed at him—and he can't help but straighten up with a bit of pride at having made you happy, even if just a little.

after your laughter, though, you think back on all the things you've wanted to ask beomgyu since that night at soobin’s. you know he'll tell you the truth, so you ask, “... were you the one who messed with my stuff?”

“yeah,” he replies with no hesitation. the sheer ecstasy of your attention makes him quite forthcoming, no matter how ugly the answers to your questions may be.

“even my panties?” well, that one is a bit more difficult to answer. 

“... yeah,” he sheepishly mumbles after a pause, but his next words are hurried. “and everything soobin said i did, i did. scaring guys away, being an asshole to you for attention, uh, jerking off to you in the bathroom… all of it. i know i'm fucked up, and i know i probably scare you, but i would never hurt you. i just want to love you. i just… i want you to care about me.” 

you take a breath and begin, “i—”

“wait! before you say anything, i just want you to know, it's… it's okay if you don't like me,” you can tell the words are like lead in his mouth, “but can't you just acknowledge me a little bit?” christ, he's so pathetic. you're not used to him being so… sweet? to you, but maybe you could be. 

for as much as beomgyu has been thinking about his failed confession, you can't lie and say you haven't been thinking about it, too. you really did love soobin, but there was always a bit of reservation on both of your parts—a quiet kind of affection that you were happy to let grow organically; but your love was never all-consuming, never desperate, never aching. but beomgyu… beomgyu looks like he'd prostrate himself at your feet if it meant you'd give him the time of day, and he would. 

“i can,” you say simply, and his eyes widen.

“you… you can? what do you—”

“i can pay attention to you. i can care about you.”

his face tenses and his adam’s apple bobs. his voice is strained when he asks, “what are you saying?”

“i'm saying, i’m willing to get to know you the way you know me. i just want to see how things go, because… i don't know, i kind of... like how weird you are.” 

elation, triumph, and sheer relief overwhelm him. he doesn't want to ask his next question, but he feels like he has to. “what about soobin?”

you purse your lips and answer, “we… we broke up. no hard feelings, we just kind of realized we wanted different things out of our relationship, i guess.”

“oh, thank god,” he murmurs as he releases a shaky breath. theoretically, he should at least offer perfunctory condolences, but you two are way past such insincerity. you both know he's over the moon right now, and he's spent more than enough time lying.

only now do you notice that he's somehow managed to scoot closer and closer to you until your legs are touching without your knowledge. the clothing between you doesn't do anything to tamp down the buzzing sensation at the tentative contact. you look back up at him to meet his gaze, and his eyes are trained on you like you're the only person in the world. now that you think about it, you’ve caught glimpses of this kind of focus before—the kind of focus in which he looks at you as if everything and everyone else besides you has faded away.

his gaze flicks from your eyes down to your lips before refocusing. he leans in so close, you can see every minute detail of his face. long lashes, round eyes, slightly-chapped lips he keeps on licking from sheer nervousness. 

his voice is barely above a whisper when he asks, “please, can i…” he doesn't dare to finish his question, so there it hangs, unspoken yet unfathomably heavy. 

it’s like there’s a strange sort of magnetic pull drawing you to him. before you can recount all of the reasons why this is a bad idea—at least, so soon—you tell him, “okay.” 

that's more than enough, it seems, because in a flash, beomgyu cups your cheeks in his big, warm hands and tenderly traces his thumb along your jaw before pulling you in. 

the first meeting is pure electricity. your lips immediately slot together as if they were always meant to be that way—as if everything else was simply an obstacle leading to this inevitability. the hums of energy you feel at your clothed legs touching is nothing compared to the way every nerve in your body is set ablaze right now. you feel him shudder before he reluctantly pulls away. his eyes never leave yours, and the look in his eyes is so intense—so hungry—you feel breathless under its weight.

“thank you, i've been wanting to do that for forever,” he mutters breathlessly, and he should be finished by now, but his hands remain on your face. he gently pushes your hair behind your ears before adding, “can i… can i show you what else i've been wanting to do? i swear, i'll be perfect, and i'll stop whenever you want. i know it's fast to you, but it's not to me. i just… i want you to feel how much you mean to me. but… but i won't push you.” he’s serious about that, you know, but he looks like he'll die if you don't let him prove himself to you. his cheeks are flushed, and if his squirming weren't enough, the obvious tent in his sweatpants tells you everything you need to know. 

for the second time tonight, you take a deep breath and say, “okay.”

“oh,” he groans as he pulls you back in for another kiss. this one is much more fierce, utterly insatiable. his tongue licks your bottom lip, begging for entry, and you eagerly oblige. he moans into your mouth as his tongue tangles with yours, trying to commit every centimeter to memory. he’s embarrassingly hard humiliatingly fast, but he’s fantasized about this for so long, who can blame him? 

when you two break for air, his eyes are darkened with lust as he gulps and asks, “can i—” 

before he can finish, you cut him off by palming him through his sweatpants. the groan he releases is utterly guttural and animalistic in nature, and you carefully add, “do whatever you want.”

his breath catches in his throat at the permission, and with shaky hands and unsteady steps, he leads you to his bedroom. you're on the bed in an instant, and in mere moments, he's stripped you of the clothes he gave you to wear. you feel a bit uncomfortable, honestly, knowing he’s probably comparing you to minji; but before you can dwell on it, he's gulping and reverently whispering, “you're the most beautiful thing i've ever seen.”

before you even have the time to feel shy or embarrassed, his hands are all over you—your chest, your hips, your ass—but he won't let himself get lost in clumsy touches and lose sight of his ultimate goal: making you feel better than you ever have. he kisses down your jaw and throat before planting a searing mark at the base of your neck. he soothes the sting with his tongue, outwardly apologizing for the slight pain, but internally, he's buzzing with excitement at the prospect of leaving something tangible on you—something that ties you to him.

his mouth purposefully trails down to your chest, sucking on one peak and teasing the other before switching over. he beams into your chest when he hears you moan. slowly, he pops his mouth off and briefly kisses you again before planting kisses down your stomach, and finally, finally, finally, to your core. you're not sure how much time has passed, but you do know you've never been so wet before in your life. he spreads your legs open and groans when he sees you glistening for him. then, he looks up at you with watery eyes. there's yet another question there, you can see it, so you spread your legs a bit wider in a silent invitation. 

suddenly, his lips are buried in your folds. he leaves kisses, but try as he might, he doesn't have the wherewithal to control his hunger. when he takes his first lick, you feel an infernal heat beginning to consume you completely. he moans in pure ecstasy when he tastes you, and you can feel the vibrations reverberating through your cunt, your legs, your entire body. 

“so fucking good,” he whispers, his breath warm against your naked lips, and that's all the warning you get before he begins to lick you and suck up your slick as if he were a starving man.

you can't help but writhe beneath him as his tongue circles over your clit, and he removes one of the hands he was using to keep you spread open for him and presses it on your lower stomach to keep you in place. his other arm remains firmly locked around your thigh, nearly bruising you with his desperate grip. men do not usually treat giving head to women as if women are showing them the greatest kindness of their lives by allowing them to, but he clings to you so hungrily, you know that in his mind, you are. 

you begin to reach your peak far too quickly, and you think you moan something about being close—you're not really sure—when he slides his tongue into your hole and begins to thrust it in and out. his nose remains buried in your cunt, and you let out a cry of his name as patches of white explode behind your eyelids. he looks up at you as you come, his eyes shining with amazement and, strangely, gratitude.

as you're coming down, he licks his upturned lips and dazedly whispers, “i made you feel good, right?”

you let out a soft laugh and breathlessly reply, “yes, that was… you made me feel really good. so… what else do you want to show me?” 

his eyes go from innocent to dark again as he processes your words. he anxiously bites his lip as he slowly pulls off his shirt, then his sweatpants and boxers. his cock is painfully hard, pathetically leaking with precum and even redder than usual—because of the way he was humping the bed mere moments ago as you were lost in the haze of getting the best oral of your life. 

it’s pretty, just like every other part of him, and you have no doubt that he'll stretch you out nearly beyond what you'll be able to handle. it twitches traitorously with need as he stares at you, still dripping into his previously-crisp sheets. he unsteadily grabs his base and looms over you as he begins to tease himself up and down your cunt. he shudders at the contact, but he keeps his eyes locked with yours. he wants to watch every minuscule movement in your face as he finally, finally makes you understand how much he can do for you.

he begins to push in, one hand braced beside your head as his fat tip breaches your entrance. you both let out strangled cries at the insertion, and it takes every ounce of willpower and luck he can muster to not come immediately. he's jerked his cock raw for countless nights wishing he were fucking you, and here you are, looking up at him like he's the only thing you see. just like he's always longed for. it's an intoxicating sensation. 

“you're so fucking tight,” he groans as he works himself in. “so perfect around me.”

he draws himself out before thrusting in a little further. then again. then again. each time, he gains a bit more of you, splitting you open further and further with every movement of his hips. his veiny cock drags against the most pleasurable spot in your cunt every time. he's whimpering now, and he'd be shy in any other context, but not right now. he's fucking a girl raw for the first time, and not just any girl, the girl. the girl he’s wanted since… well, always. he couldn't care less about the fact that he sounds like a whore.

when he pulls out and slams back in again, he's finally completely sheathed in you. his eyes roll back in absolute pleasure as he lets out a guttural moan. you, on the other hand, feel so full, feel so right, you're writhing beneath him. with a shuddering breath, beomgyu pulls out almost completely before drilling into you again and again. his pace is frantic—carnal, even. when you thread your fingers in his hair, he lets out a desperate whine. 

“you feel so—mm, fuck!—so perfect. squeezing me so fucking tight, i can't—oh, god!” he babbles as he pounds himself into you. he has just enough awareness to take his skilled fingers and roll your clit as he loses himself in you. he keeps up his brutal pace in an act of frenzy.

“never—nngh—never wanna stop,” he whines as tears begin to pool in his eyes. they fall completely when you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in for a filthy kiss. he tastes like you, and you realize you like it that way. you realize you like how pathetic he is, how much he’s loved you all this time, how much he needs you. you break from him and sink your teeth into his neck like he did to you, marking him as your own, and he lets out an animalistic cry he did not know he was capable of making.

“fuck, yes, yes, yes!” he cries out as his aching balls slap against you with every thrust. “please, please come. need to feel you—ah!—feel you come on my cock.”

his gaze finally parts from yours to look at your stomach. how nice would it be to be one with you completely? as much as he wants to, he can't stay inside of you forever, can't enmesh his body with yours, but he can become a part of you in a different way. he can plant his seed in your stomach, can mix his dna with yours in a physical, living, breathing product of his love for you—if he's fortunate enough. that way, he’ll be tied to you the way he never wanted to be tied to minji, and you’ll be tied to him just the same. but you haven't even agreed to date him. you're just lost in lust, right?

“i’m… i’m gonna come,” he pants as he continues to work your clit and fuck you like a crazed man. “have to pull out.” the words are almost painful to say, but he grits his teeth and says them, anyway.

shockingly, you wrap your legs around his waist and say between labored breaths, “you don't have to.” 

the whine he lets out is laughably emasculating, but he doesn't care. he fucks you even more fiercely and rolls your clit with even more desperation, and you can feel the tension in your stomach about to snap. you let out a broken moan of his name as you come undone beneath him, your mind flooding with nothing but unmarred bliss, and your cunt clenching around him so suffocatingly, he can barely even thrust.

“oh, sh-shit!” he cries out as his orgasm throws his world off-kilter. his cum floods your insides then—thick and hot—and he can feel you squeezing him for every last drop. he gives a few more weak thrusts before collapsing on top of you. you both pant in exhaustion, but once he catches his breath, he buries his face into the crook of your sweaty neck.

“i love you so fucking much,” he whispers, his breath making your skin tingle. he pulls away and looks up at you. “and you… you’ll love me back. i'll make sure everything—i won't let anything go wrong. and if minji tries anything, i'll ruin her fucking life. i swear, i'll be perfect. i'll be the perfect boyfriend, husband, father of—”

“tone down the crazy,” you warn as you lightly pinch his cheek. 

“s-sorry, i just got excited,” he blushes. “but i mean it, you know? i won't waste this, i promise. i'll be good for you every day, and i’ll show you how much i love you until you feel the same way. and our family—i mean, your family, they might be mad, but we'll deal with whatever happens, okay? and if they can't accept us, then we always have my family. they won't treat you badly, i swear.” he means it. his family doesn't even really know minji, and when they did meet her, they didn't care for her. 

beomgyu is looking at you with his watery, pleading eyes, and you know he'd give you the entire world if you let him. if yours and minji’s families hate you after this, he’ll be your family, and you kind of hate your family, anyway. he loves you, and oddly enough, you can really see things working out just as he says they will. 

you can't help but let out a tired laugh. “okay, i believe you.”

he groans in relief as he kisses you again, deeply and tenderly and lovingly, and you can see yourself falling in love with him, too. 

notes pt. 2: i hope u all liked this one! it's been a while since i've written beomgyu this way and i kinda missed him. ik i'm not the best at writing him but pls dont be mean. and again if u enjoyed this please leave feedback!

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