#Yes I have self control why do u ask | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

erwinsmithsmissingleftarm · 9 months

Note

the nsfw alphabet for reiner pls !!! i love how u write <3333

CW: Post-war!Reiner

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Reiner is very gentle after sex. Undestand him, he just let you see the most vulnerable side of himself and can't believe how good you made him feel. This guy just wants to thank you for everything! He is the type to immediately bring you a glass of water and hug you, asking if you are okay or if he hurt you by any accident. Probably needs you to tell him at least twice that you are really fine and that you are more than satisfied to finally stop worrying and asking questions.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

If you ask Reiner which body part he likes from his body, he will probably mention his eyes. Nothing really fascinating, they looks boring to him but after you kept complimenting them, he really started to think they are pretty. I mean, how can't someone fall for those honey eyes, looking so fucking gorgeous in the setting sun?

As for you, he will never say it out loud but he loves your boobs. They are just... so soft and firm at the same time, it does not make sense to him! The perfect pillow to sleep on and cute anti-stress balls. He is not too touchy either, just slightly groping on them in private when you are okay with it. Small, medium or big, he loves the feeling of them in his big hands and the blush on your face whenever he tells you how cute and pretty they are.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Reiner is the biggest cum eater in the world. Man can lick your dripping pussy for hours without being tired. Every time he flips his tongue in your slit, he makes you even wetter until you literally beg him to stop. He then lifts his head and looks at you with glazed eyes and his puffy lips covered in cum until he runs his tongue over them to not waste any drops. He does not know why but your sweet nectar has a such addictive taste that he can't get enough of it.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

It might not be surprising but Reiner fantasizes about you dominating him. Who knew that this big man could actually think about being the submissive one, letting you take control over him. He is so... tired to be the one always taking decisions. Reiner just wants to be at your mercy because he knows you will take good care of him.

He needs you to push his hands away as he tries to touch you, gosh he can't stop thinking about it but everytime he is about to ask you about it, the words stay stuck in his throat. He can't say it, no matter how much he wants, he is just a tiny scared that you might judge him.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Before you, Reiner did not have anybody and honestly did not have a lot of time to think and care about sex. Yes, his sex life before you was non-existential. Your first time was actually a bit embarrassing as both of you were virgins and did not really know what to do. It was a bit messy at the beginning but after a few minutes, Reiner caught the pace.

But now I think it's a bit useless to tell that he became pretty skilled with all the times you two did the deed. He is still unsure of himself sometimes but it is very rare now as he feels like he can be himself with you without being judged. If anything embarrassing happens, you two just laugh about it and continue this intimate and passionnate moment, not focusing on that.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

As a person who is constantly searching for approval from his partner, Reiner finds it very important to maintain eye contact while having sex. He needs to be sure that he is doing everything okay and seeing your face can be very helpful. He needs to see any little change in your facial expression that could potentially show some discomfort/pain or at the opposite, pleasure. Positions like the missionnary or the lotus are his favorite for that.

It's very rare for him to try new positions that are not the two mentionned the line before but the doggy can be also great when he feels a little more dominant, giving him the access to reach that sweet spot inside you. Another nice position would be the spooning one. Reiner just loves how his whole body is pressed against your back while he is gently thrusting into your tight pussy.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Reiner is not goofy during sex at all. For him making love is the pinnacle of seriousness and not something that should be joked about. This moment should be used to share and show your intimacy, your love and affection and he does not want to ruin it by making jokes that will only cringe both of you.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Normal level of hair. Reiner is not the type of guy who take time everyday to make sure he is freshly groomed so he shaves it about once a week? Not too shaved but not messy either, just the perfect mix. The puebes are darked than his blond hair, a somewhat brown/caramel color.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He is probably one of the most romatic guys ever during sex. I mean, my boy is putting all his efforts in to make you feel good and loved. He's taking his time to pamper your body with hundreds of kisses and whisper how much he loves you into your ear. Let's also remember that he is extra-sensitive, literally baby boy, so he really takes his time to please you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Whenever he has a boner but you are not there, he will ask you to send him a pic of you. Not necessarily a spicy one where you are in a lewd position or showing your tits to him. Nope, just a pic of you today, his imagination can do the rest to imagine himself undressing you, removing that cute crop top or unbuttoning that shirt.

He will usually imagine that his hand is your hand and that you are the one giving him that handjob. His strong thighs twitches as he feels his climax approaching, hearing your soft voice whispering praises at his ear. He finally let out a loud gasp as his hips thrust forward, his cum covering his hand, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Praise kink. Listen, the worst thing you could ever do to Reiner is degrade him. That sweet boy's life was filled with remorse and self-doubt and only God knows how he is still alive today. He cannot stop thinking about all the bad things he did and it drives him sick. Reiner needs to be comforted, to be called good and to be praised. He loves it when you whisper sweet things to his ear or when you, on the contrary, yell them as he makes you feel so good.

Size kink. This man is HUGE and it always turns him on how you are so small and cute compared to him. He love when your hand is gripping his while he's literally stretching your tight hole out. Bonus points if you wear one of his shirt, it's a huge turn-on and he will just fuck you in it without any doubts.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

I feel like Reiner is quite the traditionnal guy who thinks that there is no better place to have sex than in the bed. It's a private place where you two can't be seen or interrupted by anybody, it's comfy and easy to clean up after (just throw the dirty bed sheets in the laundry and ta-da).

Honestly, I think Reiner can fuck you everywhere as long as it's in a private place with nobody else. If the sexual tension is too much and you can't even reach the bed without fucking each other, the couch, the kitchen counter, any table, the shower... any place at home is a good place to fuck you.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

One of his biggest turn on is probably when you wear his clothes. It comes with his size kink. Not gonna lie, Reiner finds it fucking sexy when you wear his clothes, like his shirt that is way too big for you. It is just adorable how the piece of clothing is hanging on your body, making you look even smaller than you are. Be prepared to be fucked until you pass out if you dare to wear his clothes (of course, he will fuck you while you have his shirt on).

Another turn on for Reiner would be dirty messaging. You don't have to spend any pics, just dirty textos can make him feel tight in his trousers. This man is pretty easy to turn on, you just have to tell him everything you want him to do with you and he is already hard. If you text him while he is not at home, he will come home earlier than planned. He is already expecting you to be half-naked on the bed and might teach you a lesson about turning him on in public.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

I don't see Reiner has someone who would feel pleasure with pain honestly. He thinks that all this BDSM stuff is a bit disgusting and weird. What the point of hurting someone you care so deeply about even if it is just for sex? This does not make sense to him. He is pretty vanilla sex as you can see and will refuse anything that could be painful (either for you and himself).

Another turn off would be anything that implies another person than you two (threesome, public sex, ect). Due to his protective personality, he wants to keep you all to himself, no sharing allowed.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

If it was not clear with the letter C, let me say it again. Reiner loves eating you out. Of course, nobody is born pro at giving oral but Reiner is kinda good at it even at his first time? Not that he is so skilled but even with that first messy cunni he was able to make you cum after a short amount of time. Those skills only improve with time and soon he becomes a real professional.

He also does not care if you think you are too heavy, just sit on his fucking face and let him lick your pussy dammit! You are a thick girl? Squish his face with your thighs please. Skinny girl? Squish his face too. No matter your body type, your height and your weight, this man handle you like nobody else and loves you more than anything else in the world.

Reiner also likes being the receiver but do not push you to do it. You are too scared? That's okay, there is so much more to do in bed! You are messy and unexperienced? Wonderful, there is no better way to gain experience than with practice! You are fucking skilled and can take all his dick one-shot? Keep it like this, he won't complain!

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He is both. Often, Reiner will start thrusting into you slowly and sensually, just to make sure you have time to adapt yourself to his cock. Then, his thrusts will slightly increase in pace and roughness to finally transform into intense pounding that will make you scream and rearrange your guts.

Also, Reiner is not the type to change pace depending of his mood. That means that even if he had a bad day, he is angry or tired, he will still fuck you as usual and not more agressively. He does not want his emotions to take control over him and take the risk to hurt you by accident.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

It might be surprising but Reiner does not like quickies. The reason behind this is pretty simple, he is easily stressed and dislikes to be quick on a such thing as making love. He likes to take his time, feeling his climax approaching slowly, no stress about being late for something...

He wants to take it "relax" if we can say it like that. Quickies with him are very rare, mostly done when you two have unexpected changes in your plannings right before making love.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Reiner is not really the risky type, he likes to stay in his comfort zone and may be grumpy at the idea of trying something new. So if you want to try out new things, you will have to push this man to take some risks but he will say thank you after.

Okay something silly like cockwarming. When you first proposed it to him, he made the sour face that always make you laugh. He did not understood the point of having his cock buried inside your guts without the right to move. How could he resists from pounding inside that warm pussy of yours? Okay it took you a few days to convince him to try it just one time but the result was worth it. Just hearing the soft sigh that escape his lips as he feel that warmth around his shaft, you pussy squeezing him slightly, making it even tighter than usual. He fell in love with it, now always asking you to cockwarm him while he's working from home or watching a movie with you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Thanks to his high sex drive (which will be more explained in the letter Y...) and his good physical form, Reiner has a lot and a lot of stamina. This stamina the the one that allow him to last for at least 15 minutes per rounds.

This guy can be pretty whiny if his partner only wants to go for one round as he prefers to go for minimum 2 rounds and more. After complaining a bit, he accepts his fate if his lover did not change their opinion but be ready to an extremely long sex session to compensate for the only one round thingy.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

As said in the letter N, Reiner is turned off by almost everything that is not vanilla sex. That means that the possibility of him owning toys is very very small. If it was just for him, the answer would be a total no.

But, he actually also cares about his partner's needs and requests so if you want to try out some toys one night, he will accept. Reiner is only doing it for you and by consequence, only uses the toys on you. However, he still does not get it how some plastic can bring as much pleasure as a real meaty cock.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

One thing, Reiner is not a tease at all. This man is already way too needy for sex to lose time on teasing. Forget about things any other guys would do like hands avoiding your dripping wet cunt or his tip teasing your entrance. No, Reiner is giving you everything you want as soon as you give him the green light. You just have to ask him and he will do it.

But what if YOU decide to tease him? Oh my god, this big guy will turn into a whiny mess, begs literally flowing out of his mouth like a waterfall. Why are you so mean to him? Why do you tease that poor baby? At some point, he will almost grab your hand and bring it to his twitching and neglected dick. "Don't you feel how I need you? Stop teasing me please, I can't take it anymore..."

Let's just say that you are still wondering how you keep losing against those soft honey eyes...

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

A loud boy here! Well, let me re-phrase it. At first, he is very shy and tries to mute any sounds that could come out from his mouth. However, he quickly gains in confidence and after a few minutes he does not hesitate to let you know how much he loves it by being very vocal. Mostly growling and soft whimpering, he is not into very girlish sounds and stays more manly. Sometimes, he can let out whines and sobs if you decide to tease him.

Reiner also like to have a noisy partner. Actually... who does not want to have a noisy partner in bed? The sounds you make is the easiest way for him to know if you like that he is doing or if you are close to your climax. Don't hold back or he will slip his fingers into your warm mouth and force you to keep it open while thrusting into you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

This man is a true cuddle bug. He can stay for hours in your arms, feeling your fingers scratching his scalp. He is craving for affection, even more physical. Pamper his face with kisses, hug his bigger frame by behind, hold his hands while you are taking a walk... he just needs it. He likes the feeling of your head on his chest when you are peacefully sleeping, nuzzling against his body. Yes, he is needy just like a little kid but it's adorable and we love him like that.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Would you be really surprised if I told you Reiner has a big dick? The answer is probably no because we all know that under those pants is hidden a whole monster. Reiner is quite shy about it because he finds it gross but honestly it is a whole feast.

You want more description? Here you go: it's above average, about 7 inches long and 2 and half inches thick, no piercings with a slight curve that allows him to hit the deepest parts of your body, no cut with a nice dark pink color.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

To be honest, it surprising at first how high is Reiner sex drive. Who could know that this quiet warrior would be a sex addicted? Not that he can't spend one day without it. No, he can restrain himself of course like any normal man. He will never assume it and even more say it out loud but yes, he likes the feeling of his dick inside you a little bit too much.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Usually, due to his trauma, Reiner has insomnia and barely sleep 3 hours per night plus nightmares often happen to him so our baby doesn't get a lot of rest. But after sex, he's surprisingly falling asleep only a few minutes later. The rush of emotions you two just lived and the feeling of your skin pressed against his seems to calm him down. It won't take long for you to hear his soft snores as he's already sleeping tight.

#reiner braun x reader #reiner braun x reader smut #reiner x reader #reiner x reader smut #reiner braun #reiner braun smut #reiner smut #aot #attack on titan #reiner aot #reiner headcanons #aot headcanons smut #aot headcanons #aot smut #attack on titan smut #aot x reader

590 notes · View notes

toruro · 1 year

Text

— ✧ oh my!

pairing: xu minghao x reader

description: choosing to be roommates with vernon chwe would undeniably be one of the few life-changing decisions you made in your lifetime. he brought along support, friendship, and most importantly: a hot friend. — or, in which you’re roommates with vernon and you happen to fall for one of his many chaotic friends.

tags: smut (18+), oral (m receiving), just stupid mutual pining, fluff, seriously self indulgent, mentioned past toxic/controlling relationships

w/c: 13.6k

a/n: REPOSTED. this was my first attempt at a kpop fic ever and my first time writing smut so please bear with how awkwardly written it is. a fic that was supposed to be multiple parts but i couldn't come up with a real plot either so ummm … nevertheless i hope u enjoy!

I. OH MY!

Moving in with Vernon is among your top life changing decisions, pretty much ever.

You two met in college, first sharing a calculus class together and occasionally studying together. Your friendship was budding—he was someone you could count on and never had to second guess. Spending more time together, you naturally grew closer, eventually reaching a point that when Vernon mentioned moving out of his shitty studio, you two immediately decided to find a place together.

Fresh out of college, it was the best decision in all ways possible—money was not nearly as big of a burden as before, and it was fun having a friend to talk to whenever you wanted in the vicinity of your own home.

It’s been an enjoyable eight months since you two started renting out this place together, and this evening, you’re in the kitchen cooking some brownies with an old package of brownie mix you found shoved in the back of one of your cupboards. You’re making a bit of a mess, but you can only hope that Vernon doesn’t mind too much—you will clean it, after all.

You’re in the midst of pondering about how long it’ll take you to clean up the little (big) splatter of flour you dropped on the ground when there’s a buzzing that comes from your phone. You huff, looking down at your fingers that are coated in oil and brownie batter. Setting down the bowl you were mixing, you then go to wash your hands as the buzzing dies out. After wiping down any moisture left on your skin, you pick up the phone to see a missed call from Vernon.

Did he forget something? you wonder, pressing the call back button and holding your phone up to your ear. You hear him pick up the line almost immediately, curious to know why he called you. “Hey,” you say casually when you know he can hear you. “Everything good?”

There are a few voices in the background that you hear, and you recall how he told you this morning he’d be hanging out with his friends. “Yeah, yeah, everything’s great. Look, I was wondering if it would be okay with you if my friends came over to our place? I would’ve asked earlier but I didn’t think we would be hanging out more and…well you get it,” Vernon sighs.

Your lips make a little ‘o’ shape, nodding to yourself as if Vernon could see you right now. “Yeah of course they can come over!” you tell him.

“Are you sure?” he clarifies, and you smile at the sincerity. “It’s just—I mean like they’re probably going to stay a while?” It comes out as a question and you laugh. “Don’t laugh at me,” Vernon grumbles, “I’m just making sure because they’re probably going to stay late in the night and there’s a lot of them.”

“Yes Vernon, I know there’s a lot of them—twelve to be exact,” you retort. “Yes, I’m okay with it, it’s not like I do anything these days anyways. I’ll be fine,” you tell him honestly.

“Okay, thank you so much,” he replies, relieved. “We’ll be there in like ten minutes.”

“Ten?!” you shrieked, quickly taking in the giant mess you made around you, baffled when you think about how you’re going to clean this up.

“Yes, sorry,” Vernon murmurs. “These guys change their minds so much and—ugh—you get it. We’re already close to the apartment complex so we’re just going to come up. Is there a problem?”

You hum, looking around you. “I might’ve made a bit of a mess in the kitchen, but…but I’ll figure it out.”

Vernon laughs. “I doubt they’ll care—most of them are dogs.” You giggle at the muffled protests heard in the background before he continues. “Anyways, thank you, I owe you one. See you in five.”

Your phone beeps when he hangs up and you stand by yourself in the middle of the kitchen. “Five?” you whisper to yourself, “Fuck! He said ten! But now five? Fuck!”

You whip your head around to look at the kitchen, grimacing as you’re dawned with the realization that there is no way you’re going to clean this up before they come. It takes you around 5 seconds to debate your options, finally deciding to just give up on trying to clean up and focus on finishing the batter and getting the pan in the oven.

You set your phone back down on the counter, picking up the batter bowl and giving it a few more stirs to rid it of any clumps before spreading it all out on a pan. It takes you a few moments to find the mittens and stick it in the preheated oven, a wave of relief washing over you when you’re done.

That’s one thing out of the way…I guess , you think to yourself, letting your hair down from the tight up-do you had it in earlier. Looking down at your black t-shirt and yoga pants, you take a few moments to try and dust off whatever flour rubbed off on the cloth. Of course, many stains still remain, but you figured this was better than nothing.

You’re about to grab a broom to clean up the floor when you hear a knock at the door. Sighing in defeat, you wash your hands once before heading to the door. You’re placing your hand on the door knob before you hear some clicking, hesitating to open once you realize it’s Vernon on the other end unlocking it himself. You step back from the doorway as the door is pushed slightly ajar, allowing you to poke your head through the small gap.

You’re met with the sight of multiple guys crowding around the door, a slightly frantic and honestly exhausted-looking Vernon leading the group. “Hey,” he greets as you step back once more, pulling the door open fully.

“That was less than five minutes!” you exclaim, trying your best to ignore the gazes of the unfamiliar faces behind Vernon. You’ve seen pictures of them before on Vernon’s social media and stuff but you don’t really know them at all—you’re only aware of bits and pieces from the stories he tells you occasionally.

“I’m sorry!” he puts his hands up in surrender, stepping through the doorway as you back into the kitchen that remained in the chaotic state you left it in.

“I didn’t have time to clean!” you whine, frantically waving your hand at the kitchen, allowing Vernon to take in the scene.

“Hey, hey, hey,” a new voice pops in and you see a hand snake it’s way around Vernon’s shoulders. A man with blonde hair and a chiseled face looks at you sympathetically. “It’s not Vernon’s fault,” he tells you calmly. “You can blame it on us for changing plans quickly. Don’t worry, Vernon feels bad about it, he told us.”

You sigh, a small pout making its way onto your face. “Fine,” you huff as the rest of the boys fill the large room that contains the kitchen and living room. You aren’t sure what to do now, watching them all shuffle around, taking off their shoes and attempting (key word: attempting ) to organize them in front of the doorway. You hadn’t really thought this far ahead—should you go to your room now? Would it be awkward to just hang around here while they’re in the living room (your kitchen and living room are basically one large room, so there’s no real way to avoid them)?

You’re glad Vernon picks up on your uncertainty. He turns to his friends, speaking up and saying your name, which catches you by surprise. “My roommate,” he clarifies, as they all look at you. You smile awkwardly, giving a small wave before averting your gaze. Vernon then turns around, pointing at the couch across the room, “Now can one of you set up the Mario Kart?”

The rest of the boys nod, beginning to break out into small conversations by themselves as they all make their way to lounge in the connected room, finally giving you a bit of space to breathe (not that they were making you uncomfortable or anything—you’re just a little shy).

“I’m sorry again,” Vernon tells you, and you can hear the genuinity in his voice. “What were you making, by the way?” he asks curiously, peering over at the mess.

“It’s okay! And I was making brownies—I found some old box mixes in the back of the cupboard and I figured I should make them before they expire,” you explain, looking over at his friends who have now settled in the living room comfortably. “Do your friends want some? I’ve made a big enough batch for everyone, I’m sure,” you tell him.

“Are you sure?”

“Vernon can you stop asking me if I’m sure,” you complain loudly, running a hand over your face. You hear a snicker come from the other side of a room, catching sight of one of Vernon’s friends seated on ground, a playful smirk on his face upon hearing your conversation. You feel your ears burn, quickly turning back to Vernon. “Yes, I just made them for fun. It’s better to share with them than have us eat all of it,” you chuckle, picking up a dustpan from the corner of the kitchen to begin cleaning up.

“Okay fine,” Vernon murmurs. “Thank you a lot,” he concludes, finally turning and joining friends on the couch. You begin your work to clean up the flour you dropped on the ground, getting lost in your own little world after slipping in your airpods, tuning out the noises of rowdy men and Mario Kart sound effects.

You’re practically done with cleaning the kitchen when you hear your timer go off, nearly skipping to the oven to turn it off and pull out the pan of brownies you’ve been putting so much effort into. The aroma floats through the room, and you catch the glances of a few of Vernon’s friends who peek over, trying to get a look at whatever you’ve come up with.

You smile to yourself, placing the pan on the counter before pulling out a knife to make nice, even pieces. It takes you a few moments, but once you’re done, you look down at them happily. Slipping on your mittens, you carry the tray over to the living room, a small, upwards curve pulling at your lips.

The boy you remember from earlier—the one who laughed at your reaction to Vernon—notices you first, and you can’t help but wonder how you didn;t recognize him from any pictures because holy hell he’s pretty. His eyes are looking at you through heavy eyelashes and there’s a coy smile tugging at his lips—he’s charming .

It takes you a good five seconds to realize you’re staring at him and another five to realize he’s caught you in the act. You whip your head away, looking at the rest of the boys, some of which who are intently focused on the game on the screen, others of which who are indifferent.

“Um, I made some brownies, if you guys want,” you tell them all, clearing your throat. “They’re fresh, so they’re a little hot, but you can wait for them to cool down.” You set down the pan on the table as the rest of them quiet down, some immediately spewing out words of gratitude.

“Aren’t you going to have any?” one of them asks, and you recognize him as the tallest. Mingyu? You recall some stories about him.

You shrug. “I kind of just made it because we had the boxes left…I think it’d be better if you guys shared it.”

Another boy with glasses sitting on the armchair speaks up. “You can eat it with us—our way of saying thanks,” he encourages. You throw out a close lipped smile, glancing at Vernon as if to ask if this was all just a show of politeness or an actual offer. He offers the slightest nod, and your once tight smile is let loose. You nod your head cheerfully, looking around you to find a spot to sit.

Noticing your confusion, the boy with the blonde hair and sharp face from earlier points to your right. “Sit next to Minghao, I’m sure there’s room there.”

You look down, met with the gaze of him , trying your best to hide your twinge of excitement as you silently shuffle over and sit down at the edge of the rug. Minghao . You like that name, you say to yourself in your head before shaking your head lightly—what are you thinking? You can’t be crushing on a guy you just laid your eyes on!

Inhaling sharply, you turn your head to the screen, grateful to see everyone else’s attention has also averted to the heated one-on-one match between the glasses guy from earlier (you now have learned his name is Wonwoo) and Mingyu.

They’re a loud bunch, but you can’t find it in you to mind—watching them all get along so well, so freely, is liberating in itself. You feel relaxed in a way you didn’t know you could be.

As content as you feel right now though, there’s an anxious thought buzzing at the back of your mind, and no matter how desperately you try to push it back, it keeps crawling its way up, especially when you feel your thigh brush Minghao’s .

Stop it , you chide yourself. Stop it! A little more harshly. Stop thinking about him!

“Hey…” the first time he says it, the words don’t quite reach your ears. “Hey,” he says again, nudging your thigh with his knee, increasing the minimal physical contact you two already had. You’re snapping out of your daze in an instant, whipping your head up to look at him . “You good?” he asks, and while you can tell he’s being sincere, there’s an almost playful smirk gracing his lips.

“Huh…oh, yeah,” you murmur, bashful that he caught you lost in your own head, thinking about him. “Just zoned out for a second,” you explain with an awkward laugh, pulling your legs into your chest and resting your chin on your knees.

“I could tell,” Minghao replies, and you can’t help but gaze at how cool he is as he reaches toward the coffee table, cutting himself a piece of the brownie. You watch him carefully as he takes a bite—you’re honestly just admiring his face, but you think you can brush off your shameless ogling as looking to see if he likes the brownie. He catches you staring, and you’re unsure of what he thinks of it, opening his mouth to talk again once he’s swallowed it. “It’s good,” he tells you, and you smile.

“I’m glad…it would have been kind of embarrassing if it wasn’t.”

“Don’t worry—chocolate isn’t even really my thing but I like it,” Minghao compliments, and you can’t tell if he’s being genuine or faux out of sincerity. Your grin brightens nevertheless as you sink back into the front of the sofa behind you, averting your gaze to the screen once again.

You’re feeling a little shy, of course, and the silence that now sits between you and Minghao isn’t uncomfortable or awkward, rather it’s…heart-warming. Your smile doesn’t leave your face as the room is full of cries and laughter and taunts as the results of the first round are revealed.

You sit in an amused silence, watching them for around another twenty minutes and even getting to play once (albeit your minimal effort—Mario Kart always gives you a headache anyways), before quietly standing up as the boys are cheering over Wonwoo winning yet another match. Minghao looks at you as you raise yourself above him, and your stomach churns at the way he raised a brow.

“Leaving already?”

You shrug casually. “I think it’s about time I get to doing my own stuff,” you explain, throwing out a small smile before retreating to your room before Minghao—or anyone else—can notice or say anything. You’re grateful Minghao didn’t make a scene about you leaving—it’s not that you don’t like the boys (far from it), but you’ve been tired the whole day and were looking forward to a nice nap.

Settling into your bed after shutting your blinds, you pull the covers up to your chin shooting a quick text to Vernon to make sure he wakes you up for dinner if you didn’t wake yourself up in time. You shut your eyes tight, doing your best to ignore the tight feeling that settles at the bottom of your stomach.

The second you identify the feeling, you squeeze your eyes closed tighter. Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! Your words don’t aid you, of course, because all you’re thinking about his stupid fucking Minghao and his stupidly hot face and his stupidly cute smirk and the stupidly handsome way he looks at you and— oh my god you need to turn your brain off right now.

You settle on not breathing, trying to pretend you’re dead, in hopes it’ll lull you to sleep. Of course, the effect is the opposite of your intentions—the lack of oxygen only reminds you of the way Minghao took your breath away when you first noticed him.

You huff to yourself, rolling your body over so your face is pressed into the pillow as you quietly curse to yourself. “God, I’m so fucked,” you whine, childishly pounding your fists against the plush of your mattress.

You’re being immature, you know you are—like a child throwing a tantrum—but who can blame you? He’s just so pretty and that smile of his is so endearing and you can’t help but find yourself so falling for him.

It’s a miracle that you fall asleep at all, let alone so quickly. You figure the exhaustion from the past week has finally caught up to you, even with the onslaught of attraction that came your way after seeing Minghao.

When you wake up, it’s much darker. The sun hasn’t fully set yet, but the sky is painted a deep red which is bound to morph to purple within a few more moments before finally sinking into nighttime. You glance around and you realize that the only thing besides the outside light that’s illuminating your room is your bed lamp that you forgot to turn off.

You rub your eyes a few times, still in a bit of a groggy, drowsy daze, before remembering what woke you up in the first place—the knock on your door. “Hello?” you croak out, immediately slapping a hand over your mouth at the mangles sound that leaves your mouth. It’s quiet for a moment and you’re able to identify the faint voices in the rest of the apartment as Vernon’s friends.

Your mind is suddenly racing through the possibility of who could’ve knocked on your door and— oh my god! What if it’s Minghao?! What if he heard y—

You hear your name being called out softly and your speeding train of thought falters. It’s Vernon. Thank fucking god. “You up?” he says through the door and you pull the covers off of you to meet him at the door. Poking your head through the crack as you open it slightly, you squint immediately at the intrusion of light to your unadjusted eyes.

“Good morning,” you joke, stepping back to let him in. “Thanks for waking me up…jeez, I was knocked out,” you murmur to yourself, rubbing a hand over your face as you walk to your dresser to find yourself a comb. “What time is it?”

“It’s like six…the guys were worried that they were being too loud when I told them you were sleeping,” Vernon muses, pulling up his phone to scroll through something. “But I was like nah she sleeps through everything—and I was right,” he says with a laugh as you roll your eyes, trying to make yourself more presentable as you pull your hair back into a low do.

“Whatever…did you guys have fun? I’m assuming so since they’re still here…”

“Yeah, we’re ordering dinner right now. I told you they were gonna stay for a while. That’s why I woke you up too: I was gonna ask if there was anything specific you wanted—if you wanna eat with us of course,” he explains, holding up his phone to display the food delivery app he had opened earlier.

“Would that be okay? If I had dinner with you all?”

“Yeah of course, no one would mind,” Vernon assures you as you look at yourself in the mirror, fixing your hair, narrowing your eyes at your roommate.

“You sure?”

“Okay now you need to stop asking me if I’m sure,” Vernon huffs with a roll of his eyes followed by your laughter.

“Okay okay, fine,” you reply. “Give me like two minutes I’ll come out and we can decide something with everyone,” you say, ushering Vernon out. He puts his hands up in surrender, turning around to join his friends in the other room. After he leaves, you debate with yourself whether or not you should change or join the rest with your pajama pants and loose fit t-shirt.

Overcome with the still lingering drowsiness from your nap, you choose comfort, and decide to just throw on a loose cardigan over whatever you’re wearing now before stepping out of the room. A yawn escapes your lips as you enter the living room, catching sight of all the boys lounging around—some are seated on top of the kitchen island, legs hanging over the edge, while others are laying down on the couch with their feet kicked up, the rest with their legs folded on the ground.

You try not to stare at Minghao too much when he enters your line of vision, but the task is becoming impossibly harder the longer you look: he’s laid back on the couch, feet resting on a blonde boy—Jun, you think is his name’s—lap, and you don’t miss the way his arms are crossed behind the back of his head, shirt lifting up just enough to reveal a little bit of the skin that dons his torso.

You begrudgingly peel your eyes away from the marvelous sight when you hear someone call your name, heads turning to you once they realize you’ve finally joined them.

“About time,” the boy with sharp features from earlier—Jeonghan—says as a greeting, waving you over as he stands next to Vernon. “Come on, help us decide what to order.”

“D’you sleep well?” another asks, and you turn your head to see who’s speaking as you approach Jeonghan. You recognize the boy now as Seungkwan, and you smile while nodding. “I swear me and Chan thought you were dead!” he exclaims jokingly as you furrow your eyebrows.

The boy next to him shoots Seungkwan a death stare before speaking up, much to your amusement. “What Seungkwan means is,” Chan begins with a huff, “we were playing a game and Mingyu lost and he yelled and we were scared we woke you up but nothing happened!”

“I told you, she sleeps through everything,” you hear Vernon mumble from behind you, not missing the joking look that’s toying with his face. You roll your eyes and hit his shoulder, loud enough for everyone to hear and cause them to laugh, smiling internally at the reaction you were able to elicit.

“That’s not true!” you whine, looking over his shoulder to see what restaurants they were choosing from.

“Joking, joking,” Vernon mumbles, turning his phone so you could see better. “We’re choosing between Mexican and Thai. You can choose which, since we’re all pretty evenly split.”

You hum for a second, thinking about which you’re craving more, finally settling on, “Thai!”

There are some cheers that erupt behind you, and your face heats up right away when you turn around to see some of them (Minghao in particular) with cheerful smiles and fists of victory in the air. “Thai it is!” Vernon announces. “Tell me what you guys want,” he says before looking at you. “The usual?” you nod with a grin, backing away as he places the order while the others call out the array of dishes you want, making your way to the seating area to sit down by one of the sofas (totally not because that’s where Minghao was sitting).

As you settle down onto the ground, Minghao speaks up. “Do you want to sit here?” he asks, sitting up from his horizontal position, pulling his legs back to make space between him and Jun on the couch. Your eyes shoot up, darting between Minghao’s deep brown eyes and the space on the couch.

“Are you sure? You can lay down if you w—”

“Nonsense,” Jun says with a chuckle, and you can’t even comprehend what’s going on until you feel Minghao’s cool fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you up slightly as a direct invitation to take up the spot next to him. God his skin is so soft and his touch is demanding yet so gentle and it’s just enough to get the butterflies that you thought died off to be resurrected once more. “Our way of thanks for choosing Thai,” Jun tells you.

“Yeah,” Minghao agrees, and you try your best to focus on what he’s saying even if it’s impossibly hard with the way his body is pressed up right against you. He leans back as if to stretch his body, arms reaching back behind the couch and settling in the space behind you,

God, you feel like you could die on the spot—it’s not like he’s got an arm wrapped around you or anything so why does this feel so intimate? You can only hope and pray that he doesn’t feel the immense heat radiating off of you as you adjust yourself to sit more comfortably on the couch. In hopes to diffuse the tension that you’re kind of sure you’re the only one feeling, you speak up. “Do you guys want to watch something? A show? A movie?” you suggest reaching forward to pick up the TV remote from the coffee table.

“I’m down,” Wonwoo says with a shrug.

“Oh yeah!” Seungcheol speaks up, “I’ve been wanting to rewatch Batman for a while!”

“Batman then?” you, looking around at everyone as you click the remote to pull it up after you see the nods of their heads. You put on the movie, sinking back into the couch as you do your best to focus on the screen in front of you, and not the faint touch of Minghao’s arm to the back of your neck.

You’re successful for a bit, thankfully, but your peace of mind hardly lasts when the food comes in and everyone settles on the ground to eat—your and Vernon’s rule that there’s no eating curry on the couch. You, Minghao, and Jun slip from your spots on the couch and sit on the ground where your feet lay just a few moments ago, and suddenly you’re hyper aware of the little space you three are squished up against.

It’s a miracle, you think, if Minghao doesn’t notice the way your skin burns against his as his thigh is pressing right up against yours. This touch is different from the one in the afternoon—that one was…light…innocent. This one…this one’s different—it has you burning and yet shivers run down your spine. If you were a little bit more in your senses, maybe—just maybe—you would notice the tight lipped smile that tugs at Minghao’s li ps as well.

Oh my! Now the crush begins.

II. COME TO ME

That night, after the movie, the food, and some beer, the twelve boys shuffle out of the house at around eleven, murmuring soft and tired “thank yous” and “goodbyes.” You can’t deny that you’ve been…a little stiff the entire evening. Sitting next to Minghao for a good 2 hours wore you out—it was a constant battle between your moral consciousness and your…budding feelings.

Stop looking at him! You’d say one moment, but then, god—oh my god his hands! No! Stop! He’s so close to me —stop acting like you’re in middle school! But his smile is just so pretty, god he lights up the room , but wait, stop being so cliche!

Naturally, you're convinced you’ve gone insane. Once the boys left, you and Vernon are left in the comfort of each other’s silence before beginning to make small conversation as you guys begin to clean up (the others honestly didn’t leave that much of a mess, you were just a bit of a clean freak).

“Your friends are fun,” you tell him quietly as you throw out the food containers that you finished earlier. Vernon looks up at you with a small smile, and you can tell that he’s been anxious about you not enjoying your time.

“That’s good, I’m glad.”

“Why haven’t you brought them over before?” you ask curiously, pondering about how there might have been a chance you could have laid your eyes on Minghao ages earlier. “Aren’t they like your best friends?”

Vernon shrugs. “Well yeah, they are, but there’s a lot of them, like you saw. I didn’t know if you’d be okay with that, today just happened to be a day where it was hard for me to say no to them.” You laugh heartily at that—the image of Vernon being persuaded by twelve guys looking at him with puppy eyes. “I really am glad you liked them though. If it’s okay I’d like to have them over more,” he puts out tentatively.

Of course, you perk up at that—maybe a little too noticeably. “I’d love that!” you say excitedly, before shrinking back down at how eager you sound. “I mean like, of course I won’t barge on your time with them but they’re really fun to be around and I’d like to see them more often,” you explain, placing your hands on the counter now that you’re done cleaning all the dishes. Vernon seems to catch onto something and you want to die from embarrassment with the way he’s raising a brow at you.

But if he does notice anything, he doesn’t say it, instead choosing to shrug again and trudge away from the kitchen. “That’s great. Can I have them over next Saturday?”

You blink once then blink twice. “Of course,” you reply without a second of hesitation.

Saturday can't come soon enough. With your own work to do, you find your mind drifting constantly to the face of a pretty man who you can't seem to stop thinking about. You need to scold yourself every single time you realize you're daydreaming—god no, more like fantasizing—about a man who you've not only seen only once, but is one of your roommate's best friends.

Daunting as it is, you're finding this whole situation quite...fun. You can't remember the last time you've felt something so pure and rejuvenating as this crush—gosh, you feel childish for calling it that but what else can it be? Your heart palpates when you think about him, your eyes ache to see his beautiful face again, and holy hell you don't even want to get started on the raw goosebumps you get when reimagining the moment where his skin brushed up against yours.

It's Friday night now, and your stomach swims with anticipation of what tomorrow will hold. You're sitting on the couch in your living room when Vernon comes home from the gym, dropping a bag of food on the kitchen counter. "Hey, I was at the gym with Mingyu and he got me some leftovers that his mom made," he tells you as you look up at him.

"Oh sweet," you say, relieved you won't have to go through the effort of figuring out what to make for dinner. "Your friends are coming over tomorrow, right?" you ask, feigning nonchalance—fucking acting like tomorrow hasn't been the only thing on your mind for the past one week.

"Yeah, they're gonna come up pretty early actually. I was gonna ask you actually, if you wanted to come with us since we're planning on going to the beach later. It's gonna be pretty hot and we haven't gone down in a while," he explains, beginning to open the bag of food as you get up and join him, trying to ignore the endless thoughts that run through your mind.

"The beach? Of course I'd want to come—wait, would that be okay with them? I wouldn't wanna intrude in on your day."

Vernon shakes his head with a chuckle. "Oh my god can you stop?" he says jokingly, "they were the one's who suggested, actually. Not that I don't want you to come either—I do—I just want you to know that they enjoyed you being there last week just as much as you did."

"Really? Who suggested it?" You hope you aren't coming off as too curious—Vernon is perceptive, and you'd be a fool to think he couldn't figure out exactly why you're so insistent on figuring out who asked for you to be there.

He seems preoccupied though, taking the food out of the containers, much to your relief. "Uhh, it was Minghao I think. But like everyone agreed after that, Jeonghan even said he'd pay for your ice cream if you came."

You're convinced the universe is bullshitting you right now. Minghao? Your Minghao? Asked if you could join them? At the beach?

You might just pass out.

Naturally, Vernon looks at you funny. "Are you good? You look like you've just seen a ghost."

You shake your head nervously with a smile, turning back to grab a piece of fried chicken he pulled out. "No no, I was just thinking about if I even have any swim suits—I think I threw them out last summer because of Jungho," you murmur, and while it's not the full truth about what you were just thinking about, it is something that's on your mind. Vernon looks at you with a frown.

"You threw them out because of Jungho?" he asks sadly. "Fucking hell, I forgot how crazy he was," he murmurs, looking down to take his own bite of the food. You shrug solemnly, finding yourself in a mood a bit more down than you'd like.

"Weird times," you reply simply. "Think I could just go to the beach in like some shorts and a shirt? It's just water after all."

"Yeah that should be fine. We'd be leaving before noon so I don't think you'd have the time to buy new ones anyways," Vernon agrees, pushing himself off the counter.

You nod with a smile, ignoring the small pang of sadness you felt just moments ago. "Sounds good."

You're a heavy sleeper—you always have been—and given that it's a Saturday, it's no question that you're bound to sleep until Vernon is banging your door to make sure you aren't dead. Seriously. Saturday morning, despite your excitement, kicks off with a groggy start. You're rolling around in bed, ming hazy as you aimlessly try and figure out what time it is and what exactly woke you up since you know you don't set alarms for weekends. It takes a few seconds for the knocking on your door to register in your brain.

You blink once and rub your eyes, squinting so that they can adjust to the light as you peer at the clock, realizing that—shit, oh shit, it's almost 11. Didn't Vernon say that his friends were going to be here in the morning?! And that they were gonna leave before noon?! Shit!

You're scrambling out of bed, digging through your drawer as you call out a meek, "I'n up!" to whoever's knocking on your door, throwing on the only swim suit that you—thankfully—found tucked away in your closet the night before, covering it up with some shorts and a loose top that you picked earlier as well. You're quickly faced with realization that you still look like you just rolled out of bed which, to be fair, you had. That doesn't stop you from frantically brushing through your hair, trying to put it into a simple braid before finally feeling ready to open the door.

You're expecting to see Vernon, in all honesty, since that's how it went the last time they were all over. The man standing in front of your door is, in fact, definitely not Vernon. No, the man in front of your door is Xu fucking Minghao, and you think you're absolutely fucked by the way your knees go week.

"Hi, sorry, I hope I didn't rush you," he greets politely, stepping back, allowing you to take a good look at him. He's wearing a white sleeveless shirt that hugs hugs his body tightly, followed by a blue hawaiian shirt that sits loosely on his upper half. His lower half is adorned by simple swim trunks, and you do your very, very best to not stare at his calf muscles.

"I, uh..." your voice trails off, in a haze from how attractive he is as well from your fading drowsiness. You rub your eyes once under your glasses before responding. "It's okay, I don't know why I didn't get up earlier," you huff to yourself, looking down, "I thought I would."

"Don't worry about it," Minghao murmurs, and he brings a hand up to your head on top of your hair to ruffle it a bit. You might just scream. "It's good that you slept," he continues, walking back to the living room as you follow him. "We thought you'd wake up from how loud we were," he says with a chuckle as you enter the room with everyone else in it as they turn to you.

"Yeah," Seokmin agrees through a mouth full of muffin, Joshua lightly hitting his shoulder and chiding him for talking with his mouth full.

"She's awake!" Jeonghan cheers playfully.

"i know Vernon said you'd sleep through anything," Chan begins to admit, "but literally do not understand how you didn't wake up until now. I swear, there was a moment where Soonyoung was just screaming at the top of his lungs and we were all wondering if that was gonna get you to come out but Vernon didn't even bother to check."

Your face burns at the comment, but there's a warm sort of feeling that bubbles up in you when they all laugh—it's not a mean laugh, no, it's friendly and it's kind, and it's making you feel welcome.

"You guys just don't listen to me," Vernon huffs, tossing you an orange from the kitchen. "We're going to head out in like five minutes," he tells you. "We need to figure out the car situation because I think Wont's car and Joshua's can only five each and mine can hold four."

The next few minutes are spent trying to figure out who's going to go in which car, everyone deciding that Seungcheol, Seokmin, Chan, and Jun would be going in Wonwoo's, Jeonghan, Jihoon, Soonyoung, and Minghao would be going in Joshua's, and Mingyu, Seungkwan, and you would be going in Vernon's. You won't and say that you aren't a teensy bit disappointed that you don't get to sit with Minghao, but the beach is only a twenty minute's drive away anyways, and you feel this is also a chance to get to know Vernon's other friends better too.

The car ride is fun, and you enjoy Seungkwan's cheeky remarks to everything, laughing along to pretty much everything he says, as well as Mingyu's oddly calm hyperness...? You aren't sure how to explain it but there's a constantly endearing and jumpy aura radiating from the tall boy, yet he seems quite tame for the most part. Nevertheless, you're entertained and excited to spend more time with them as Vernon parks the car on the beach, pulling out his phone so he can figure out where the other's are.

"Ah" you murmur, as the fourteen of you are grouped up finally, making your way into the hot sand and towards the water. "This is like the perfect weather for the beach," you say, wiggling out of your slippers so you can walk on the sand with your bare feet. Seungkwan is standing next to you as you both trail behind the rest of the crowd a little, the both of you immersed in the warm feeling of sand between your toes.

"I love the beach," he says, throwing his head back to look up at the bright side. "I'm from a beach town, so when I found out that the beach—and all my friends—were here, I just had to move here too, you know?"

"The beach is nice, but I won't lie, it always makes me so exhausted after I spend a day out here," you admit, dragging your feet across the sand, basking in the hot feeling it brings. "Who knows, I'll probably go home and sleep so hard tonight that even Vernon might think I'm dead," you joke, causing Seungkwan to chuckle.

You two continue to talk about the beach and Seungkwan's home town as your group nears the water, everyone beginning to set up their towels and the picnic blankets you bought. Everyone helps out, and before you know it, Mingyu, Jeonghan, Seungcheol, Seokmin, and Seungkwan are ripping off their shirts and running towards the water. You watch them with amusement, standing up to shimmy out of your shorts and shirt.

Vernon looks at you, speaking, "You were able to get a swim suit?" he asks, confused considering your conversation with him last night. You smile somewhat sadly, and Minghao, sitting next to Vernon, can't help but notice.

"Uh, not really," you mumble, looking down at your black bikini. "I think Jungho just never knew about this one so I didn't get rid of it, and it was just shoved in the back of my closet or something. Anyways, I'm burning and I really want to get into the water," you conclude, turning around without giving Vernon a chance to respond.

As you run off into the water, Minghao turns and looks at Vernon him. "Who's Jungho?" he asks, shameless about his curiosity.

Vernon frowns as soon as he hears the name, and Minghao wonders just what kind of person this Jungho guy might be. "Just some ex. A really shitty one," Vernon murmurs, looking out at the sun. Minghao feels something uneasy churn inside of him. He gives Vernon that look, which tells him he wants to know more. "Like he just sucked. Didn't treat her right and shit. I didn't like him at all. None of her friends did. He tried to get her to throw out all of her swim suits and stuff because he didn't trust her at the beach or some bullshit like that."

"Goddamn," Minghao hisses, leaning back on his hands as he watches you play in the water. You looked like you were having so much fun—you were so at ease. He wants to chide himself for looking at the way your skin glistens in the sun, your bikini hugging your body in all the right places and in all the right ways. He knows he shouldn't be thinking about you like this, especially when he's only just met you a week ago, but that isn't to say he hasn't missed your quick glances. The way your eyes dart towards him, his body, his eyes, his lips, and quickly jump away when you realize he's caught you.

You feel the same way, he's sure of it. Minghao knows you feel the same tingles, the same sparks, the same rush of pure happiness when you see each other.

His thoughts are interrupted by Joshua speaking. "He made her throw out her swim suits?" he exclaims incredulously. "Insecure much," he mutters under his breath, and Minghao laughs along with that. "Good thing he's just her ex now—that sounds horrendous."

"Agreed," Minghao replies while Vernon nods, standing up to pull off his hawaiian shirt and top. "I'm gonna go into the water," he tells the rest of his friends before jogging lightly, following in your faint footsteps.

You're feet hit the water, and you stop in your tracks as you take a few moments to get used to the temperature change. You're looking up to see Seungkwan and Jeonghan waving you over to around twenty feet further into the water, but you call out to them to tell them to wait a second as you just melt in the feeling of the water against your toes. You stand there for a few moments before you hear a familiar voice coming up from behind you.

Oh. My. God.

You don't even want to turn around because you're scared of your reaction to seeing him shirtless—god, you aren't even sure if you'll be able to contain yourself! You think if you pass out, you'll just have to blame it on the heat, but still, how are you going to be—

"Hey," Minghao says cooly, stepping next to you in the water and holy crap, he's toned and he's practically glowing in the sunlight, the shadows hugging every peak and curve of his chest, his arms, his hands, his collarbone, his v-line—oh my god you need to stop. Practically ripping your eyes away from the wondrous view that is Minghao's body, you're forcing yourself to look up at his eyes (not that it's any less of a view—his eyes sparkle just as much as he does).

"H-hi." Did you just stutter? No fucking way you just stuttered. You think you might have to drown yourself right now. "I thought you were going to stay around with the others a bit longer," you say sheepishly. Minghao smirks at you, and he thinks now is his chance to try and fluster you up a bit more.

"Well I can't just let a pretty girl go into the ocean by herself, now can I?" he replies smoothly, taking a few steps in front of and waving you to follow him, and you would only if you hadn't just stopped breathing. How could he say that so casually!? How could he—wait. Wait! He just called you a pretty girl. He thinks you're pretty. Xu fucking Minghao finds you pretty, and he's saying it to your fucking face. You actually might die right now.

You can't even formulate a response, just tearing your gaze away from him and smiling shamelessly at the ground as you follow behind him slowly. Mission accomplished, Minghao thinks to himself, and something inside of him goes batshit crazy by seeing you so smiley and undone.

"W-whatever," you finally say as the water near to your hips as you two start nearing the others guys who are currently splashing each other with water. Minghao watches them, and get an idea, playfully splashing some water your way. You jump back quickly, eyes widening before you gasp. "You did not!" You quickly splash water back, but Minghao seems to see it coming and he moves out of the way. "Get back here!" you yell, running after him as he nears Mingyu, hiding behind the larger boy. With your eyebrows, you pay no mind to this, continuing to splash water everywhere, hoping that at least some of it will get on Minghao.

Mingyu puts his hands up, eyes scrunched up as he tries to block the water that's inevitably going his way. "Hey! Hey! Hey! Not me! Not me!" he cries out as the others laigh.

"Get Minghao!" you call out to the other boys who catch on quickly, joining you on your rampage against Minghao. Eventually there's just so much water splashing everywhere that within minutes you're all spent, gasping for air as you all try to rub the water away from your eyes. Once your vision is no longer blurry, you blink hard a few last times before turning your vision towards Minghao again and holy hell, you didn't think he could look any hotter than he did sitting in the sun but wow. His hair is wet and hanging low on his forehead but it's so messy and so hot and all you can think about is running your fingers through those locks yourself and making a mess in your own little way and—okay stop, you can't be thinking about this, especially not in public.

It takes a moment for you to fully calm yourself down before you're laughing with the other guys as they start to play a new game. You try to ignore the butterflies you get whenever you near Minghao, but it's a painfully hard task. You grow to accept the feeling as the minutes go on, simply existing alongside the bubbly feeling instead of pushing it down.

The next hour is spent in and out of the water, everyone else eventually joining those of you in the water, and you find that time is passing faster than you can even think. Time with them is fun, it's carefree, it's liberating, it's refreshing. Once you're all too tired and too spent, you're trudging back to the little spot you all have set up as everyone begins to pull out the food they packed. As you snack on your lunch, the fourteen of you sit in a circle and talk about the plans for the rest of the day.

"Let's play beach volleyball," Wonwoo suggests after everyone's finished eating, and it's no doubt that everyone else pretty much agrees immediately.

"Yeah, I saw a court in that direction, and I'm sure we'd be able to find a ball," Jihoon adds on as everyone stands up.

"I think i'll stay behind," you tell them all, leaning back on your hand as you fan your face with the other. "I'm kind of tired and I think I just need to sit down for a bit," you explain.

"That's okay, but you sure you won't be lonely," Vernon clarifies as he stands up.

You shake your head, but right before you're going to respond, Minghao speaks up. "Don't worry about her, I'll stay behind too." God, someone save you—your poor heart can't take much more of this.

"Oh okay, great!" Joshua says happily, the others standing up as well to go follow Jihoon to the volleyball court. "Catch you later!" You and Minghao wave at the rest as the drift off into the distance before being left in the silence that sits between you.

Minghao speaks first. "It's nice that you came, it's refreshing to have someone new, especially if they're like you."

You raise a brow at him, turning your body so that you're completely facing him, legs crossed as you lean forward. "Like me? What does that mean?"

Minghao gives you a sly smile, like he was expecting this. "Fun. Easy-going." He pauses. "Pretty."

"Is this your way of flirting or do you just enjoy being very direct about what you're thinking."

He laughs at that, throwing his head back. "Nice one. Those two are actually the same thing for me, so take that as you see it," he says with a shrug. You're face is on fire, and you're sure he can tell by now. Minghao catches on and he leans forward. "Is it working?"

"Maybe it is," you murmur nonchalantly.

"I think it definitely is," he shoots back with yet another smirk. God, you can't do this anymore. He's just so close to you and you don't know if it's because it's hot or if you're flustered or whatever but you're burning and not thinking straight and before you know it you're leaning in so close that you can feel Minghao's soft breath on your lips, stopping right before you two can connect.

It's the silent words now: kiss me, kiss me Minghao, and you almost think that this is true love when he leans in immediately after, heeding your silent requests.

Minghao's lips are plump and soft and taste slightly salty from the remains of the ocean water, in contrast to the sweet way he's got one hand cupping your chin. His thumb strokes at your skin and the touch is so light that you think you might go insane, gripping onto one of his biceps as you try to ground yourself in reality—in this moment, that you're scared might almost just be a figment of your imagination.

News-flash, it's not. In fact, this moment is very much real, very much happening, and very much one of the closest things to heaven you've experienced.

When you pull away, his hand is still on your chin and yours still rests on his arm. "I won't lie," you whisper, "I've been thinking about doing that all week."

"Me too," Minghao admits almost immediately, the revelation sending both shock and relief coursing through your veins. You let go of his arm, finally, and he drops his hold too, but you scoot closer to him so you're not sitting side by side as you face the ocean. "We shouldn't do anything else right now," he says quietly, and you know he doesn't have to say to know what you're both thinking. "I don't think you'd want the others seeing anything."

"You're right," you say with a nod, but you still interlace his fingers that are next to you with yours on the ground. Minghao squeezes your fingers back slightly in confirmation that this is very much okay. "Do you want to get something to eat? I saw some people selling fruit on our walk through the sand," he suggests after a few moments. You nod along, shuffling through the pile of clothes that are everywhere so you can find your shorts—it's sp warm out right now that your skin and swim suit have already dried off.

While you're fishing out your shorts and slipping them on, Minghao finds his hawaiian t-shirt and slips it on, although his bare chest is still very much on display, despite your poor heart's cries for him to cover it up—no! Don't let anyone else see! You blush bashfully at your newfound jealousy of others seeing Minghao the same way you do, but those thoughts are soon pushed away as he reaches out a hand to you to help you stand up. You grab his hand with a smile, following after him as you both head toward the fruit stands at the front.

"What do you want to get?" he asks you when he sees you squinting to try and see what they're selling.

"Pineapple!" you cheer when you realize one of the stands has your favorite fruit, and Minghao can feel his heart swell at the sound. "Can we please get pineapple? It's my favorite fruit and it's the best for hot days."

Minghao smiles and nods, and your heart nearly pops out of your chest. "Pineapple and mango?" he suggests as you stand in front of one of the stalls, pulling out his wallet. You nod before thinking for a moment, pulling out your own wallet before he has a hand a hand on your waist, pushing it away. "I'm paying," and it's not a question when he says it. You slowly push your wallet back into your pocket, mind racing with the thoughts of how a man can be as perfect as Minghao.

"Okay well," you reply, pulling your wallet back out in defiance, "I want to buy some fruits for the others too," you explain. "And I don't think it's fair for you to pay for all of that."

Minghao huffs, letting go of your wrist before turning back to guy at the stall. You two end up splitting the cost of five cups of fruits before returning to the set up on the sand that you have with your arms much fuller than before. Back once you're both sitting, you chat about whatever and you definitely forget how to breathe the multiple times that Minghao picks up a toothpick and feeds you the fruits himself. There's something so domestic and so comforting about the way you both smoothly speak, move, flow—being with Minghao is languid and despite your racing heart at the thought of being with him, you feel...relaxed.

This feels right.

After around an half an hour of talking, you find yourself laying on your back as you have Vernon's hat on top of your head as you listen to the ocean. "Should we go to find them? They'll probably be hungry by now and beach volleyball is starting to sound fun," you say, sitting up and readjusting Vernon's cap on your head.

"Bored of me already?" Minghao teases, sitting up as well, readjusting his shirt.

You roll your eyes. "You know that isn't it. The fruit isn't gonna taste as good later, even if we keep it in the cooler. It tastes better fresh," you reason.

"Fine fine," he murmurs in defeat and you grin, getting up to pick up two of the cups of fruit while Minghao grabs the other two.

"You know where they went?" you ask him, looking to your left and right, trying to recall which direction the boys left in.

"This way I think," Minghao says, pointing to your left and you squint, nodding excitedly when you see some volleyball courts in the far distance.

"Wow, that's pretty far," you think out loud as you both start walking in that direction.

"Can't handle it?" he coos, looking down at you as he takes his effortlessly long strides.

You scoff, turning your head away as you feign nonchalance. "Whatever."

"I'm joking," Minghao says quickly, reaching one hand over to pick up the cups of fruit your holding so that he's holding all four now. You're about to protest but he simply turns his arms away from you so they're out of your reach.

"Thank you," you say sheepishly, holding your hands behind your back as you two begin to speed up your pace when you both realize that the fruit will grow warm soon. It takes around seven to eight minutes for you guys to reach the volleyball courts, calling out to Vernon when you reach hearing range. "We brought fruit!" you yell, pointing at the cups that Minghao graciously carried for you.

The boys run over, almost all of them in a panting, sweating mess.

"It's like you read our minds," Seungcheol tells you and Minghao, picking a strawberry and stuffing it into his mouth.

Seokmin nods along, picking up a piece of mango. "We were just talking about how we're already hungry again."

"Yeah," Chan agrees, "and I think Mingyu was gonna pass out in the next five minutes if you didn't bring him something to eat." You all look at Mingyu who's sitting across from you, legs out and upper body leaning on his arms behind him as his face is scrunched up—he nearly looks like he's dying.

"Fuck you all!" he groans, falling back onto the sand. "I swear, Jun and Cheol were targeting me! They kept hitting the ball in my direction!"

Jun laughs at that, throwing a hand up to Seungcheol for a high-five. "Damn, I didn't think you'd catch on."

"How could I not!?" Mingyu whines, sitting up again to pick up another fruit. "I was on the verge of the death because of you guys."

Jeonghan ticks his tongue as everyone laughs, "Ah, don't be so dramatic Gyu, we were just having fun. Plus, who doesn't want to win."

Mingyu grumbles as he kicks some sand Jeonghan's way as everyone retreats back into the normal conversation of the plans next. After a few moments of discussion, you all decide to go back to your set up and stay there until sunset before heading home.

Once you all make your way back, the hours are spent chatting, building a moat (Mingyu and Chan seemed especially interested in this for some reason), and playing in and out of the water. As the sky begins to merge from blue to yellow to a deep orange, you begin cleaning up. At the moment, you aren't sure who brings it up, but the word "sleepover" gets thrown around and everyone is practically on their knees, asking to sleep over at Vernon and your place.

"Why our place?" Vernon complains. "Why not Minghao and Jun's? Or Joshua and Jeonghan's?" he begins throwing out the other's names.

"Because we like yours the most," Joshua says simply, everyone nodding their heads vigorously in agreement. Vernon huffs and looks at you for help, but you only shrug—you aren't sure how to respond to this and you aren't going to pretend like you aren't a teensy bit excited about the chance of Minghao spending the night (even though there'll be 12 other guys in your home).

"You guys owe us," Vernon finally says with a deep sigh, "big time."

The car ride back begins by Vernon, Joshua, and Wonwoo yelling at all of the passengers to not get sand into the car, and while you all desperately try to heed by their wishes, it's nearly impossible. You should've expected that nothing with this group is ever especially peaceful, but you're pleasantly surprised by how every event with them somehow has you bursting into laughter until your stomach hurts.

When you all return to your apartment, it takes a messy, chaotic hour or two for everyone to sort out when they would be taking showers, realizing that you should have planned this better once you knew that fourteen people would be scrambling to try and use your and Vernon's single shower. Once you're all washed up, you're left sitting in the living room, trying to figure out how you're going to pass the next few hours. Of course, one brings up Mario Kart, and suddenly they all perch against the couch trying to see who can beat Wonwoo.

It's now when you start to feel the exhaustion of the day catch up to you, recalling how you told Seungkwan that beach days make you tired. You excuse yourself to your room, locking the door behind you before slipping under the covers and nuzzling against the pillow.

In the silence—well not really silence, since apartment walls are thin and boys are loud, but still—of your own room, you find yourself catching a moment for you to properly think. And then it all comes crashing onto you.

Minghao. His lips, his eyes, his arms, his hands, his fingers, his lips (yes, his lips again), his touch, his gaze—and holy hell do you need more. You almost whine out loud into the sheets at the thought of having to wait for him any longer, your brain fuzzy from both your exhaustion and the tingling feeling that courses through your nerves.

Your mind races through the endless possibilities of what has happened and what can happen and before you know it you're falling asleep.

It's two hours later at around 8pm when you hear your phone buzzing by your chest, hardly lifting your head to see who it is. When you recognize the caller as Vernon, you hit the answer button, putting minimal effort into lifting the phone up to your ear as you grumble.

"God, do you ever stop sleeping?" he huffs on the other end, and you can faintly hear someone in the background laugh. You rub your eyes as you push yourself out of bed, rummaging through your drawer to pick out a cardigan to throw on.

"Sorry," you grumble with a yawn. "Beach days make me tired."

"I can see that. Anyways, we're in the living room ordering takeout, so hurry up if you want to have your choice," he threatens playfully.

"Alright alright," you mumble, trying to make your bed a little neater before leaving your room and heading towards the living room. They're all there, as expected, some movie playing on the TV as Jihoon is playing something on the guitar (where the hell did he get a guitar from?!) and Wonwoo and Mingyu are playing yet another game of Mario Kart on the Switch tablet.

"And she's here!" Chan exclaims, causing some eyes to turn to you. Minghao, sitting on one of the chairs at the kitchen island turns to you quickly, and the eye contact has you turning into mush immediately.

"When you went to your room," Vernon begins to say, distracting you from your thoughts and placing a hand on your shoulder, "I thought you were just going to chill for a bit. I didn't expect you to be napping."

Seungkwan comes in and swats Vernon's hand away from you. "You're so judgemental Sollie! Let her be!"

"Thank you Seungkwan!" you agree immediately, turning to raise an accusing eyebrow at Vernon. He rolls his eyes and steps away, holding up his phone which has the food order on the front screen.

"Hey, I'm ordering your food!"

You step back, putting your hand sup in surrender. "Okay fine! Fine! What are we getting tonight?"

"Mexican!" Jeonghan calls out. "It's my treat!" Everyone cheers as you tell Vernon your order, sitting down on the ground in the living room as everyone bunches up in the middle to begin discussing the next big problem you all have—sleeping.

It seems like no one quite thought this out earlier but your apartment is small and fitting fourteen people into this space seems near impossible, especially when you know that they'll all insist on you sleeping alone in your own room. It's a hassle to pull out all the extra pillows and bed sheets that you have, everyone trying to clear space to make as many makeshift beds on the ground as they can.

Somehow, you're all able to fit eight "beds" in the living room, Chan and Seungkwan being the lucky ones to squeeze into the extra space that Vernon has left on his bed and Jun and Jihoon calling the spots on the sofa and arm chair. From there on out, time seems to pass easily with the thirteen of them, and you're starting to understand how Vernon's been able to be their friend for so long. The hours pass quickly and by ten p.m., you're spent and tired from the day—too tired to go on.

Before you know it, you're helping them all make the final touches to the makeshift beds, bringing out as many extra comforters as you can in hopes to make sleeping on the ground a bit more comfortable. Bidding goodnight, you wave to them all and retreat to your room, but not before staring at Minghao for maybe a little too long. He stares back, of course, and anyone else would miss it, but you don't—the way he nods slightly, before turning away to say something to Jun.

III. OUR DAWN IS HOTTER THAN DAY

It's eleven when you hear the knock on your door, and it's embarrassing how quickly you scramble out of bed to open it. On the other side, as expected, is Minghao. You're pulling him in without a second of hesitation, grabbing his neck and slamming his lips onto yours hard. His hands are making their way onto his hips immediately, moving up and down along your waist and torso to feel every inch of you that he can. You've both been waiting for this for ages, and it's about time you lose control.

"Hao," you whine softly as he presses you into your wall, his tongue running against the corner of your mouth. His only response is kissing you deeper, teeth clashing as you seek to explore every last bit of each other. Minghao swears he feels his dick twitch at the way you call him by his nickname, his fingers tightening their hold on you.

"You'll drive me crazy," he murmurs, kissing down your neck as you run your hands up and down his arms to feel the curve of his arms.

"That's the—ah—plan," you grunt as you sucks at one spot on your skin. Minghao continues peppering your skin with kisses before you feel like enough his enough, intertwining your fingers in his hair and pulling his head up so he can look at you. "Can I suck you off?"

Minghao is, undeniably, taken aback by your forwardness, and while his head his telling him to take his time with you right now, his other head is telling him to give in. In any other situation with any other girl, he would be denying you, taking his time to at least finger you first but he's been too pent up and too horny since the first time you kissed him to say no.

You're surprised when he quickly nods—you aren't the type to dive right into this kind of stuff but Minghao has been doing something that's reconnecting the wires in your brain, causing the overwhelming urge to sink to your knees for Minghao to crash into you.

The second you're on your knees, you have your hands on the waistband of his shorts, pulling them down at once with his boxers to reveal his length, long and pretty and hard with a bead of pre-cum dribbling off the end. You reach up, holding the base with a hand as you look up at Minghao to meet his eyes.

"Fucking hell," he groans, throwing his head back before you reply with a hiss.

"Quiet! They can't hear," you remind him, before adjusting yourself on your knees so you're in a better position to prod his tip at the front of your mouth. You drink in the way Minghao's breath hitches as your lips wrap around him, tongue swiping at the tip softly before pulling back.

"Don't—" he takes a deep breath, "don't be a fucking tease."

"'m sorry," you mumble, pulling your head back. "Can't help it." You kind of mean it and you kind of don't. Honestly, you aren't sure what to think—all you want to do is make Minghao feel good and do it now. Minghao notices the desperate glint in your eyes, and he takes this chance to wind his fingers into your hair, pulling it back into a makeshift pony tail so he can move your face in the face that he wants. The thought has you both going down into a spiral.

Minghao looks down at you so intensely that you think you just might cum from the look alone, but then he's speaking. "You okay with this?" he asks quietly, running a thumb along your lower lip with the hand that's not holding your hair back.

"Yes," you reply almost instantly, and your eagerness has his eyes darkening—you can see it.

"Fuck," he groans, leaning back again while he takes your hand that isn't wrapped around his length up to his thigh. "Tap twice if you want me to stop, 'kay?" You nod quickly, hoping Minghao will get the idea that you're beginning to grow impatient.

Message received, it seems because before you know it, Minghao is guiding your mouth back to the tip of his length, so you can take him in. Once you have your lips wrapped around him, he pushes you forward more, causing your eyes to widen as you realize he's nearly hitting the back of your throat. You take this as your chance to do exactly what you've been aching for, and you begin to bob your head back and forth.

The moan Minghao lets out is near perfection, and you're immediately encouraged to push more, to push deeper, to do whatever it takes to make him make that sound again. You're about to do it again before you feel your hair being tugged so that you're fully pulled off his cock. "Fuck," he chokes out, looking down at the sight of you with red, puffy lips and blown-out eyes. "Do that again," he demands, and you don't waste a second before you wrap your mouth around him and push down as far as you can. His hand is pushing at the back of your head, his soft words from above encouraging you to go harder to go deeper because you're his angel and he knows you can do it.

God, the words that are spilling out of his mouth are downright filthy but they're messing with your head and before you know it your moving your head back and forth in sync with Minghao's hips that are snapping forward slightly, causing him to batter the back of your throat. It's not the most comfortable feeling but the discomfort definitely not what you're thinking about when you hear Minghao's pants—his soft groans that escape his lips now that you've got him so desperate.

There's drool running down your chin and it's so messy but it's so hot and it has your pussy aching but you can't even think of relieving yourself—not when you can feel the vein on the understand of his dick against your tongue, not when his hand is laced in your hair with such a tight hold you think you might just pass out, not when you know he's so close to his release within minutes all because of you. "Fuck," he grunts again, snapping his hips once more, particularly harder and sloppier this time. "I'm gonna—fuck, I'll come soon."

Your jaw is aching by now but it doesn't compare to the throbbing you feel in your panties—god, you're going to go crazy. You use your hand to rub whatever of his length you can't fit in your mouth, using these last few moments to let Minghao jut his hip and shove your mouth further onto him and holy hell do you love it. You can feel it coming with the way he twitches inside your mouth and you can tell he's about to come when he pulls you off of him, before you're opening your mouth wide again, eyes silently begging him: inside my mouth.

It's like earliedirtr, when you kissed, except now it's so much more frantic, so much more ecstatic—Minghao hears your silent requests and only takes a second to push himself back into your mouth. You only need to suck once or twice before you feel it in your mouth—his cum, hot and shooting down your throat. He pulls out after that, you taking a second to swallow and then lick the glossy tip, your body filling with pride at the way you see his leg twitch.

"God—fuck," Minghao finally manages to say between sputtered breaths, "You're so hot." He pulls you up by the arm as he slips his boxers and shorts back on, placing a hand on your hip as he brings you up for a fierce kiss. Your lips are all swollen and Minghao is extra gentle with the way he runs his tongue along them, kissing you so softly you almost forget that he just face-fucked you less than a minute ago. He's pressed up against the wall right now, but takes this moment to flip you both so it's you who's leaning back.

Minghao pulls away from your lips, chuckling at the way yours chases his in the few seconds after, before connecting his lips to your neck like earlier. "Let me give you something in return, yeah?"

"Yeah," you agree, nodding dumbly the second you feel his hand slip down your shorts, ghosting over your panties.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he groans as he pressed down through your panties.

"Hao," you moan, as he rubs little circles on your clit over the fabric, "please, please, hurry." Minghao chuckles and usually you'd be embarrassed but then again, there's nothing usual about getting fingered by your roommates best friend while all of his friends are asleep in the next room over. Minghao still is going slow with you, taking an extra moment to slowly push your panties aside. You're growing so impatient, the throbbing between your legs getting so impatient, that you think you might start sobbing. "I've been so good, Hao, please? I wanna cum," you beg, meeting Minghao's eyes as you look up at him.

God, you're doing something to him, he thinks—you might just be the death of him. You just look so cute and so desperate and the way your eyes are already glossy has his dick hard again. The fact that he didn't even have to ask you to beg for him is more than enough for a million thoughts to be racing through his mind, but in all honesty, the only thing he wants to focus on right now is making you come.

"Angel, fuck," he murmurs, into your skin, placing a kiss on your collarbone as he uses one hand to lift your shirt up to your neck so he can hold one of your tits, the other hand running through your folds so he can coat his fingers in your slit. "You wanna come?" he coos, prodding one finger at your entrance, and he thinks he might tease you a little longer but then he sees how quickly you respond and it has his resolve crumbling. He sinks is finger in and it's so long and so thick and reaches places in one go that you can't even even imagine of reaching with your own fingers.

You let out a deep sigh, instinctively grinding down on his hand so that your clit is also brushing against his palm adding to the stimulation. Minghao is gentle in the first few moments, moving his finger in and out at a steady pace before you murmur his name once more, causing him to push a second finger inside. "Oh my god, Minghao," you moan, and his eyes shoot up at yours, using the hand that was at your tits to cover your mouth.

"Quiet," he demands, as he continues to fuck you with your fingers. The sound of your wetness and his fingers against your gummy walls is echoing though the room and all you can think about is how dirty and how erotic this feels, and you moan again quietly again at the thought. Minghao's fingers still inside of you at the sound, and you feel your eyes widen and tear up once more. "Be quiet, or I'll stop," he murmurs, resuming his ministrations once he sees you nod.

"Minghao," you say quietly, throwing your head back when you feel him start to play with one of your nipples. "Feels so—so good," you hiccup, doing your best to keep quiet. He's fucking into you ruthlessly now, the pads of his fingers hitting spots you didn't even know existed, and you know your end is close by the way your vision nearly goes white. You grind against his hand harder, and Minghao picks up on the subtle movement.

"Gonna cum?" he breaths out and you don't even have it in you to say anything, your only response being your quickened movements. "C'mon angel, cum for me," he whispers into your ear and maybe it's his voice or maybe it's the way his fingers have you seeing stars or maybe it's the stimulation of your clit against his palm or maybe it's everything combined but you're cumming hard and fast within seconds around his fingers, and holy shit you think that might just be the best orgasm of your life.

You're left panting as Minghao's fingers slow down inside of you, twitching every few seconds from the overstimulation, before he's pulling them out of you and your panties completely. You want to hide your face, looking away when you realize how wet they are. "Why're you looking away?" Minghao asks, grabbing your chin so you can look at him. "It's hot," he tells you with a shrug, bringing his fingers up to your mouth, raising a brow. You're slightly embarrassed, yes, but you'd be a fool to try and deny him, opening up your mouth and suck your own wetness off him when he presses his fingers into your mouth.

After you swirl your tongue around him a few times, he pulls his hands back, replacing his fingers on your mouth with his lips, kissing you sweetly. You bring your hands up to his hair, moving your lips in unison as he places one hand on your waist, pulling your shirt back down to cover you.

"That was fun," you finally say when you're both pulling away.

"You're gonna drive me up a wall," Minghao mutters under his breath, taking a small step back. "But it was." He's silent for a moment before speaking again. "I'm gonna head back—wouldn't want anyone to wake up and find out I'm not where I supposed to be."

"You think someone would wake up?"

Minghao chuckles, and you feel those butterflies again. "You were pretty loud," he says, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of your neck.

"Whose fault is that again?" you ask.

"Dunno," Minghao says casually. "He must be super hot though."

You click your tongue as Minghao walks backward toward your door. "Hmm, I'll have to agree with that."

He smiles and kisses you hard one last time before ruffling your hair. "Sleep well angel."

a/n. not even going to bother reading this through because i'll get embarrassed. dw guys i'm working on a better hao fic soon >_<

#xu minghao #xu minghao smut #xu minghao x reader #minghao x reader #minghao drabbles #minghao imagines #minghao smut #minghao fanfic #minghao #seventeen imagines #svt smut #seventeen smut #svt scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #svt fanfic #📝 writing

1K notes · View notes

vienssunshine · 2 years

Note

what if ：reader tries provoking nanami so that he fails no nut november?? 👀 (u can choose what rlly happens!) if u do this, thank u! if not, it’s fine! have a good day! <3

Failing No Nut November with Nanami Part Two

pairing: Nanami x fem reader nsfw word count: 2.2k author's note: A choice was made, dear anon. Hope you enjoy! Read part one here

No Nut November is a silly internet meme. It's a trend that somehow manages to blow up every year, its premise being trying not to cum for the month of November. It's stupid, right? Yet, you still participated and failed.

That's why your breath is uneven and shaky; you're still coming down from the orgasm attained by riding Nanami's thigh, the orgasm that made you lose.

Though your body is quivering, it feels like you're finally re-centered, free from the cloudiness your sexual frustration hindered you with. The fog has lifted, and anger remains.

You're angry with yourself for giving in to Nanami. That a few circles of his fingers had you writhing underneath his touch, moments away from begging for him. To add to your rage is the fact that he pretends to be so composed when you know he wants it just as bad as you do. He even had the audacity to deprive you of an orgasm you needed from him, instead working you up so much that you had no other choice but to satisfy yourself with his thigh.

It was an undignified way to lose, and you want revenge.

You use the wall to help yourself up and head out of the hallway to the living room. Nanami is sitting on the couch, legs spread open with a book in his lap. He's staring at the pages, not reading the words.

You slink around the side of the couch and step in between Nanami's legs, standing in front of the businessman. He doesn't react, so you unzip your pants slowly. Nothing. You tuck your thumbs into the waistband of your pants and drag them down your legs.

"Darling, we've been over this," Nanami says, refusing to allow his gaze to slip from the pages in front of him. He knows one glance at you will make it infinitely harder for his hands to remain on his book. Watching you cum all over his thigh almost broke him; he doesn't know how much more he can take.

You step out of the fabric pooling at your ankles and push the book in his lap away, an action that reveals he's still painfully hard. Poor Nanami.

"Kento, you have great self-control, right?" you ask, sliding down into his lap, your heated center pressing into his throbbing bulge, "So it shouldn't be a problem if I have a little bit of fun."

Nanami's jaw clenches; he regrets teasing you earlier. Your warm body on his is reminding him of how cold he's been without you. Many times throughout the month he's had to talk himself out of giving in and fucking you. He misses your touch so much.

"Dear-" he starts, but cuts himself off with a hiss when you begin to rock your hips in his lap, your wet underwear dampening the fabric of his pants. You shiver at the contact, even if separated by cloth, your clit is still sensitive after orgasming earlier.

He leans back, spreading his arms over the back of the couch. He's trying to appear relaxed, like you grinding on him while looking like an angel doesn't faze him, but his hands are clenched in fists. You place your palms on his shoulders, keeping your lidded eyes locked on his as you begin to softly moan at the contact of his hard dick on your clothed pussy.

He tries to avert his gaze from your lips as you breathe out his name, but you hold his face still with your hand, fingers pressing into the outlines of his sharp cheekbones.

"What, is something wrong? You're not feeling jealous, are you?" You make an effort to press your warmth into him as you speak; all he needs to do is say yes and give in.

"I'm fine, dear."

You fight back a scowl. He's lying to you. It's clear he's restraining himself, the knuckles of his fisted hands are turning white like he's fighting a strong magnetic force willing them to your body. It appears that your hips aren't enough to soften his steel resolve, at least on their own. You need to overwhelm him.

You release Nanami's face from your grip but give him a warning glare to not look away. He concedes, his stern, amber eyes holding your gaze. You unbutton your shirt, slowly and sensually—Nanami always prefers a slow tease to a quickie—so the fabric opens and reveals just a glimpse of your flushed body underneath. At this point, you're being cruel, torturing him even. You look ethereal to him, glowing with desire as you continue to grind against his trapped cock.

He can't help his eyes from wandering to your exposed chest, following the line of separated buttons to realize you're conveniently free from a bra. You pull one of his hands from the back of the couch and guide it underneath the fabric of your shirt to your breasts. You try to hold back a victorious grin when his other hand follows suit, but fail when they begin to roam, stroking and squeezing at the flesh of your torso. Nanami's gaze remains harsh, like he's being betrayed by his own hands which are moving with a will of their own.

You peel your shirt off, bothered by the slight inconvenience of it, so you can feel more of his harsh palms against your skin. Nanami's breathing sharpens as his eyes drink in your bare chest. You hold his big hand to one of your breasts, encouraging him to squeeze it. He does, and you press your eyes shut, a sickeningly sweet twist of warmth curling around your stomach. It's hard for you to think straight when he leans forward and encircles your nipple with his hot mouth, sucking and flicking his tongue against it. The only thing you do know is that you have Nanami exactly where you want him.

You're proven correct when you feel him groan against your skin.

If there's one thing you know about Nanami, it's that pleasuring you gets him off the most. You know that once he starts touching you, making you moan his name and shudder beneath him, he won't be able to stop himself from fucking you. It's why he forced you to make yourself cum earlier, he couldn't bear it otherwise. Using this knowledge against him is playing dirty, but he brought it to that level when he made you lose on his thigh.

He ruts his hips into yours, searching for more pressure on his swollen cock. His hands now move with intention, cupping your breasts and sliding down the curve of your waist. It's clear he's paying attention to the places he knows you love feeling him the most. You've finally pushed him past his breaking point.

You lift yourself up so you can unzip his slacks to which there is no protest from Nanami. His dick is pressing against the fabric of his dark briefs, impatiently waiting to be freed. Precum darkens a patch of his underwear, his body once again traitorous to his resolve.

You pull his briefs down so his cock springs out, leaking and angry. The extent of his arousal looks, and probably is, painful at this point. You'd regret your cruelness, but you're only giving him a taste of his own medicine. He's had you aching this entire month.

He must have been missing you too because when you wrap your hand around him, he quivers in response.

"Fuck, darling," Nanami groans, his voice dark and husky. His hands travel from your waist to your ass, gripping it with a rugged force that sends electricity up your spine.

You spit on your palm and begin to stroke him, running your soft hand up and down his length. He stifles a groan, pressing his lips together and tilting his head up instead. He wants to deny the pleasure your touch brings him, to win the challenge he promised to, but it might not be possible anymore.

"Feel good, love?" you mock, leaning forward to press a wet kiss to the exposed column of his neck.

His fingers dig into the flesh of your ass, making you yelp. "Don't be a brat."

Grinning, you swirl the wetness leaking from his tip around with your thumb, "Hm? You're not enjoying this? Don't tell me you want to see this month through."

"I want to," Nanami hisses, watching as you push your underwear aside and align his length with your aching hole, "but I don't know if I can anymore."

You rub his tip through your folds, taking a second to appreciate his presence on your wet ridges, a feeling you've been longing for this eternal month. Nanami's hips kick up, desperate. He wants to be able to refuse you, to maintain his strict self-discipline, and yet, the next words breathed from his lips are:

"Love, I need you."

You smirk, satisfied. Granting his wish, you sink down on his cock, and immediately a broken whine escapes your lips. It's been too long, and having him filling you up again feels like an addict finally getting the hit they've been craving.

Nanami's head falls against the back of the couch, eyes pressing shut at the bliss being inside of you brings him. The feeling of your fingers stroking him was unbearably pleasurable, but the sensation of having your warm, wet pussy wrapped around his cock is something else entirely. It's making Nanami have trouble keeping his composure; he's feeling it slip away the longer you keep making him feel so fucking good.

His large hands begin to bounce you up and down his length, hungry to feel further inside of you. His pace is uncharacteristically rough; you have to clutch to his broad shoulders to stay stabilized, but you'd be lying if you said his thrusts weren't setting your stomach alight in a blaze of ecstasy. Nanami groans as he watches your face melt in pleasure, something that only makes him want to fuck you harder.

The sensation is overwhelming; he has you moaning out stilted calls of his name, unable to keep your voice steady with his vicious pounding. His pace is picking up; he's pissed at how much you turn him on, which is to the point he can't tell himself no anymore.

"Ken-to, too-ah-fast." You're grasping onto him, having trouble keeping up even though every time he slams you down into his lap your nerves buzz with dark pleasure.

"This is exactly what you wanted, isn't it? So take it, darling."

Even if his words are gruffer than his usual sweet praise, your body is still singing in response. You can handle a little teasing, so, you adjust to his pace, allowing his big hands to move you as they please.

Even as he's fucking you like an animal, you manage to capture him in an open-mouthed kiss. It's sloppy and passionate, with Nanami kissing you back hard, his sharp jaw moving up and down as he presses his lips into yours.

You wrap your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss, pushing your bare chest to his. His skin is hot against yours, waves of warmth radiating off of his broad chest through his shirt.

The coil in your stomach is tightening to a dangerous extent, and as you lean further into him, his dick becomes angled just right so another orgasm overtakes you like a tsunami. You tighten your arms around his neck and rest your head against his shoulder, clenching your teeth as pleasure rolls over you. Ruthlessly, he grabs your chin and pulls you into another messy kiss as you ride out your orgasm. Your walls clamp down on him as he continues to pump in and out of your poor, shaking body, pulling a groan out of him that you feel reverberate in his chest.

You're gasping for breath as your lips crash into each other haphazardly, but Nanami manages to pant out: "Look what you've done to me, darling."

Watching you fall apart on his cock must've been too much because his fingers dig into your ass, hard. Even if exhausted, you can't stop yourself from smiling against his lips. It's time for him to lose.

His rapid pace falters, and he presses you down into his lap, letting out a guttural groan. You clutch at his button-up, the blue fabric bunching in your grip as he fills you up. His dick twitches and kicks inside you, emptying out the cum that's long overdue for release.

You fall forward onto his broad chest, spent. He wraps a heavy arm around you as you listen to his breath become even again. His fingers draw slow, comforting circles on your back, coaxing you further into the hazy pleasure of after-sex cuddling.

You both lost, but it still feels like a win for you. It's a remarkable feat that you lasted so long, and you wonder: how long has it been since you started the challenge? It feels like forever ago.

You turn your head up to face Nanami, "Kento?"

He looks down at you, his cheeks flushed and his perfectly-combed hair mussed, "Yes, dear?"

"What day is it?"

Nanami's eyes dull and his ever-present frown returns, "It's November 30th."

#kento nanami x reader #nanami kento #nanami smut #nanami kento x reader #kento nanami #nanami x you #nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #jjk smut #jjk nanami x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #kento nanami smut

3K notes · View notes

onlycosmere · 3 months

Text

Brandon Sanderson on the length of Wind and Truth

PumkinFunk: I appreciate Brandon being self-aware about the fact that he will struggle immensely to keep the word counts down for this series.

KiwiKajitsu: If only he had a better editor

PumkinFunk: I know this has become a common criticism since Rhythm of War after Moshe Feder retired, but I don't think it's true. One of his editors for his books is Devi Pillai, the head of Tor Publishing Group. The Secret Projects were edited in-house and generally were good. He has a lot of people giving him feedback, both in-house and outside.

jmcgit: If Brandon wanted to work on revisions for an extra 6 months to refine and streamline the book, he could do it. This is a Brandon thing, not an editor thing. What was Brandon working on up until the last minute before he had to turn the book in? He was working on making the book bigger, squeezing in more content that he wanted to add. Brandon will tell anyone who asks that he likes to write, and dislikes revising.

When an author gets big enough, the publishers and editors lose their ability to rein in the author or make certain demands. Brandon will do what he wants, and if Tor doesn't like it, they can cancel his contract and Brandon can self-publish.

Brandon Sanderson: I realize it's difficult to see behind the veil of publishing, and much is opaque, but this isn't what I was doing during the last few months--I was cutting the book significantly. However, rough draft didn't include Interludes or Epigraphs, which is why it got longer after I cut it down. This draft lost over 60k words, but then I added in the interludes and epigraphs (along with a few key scenes I decided were needed.)

So, let's be clear about a few things. No editor has ever--in my life--cut my books down. It's not what they do. They largely haven't suggested it. Every editor, Moshe included, has always suggested things to change or add--they don't do much trimming. That's all my job, and always has been. Yes, there is a line edit, which does help trim--but I haven't stopped taking those suggestions, and usually go much, much further on a page-by-page case than they suggest.

I dislike revision, which is important for me to explain because I want people to understand that even for someone who loves their job, there are parts I don't like. But I DO it. I do A LOT of it. It's the part I have to force myself to do, but I am very good at it--and if you follow my stories about learning revision, you'll find that I very clearly explain that I didn't get published until I mastered the thing that was hardest for me. I consider my it, perhaps, my greatest strength as a writer--my ability to look at feed back and apply it to improve books.

If they get long, it's not because I've lost an editor. Moshe's strong suit was always diction, not trimming--and Gillian (who does that job now) is quite accomplished at both. She's Joe Abercrombie's editor.

I realize it's odd, because "to edit" means to trim, but an editor doesn't usually trim books--they offer suggestions for changes on the larger scope, and sometimes do a line edit pass to clarify.

Stormlight books are not big because I can't stop writing. You can pick any number of my shorter novels and see I'm quite capable of doing something at a normal book length. Stormlight books are big because that's the art I want to make--and they are not, and never have been, out of control. I am perfectly willing to accept that the story I want to tell has not appealed to some in the last installments! But don't blame my editors. This is an artistic choice of mine, and their job has never been to change the art. I get the same amount of editing now as I ever have--and I take largely the same amount of their feedback.

Note: don't take this as a direct condemnation of you or some of the things /u/KiwiKajitsu said above. It's more that I want to be very clear about my goals, and the process. My stance is one of explaining, not arguing against your opinions, as those are valid and perfectly reasonable ones to hold.

I realize that a long comment reply isn't the best way to prove I can be brief, but I sincerely think the trope of "He got big so he lost the ability to be edited" is not one that I fall into--I am, if anything, the most edited person at the industry, and see more criticism and feedback of my books prepublication than any other author. Editors and beta readers collectively wrote some 800k words of feedback for me over the last two years, which I incorporate. Not just the, "Add this" but also the "this sequence feels slow or unengaging." I am extremely passionate about listening to, and incorporating, editorial feedback.

It's fine to not like what I do. But don't blindly make the argument that I write it, kick it out the door, and don't pay attention to the revision process while ignoring editors.

jmcgit: Hey Brandon, I appreciate the insight! I regret that my post may have come off as if you carelessly "write and kick it out the door", as I know how hard you and your team have been working on the book over the past months and years, and how passionate you are about getting it right.

Brandon Sanderson: No problem and no offense taken! I just see a lot of confusion about these things.

I am edited far, far more now than when I was when I started and nobody cared. Though, admittedly, I think the most editorial scrutiny I ever got was on A Memory of Light a decade ago. I probably get less now, but I also have way more extensive beta reads.

It's just a complex process. And, you also ARE right in your initial post that I could go over it again and again, and some authors do. I'm middle of the road on the number of revisions I do, by my experience. Not as many as someone like Pat R. does. More than a lot of authors. I do not subscribe to the Heinline philosophy of only editing when required by contract that is very popular these days. (This philosophy believes that your initial artistic instinct will be right, and you shouldn't undermine it later on. I am not a fan, even if some people I respect follow this philosophy.)

Anyway, your initial post wasn't far off; I just wanted to offer some more context for this thread.

#brandon sanderson #writing #branderson #cfsbf #cosmere #wob #root #long post

157 notes · View notes

etherealkissed88 · 5 months

Note

I don't know if you've already made a post about this, but I wanted to ask: How can I be more positive about the protests, not being a privileged person? I'm not the prettiest, I'm not the smartest, I'm not rich (in fact I want to manifest better conditions), I feel mentally exhausted. I'm kind of just desperate to manifest a better life for myself and my family, but I feel so negative about it. I feel like I'm just going to become another one of the statistics about poor people; Sometimes I question the results of certain people, because I actually don't know if they are already privileged in a certain way, whether it's because she's pretty, smart or has money. Some people who talk about staying positive, manifest, selfcare, are privileged people, not rich people, but people with excellent financial and psychological conditions; I'm sad, because I really don't have money for self-care or therapy, I feel guilty, sad and insufficient because I don't have enough money:(

do not pretend these circumstances arent there. realize that you are self that chooses what to accept as true. yes, you have a choice. what you should do is become indifferent to what you experience. yes it is in the 3d but “it doesnt affect who i am and what version of myself i choose to be.”

i think the reason why u may be getting a mental burn out is because you are trying to persuade or force yourself to believe that what your human self is experiencing in the 3d, is not there. again - indifference. another important concept is the nuetral 3d. it never has original meaning. we give it meaning.

i know how you feel about being tired of life - and from my experience, i was so tired of living a life i didnt like that it motivated me to actually apply the law and use my power to get what i want. the law is always working for you so you are always in control, and when you live this “negative” life, it is you - the operant power, allowing yourself to stick in this “negative” life. you are choosing to be this version of you who lives like this. you are being the one who is living that.

know that it is not - the 3d shows me something -> then i become a version of me / i embody a version of me which matches the 3d. it will always be, i am a version of me -> the 3d follows that bc i am the 3d. signs follow, they do not precede.

you cannot let what you see influence who you become. bc who you become is why you are seeing what you see. who you are being is why you see what you see through that perspective, thro that state.

a lot of ppl have manifested great things and complete transformations without being privileged at first. stop focusing on other success stories and make yourself the success story. success story = changing self!

for the feelings of guilt and sadness, allow yourself to feel that bc emotions are human nature. what you shouldnt do is feel like those emotions are ruining anything, or try to suppress these emotions, or make imaginary and “negative” stories out of those emotions. they are always neutral!

when you are experiencing bad things, so what you need to do to make ends meet in the 3d such as getting a job to get that money you want. whatever you do shouldnt intertwine with the rich version of you that you are being. you can do whatever you want in the 3d while being/knowing you have what you want already. but you do not self-sabotage your human self because you think that doing stuff in the 3d will “ruin your manifestation”. example: you are broke in real life so you get a job while being the version of self who is already rich. it doesnt matter what you experience in the 3d bc all that matters is who self is being. if you didnt take that job but you are struggling financially, there is still the human self to take care of (you need money for food, shelter, etc) so again, nothing you do in the 3d matters as long as you are changing self.

to wrap up: it doesnt matter what you see in the 3d. clearly you claim: you arent the prettiest or smartest or richest. thats the issue. you are accepting those versions of you. you are being those versions of you.

& “how to be more positive?” : decide you are positive and happy. i can recommend visualizing yourself living the life you want and eventually you will fulfill yourself and be this new version of you.

skim this for other questions: 🧼

- cutie jani

#ask jani🎀#law of assumption #loa blog #manifesting #loassumption #neville goddard #edward art #etherealkissed #imagination creates reality #affirm and persist #desired self #desired life

292 notes · View notes

evvlevie · 8 months

Text

Are you desperate to manifest? Then read my advice.

Hello my sweet followers! It's your favorite shifting/manifestation Blogger Evie again, and today I am here to soothe your nerves.

See, if you are anything like me, I know you. I know the way you have been obsessing over this particular desire of yours, closely watching every single possible hint of this desire arriving in your 3D and continuously over-consuming content on social media regarding manifestation/shifting content.

And since I have been there, I know what kind of advice you are craving. What kind of "hack" you are desperately seeking to finally unlock you having everything you have ever wished for. Coming across thousands of methods, overthinking their legitimacy, doubting everything, feeling like you are pushing your desires away, and then panicking, genuinely panicking, over the fact that you are sabotaging your own self and your desires. All of this ending with asking yourself why you deny yourself heaven.

Let me guide you through this.

First of all:

forget everything you have over-consumed in the last days/weeks/months. All of this extracurricular type of knowledge that you acquired regarding manifestations and all of that. Allow the two of us to start with a clean canvas here.

... you done? Thank you, my darling ♥️

Now let me tell you something about manifestation ...

Key, and I mean 🔑 K E Y 🔑 to manifesting things, is trust and faith.

yes. It's that easy, but also that hard.

Due to the way our society is constructed, we life our lives with the expectation that everything good only comes after a lot of hard work, a lot of pressure and most importantly : control.

There you have reason number one why people get in their own way when manifesting things. They doubt their manifestations can arrive "just because" they wished on it or believed on it. They can not trust into the fact, that that is all it can take, they believe they need some sort of control over their blessings. They want to know how it arrives, when it arrives, maybe even why it arrives. They want to control something, because that would satisfy their belief, that nothing comes from nothing.

Y O U are a spiritual being. Y O U are consciousness. Y O U are also the physical environment that you are in. Your 3D is Y O U.

But your cute little desperate, over-consuming ass knows that already doesn't it? Of course you do. And I am here to reward you with your own little ✨A+✨ for effort, but you need to understand the essence of what it means that the 3D is Y O U.

Your 3D is a direct, and I mean direct, translation of your soul. You and your physical environment are tied together. You are conjoined twins. You might seem like two separate entities, but on every level that matters, you guys are one. Your moods get reflected into the 3D, just like the 3D can affect your mood by presenting you a certain situation. But it is important to note, that everything starts with your assumptions, and ends with your 3D producing the physical version of that. Let me say this again: the 3D is a P R O D U C T of YOUR ASSUMPTIONS. Anything that you see, feel, smell whatever, is old news. It is the physical shape of your PAST thoughts.

So now, when you are affirming that your neighbor is in love with you and is going to ask for your hand in marriage, and he doesn't do it the very next day, do you assume your manifestations have failed? Maybe. Are you panicking now, because you have thought a negative thought and the entire internet has taught you, that this negative thought has now prevented you from ever attaining your desire ever? And do you now affirm against your accidental self sabotage in the way that you are drowning your head in forced positive thoughts that you are not believing a single bit? And are you now back to panicking because you know that you don't believe your forced positive thoughts, and you are anxious that this has now pushed your manifestations further back away?

I have been there. In fact I can only type out this scenario because I HAVE FELT THAT WAY.

But rest assured, because here is where my 🔑 K E Y🔑 of trust and faith ties in.

When I tell you, that you are a spiritual energy capable of changing your physical reality as much as you like, as enormously as you want, I want you to think of yourself like a greek god, or a magician of some sort. As if you had a blank notebook in front of you and anything you write in it happens. 100% Guarantee. How powerful would you feel? That's your exact, and I mean exact, power. The 3D is not your commander. You are like a child with infinite fantasy and the 3D is just play-doh that you mold to your liking. Realize your power. And most importantly: ACCEPT it. Accept, that even the bad stuff that had happened to you, happens BECAUSE of you. Nothing ever starts from anything else other than you. Remember: the 3D is like your conjoined twin. It is not your enemy, because it's delayed production shows you things you dislike, it's simply just you.

✨Now imagine this:✨

Let's say you want to manifest, that you get a brand new car. A MINI. Let's say a red one (totally not suggesting this because I drive a red MINI). And let's say you want that car so bad, you look up at the sky and shout at it : "Please god! Let me have a red MINI! Preferably with a heated steering wheel!" AND TO YOUR SURPRISE a woman right next to you overheard your little prayer there and tells you this: "Lucky for you, I am a fortune teller! And I can see that you are driving a red MINI with a heated steering wheel AND it even has Apple Car-Play!" You jump up and down out of joy and nothing can stop you. Your mother just told you that you guys can't afford another car insurance but you don't care, because the fortune teller already told you about your crazy cool red MINI. Suddenly the every MINI-dealership on the planet is destroyed in a hurricane, but you don't care because you know from your fortune-teller that you will get a red MINI, so why would you bother? Two weeks since then have passed, and out of nowhere your father confesses to you, that he has partaken in a crazy poker-game where a random rich dude has gambled with his brand new, red MINI-Cooper and that your very own dad (who you didn't even know, knew how to play poker) has won this amazing car for you (and it even has heated seats!).

This scenario, is what manifestation is for you, every day. Persisting in a fact that you already have something, despite the 3D showing you different, is trust and faith in yourself as the one and only creator of your reality. YOU are your own fortune teller. YOU know, that your desire is on its way to you, because you decided that it is. Every single time, you manifest things and the opposite is showing up, you need to be your own best friend, your own hero, your own fortune teller and your own creator and remind yourself, that you have all of your desires on their way, because only you can make a decision in your realm. You look outside of the window and there is no MINI in the driveway? Well I guess the translation into the 3D is slow again, because I know I manifested one.

Things have always taken its longest way to me, when I desperately tried to control. Tried to monitor and tried to micro-manage the way stuff happens. And when it didn't come quick enough, I would blame myself and question my powers. But there is no reason to question your powers, when you as the creator are prefect in creating. Your production might be slow, It might be weird and it produces in unexpected ways, but it's for sure reliable. When you put oranges into a juicing machine, you get orange juice. You just have to trust into your own production company that its producing your products (and they are).

There is no reason, no room for anxiety, for overthinking or doubts. The process is simple. You order, you get. Every time. Nothing else. And sometimes you see your old orders before you see your recent ones, but that's okay your recent ones are still on their way. If you were to bawl your eyes out the moment your mother told you, she won't buy you a red MINI, that wouldn't have changed the fact that the fortune teller already predicted you that car. You would just be crying for no reason, but idk maybe you just need to? Who am I to judge the reason someone is crying, bestie?

Manifesting with this anxious overthinking scenario I showed you earlier can feel heavy, but I am here to remind you, that your anxious 3D-reactions are not postponing your manifestations, if you as a creator decide, that you are allowed to react without consequences, or at least without the consequences you would disapprove of. If you panic, and you feel like every single thought matters and manifests, then yeah obviously. The trick is to realize, that there is a cheat code to everything, and in this case, it's deciding that certain things just never happen because you don't want them to.

So finally I want you guys to remember:

be your own fortune teller, and trust into the fact that you always predict correctly.

yours in every reality,

Evie <3

219 notes · View notes

sideeve · 1 year

Text

SELF CONTROL ⭑ MILES MORALES

⭑ maybe love isn’t the only thing that can keep someone tied to you .

miles morales x f!reader

part 1 — part 2

⭑ miles’ pov , cheating , normal spider-man violence , the spot , miles attempting to win reader back , major spoilers for atsv , arguing

miles’ pov

every thing was stressing him out. fighting with spot wasn’t helping either. while basically punching himself, he was trying to text his parents that he would be a little late.

“can we finish this later? i have a meeting with my parents!” miles yells, trying to web the villain to the wall.

“no! we cannot! i have to kill the thing that-wait! we’re not finished here!” spot attempts to wiggle out of the webs keeping him stuck.

“i’ll catch you later.”

with the spot “done”, miles finally had a moment to breathe. he got a message from you.

mrs. morales 💓 : miles. where r u? ur parents keep asking me and idk what to say😭

mr. morales 🕷️ : just tell them i’ll be there in a moment. had to pick up the cakes :)

he huffs.

everyone needed him at the exact same time. from juggling the responsibility as spider-man and being a boyfriend and son, school. he couldn’t do it all.

his hand slide down his face. “if only gwen were here right now. she’d know what to do.” he looks down at the boxes of cake in his hands before making his way to his apartment.

grounded. for two months. just because he couldn’t tell his parents that he’s spider-man. rage filled in his body. no one understood him. no one. but her.

fuck! he shouldn’t be thinking about her. he has a girlfriend! one that lives him to death too.

but him and gwen are just friends…right?

that thought leads him here. an inch of space left between him and gwen. he would make a mistake tonight that he would gravely regret.

“¡miles! ponte aquí ahora mismo.”

his mouth pulls him out of his trance he gasps out of shock. what the hell was he doing? why is he kissing someone else? where is his girlfriend? what is he going to do?

his eyes looked blown out. thoughts clouded his head, making him unresponsive. “i’m not going to call for you again.” the party fell silent, looking at miles in disbelief.

he didn’t even say a word to gwen nor his mom. he just ran as fast as he could (while also swinging) to you.

out of breath, he knocked on your door.

"hey babe. my mom wanted me to check on you. she said you left early." he lied. he just wanted to know if you knew what he did. "we're done. i can't be with a cheater."

fuck!

"baby. you don't understand-" "go!" you slammed the door in his face. he heard you sobbing behind the door. his heart broke.

what did he do?

he walked home like a kicked puppy. he lost the only one he loved. once he opened his house door, his parents stood in front of him, arms crossed and disappointed. "mama, i-" "no, go to your room. and make it 4 months."

he wasn't even upset, he understood why he was in this situation. he had hurt you. and there was no way to take it back.

cut to when miles meets miguel

"every spider person has lost someone close to them. that is what makes us who we are." miguel stands before miles, making him look small. the holograms of spidermen and women crouching over their loved one's dead bodies. then there was him. crouching over you.

"my canon event is my girlfriend dying?" "ex-girlfriend. and yes. i'm sorry miles. but this can't be changed." every ounce of rage when to his fists. "no! it can't be her! i gotta save her."

“miles. you know we can’t let you do that.” a disk slides under him, creating a force field around him.

“miguel! that’s enough!” the yelling from the spider society was overwhelming him. ontop of the fact that you are going to die.

in his arms.

#miles morales x reader #miles morales fanfiction #miles morales #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse fanfiction #atsv x reader #across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv x reader #spiderverse x reader

525 notes · View notes

tachibubu · 2 years

Note

Hi hi, how are you?

Could you write an Aegon fic with the reader where she is pregnant with their first child (a girl)? But while the reader is in labor, it's being too risky, so when she asks everyone to leave, she leaves shortly after her room and as she passes through the hallway where Aegon's family is waiting for the news, they see her heading in. towards the garden, where the dragon is. The reader is afraid of dying during labor, so she asks her dragon Moraxx to set fire on her, Dracarys, but at the time Aegon appears and manages to prevent it, and in that, the birth ends up happening right there and everything ends up fine.

With You

∆ PAIRING ; Father! Aegon Targaryen II x Pregnant!Reader/OC/Self-Insert

∆ SUMMARY ; (Almost what httpjijikook said!) Aegon and (Y/N) expects to have a newborn baby soon. Though conflicts came and a dreaded question soon clouded Aegon's choices.

∆ WARNINGS ; childbirth and the traumatic shts it brings, angst with comfort, idk why fluff is a warning but fluffy ending, Aegon being a great father, Aegon finally standing up for himself, I DONT HATE ALICENT BUT ALICENT IS KINDA MEAN HERE, slight parallel to Laena's death but if Daemon fckin talked and helped her like hes supposed to fuckin do in the shows, it is not stated which house reader in so lets pretend you learned high Valyrian for aegon or you're from a house who speaks it whatever u wish

NOTE ; I kinda read the request wrong so I changed some bits of it, hopefully this didn't destroy your vision! Also there are High Valyrian in this fic, I italized the meaning beside it usually since I hate placing the meanings by the end of the story.

I was listening to Here With Me by D4vd while reading this so you might as well check it out!

Aegon was never acknowledged to be a loyal, dependable, trustworthy kind of person. The youthful prince is commonly portrayed as a womanizer, drunkard, and generally irrational person who has no desire to ascend to the throne. Of course, no one outside of the Red Keep is aware of the latter.

So you can imagine Alicent's astonished expression when her son asks to cancel the wedding with his sister and instead desires to be engaged to you, (Y/N), of a House who are loyal to Viserys and his heir Rhaenyra.

This did not sit well with Alicent, who perceived it as another ploy by Aegon to get her sympathy. Alicent was horrified that her son might be bewitched by you. Even after he promised to control his urges and impulsiveness, she still forbade it.

Even so, Aegon pursued you and planted a baby inside of you behind the Queen's back. Alicent became aware of this two months into the pregnancy. She considered giving moon tea, but Aegon saw right through her and argued with his mother about the upsetting idea. By drinking it, it could not only kill the babe but you as well, and he wouldn't forgive his mother for that.

When Aegon turned 180° during five months, Alicent gradually came to terms with the pregnancy and the request for bethrotal. This was acquired when Aegon, as his mother would have wanted, would study and get ready for the probable day of his reign. Aegon did not like doing this, but if it meant being with you, he would do everything.

You and Alicent were not necessarily close just because she welcomed you into the family. There were some pure moments in which Alicent prepped you for your first foray into parenting, albeit there were a few fake smiles thrown in because of your lineage and which side it was on.

As your belly grew bigger and bigger, Aegon's fixation with infedelity and other things gradually faded away. From a sour teenager to a tender-hearted, loving father. Yes, he would still occasionally flirt at court, but he would compensate for it by spending time bonding with you after his lessons and crafting an embroidered handkerchief by hand out of his new passion. (Helaena taught him, but Aegon wouldn't admit it. The man was too prideful.)

One month earlier than predicted, the water broke. Aegon and the Greens became concerned about a potential miscarriage as a result.

Your wails can be heard in the back, Aegon cried at the top of his voice, "Do something!" His fists seized the collars of the Maester as he awoke just a few minutes ago. "You bald piece of shit, I'll let you taste something worse than childbirth if you make any mistakes!"

Midnight was when it occurred. As you arched your back in agony, your face was drenched in sweat. You were in excruciating pain, and Aegon's yelling and threats did not help. Your lady in waiting was standing next to you, wiping your sweat and encouraging you softly as you tried to push once more before howling.

Ser Criston, a well-known knight, trudged into the room, saying, "My prince, her grace requests your audience first at council."

"She never liked (Y/N), and now she wants me to miss the birth of my child? Is she fuckin' crazy? What the fuck does that bitch want?"

The white-cloaked knight said casually, "I advise you both discuss this one out, my prince."

Before Aegon could proceed to step out of the door against his own will, he softened when he heard your pleas, crying out for his name. "A-Aegon..."

"My love?" Just by hearing his name, he rushed towards your side. He knelt next to you and gently stroked your hands.

"Please don't leave." Your eyes were red, as was your nose. Aegon was always sensitive regarding his feelings, whether it be anger or sadness. So, seeing you in this position, begging and hurting, he couldn't help but start to weep as well.

His other hand supported your head while his thumb wiped away your tears, saying, "I won't. I'll come back quickly."

"Please don't..." you weakly muttered.

He kissed your forehead and murmured, "I promise," before getting up. He is aware that in order to gain their trust in this marriage, he must comply with his mother's, or rather the queen's, expectations. So he walked towards Ser Criston, but not before saying, "Avy jorrāelan", a pledge of love in High Valyrian. The words mean, 'I love you'.

"Take me to her," he growled as he walked irately past the knight.

The council's discourse was the same as it always was. Pertaining to the heirarchy and how bearing a son would support his claim to the throne. Aegon pondered if this gathering was even worth paying attention to as he fidgeted with his wedding ring, something you had suggested to Aegon. Although not traditional, he found it lovely and continued along with it amidst the disapproval of the septon.

But his worries soon became a reality as the Maester hurriedly entered the room without any introduction, drawing raised eyebrows from the small council. Aegon's heart sank when the old man said that it was either the baby's life or both the infant and the mother would perish. He hurried over to your quarters but discovered it to be empty. He learned that the midwife, who was in charge of keeping a tight eye on you, was preoccupied enough to let you pass through the door. Aegon grew furious and almost killed the poor old lady. However, this was only momentary as a stableboy entered the room in a pant and announced that he had seen you enter the garden near the horses.

On your side, only you could hear your cries for help. When you heard the maesters speak about the possibility of your baby and yourself dying in childbirth, you couldn't bring yourself to meet the stranger on the bed. You had wished for a dragon-rider's death alongside with your baby. So there you were, facing your dragon, Moraxx, as it sent a curious, beguiling glance your way.

"Dohaeris, Moraxx!" As you drew closer to the dragon, begging to be killed with fire, you yelled at it to serve you while leaving trails of blood in your wake. "Dracarys!"

"Kostilus.." you begged, your body in pain yet still holding up. "Dracarys!"

Alicent halted Aegon in his tracks before he could continue after you in the garden. She started by pressing both of her palms on her first child's face, attempting to soothe him down. However, her eyes were filled with conflicting emotions: "She won't survive this Aegon, nor the kid. I trust that you will make the right choice. It is your obligation as a husband to choose wisely."

His face showed pain and betrayal before he shook off the hands on his face as if it was mere dirt. "Screw duty, I'd rather be fucking dead with the one I love than be the crown's slave."

He entered the gates without any more words, his hair ruffled at how fast he fled inside. When he had spotted you almost laying on the floor in front of your dragon, screaming for it to burn you, he began to sprint towards you as if his life depended on it while yelling in panic, "Lykiri!" He screamed for you to calm down and stop amidst his run, "Kelītīs!"

When he eventually got to you, he assisted you up while cursing at you and shaking your shoulder vigorously. "What the fuck are you doing?!"

"Please, Aegon, please kill me, I beg you now.." You pleaded with the frightened prince.

"I wont fucking do that!"

"I can't handle it anymore, please..."

He stroked your face as you both exchanged glances. Fear, despair, and love for one another were all seen on both faces. "(Y/N), look, and listen carefully. Remember our talk when we visited Highgarden? About death and such?"

"Skoros morghot vestri?" He asked, 'What do we say to death?' it meant, though the way it was said seems like he demanded or ordered you to. When you hadn't replied and your breaths were shallow, his tears didn't stop from flowing before he asked it again, stuttering, "(Y/N),... S-Skoros morghot vestri?"

Your eyes would have almost succumbed to the haziness if it weren't for Aegon's pleading eyes and voice. With your new-found determination, you felt yourself regain a bit of energy. Using it, you held his shoulders as you forced yourself to push out the life inside of you. His eyes never left yours until you had finally felt something release inside you, and you slowly laid down on the pavement with him helping you down with worried eyes.

With a final push, the new baby was born. It wasn't a boy, but Aegon loved her regardless, as he took the baby and held it in his hand. His one hand cradled it while the other held yours. Slowly, he started with a mere chuckle before he let out an excited laugh. He shared both looks between his daughter and his wife, muttering "gevie," Beautiful, he said.

You smiled at him, taking slow breaths before giving him a loving kiss. You answered his question from before, "Tubī daor". A response in which he smiled properly before responding. "Yes, it is not today."

The maesters and a few knights were summoned to help you and the healthy infant back to your chamber. Aegon was by your side the entire time you were mending. Your husband placed a chair next to your neatly made bed and slept there as you did. You both fell into a deep slumber, holding hands. Tiredness consumed both of you as you were both woken up by the maestar on the morrow, congratulating you both on a successful birth.

"You did so well, my love." Aegon whispered as you cradled your baby in your arms before you heard your husband thank you in your shared native words. "Kirimvos, for not giving up."

You smiled before kissing him, "avy jorrāelan."

Tell me why is fuck aegon the first thing that popped up in hashtags as i add my tags HXHXBDBDNDN

3K notes · View notes

8um8le · 13 days

Note

Hey Ballad. Like always, I love your art. Everything about it is *chef's kiss*. Eclipse is my favorite because, of course, I have no self-control. One of my fav pieces you did of him is when you were doing all of the flirting pieces for the guys.

We'll we ever see flirty Eclipse again? Asking for a Y/N- I mean friend.

Have a great day. Rest and relaxation be upon ye.

Heheh thanks, always warms my heart to see such support <33

Only reason why I don’t draw flirty eclipse is cuz, he’s not a “flirty” or romantic guy, also all of his relationships with the sc cast is platonic

(Though i did jokingly shipped him with Cat, since Cat is one of the only ppl who doesn’t work for him. Also, of course Comet is infatuated with his cool, pretty boss, but those feelings won’t be reciprocated because of like power dynamics or whatever :ppp)

But yeah u can be creative with shipping him with ur own ocs though <33

#ask ballad

45 notes · View notes

nephilimbrute · 7 months

Note

ur agents in particular FASCINATE me so so much i love your interpretations of them. could u tell us more about them and their stories? particularly 8, theyre so interesting!!! why do they hate marina? what happened between them and 3? what’s their relationship like with 4? anything you wanna say abt them, i’d love the infodump

omgosh....😇

a few days ago i wrote a thing that like. detailed stuff about major events with 8. i'll paste them here

agent 8 during the entire course of Octo Expansion was extremely shaken up. they couldn't think straight at all, leaving them vulnerable. sanitized cap3 wasn't much different too, she still had some control over herself and she never wanted to fight 8, making the battle between them long and confusing. eventually 8 gave up and walked up to her, ripping the sanitized goop right off her head (which, to cap3, felt like shoving a screwdriver into her eye)

during the inner agent 3 fight, was unconscious, so this was more like a a made-up battle. this 3 (dubbed enigma3) was formed out of cap3's repressed traits of herself and how 8 sees her, rather than being the 3 that 8 saw fight octavio. she's quiet, cold, confusing, and only wants to play mind games with 8. she never really left 8's conscience, but only appears when agent 8 is deathly worried about cap3

after the events of Octo Expansion, 8 absolutely adored marina. they were still a little shy though, so when marina wanted to talk to them they would kind of freak out. marina didn't mind though, and they were able to get to know each other somewhat, with 8 adapting some of marina's traits and behaviors. 8 had nowhere else to go other than sleeping behind crusty sean's food truck and park benches, so pearl let them stay with him and marina for 2 months. after those two months, pearl got in touch with agent 4 via marie (making him fawn all over meeting off the hook) and asked 4 if he could let 8 stay over (since pearl felt like they were watching him in his sleep) and fortunately, 4 said yes

after 8's mind finally clears up they start to question what's wrong with them and feel the weight of overthinking, which sends them spiraling down for the years to come (presumably the effects of tartar messing with their brain). 8 relentlessly questions cap3, rarely leaving her alone, and in turn it affects their relationship with cap3 in a negative way. when asked why they're so curious, 8 goes silent and refuses to answer

(small bit about cap3) cap3 feels like she's at fault for how 8 turned out since they started breaking after OE. she tries to make it up for them but she thinks she's only ruining them. her expectations for herself are set higher and higher, yet nothing she does is good enough. she won't give herself a break, beating herself up over every little detail and being highly critical to the point where she's stuck in a loop of self-destruction and loathing

8 slowly loses their trust in things and those they love, becoming scared and paranoid. it wasn't until side order that this was more prevalent.

in side order (AU), 8 has lost most of their memories, and the moments with the other agents and idols still remain but just barely. 8 is afraid of marina and has a deep dislike for her, but this was due to them not thinking for themself, instead listening to their gut. their brain fog is back more than ever, and whenever they try to walk for prolonged amounts of time they end up stumbling to their knees.

they can no longer tell the difference between reality and fiction. it's all a blur to them. they can feel marina's eyes everywhere. they can barely remember if who or what meant something, anything, to them. though having a deep dislike for marina, they want to be held by her. to be loved like a child. they never ask her of anything, instead just letting it burn into their brain until it breaks them completely. they want attention but they fear they'll be seen as needy and annoying. they want to apologize for everything and be forgiven. 8 doesn't know who is who, they've been copied so much they're just deemed a blank slate to be imprinted on. they watch everything disappear from their hands, unable to do anything about it. from being excited about what's to come in the near future, to being scared about losing the present and wanting to go back to the past

and then here's another little bit about 8 in side order: represents a crumbling mental state, begging for reassurance, desperately trying to hold on to fleeting memories. their trust is lost in everything but they want it all to return to normal, struggling to accept the fact that it never will

then about marina: represents a mother figure somewhat, but even she still fails to live up to that role fully. she distances herself from 8 who is always going after her just to be comforted, yet she denies it for them. she has the same goals as 8, clinging on to the present and never embracing change, but doing so only harms her and others and this behavior continues on and on

+ marina doesn't want to interact with 8 because she sees her younger self in them, she refuses to go back to that era of her life and 8 keeps promising her they'll be what she wanted to be. anything for them to be accepted, to be held in loving arms again. the lack of communication between them makes their relationship even more strained. but clearly marina still cares about 8, they were the only one to be let out of her mind control. she wanted to check on them and make sure they're okay, but what she got in return was someone that hated her

^^ their relationship is basically like this. constantly wanting to communicate with the other but being pushed away, they never fill each other's voids

onto agent 4 and 8... they have a relatively healthy relationship. 4 is 8 (and cap3)'s shoulder to cry on, he always tries his best to help them with whatever. since him and 8 both like off the hook, they'd talk about them non stop. 8 likes to give 4 details about how oth are off-stage since 8 frequently hangs out with them and stuff

4 appears as parallel canon in side order, but instead of other copies of himself, the other robots resemble agent 8 and cap3. they all circle 8 and mock them for forgetting everything about themself and their significant others, much like inner agent 3

nd i don't think i got anything else to say about those 3......that's all^_^ i'm soooo normal i'm normal

#I'M NOT NORMAL #splatoon #agent 8 #captain 3 #spingly (4)#agent 24 #agent 32 #agent 96 #splatagents #side order #side order au #inbox q

85 notes · View notes

drivestraight · 5 months

Note

Obv no pressure!!!!!!!!! And sorry if it comes off that way ❤️❤️ I was just wondering if u would ever consider posting the 4fic?? Just on tumblr even

i keep forgetting OMG but here is part 1 (4.2k)

THE SET-UP

They don’t do this very often anymore. Hang out, just the four of them.

George, Alex, Lando, and Charles.

To get closer to the truth, it’s not like the four of them ever properly hung out at any point in time, in the strictest sense of the phrase. They’d stream together on Twitch during COVID, yes, and they get on well in the paddock. But that doesn’t exactly count, when George thinks about it. Not even in 2019 did the four of them ever really hang out willingly, outside of work, not even just George, Alex, and Lando, no matter how much media they were shoved into together throughout the year. These past four years, they’ve just all been too busy. Besides, Charles and Lando have their own friend circles. Charles prefers his hometown Monegasque friends. Lando has Max F and Max V and Martin G and Daniel R and Quadrant and—whatever the fuck ever, really.

George and Alex, well. Different case. Not the point.

Even closer to the truth: they had more time and less fame before Formula 1, and they would hang out outside of races. Underage pub crawls, house parties with friends from secondary, even during their F2 season. Which George won, by the way.

So.

Formula 2.

George, Alex, and Lando were close back then despite being competitors. They were the weirdos. No one liked Lando because his dad was rich and bought him a spot in McLaren’s junior academy; no one liked Alex because he was a Red Bull junior and Asian, but not Asian enough; and no one liked George because—he was George.

Jokes on everyone else. They were the winners. They’re the ones who made it to F1.

All this to say: the three of them were close back then, but they’re not as close anymore. Still, good times. They had many good times.

One memory George holds quite dear to his heart is Alex accidentally knocking Lando into a bush that George puked on. Yes, George is quite fond of that night.

But then, that three-way friendship didn’t exactly include Charles at all. All of them were friends and friendly with Charles even in karting, but those days, Charles wasn’t exactly part of their little group. It was just George and Alex and Lando. Or George and Alex.

Which is probably why they’re here, in Charles’ teeny tiny flat.

They were in Spa, the four of them chatting before free practice. Alex had offhandedly asked why they haven’t gone on their little drunken adventures like they used to. Then, Charles made a shocked noise, small and offended, and demanded to be included.

Demanded is probably a strong word. His eyes went wide and curious. He tilted his head to the side and pouted at Alex, then Alex spluttered and said, Of course, you should come!

As if they had tangible plans.

However, they ended up making plans, and it was a miracle that they all had a weekend free in Monaco before Alex fucked off with Lily to Majorca.

And it’s not like George doesn’t like Charles.

He likes Charles a lot, actually.

It’s just, sometimes—

All the time.

It’s hard to tell what his humor is. George’ll say something, try to crack a joke, and Charles will look at him with these big, round, open eyes. Not understanding, or worse, understanding, and choosing not to play along.

Not in a, like, malicious way. But in a why did you say that? sort of way. Which is probably worse. He’s always very nice about it, very earnest. But his sincerity knocks George off-guard. Sometimes, George wishes Charles was more like Alex, laughing at everything and playing everything off like a joke just to maintain an ounce of control. Twist things the way he wants them to be twisted.

Right, yes. Charles.

It’s easier with him online. Voice chat. That way, George doesn’t have to see his microexpressions and feel self-conscious, analyzing each of their conversations.

Charles has a very expressive face.

Alex gets on with him a lot better.

He makes Charles laugh, a lot. A lot. And while George has made Charles laugh plenty of times, it’s never actually been on purpose. It is more like—George saying something unintentionally funny, and Charles slowly bursting into giggles, or Lando and Alex making George the butt of the joke and Charles laughing along just because he wants to fit in.

Ah. George needs to be more charitable.

Returning to Charles’ teeny tiny flat:

They’ve just gotten back from Jimmy’z. Honestly, George was having a great time: Alex was all giggly on his shoulder sipping on a fruity cocktail and Lando had been up by the DJ stage and Charles was off at the bar chatting with some girl. But then Charles sprinted to them and tugged on George’s arm and said, We need to leave.

So they left.

They found Lando first, of course, floundering as he tried to get this girl’s number. They dragged him out of the club, the four of them squeezed into an Uber, tried to be as polite as possible to the driver, and here they are now:

Charles’ teeny tiny flat. On the floor circled around the coffee table in the sitting room. Lando took the couch because—of course he did.

“So?” Lando demands, frowning. His cheeks are flushed, his curls a mess. “Why’d we leave? I thought the point was to get pissed, and I’m not even.”

George would disagree. But, well.

Charles huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “I saw someone that I did not want to talk to.”

Alex snorts. He flushes this lovely color of pink whenever he’s drunk, George has noticed. Quite lovely. Very lovely. “Who? An ex-girlfriend?”

Charles kicks lightly at Alex’s thigh. They’re deep into summer, hot, sticky. Alex is wearing these little shorts. Not so little, really, but right now, George can see the meat of his underthigh, muscle hidden.

“Ex-boyfriend,” Charles corrects.

Alex dyed his hair to this auburn shade of brown the other month. George likes it better, like this, if he’s being honest. Obviously, Alex looked amazing as a blond—Alex looks amazing no matter what, but he looks softer like this, not a blond bombshell, alien and out of reach, grabbing everyone’s attention. Instead, just George’s best friend.

“Which one?” Alex asks, propped up on his hands, flat to the ground behind him. His shin hairs tickle George’s. Under the table, George only now realizes, they’re touching.

“Jean,” Charles answers.

“Oh,” Alex says, brows furrowing. Overdramatic. Alex likes being dramatic like that. He looks a little goofy right now. Silly, maybe. “I never liked that guy.”

Charles sighs. “It has been a while, but our breakup was…” He turns to Alex. “How do you say it…”

“A shit show?” Alex supplies, grinning warmly. George feels so warm.

Charles laughs, shoulders coming up to his ears. “Yes, a shit show,” he repeats, the syllables odd and unfamiliar on his tongue, mouth curling emphatically. “He—”

He.

Charles keeps talking.

But George:

“Wait, wait, wait. Your what?”

Charles turns his head to George. Blinks. Slowly. Tilts his head to the side. Confused.

“My ex-boyfriend,” he repeats, like this isn’t earth-shattering information.

George gawks. Mouth open. Jaw unhinged. Eyes bug-wide. The full mile. He glances over at Alex, who looks just as confused as Charles, then Lando, who’s looking down at his phone, disinterested.

Charles blinks again, seeming to understand George’s confusion. “Oh, you don’t…?”

“I don’t what?” George snaps, feeling like he’s just had the rug pulled out from under him. Feeling like the odd one out. For the first time in their little quartet, George feels like the outsider.

“I am gay, George,” Charles deadpans. “Did I never tell you this?”

“Uh,” George says, wincing at how his voice cracks, “no?”

“Oh,” Charles replies, blinking. His mouth parts into a small circle. He bats his eyelashes, demure, and George feels something ugly twist in his belly. “Well. Sorry, I think I forgot.”

George suddenly feels very sober.

“But you—your girlfriend—”

Charles shrugs. “She is a good friend. It is always good to have a public girlfriend.”

Well. This explains a lot.

“Lando,” George starts, head whipping toward him, “did you—?”

“Mmh. I didn’t like Jean either,” Lando replies, still not looking up from his phone.

George makes a noise. “How do you guys know this Jean?”

Alex snorts and rolls his eyes. “George, you know Jean. F2?”

Jean. Jean Jean Jean. George thinks and thinks and—

“Oh,” George says, Jean’s face materializing in his head. George never really talked to him; they ran in different circles and drove for different teams, but George vaguely remembers narrowly missing out on a win because Jean wouldn’t get out of the fucking way when George was trying to lap him. He lost the win by three seconds. To Lando. That’s about all he remembers of the guy. “Wow.”

Charles… dated him.

Suddenly self-conscious about how he’s coming off about this whole thing, George stumbles to clarify, “I mean, mate, obviously I don’t care. It’s not a problem. Like, of course I don’t have a problem, I’m just shocked, mate. I would’ve—”

“Oh, calm down, George,” Alex says, grinning beatifically. “Yes, yes. You’re an ally. You’re teammates with Lewis Hamilton. Love is love. We know. You don’t need to give us a little speech.”

“Sod off,” George mutters, kicking Alex under the table. “Why did no one tell me this?”

“Not my fault you have a stick up your arse when it comes to sex,” Alex jibes, kicking George back. “I think talking about gay sex would’ve given you a heart attack.”

George huffs, cheeks warming. Like, fine. George is self-aware enough to know that he gets a bit dodgy when it comes to sex. But that’s the way he thinks it should be, anyway. “Doesn’t have to be about gay sex, does it?”

“You should try it,” Alex says. “It’s fun. Quite different.”

Charles hums carefully, eyes big and curious, assessing. George feels like he’s being taken apart. “Yes, George. I think it would loosen you up,” Charles says, too sincerely.

From the couch, Lando snickers, chewing on his hoodie drawstring.

Charles frowns and glares at him. “What?”

Ah. Charles hadn’t even caught the double entendre.

Wait.

His head whips to Alex. “You have?” Had sex. With a man. George can’t get any of the words out.

“Oh, c’mon,” Alex says, easy and casual like George’s whole world isn’t falling apart. “You know I like blokes.”

Well, sure. George did know that. He knows everything about Alex. Alex is his best mate, after all. But Alex’s sexuality was an irrelevant, inconsequential little fact that George’d merely hold in the back of his mind. His best mate happened to be bisexual. That didn’t change anything.

“Yeah, I guess,” George admits, “but—Lily?”

“Again,” Alex says, “you know we have an open relationship.”

George laughs nervously. Yes, right. He’d forgotten about that.

He’d honestly—

He doesn’t know. He hadn’t actually thought Alex and Lily were acting on that.

“You’ve never thought about it?” Alex asks. “A little hanky-panky with the lads? Never?”

George chokes. “The lads? Plural?”

Alex waves his hand. “Hyperbole.”

Lando, hoodie drawstring still in his mouth, asks, “What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“Hyperbowl,” Lando butchers. George isn’t sure how he made it past primary.

“Like,” Alex says, “when you tell your girls on Raya you have an eight inch dick. Hyperbole.”

The drawstring falls out of Lando’s mouth. He sits straight up, inflamed. “I do not tell them I have a—”

“Lando, you have an eight inch dick?” Charles asks, suddenly very interested in the conversation.

Alex snickers. “The point is that he doesn’t.”

Tomato-red, Lando bumbles, “Oh, bugger off. It’s not like you’d know.”

“Anways, George?”

George scratches the back of his head. Is it hot in here? Is it just him or the shitty insulation in Charles’ flat?

He thinks back to the original question and replies, “I cannot say I have thought about it.” He swallows. Because honestly, he hasn’t. He’s, like, twenty-five now. That’s far too old to be having sexuality crises anyway. Still, drunk, and a little too honest for his own good, he starts to ramble, “Like, I don’t think I. I mean. Haha. I am very happy with, er. Women.”

Not like George has been getting much lately, not after his less than ideal breakup with Carmen at the start of the season. And he isn’t like Lando either: going on apps or picking up a girl at the club is, like, his worst fucking nightmare. Rock fucking bottom. He’d rather go celibate than go on Tinder.

“So, like. You know. Men don’t.” God, why is George still talking? “I have my own, er. Likes. And I don’t think that—”

“Oh,” Alex sighs, exasperated, “don’t be such a prude, Georgie. Here—”

Fireworks. Butterflies. Violins.

No, none of that, actually. Just Alex’s mouth. George wouldn’t trade it for the world.

It has been so long since George kissed someone. Since George was kissed by someone.

Alex has a hand cupping his cheek—so tender and gentle that George shivers beneath him. Yes, beneath him. George isn’t on his back, but it’s taking all of his core muscle strength to keep himself somewhat upright with Alex half on top of him and half in his lap, kissing him. Alex, Alexander, Alexander Albon is kissing him.

His tongue runs along the seam of George’s mouth, and with a gasp, George parts his lips, mouth going slack, finally realizing that Alex is kissing him, and he isn’t kissing him back. He’s a bloody idiot, that’s what he is, he thinks, as he surges forward to return the kiss, and—

Ah.

Alex sitting back on his heels, eyes a little wild, mouth pink and slick.

Anticlamactic.

George makes a soft noise, feeling like he’s just been taken apart, disemboweled, ribs in all the wrong places.

It feels like—

Feels like the comedown after Brazil 2022. He got a taste of a win, and now he’ll spend the rest of his life knowing what it feels like to stand on the top of the podium.

Now, he’ll spend the rest of his life knowing what Alex’s lips feel like against his.

It’s not like it was a fantastic kiss, or anything. George has had better. Loads better. This wasn’t even a proper kiss. George hadn’t even managed to kiss back. And it wasn’t like it meant anything either.

It was just Alex.

“Hey,” Charles whines, sounding like he’s pouting. Only sounding like it—George couldn’t possibly know what Charles looks like right now. He isn’t looking anywhere but at Alex. It just isn’t possible for him to take his eyes away. “Why do you kiss George and not me?”

Lazily, Alex throws his head to the side, looking at Charles. In the meantime George stares at the lovely column of his throat. “Been there done that, Charlie.”

George sucks in a breath.

“Don’t look so jealous,” Alex says, chuckling, his gaze returning to George. George doesn’t even want to imagine what he looks like right now—what Alex sees. “It’s not like you were up for grabs.”

“Ah,” George says, shuddering. It’s just—the way Alex’s voice sounds, the way he’s looking at him—

“Oi, oi,” Lando sounds, swinging upright so that his shoes are finally off the couch and on the ground. “This is getting a bit too gay for me. I’m calling a Lyft.”

“Lando,” Alex laughs, “you are quite literally dating a man.”

Lando, ever prey-like and anxious when it doesn’t matter, blushes and says, “Oh, fuck off. Me and Max aren’t dating. We’re just, um…”

He reminds George of a snapping turtle, in a way: hard-shelled, prickly, and goes through puberty late.

At Lando’s words, Charles’ head rises, which is rather striking, George reckons, since he hasn’t said a word this whole conversation. His face scrunches up, brows furrowed, almost irritated. He’s frowning when he asks, “Lando, you are with Max?”

“Fewtrell,” Alex clarifies.

“Oh,” Charles exhales, tension releasing from his shoulders as Lando blushes an even brighter red and blubbers incoherently.

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” Lando says, flustered and bitchy. “I’m not with Max. Fewtrell or Charles’ Max—”

“Um,” Charles says, looking a little furious, “he’s not my—”

“Whatever,” Lando says, waving his hand vaguely. “Anyway, I’m leaving—mmph!”

Oh, alright then, George thinks, watching as Charles yanks on Lando’s wrist and pulls him down to the floor for a kiss.

Lando yanks himself away, and in the process, bangs his knee on the underside of the coffee table and hisses as he falls onto his back. Clearly still very drunk. Charles is laughing at him. So is Alex, honking and boisterous. George feels too shocked to find the humor in this.

Scrubbing his mouth with the back of his sleeve, he stammers, “What was that for?”

Charles shrugs. His face is pink and filled with glee, eyes sparkling. “Alex wouldn’t kiss me.”

“That’s the only reason why?” Lando asks, lifting a brow.

Charles giggles. “I like you, Lando,” Charles says, like it’s nothing, like Charles Leclerc liking someone means nothing. George wonders what that is like, to be able to say something like that without shame or anxiety. To be able to throw things into the air like that. I like you with the self-assurance to know that it will be well-received. That your attraction will be reciprocated.

“I think you are very cute,” Charles finishes, swaying a little.

“Not cute,” Lando huffs, crossing his arms over his chest, which strangely, George reckons, makes him look cuter. “I’m sexy.”

“Yes,” Charles says, giggling harder, his shoulders rising to his ears, “you are very sexy, Lando.”

“You’ll say anything to anyone,” Alex snorts, watching them with curiosity.

Charles keeps his eyes on Lando when he says, “When I want them in bed, yes.” Lando’s throat bobs, a mouse caught in the trap. Yes, George thinks, that’s what it’s like being looked at by Charles: caught in a trap. “Is that something you would like, Lando?”

“Uh,” Lando squeaks.

“Or will your Max get mad at me?”

Instantly, Lando shakes his head, a bit like a dog coming out of the bath. Doesn’t even make a snippy comment about your Max.

Charles kisses him again.

It isn’t anything like the last kiss, abrupt and awkward. It isn’t anything like when Alex kissed George either. This one is—

George has to look away, face hot.

“Oh, don’t do that,” he hears from the side.

“What?” George asks, his insides feeling gooey.

“Look,” Alex says, then his hand is on George’s burning cheek, turning it to face Charles and Lando. Lando, who is sitting in Charles’ lap. Charles, who has his hands firmly on Lando’s waist.

George swallows. The room is far too small and the only sounds are the slick-wet sounds of kissing, and heavy breathing. Now that George is looking, he can’t look away no matter how much he wants to. Like a car crash, he thinks absently. Sweat drips down the side of his neck, where Alex’s hand is placed now. George’s whole body feels on fire.

Alex isn’t saying anything. They only—watch. Watch as Charles slides a careful hand under the seam of Lando’s shirt, snaking along his lower back. Lando squeaks and pulls back from the kiss, panting against Charles’ mouth. Desperate, George thinks. They both look a little desperate right now.

More than a little. Faces flushed, clothes wrinkled, making out on the fucking floor in front of a fucking audience.

“It’s kind of late,” Lando mutters, so quietly that George can barely hear him over the sound of his own breathing.

“Yes, ah,” Charles says. Lando crawls off of him, uncoordinated; whatever spell the both of them were under seems to be broken. Charles turns toward George and Alex, his lips swollen, looking thoroughly kissed. His shirt is riding up. Lower: a massive tent in his jeans. George forces his eyes to drift back up to Charles’ face, settling on his mouth. “Maybe everyone should go.” After a beat, he adds, “I am very drunk.”

Lando is avoiding eye contact, playing with his fingers, hands positioned conspicuously over his crotch, inhibitions remembered.

George swallows, his voice hoarse when he says, “We can tell.”

Alex collects Lando off the floor, and George and Charles follow them to the door, silently.

“I’ll get these two home safe,” Alex promises, clasping a hand on both George’s and Lando’s shoulder. Lando bats his hand away.

Leaning against the wall, Charles smirks and says, “You owe me a kiss, Alexander.”

Alex smiles back at Charles. George stiffens at the reminder that Charles has Alex wrapped around his fucking finger, even now. “I’ll pay you back with interest next time, Charlie.”

After that, they start to shuffle out the door, but then Lando, still inside the flat, says, “Charles.”

George and Alex turn around.

Head tilted, Charles asks, “What is it?”

And that’s all he’s able to get out before Lando is grabbing his face and kissing him. Hungrily. Charles makes a shocked noise as he’s backed up against the wall, melting.

It’s a chaste kiss, all things considered. After only a moment, Lando pulls away with a smug smile, and Charles looks—dazed. Kiss-stupid and slack-jawed. George wonders if that’s how he gets when he isn’t in control.

“We should,” Charles starts, throat bobbing as he stares at the three of them in the hall. He licks his lips, cheeks red like his car, and scans each of them with his eyes. “All of us. Again.”

All of us, George thinks. Not just Lando, not just Alex. All of them. All four of them.

“I mean. Only if you all want.”

Charles, George registers, is looking at George. That’s where his gaze has settled. And George realizes that, yes, he is the limiting factor here. Because apparently, a-fucking-pparently, Charles has a history with Alex, and George’s more than half sure that if Charles and Lando were only marginally less drunk than they are, they would have fucked tonight.

Alex and Lando are looking at him too.

What’s the harm if George says no?

No, no. Wrong question.

What’s the harm if George says yes?

He doesn’t want to be the odd one out. What he wants is—

He turns to look at Alex, looking at him with curious eyes. George’s gaze drifts and drifts—Alex’s pink mouth, the shape of it, remembering the feel of it against his own.

George made his decision a long time ago. Charles and Lando—they’re just the implications.

Shuddering, he turns back to Charles, and nods his head.

Monaco is small enough that practically everything is just a walk away. Lando’s flat is the closest one to Charles’; George and Alex drop him off. On the way, surprisingly, they don’t chat about what happened back at Charles’ place. Instead, they grill Lando about whatever’s going on between him and Fewtrell, only to get absolutely nothing.

George’s flat is the closest to Lando’s, so Alex walks him back. And they don’t talk at all, at least until they’re outside the front door and George is about to walk in.

“Hey, um,” Alex says, biting his lip. “Tonight was a lot.”

“Yeah,” George admits, finding no use in pretending otherwise.

“So,” Alex starts. “Are you, like, sure? About—getting all together again? I feel kinda bad that like—I dunno. It was kinda like, we were ganging up on you. If you feel pressured in any way, I couldn’t live with myself, so, uh—”

Alex rambles. He’s a rambler. George knows this about him. Alex is a horrible storyteller, always telling the punchline first, then filling in all the gaps. Even then, he always forgets important parts, tells it all non-linearly and it never makes sense to anyone but him.

The truth is, as much as Alex’s blithe, carefree nature obscures, beneath that persona, he does just as much overthinking that George does.

And George—

Perhaps he isn’t as sober as he thought he was, but he feels clear. For the first time tonight, he feels in control. Brave.

He does what he wanted to do earlier, back in Charles’ flat, when Alex pulled away and George surged forward.

He kisses Alex. Mid-sentence, mid-word, mid-apology.

It’s just a peck, really. George thinks that if he properly kissed Alex right now, he might do something absolutely stupid, like drop to his knees and try to blow Alex under the cameras of his building. Even if he’s never done that before, he thinks he’d do that for Alex.

If Alex asked. If Alex wanted. He’s too afraid to ask if that’s what Alex would want.

Alex is smiling at him—and it’s one of his soft smiles. George feels so dizzy and stupid. “Not so straight then, are you?”

Heart hammering, George remembers to be brave. “Probably not.”

Alex licks over his mouth. George wants.

“Alright then,” Alex says, pupils wide. “We’ll talk in the morning? All of us?”

Yes, George thinks. They will.

And, against all odds, they do.

#4fic #the fic is called “the anatomy of a joke”#i still don't love it but...#my writing #there's like 3k more in the doc but none of it is coherent

62 notes · View notes